#uncaught bluff

Your pillow of choice was his tattooed chest. You laid there in still disbelief, debating if you should shut your eyes again. Last night was too good. The most vivid dream you’d ever had. It played like a movie on repeat in your mind. It couldn't possibly be real. 

And yet, you were lying on the evidence that definitely counted towards the “real” category.

You shifted just enough to pull yourself up. Ah, yes. Your legs were done for. There might be a few days ahead of you with no walking. You’d have to come up with some sort of way to get around —

You forgot all of that when you looked up and met Law’s gaze. 

His expression was soft. It was nearly unrecognizable: the sweetest you’d ever seen it. It was almost like staring at someone else’s face, it was such a drastic change from Law’s deadpan expression. The steel of his eyes matched gentle rain clouds. There was a crinkle around his eyes instead of his brows. The person below you radiated pure…joy.

You grinned. “Good morning.”

Law smiled back. Idly he tucked a stray hair from your face, hooking it behind your ear. “Good afternoon.”

You blinked a few times. Had you heard him right?

Reluctantly, you turned away from Law to glance at the glass french doors, past the balcony.

Your jaw dropped. The sun was inches away from meeting the sea’s horizon, with little glints of purple already threatening to overwrite the bright, stunning orange. 

You turned back to Law. His hand curled under your chin as he inspected you.

“Was it too much?” A hint of that furrow in Law’s brows was back, but the concern didn't feel clinical. There was a warmth to it. 

“No,” you shook your head, “Not at all. Hancock’s been keeping me up all night with sleepovers since I got here. I think that’s the most I've slept since I’ve come back. Or ever.”

“Good,” said Law. 

Law’s thumb gently pressed against your bottom lip. You jolted on top of him. He smiled.

“I’ll get you a new headboard,” he added nonchalantly. 

“What?”

Your eyes drifted away from Law to the pillows propped up behind him. For the first time, you realized you were slightly at an angle. The whole bed was.

Sure enough, the headboard behind Law was littered in cracks that erupted into splinters. Finger-shaped indents marred the top.

Smugness oozed from Law as your gaze returned to him. 

“You don't look very guilty,” you said. 

“You don't seem that remorseful, either.” Law’s fingers continued their tracing, dipping down from your lips, caressing your jawline, trailing a path down your throat with the tingle of an electric current. 

“What’s sad is I don't even remember it breaking,” you admitted.

“It was round three.” 

“Oh.” A blush seared your cheeks at the memory. You had been very preoccupied then. “That…makes sense.”

“Mmm.” Law leaned forward. His fingers returned to your chin again, guiding your lips to his mouth. 

Another jolt ran through your body. His lips were soft, especially when they just brushed against yours like this. 

It was a slow, simple kiss, yet it was enough to completely wipe your brain and make your thighs clench together (then ache in protest). 

Law pulled away. He wore the new lovesick smile of the happy stranger again. “You really need to brush your teeth.” 

Your eyes widened. A hand flew to your mouth. 

Law’s chest rumbled beneath you as he chuckled. He pulled your hand away to steal another kiss. 

It suddenly occurred to you that you might’ve been due for a shower. Law helped you clean up last night, but you were incredibly self-conscious about whatever glow you had about you now. You’d been sleeping long enough that there was a crank in your neck that only hot water could solve. And you didn't want to even think about your hair…

“Um, can I have a human minute?” you said. 

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

Law sat up, pulling you with him. The bed groaned in protest. You had a feeling that more than just the headboard had been broken last night. But that was Future Y/N’s problem. Current Y/N faced a far more hazardous foe. 

The bathroom door was so far away. You’d never thought much of it before, but there was a lot of ground to cover from your bed to the door. 

You wiggled out of Law’s lap, and swung your legs over the bed. Your head swam. It took a full minute for the vertigo to wear off, and when it did, multiple muscles were yelling at you. 

Law moved to your side and planted a kiss on your shoulder (on top of one of the hickies he’d left). He said, “Think you can walk?”

“Ha-ha.” You rolled your eyes, but you really doubted your attempt to stand would go well. It definitely wouldn't be attractive if you fell on your ass. 

