Simping for One Piece Men 🏴‍☠️

Fallen Lily Chapter 4

“My Lady, what are you saying??” you sputter trying to wipe up the spilled tea you spilled on the table. Your eyes widened in shock, staring at her like she had grown 5 extra limbs. “Don't worry my dear flower, I'm simply planning a little vacation.” Shakky smirks at you.

“You're serious?...” you look her dead in the eye looking for any sort of sign that she was simply pulling your leg. But when you saw nothing of the sort all you could do is release a heavy sigh. “Fine…but I'm not letting you go alone…” you mumble, cleaning up the rest of the mess you made. Before thinking of preparations for Shakky’s said ‘little vacation’.

Over the time the two of you set sail to Pirate Island things between you and Shakky went somewhat back to normal. The two of you would still discuss books you were both reading and enjoy tea together. You weren't as flustered when she would step closer to you or when she would brush against you when walking past, you simply focused on what was in front of you paying her no actual mind. On the outside you were stoic but on the inside so many emotions stirred and clashed. You reveled in her attention just like anyone else to be honest but you weren’t sure she was serious. You knew how playful she’d get. You can’t deny that it stung a bit whenever you thought about how much happier she is when she even talks about the blond spectacled man and it made your stomach sink thinking that you were getting in the way of her happiness. Compared to the interactions you had seen between her and Rayleigh. You had seen how they looked at each other too. How Shakky looked at him like loving him set her truly free. 

And when he looked at Shakky, he looked at her as if leaving were a myth other people invented, something that could never apply to them. You hate to admit it but you’re happy Shakky found someone who truly sees and cares for her. But it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth about how she still flirts with you. You internally scold yourself for never really telling you to stop but you also didn’t think she’d be serious about Rayleigh. Compared to how she reacted to everyone else. You just wish that she loved you like you loved her because that was something you had come to realize that you couldn’t compete with something as wonderful as that.

But little did you know whenever Shakky gazed at you, her gaze clung, not desperate but devoted, the way ivy climbs ruins without asking if the building wants to fall.

You were getting a bit sir crazy being on the ship for so long with not much to do. The anticipation of where the two of you were going and what Shakky planned to do at said destination was eating at you. She never exactly told you where the two of you were going. “My Lady, this is the fifth island we have been on. What exactly are we looking for?” you look up at the multiple maps laid out in front of you. Shakky’s chuckle drew your attention, your eyes locking in on hers. “A new beginning my Lily.” Her eyes soften as you tilt your head in confusion. 

The next day you docked at a small quiet island to restock on supplies. “My lady, if they have your tea in stock would you like me to buy it in bulk?” you say as you grab your bag and the shopping list. “No need. I will join you. I’ve been meaning to look for new clothes anyway.” she smiles before taking your hand in hers and leading you off the boat and onto the docks. 

When you both arrived at the center of town you took in the sights of all the different stalls and stores. Whenever Shakky left the amazon all eyes were drawn to her beauty but this time it was different. Not many people really paid the two of you any mind they were bustling about tending to their errands or ever they had going on that day. It was nice not being flocked by a bunch of people (mostly men) you could just go about your day and not have people all in your face. As you were taking in the sights, Shakky called your name “I found a fruit stall and it has few of your favorite fruits and I couldn't decide which ones to get so I was able to get them all for a discount.” she smirks happily showing you a basket almost overflowing with all sorts of fruits. You look behind her seeing the stall you assume she just came from as you see the fruit merchant leaned over with hearts in his eyes locked in on Shakky. “You are charming your way into getting free stuff again I see.” you couldn’t help but chuckle “thank you my lady i appreciate you thinking of me” you smile warmly at her before taking the basket from her. While you were settling your things and getting out your shopping list you didn’t see the tips of Shakky’s ears going a bit pink. “We should probably go get more clothes, Lily.” Shakky says taking your other arm and leading you to one of the many stores.

You assumed that she was going to go off on her own and meet you back at the center of the plaza but the only time she let go of you was to get something off the racks and hold it up next to. “You should try it on. This color would look good on you dear flower.” Shakky ushers you into the changing room with little time for you to object. “Um my lady…I don’t think this is for me…” you say nervously as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. The dress was way too short for your liking. “Well we won’t know until you come out here and show me darling.” The smile in her voice convinces you to come out. You were still hesitant though since you could practically feel the cool air on your ass and your tits feel like they’ll go spilling out any minute.

You couldn’t even utter a response with Shakky walking around you like a predator observing its prey. And her slight touches when it came to observing the outfit on you flustered you. “It looks really good on you.” she smiles warmly at you. “It's so revealing though..” you refuse to look at yourself in the mirror since you know your already warm face would combust at the sight in front of you. “Well it is hot on most of the islands we will visit and I don't want my dear flower to wilt in the heat.” Shakky smirks in victory before you even answer on whether or not you were going to get it. And eventually she gets a few more outfits for you before you sigh in defeat as she goes to the shop owner and purchases all the items.

After your shopping spree Shakky suggests that you both take your things back to the ship and continue enjoying the island and what it all had to offer. The two of you ease into idle banter and laugh your way up the plank and onto the ship. While you both settle in you don’t notice the sets of eyes locked in on you. 

Not too far from where you docked was Roger and Rayleigh who just so happen to be on a supply run. Roger was busy stuffing his face as he was still a bit angry about Rayleigh stopping him from going to talk to Shakky. “I uhg shee why eee ant gooo tulk ooo thwmmm!” Roger gobbles down more food. “How many times do I have to tell you I can’t understand you when your mouth is full.” Ray sighs. “I said I don’t see why we can’t go talk to them!” Roger huffs. “Because we have things to do and they clearly do too.” Rayleigh  pinches the bridge of his nose. “Humph! And to think Shakky is all fond of you and you won’t even go to say hi to her.” Roger pouts. All Rayleigh could do was roll his eyes. But then the both of them got quiet as they took in the sights of you. “Well…if you won’t let me go say hi to Shakky i can at least go and say hi with Petals.” a boyish grin forms on Roger’s face, his eyes not leaving you or the way your hips sway. “Roger…do not interrupt-” the blond is cut off and roger leaps from their ship onto the kuja pirates' slightly smaller ship.

“Oi! Petals!” Roger’s booming voice startles you causing you to drop some of your shopping bags. You hear a loud thud behind you and the floor shaking as the stomping gets closer. You sigh, picking up your bags. “Loud man thing.” you grumble before turning to face him. “It's been a while! Wanna stop by the tavern for a pint?” he towers over you leaning down a bit giving you a puppy dog eyed look. You look around on the deck and see that shakky’s not there. ‘She’ll be busy with putting stuff away…don’t want roger harassing her when she’s trying to relax.’ You let out a heavy sigh as you decide to take one for the team. “Fine…but you’re paying.” you walk past him. “Of course can’t let a lady such as yourself handle the tab.” he grins before scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder and makes his way to town. As Shakky comes back out onto deck all she hears is you scream “ROGER PUT ME DOWN!” and his loud laughter right after.

Once he found a pub that caught his eye he finally put you down. The both of you enter and he goes straight to the counter to order something while you go to find a spot away from a lot of people.  Roger comes over with two large things of ale and a menu in his hand. “Did you have to get so much? It's larger than your empty head.” you grumble still taking it from him. Roger just giggles after taking a huge gulp from his tankard. “I figured you’d only want one drink so I got you one that’d be worth the berri.” he grins handing you the menu. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted anything ta eat so I snagged a menu so you can get something.” your face heats up the kind gestures from him flustering you as you take the menu mumbling a thanks. You finally decide on what to eat and Roger then gets up to order for you. 