“Would you like an escort?” The amused hum following Law’s offer promised teasing later. 

“...Yes, please.”

Law gathered you in his arms again. He rose from the bed, lifting you effortlessly. What a showoff. 

Your dreaded hike to the bathroom was conquered in seconds. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Law set you down. He gripped your hips when you teetered on your feet.

“Okay?” said Law.

“I’m fine,” you promised, and thankfully your voice was steadier than your thoughts. “Thank you.” 

Law hummed. His lips brushed your hairline. “Take your time.” 

You tried not to wobble too much as you slipped inside. 

You went straight to the mirror once the door shut. You leaned most of your weight on the counter as you stood still, inspecting what view Law had woken up to this morning (err, afternoon). 

You noticed the hickies first. That was no surprise: Law was a biter. He’d left a fair share along your throat, spotted along your collarbone. You idly traced them with a finger as you studied them. 

You didn't see any bruises. With Law treating you like glass all the time, and his ungodly restraint, that was hardly an issue (but something to consider when you’d just fucked an ex-Warlord). Your headboard had taken more damage than you did. 

The broken remains of it flashed before your mind. Was he really a virgin?

Your reflection’s eyes narrowed. You doubted Law would lie, but still. He was good. Too good. What virgin could make you squirt during foreplay, with just his mouth and fingers —?

Your reflection bit her bottom lip. You’d been a little weak in the knees for those specific attributes of Law, anyway. That didn't help your case much. 

Your gaze trailed up to your hair. It was a hot, frizzy mess. But your reflection had a giant grin on her face like she didn't care at all. 

You followed Law’s advice and took your time. It was hard not to, especially in the shower. Memories flooded your mind, flushing your cheeks as your hands drifted over where his fingers had been, which parts of your body he’d lingered on, the little echoes of pleasure from how it felt…it definitely didn't take your mind off things, but the warm water did wonders to all the soreness.

When you were done, you wrapped yourself in a towel and paused before the door. Your heart slammed against the confines of your chest like a wild animal. You would’ve thought it had been thoroughly tuckered out after last night. How could it possibly keep going like this?

You took a deep breath. You could still feel that giant grin on your face, stretching your cheeks. 

You wedged the door open and returned to your bedroom. 

Law lounged against your broken bed in his jeans. He looked through one of your books.

You traced the lines of his tattooed with your eyes, then you had to stop yourself. It was a shame (not) that Law didn't follow his mandatory boiler suit rule: sentences were a lot harder to form with him like this. 

Law’s steel gaze found yours. Little static shocks trickled over your bare skin. 

Law left the book and the bed behind. His eyes freely roamed your body now. It gave you a little sense of power, captivating someone so completely in just a towel.

Law leaned down for another kiss. You halted him with a finger. “I need to put some stuff on my face first. Do you mind?” 

Law hummed as he pulled back. He followed you to your vanity. 

You let him sit first, then settled on his lap. 

“I got food when you’re ready,” said Law over your shoulder.

“You’re amazing, thanks — wait. How did you manage that?” you glanced back at Law.

You were under the impression that Law only trespassed to your bedroom on the island. It was the safer assumption (for Law’s sake — and the fact that it was pretty romantic that he broke into the palace just to see you). 

Law raised his hand. “Five-finger discount.”

You shook your head, smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“I was taking a cut on your behalf. You make snacks for Hancock-ya all the time,” said Law.

“She’s got a weak stomach, especially in the mornings…probably from all the wine,” you muttered.

Law watched over your shoulder as you went to work on your face routine. Your fingers were way more awkward with him watching, but he didn't seem to notice. His arms remained wrapped around your waist, entranced as he studied you in the mirror. 

“What’s that do?” he asked.

“It's moisturizer. Want some?”

“Another time.” Law kissed your shoulder, on another hickey. “You do this every day?”

You nodded. “Morning and night — you know, except for today.”

Law hummed against your throat. He breathed deeply into your hair and coaxed a yelp out of you when he squeezed your thighs. It was the most touchy Law had ever been with you.

“And you say I’m needy,” you said with a smile.“I’ve been in close quarters with Luffy-ya for over a week,” Law buried his face in the crook where your shoulder and throat met. He inhaled deeply and sighed, holding you tighter. “Compared to that, this is heaven.”

An avalanche of papers spewed out, pouring into the hall. 

You and Law stood trapped in the doorway, ankle-deep in Paper Cuts Central. Your stomach took a plunge: it wasn't exactly the homecoming you’d been dreaming of. 

Law’s face defaulted to its natural deadpan expression, as if he’d expected this. “Y/N-ya, put on some gloves.”

“I’m not that danger-prone — ouch! Kidding, I’m kidding…”

Law cleared a path to his desk as you plucked random papers from the heaps. Some of them were old Warlord missives. That was good: with Law’s title revoked, you could toss them into the shredder. A tsunami-sized pile of diagnoses would have to be tended to, though…

Law lent you a pair of fancy leather gloves as you sorted through the stacks. You thought about turning them down, but if it made him feel better, fine. Law had more to worry about than your old opponent: paper cuts. 

When you could finally see the floor, Law abandoned his stack. 

“That's enough. I wanted to show you something,” said Law. 

You stopped in your tracks. The mess of documents you held bit into your forearms. You barely noticed the prick of the fang-like corners.

Trafalgar D. Law didn't believe in his breaks. It was almost a routine to drag him away from his desk at two a.m. or drug him with nighttime cold medicine. 

Whatever Law had in mind, it must’ve been massive.

“Okay,” you said. 

Law relieved you of your pile of papers, dumping it on his desk with the others. You watched, mystified, as he turned his back on the trembling heaps and moved to the corner of his office. 

You followed him to a little nook between bookshelves. Shadows concealed the area like cobwebs. Your eyes widened.

“What's this?” You gestured at the metal door before you.

You’d never given it much thought before. You assumed it was a closet where Law stored office supplies or medical knick-knacks (Law insisted those weren't “knick-knacks,” but that was easier to pronounce than what was printed on the labels). 

Law propped the door open. He flicked on the lights.

“My room,” he said. 

You had to physically make an effort to keep your jaw off the floor. 

You’d visited the Polar Tang for two whole years, and you had never seen Law’s bedroom. You’d come to the conclusion that he probably crashed on the couch behind his desk. 

No one had ever mentioned Law’s room in passing, either…

You steeled yourself, squaring your shoulders. This was a big gesture on Law’s part. You weren't going to squander it. 

You squeezed past him and stepped inside.

Law’s scent hit you as soon as you entered. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with spearmint. The smell had a weird way of silencing your brain and making your heart race at the same time.

Warm lamplight melted the cool blue tint from a panel of glass lining the walls, looking out at the ocean’s depths. The spectacular view was the only comparison Law’s bedroom had with his office. 

You waded deeper into the room. Gentle grays mixed with a blue that reminded you of deoxygenized blood running through veins. It seemed like the perfect place to snuggle in, if you were a polar bear looking to hibernate for a couple of months (you wondered if Law had designed it that way on purpose). 

You parked your shoes by the entrance, next to another pair of Law’s. Little tufts of the black carpet curled between your toes. 

You looked back at Law as if for approval to go deeper in. You were itching to explore, but it was still Law’s space. 

The door fell shut at Law’s back. He mirrored you, slipping off his shoes and stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. 

When Law straightened, he bowed his head in your direction — you took it as a sign to keep going. 

You approached the nearest wall first. Glass cases glittered across it. You bit back a smile: you had found Law’s famous (yet supposedly secret) coin collection.

You pointed to one of the glistening coppers. “I like that one.” 

Law leaned in, looking over your shoulder. “That’s one of my favorites. It's from Sabody. Found it the day I met Straw Hat-ya.”

“A memorable day.” You smiled back at him.

“Seared into my memory, that's for sure.” 

You laughed and continued your browsing. 

The bookshelves were next. There weren't as many medical encyclopedias as you expected. 

You crouched down to skim the lower shelves. Most of them were Sora: Warrior of the Sea comic books (and the occasional limited-edition graphic novel). The ones with elaborate covers that shone in the lamplight were on display.

You pointed to one of them. “That’s really cool.”