Even though you and Shakky have traveled to various islands you still weren’t used to such large groups of people. When you traveled with your fellow Kuja Sisters this strange feeling never came about. But now that it's just you and your lady you feel vulnerable, like a candle sitting in the rain. And you hate to admit it but being around Roger wasn't that bad. He was extremely loud and impulsive but he was kind and surprisingly considerate. 

“You ‘ere all by yourself beautiful?” Your thoughts were interrupted by a sour stench invading your nose. You look up from your drink and your sites land on the intruder. You don't even give him an answer, you just raise a brow before your eyes land on the other drink across from you. Clearly he doesn't take the hint before he attempts to try and be smooth with putting his arm behind you. “Ugh! Disgusting!” Your patience ran out as you grabbed the hand that was about to touch your shoulder and twist it till you had his arm locked behind his back. “How dare you not only invade my personal space but attack me with your foul stench!” you restraining the drunk alerted those around you including his crewmates which were quick to jump to his defense. The minute you heard multiple footsteps charging in your direction you quickly picked up the annoying man you had restrained and launched him right into a few of his crewmates causing them to all stumble onto the ground. One unsheathed his sword and started trying to stab you but you swiftly dodge all his attempts at harming you. You were so focused on finding an opening to disarm the swordsman you failed to realize another one of his crewmates pulled out a rifle and had it aimed right at you. One shot just barely hit you as you kick the sword man in his chest. “Your aim is as bad as your captain's hygiene.” You smirk over at the rifleman before chugging down the rest of your drink charging at the rifleman before smashing the giant glass ale jar on his skull. You knew you couldn't keep this up forever you were outnumbered and your weapon was back on the ship. “Shit you mutter” as the swordsman gets up immediately going in to try and stab you in the stomach. You go to brace the brunt of the attack but a strong eerie wave of raw power is felt from behind you. You barely have the energy to turn your head because of the power of this invisible force but you see Roger right behind you giving the men this deadly look that had even you internally shudder. “Roger…?” You whisper. You can hardly recognize him, you're so used to him smiling or making a goofy face. “IS THAT GOL D ROGER?!” the swordsman dropped his sword panicking. 

“The Roger Pirates?? They're here on our island?!” someone mumbles “Did you alert the marines? We can’t risk such dangerous pirates being on our island…” another islander said, failing to whisper. “Looks like we have to dash and dine Petals!” Roger faces you with a grin, he  throws you over his shoulder again, sprinting out the door and towards the docks, avoiding things thrown at the two of you and bullets being shot in your direction. “Wah! Wait, you're not going to fight them?!” you scream over the crowd of marines chasing after you. “Sorry gorgeous, don't wanna risk you getting hurt! Plus Rayleigh is gonna have a fit since they know the crew's here and then he won't be able to shop in peace.” he cackles before making a sudden turn around the corner avoiding more bullets. 

The next thing you know he's practically stomped all around the island avoiding the marines that were called and now you're trapped in a cramped, dark, and cold crevice that was in the town's brick wall. Roger pulls you close to his chest as you're both trapped in a tiny crevice in the rock wall. His hairy chest is smothering you, you could hardly breathe. “Can't. Breathe.” You try to huff out. He looks down at you confused before you finally tilt your head to a certain angle. “I can't breathe!” You hiss glaring at him. Then Roger pulls you through a small space into a secluded area. Covered in lush green vegetation and clearing that's right before a cliff with a view of the sea.