Law crouched down next to you. “Only a few hundred of those were made. They were released at a con a few years ago.”

“I didn't know you liked those,” you said. 

“Some,” Law lamented. “I prefer when they’re not busy. The crew likes to go.” 

Both of you rose to your feet. You were nearing Law’s bed, but that wasn't your end goal per se. You were too busy relishing in all the new secrets you’d just unlocked. 

You paused in front of Law’s nightstand. It mirrored yours on Maiden Island, decorated with photos in frames or taped to the wall.

The Heart Pirates dominated most of the photos. Candid snapshots of crew gatherings, birthday parties, and bar hangs were captured in each one. There was also the classic foursome: Law with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. They looked a lot younger in those.

Your gaze drifted down to the framed pictures on the nightstand. One was a little too familiar.

“Is that…me?” you said. 

The photo was definitely not recent. You could tell from your hairstyle and the clothes you wore. If you had to estimate, it looked like it was from your time under Pops — before you’d even met Law —

Law snatched the photo before you could inspect it further.

“Sorry,” mumbled Law. “Marco-ya gave it to me years ago.”

“Oh.” Your brows furrowed. You sensed a story, but you decided to keep quiet. You didn't want to push Law too much. 

Law’s steel gaze fixated on the floor. The flaming tips of his ears were even more noticeable in the cool-toned room. 

“I have pictures of you, too, you know,” you added. “They’re your wanted posters, though. We should fix that.” 

You and Law shared a smile. You returned to your self-guided tour. 

When you reached the next photo, your heart twisted like a wrung-out towel. 

It was an old newspaper clipping. The article itself had been snipped away, leaving only the photo: a couple and two kids smiling at the camera, posing in an old hospital waiting room. Their eyes were bright and sparkling despite the lack of color. 

You felt yourself lean forward for a closer look. Law stiffened next to you. 

The man looked like an older (and less buff) version of Law. A light stubble clung to the bottom half of his face, and even though his hair was shorter, it had the same choppy, haphazardness to it. 

The woman beside him reminded you of the color brown: everything about her seemed to radiate warmth, even in black and white. The only exception was her eyes — like Law’s, there was a heavy intelligence to her gaze. Something that could cut. 

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured. If there was ever a photo that was picture-perfect, it was this one. “You look so much like your dad. And you have your mom’s eyes.” 

Law remained silent. 

You hesitated before the photo, wondering if you should linger. You didn't want to make Law uncomfortable, but this was a golden opportunity you never knew you’d have: a chance to see part of Law’s childhood up close. A chance to see his family. 

You couldn't pass it up.

Your eyes lingered on the little girl. Everyone on the Polar Tang knew her birthday. 

“I love Lami’s smile,” you murmured. “She looks like someone who would be fun to talk to.”

Law’s hands were shoved back into his pockets. When he looked at his sister’s full-toothed grin, his steel gaze softened to mist.

“...She was,” he said. 

Your eyes drifted to the boy next to Lami, holding her hand. You muffled a gasp.

“And that's you right there, beside her?” you said.

Law nodded.

You grinned. The fangirl in you took over. 

“You look so cute! You still had your hat back then, too —! And the look on your face, that deadpan expression —!”

Law reached over you and flipped the photo down. 

You looked back at Law, then bit down on your lip. Hard. It took every bit of self control you had not to burst out laughing. 

You thought you’d seen Law blush the brightest anyone ever has the night of your first kiss when he nearly bit your tongue off. Bubbling magma was cooler than the red tones that currently warmed his face.

“Should’ve scrubbed the place before you came in,” Law muttered to himself.

“Aww, don't say that! I like it here,” you pouted. 

Law tugged down the rim of his hat. His eyes were hidden from view. “You don't have to lie.” 

“I’m not.” You plopped down on Law’s bed, arms crossed. “There’s a lot to like.”

A doubtful hmph escaped Law. He returned your picture to the nightstand and righted the one of his family (facing them away from you) before taking a seat next to you.

The air crackled with Law’s new closeness. You swallowed. Static shocks and racing hearts were common when Law was near, but this was…different. Your body tensed for something unknown, something thrilling — like a tornado forming in the sky. 

Law’s breath hitched next to you. You wondered if he felt it, too.

You absently stroked his sheets, focusing on their silky texture and not on the way the skin of your hand was buzzing. 

“Your sheets are nice.” Your voice came out a lot calmer than you felt. 

Law shrugged. “It's a seal blanket from the North Blue. It stays cool.”

“I like it — it reminds me of the silk sheets I was trying out on Maiden Island…” you took a deep breath, hoping the delivery of your next line was smooth. “I hoped they wouldn't be uncomfortable for you…if you ever spent the night.”

Law froze. So much for being smooth.

You were escorted inside. Another barrier awaited you: anyone that met with Bege was to be spotless and spectacularly dressed. 

You waved timidly to Law as you headed to the woman’s bathing suite. He looked ready to tear off the head of the gangster next to him. 

~*~

When you and Chiffon arrived at the sitting room, the men were already gathered.

“Try anything funny, Trafalgar, and I’ll stick a bullet in your brain.”

“You return Y/N-ya to me in less than perfect condition, they’ll never find all the pieces left of you.”

“Hey, is that your submarine outside? It’s real nice! Just like a Germa ship-rero!”

“It is NOT like those Germa vermin. Don't insult my ship!”

Bege’s eyes sparkled when Chiffon entered the room. All death threats were forgotten. His coat billowed behind him as he went to his wife. “Chiffon!”

Chiffon chuckled as he placed a kiss on her hand. Your gaze drifted to Law. Your breath stopped. 

You’d never seen Law dressed up before, and it made your brain short-circuit. Law’s hat was missing, revealing his spiked hair. Based on the way the strands glistened in the light, hair gel fought to keep it down, and lost. A black-collared shirt was rolled up to his forearms, teasing some of his tattoos. A tight-fitting, navy blue waistcoat clung to his torso.

The longer you stared, the more your throat started to constrict in new, uncomfortable ways. Would you stutter if you spoke to him? You hoped not. 

You ignored the way your heels wobbled under you and walked up to Law. 

“You look amazing,” you said (your internal monologue cheered you on for not tripping over your words). 

A rare smirk tugged at Law’s lips. His gaze licked over you, making you shift uneasily.

“What is it?” you asked.

Law gestured between you. “We match.” 

You glanced down at your dress. You’d already forgotten its existence. It looked like it was cut from the same fabric of Law’s waistcoat, with gentle waves of blue cascading down your shins. You grinned at the comparison.

It dawned on you that the room was dead silent. When you glanced around, everyone was looking at you and Law.

“Hmph,” a puff of cigar smoke escaped Bege, as if he were trying to hold back a laugh. 

Your brow dipped. Before you could question it, one of the gangsters rolled out a dessert tray. 

Everyone seated themselves as the gangsters set the coffee table. Law sat with you on one of the settees. Chiffon and Bege took the one across from you.

“We have some more healthier options if you’d like,” Chiffon offered as Law eyed the platters of glossy cakes. “Can you please bring out some bread —?”

You made a face. Chiffon paused, looking at you.

“Law doesn't like bread,” you explained.

Law stiffened beside you. Bege’s cigar bobbed up and down as he spoke, “You don't like bread?”

Law turned to you. His voice was low. “I never told you that.”

You shrugged. Law avoided most carbs, except for rice. Maybe it was a health thing, tied to being a surgeon? Nevertheless, you had picked up on his aversion to it.

“You never eat it. Sometimes you make a face at it, like you’re trying to pulverize it with your eyes,” you chuckled. 

A soft snort escaped Law. When he looked away, you could’ve sworn his lip was slightly curved up. 

“How far along are you?” asked Law.

“My due date’s in two weeks,” said Chiffon brightly. 

You glanced around. Aside from the four of you, only Bege’s men were present. You didn't spot any of Chiffon’s relatives. “Is it just us?”

Baby showers were typically thrown by a friend, not the person who was pregnant. If anything, Bege and the gangsters seemed to be playing that role.

“Yes,” Chiffon’s smile was apologetic. “Brulee stopped by earlier. I thought it would be easier for you, since last time…”

“Oh! We got something for you,” you tiptoed past that topic as diplomatically as you could. You refused to let your adventures on Whole Cake Island dampen Chiffon’s evening.