“There they are!” The moment of peace was ruined, the marines finally found the two of you. You were going to get into a fighting stance when you felt a gentle pull on your wrist. “Do you trust me?” For once Roger looks serious and that scares you. The selfish buffoon that came charging into Shakky’s and your’s lives who was always happy and silly all of a sudden had a stone cold face? It terrified you. He senses your hesitation before he says your name to snap you out of it and that causes you to look at him wide-eyed before you nod. He gently picks you up and runs towards the cliff. “W-wait Roger what are you-?!” you panic, clinging to him for dear life. You squeeze your eyes shut hoping that your demise is quick. As the two of you descend towards the ocean the small kuja vessel is quick to swoop by. You hear your name being called which causes you to open your eyes seeing Lady Shakky and Rayleigh on board stopping the ship in enough time for the two of you to board. Rayleigh and Shakky both reach out to catch you. Rayleigh carrying you bridal style in his arms holding you close. The two of them completely forget about Roger. “You alright hun? That was quite a long drop.” Shakky says with her arms wrapping around you as Rayleigh sets you down. Her eyes scan over your form making sure you weren’t hurt or anything. Rayleigh also stood close making sure you had no injuries which was surprising to you he was showing such care and gentleness. You were going to answer until all you all hear are curses from down below in the water. “Rayleigh you blond bastard! YOU CATCH HER BUT NOT ME?!” he whines and scrambles onto the ship. “There is no way I'm going out of my way to risk breaking my back to catch you.” Rayleigh snaps back his hand still on your back to support you. Almost as if he's afraid something else might happen to you if you let go.

“Roger what the hell were you thinking?! Are you out of your mind?! She could have gotten hurt or worse!.” the blond scolds him. Before Roger could argue back you couldn’t help but bust out laughing at the scene before you. Roger had an octopus attached to his butt, two starfish attached to his chest and a huge knot on his forehead from possibly hitting his head on a rock when he landed in the water. As he struggled to take it off your laughter only increased and you released a snort as the octopus scurried away. You were too busy laughing you hadn’t realized the 3 sets of eyes staring at you. How all 3 of them looked at you as if you were the center of the universe. Committing the beautiful and rare sight of you laughing and smiling into their memories.

Ch 3

Masterlist

Note: I'm so sorry y'all this took so long i am immediately working on Ch 5 And thanks to those who helped me improve my writing (theres so many of you idk if i could remember yalls tags and also i love yall you helped me improve so much) work has been kicking my ass...im looking for another job thats not as taxing or the shifts aren't so long and i got a car and moved into a new place! :> so thats some good news! anyway i drew my version of Reader (aka nicknamed Lily bc the title lol its also an oc of mine in one of my original stories i want to work on eventually)

I hope you all are doing good too :]

“He didn’t; he knew both your name and the address you lived at, and since dad’s shop is in the same neighbourhood he asked me to bring the flowers over. What’s wrong, (name)? Is this guy bothering you?”

He sort of is, you have to admit to yourself, just not in the way your interlocutor suspects. “No, not at all; it’s just an old acquaintance pranking me.” you explain forcing yourself to smile, and you can see the skepticism in the eyes of the butcher’s son, who is probably wondering how in the world a beautiful bouquet of flowers could be considered a prank. Still, he has run the errand he’s been paid for and his father needs his help at the shop, so you say your good-byes -“Say hi to Shiru for me.” “I will, and please tell your dad to keep some of those lamb leg steaks he always gets on Saturday aside for me!” and part. 

You close the door behind you, and spend a moment in the quiet stillness of the house, staring at the beautiful bouquet in your hands and feeling trepidant as if those pretty flowers could spring to life and try to devour you; then, with a sigh, you go look for a vase to put them in the water. 

It is petty of you, perhaps, but you know fully well this is no mere gift, not considering the flowers he has chosen -that is clearly not a coincidence, not when, as your delivery boy has rightfully pointed out, there is no place in Sabaody that sells, or grows, sunflowers- and, even more importantly, who he is. You can’t objectively guess his intentions from that simple gift, not when so many years have passed since your last meeting and everything that has happened in the meantime, but you know it means something, something important…

It’s me. I am back in your life, or at least I want to be, even though I am polite and respectful enough to express it from a distance, so as to leave you the chance to decide what to do rather than showing up at your door and forcing you to face me. I am back, and since I still remember what flower has always been your favourite, you know I still remember everything about you, about what we used to mean to each other, about everything we lived through together. I am back in your life, and I wish you’d be back in mine as well.