Law held up the gift bag for you. He set it on the coffee table.

“You didn't have to do that,” Chiffon’s cheeks bloomed a delicate, rosy hue as Bege took the present. He removed one of the packages sticking out of it. Similar to Law opening your letters, Bege sliced open the wrapping and handed it to Chiffon.

Chiffon carefully removed the contents. Bege looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. “Oh…”

You tucked a hair behind your ear as it was unveiled. You didn't know much about Bege, except for the fact that he seemed to have a classy aesthetic. Chiffon was also one of the best bakers in Big Mom’s territory. You’d settled on fancy baking utensils with elegantly-twirled metal; the cutting board Chiffon held could’ve been mistaken for a painting without a frame. 

“It’s nice,” Bege’s voice was low with awe. 

Chiffon giggled. “This is perfect, Y/N! Bege loves art. You know us well.” 

“There’s more baby stuff at the bottom, but I thought you’d like it,” you smiled. “If you’re into art, you should check out Law’s tattoos.” 

Everyone’s stares sank heavily upon you. The comment had just slipped out. You didn't know where it came from — or that it was even there, swirling around in your head. Your internal monologue screamed obscenities at you in the awkward silence that followed. 

“Do tell.” Bege eyed Law with interest. 

Law sighed. He sat up as he unfastened the buttons to his shirt. 

You swallowed louder than necessary. It hadn't been an invitation for Law to undress, but you certainly weren't going to tell him that.

Bege leaned forward as Law pulled the flaps of his shirt away, revealing the flaming heart underneath. Your gaze lingered longer than necessary on the chiseled lines of muscle. Was Law more…well-endowed than before? The memory of his bare chest in the woods was seared into your memory. He seemed in impeccable shape then: it was nearly ridiculous to think he could look any better. 

“Captain of the Heart Pirates is very fitting,” Chiffon looked between you and Law’s chest, as if clearly stating, you haven't done anything about that yet? What are you waiting for?

“Who’s it meant for?” said Bege.

Law’s expression darkened. He didn't bother buttoning the rest of his shirt; he settled for knotting one and letting his tattoos peek out.

“Sorry, contemplating art is a hobby of his,” Chiffon gently squeezed Bege’s arm. “If it's too intrusive —”

“It’s for Cora-san,” said Law. 

Law’s arms crossed over the heart tattoo. You could feel his resistance to discuss the subject further. The same emotion that tightened his eyes on Punk Hazard returned.

“He was…” Law’s lashes fluttered. He glared at the ground as he searched for the right word.

“Someone very dear to you?” Chiffon added softly. 

Law dipped his head. Chiffon’s smile touched your heart. “They look beautiful. I’m sure Cora-san would be very proud. You’re right, Y/N: he’s practically a walking work of art!” 

Heat inflamed your face. “I — I didn't say that!”

“Sure,” Chiffon winked at you. Bege laughed as you groaned. 

“You’re lucky to have a woman who puts up with you, Trafalgar,” Bege removed his cigar briefly. Smoke curled around his words. 

It was easier to spot the red tips of Law’s ears without his hat. He continued to glare at the ground.

One of Bege’s men leaned over the couch towards you. “You should’ve seen him when you weren't in the room-rorero! He was a real grouch, and then the minute you walk in, he's all smiles — just like Father with Madame!”

Law scoffed. “You compared my ship to Germa. They’re the worst!”

“What’s Germa?” you asked him. 

You settled back into the cushions, enjoying the tales you just unlocked as Law dove into Sora: Warrior of the Sea (which was apparently very popular in the North Blue). You’d never seen Law so animated in the time you’d known him. His arm was draped along the settee behind you, tattooed hands flourishing in the air between you as he described everything. 

The conversation morphed, returning to Chiffon and Bege’s baby.

“I can give you a physical if you want,” offered Law. 

Chiffon’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”

“Don't try anything funny, Trafalgar,” Bege warned as he scooted aside to make room. “How’s it look?”

As Law kneeled before Chiffon, he waved you over. “Come on, come look at this, Y/N-ya.” 

You sat next to Law on the carpeted floor. Gangsters looked over your shoulder in awe as Law’s fingers delicately probed beneath Chiffon’s ears. 

Chiffon gave you a knowing smile, but you were too busy watching Law in the zone. He guided your hand to Chiffon’s stomach as he explained what to look for. 

Not long after, Bege’s gangsters gathered the used dessert plates and fawned over Chiffon with compliments on the food as they passed. Everyone stood as the end of the evening neared. 

“Thank you so much for having us, Chiffon! Let’s do this again, I can't wait until the baby comes,” you said.

“Of course,” Chiffon took your hands and lightly squeezed them. “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad I got to see you again. Let us know if we can ever repay you for your kindness.” 

Bege had lingered silently at Chiffon’s side for most of the evening like a second shadow. He nodded along as his gray eyes pierced you. “Thank you. For protecting my Chiffon when I wasn't there.” 

You were speechless. You barely knew Bege, but it was evident that thanks of any kind were rare from him. You bowed your head and smiled. 

“You mentioned that before,” said Law. “What happened last time?”

Chiffon gasped. “You didn't tell him? About the proposal?”

Your back went rigid. Law noticed. “What proposal?” 

You had worried about Law learning about the marriage proposal before, but to find out about it now…unseen horrors thrashed against your insides. 

Chiffon quickly caught on to your panicked gaze. She tried to deter Bege, but it was too late. 

“Y/N helped Chiffon after one of Big Mom’s outbursts. For her act of chivalry, one of Chiffon’s brothers asked Y/N to marry him,” said Bege.

You cringed. Law’s steel gaze flashed to you. 

“Bege,” Chiffon muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “Not common knowledge.” 

Bege’s eyes widened. “Oh…”

You expected calm, or some type of relief after telling Law. Instead, you were in shambles. The storm that had rocked you during your realization of your feelings for Law was nothing compared to this. Your insides were repeatedly torn apart and stitched together again with each breath. Your to-be tears in the corners of your eyes were flecks of hail thrown with so much force that they burned. Of all the things you’d faced today, this was the worst.

Because the person you loved most was standing right in front of you — and he was leaving. And there was a chance he wouldn't come back.

An awed mumble finally made it past Law’s frozen mouth, “I thought you said —”

“I don't care! You mean everything to me, and I feel like I’m about to lose you. And I can't! I can't, Law…” Tears you were hoping to avoid shedding in front of Law spurted from your eyes at an alarming rate. They burned hot trails down your cheeks.

“You have to come back to me,” you said. “I love you. I’ll say it a million times if you come back to me. So please…”

You swallowed. A hard lump was lodged in your throat and it refused to go down. It morphed your voice into something broken.

“Don't leave me alone in this world,” you croaked.

You cowered into Law’s chest. Sniffles escaped you between choruses of, “Please, please Law…”

Your almost-statue came to life again. Law’s fingers gently tucked strands of hair stuck to your tearstreaks away from your face. His touch was feather-light.

“Look at me, Y/N-ya. I want to see your face.”

You pried yourself from Law’s chest. His hand curled under your chin, guiding your gaze to his, like sunflowers rising to kiss the dawn.

Tears still dribbled down your cheeks like a badly leaking faucet. Law smoothed them away with his thumb. You’d always thought of Law’s gaze as something hard and sharp-edged, like steel. Now the gray was soft. Like gentle rain clouds during a cracked, dry summer.

“You just made my entire existence worth it,” said Law.

It took all of your willpower not to gape at Law. Your own heart throbbed in your chest. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to you. 

Law rounded the operation table. His lab coat swished behind him in a flurry of white. He stopped behind you. 

“The fabric of your sweater is too thick. Can you take it off?” said Law. 

Your body went rigid. Phantom claws lashed at your back, trailing along scars Law hadn't known existed. 

You shifted awkwardly on the metal slab. “Um…I’m not really wearing anything underneath.” 

“Are you comfortable removing it?” Law’s voice was calmer than you felt. 

“Are you?”

Law’s breath hissed behind you. “I’m a doctor, Y/N-ya.”