This is what that bouquet, that unexpected and deceptively innocent gift, means, and to your deep shame, after everything you have done and experienced and mourned and been while he was away gallivanting across the sea, that unspoken message, that intention, and the memories it has aroused in your heart, still has the power to affect you the way it would have if all those years had never existed. After so long, the intensity of the sway he once held over you has not dimmed in the slightest; he wouldn’t take advantage of it, he is not that sort of man, but that doesn’t make that awareness any less humiliating.

A vase of flowers would look perfect on top of the chest of drawers in your bedroom, the bright yellow of the sunflowers complimenting the colour of the wallpaper, but after a moment of consideration you decide to place the vase on a much less compromising spot on the kitchen table. Satisfied with the solution you found for this small but pressing issue, you focus on preparing dinner, while Shiru comes out of his room to set the table, which has long been one of his duties.

“These are nice flowers, mom; who gave them to you?” your beloved son asks as he retrieves forks and knives from the cutlery drawer, and that innocent question has the power to make you, busy serving the risotto on the plates, jump slightly. How do you know someone gave them to me?, you are about to ask, but even at his young age your son is perceptive enough to know that flowers are usually used as a present, not simply bought, especially when gathered in a bouquet with a pretty ribbon around the stems. No, flowers are made to be gifted… and even an eleven-year-old child is old enough to perceive that sort of homage is not usually exchanged between friends or family members.

You sigh, torn for a moment, because you have always done your best not to lie to your son, at least when it isn’t about a matter he is too young to understand or don’t deserve to worry about, like that time you were fired from the restaurant you worked at as a sous-chef and for a brief time worried you would be unable to pay rent. This particular case falls in neither category, and yet, to your deep shame, you feel unable to come clean and share with your child a story he is more than mature enough to understand.

You see, before your dad there was a man in mom’s life; they weren’t married, and describing their relationship as complicated would be the understatement of the century, and yet it felt like they were destined to be together, as if destiny couldn’t help leading them towards each other over and over again…

“Oh, no one; I just saw them in the florist’s window, and I thought they were pretty.” you answer, hoping to sound casual and probably failing, given the skeptic look Shiru observes you with for a moment “Can you please take the fruit bowl to the table? How did the geography test go?”

Today you have taken an evening off from the restaurant to rest after a few particularly busy days, and you and your son share a peaceful dinner sitting at the kitchen table. As usual you can’t help but smile as Shiru tells you of his day at school, of how his teacher complimented him for a well-written homework essay, of a fight between two classmates he intervened to solve, and of how, to his great pride, he has been chosen as part of the school’s cross-country team. 

He’s such a great child, usually well-behaved and affectionate, favouring you in looks but clearly having his father’s beauty, and you love him more than anything else in the world. No matter what plans or ambitions you might have had in the past, you place is by his side, and a tranquil, safe and stable life is what you both have a duty and are determined to offer him, whatever happens and even if it means sacrificing your own happiness for it… and that is something that no one and nothing, not even him, could ever change.

Not that he ever could, you reflect as, having finished eating, you and Shiru stand to gather plates and cups from the table to carry them to the sink; you haven’t even decided if you want that person back in your life, no matter how secretly touched you were by his gift, and even in case you did reconnect it’s not like you could - would, would, pick up where you were left off! That would be ridiculous, it has been so long, you are a different person and no doubt he is as well, you probably wouldn’t even recognise each other, it would ridiculous to think you could… you could…

“Mom?”

“Crap!” you cry, just as the glass you have just washed slips from your fingers and falls to the floor, unsurprisingly shattering at the impact. Your lips pursed as to keep yourself from swearing again, which is another thing you have forbidden yourself to do in your son’s presence -why are you doing such a bad job as a mother today? Why is that person’s inference in your life, even if simply through a gift of his delivered by a third party without even a brief message written on a card, enough to make you forget yourself and make such a mess of your role as a mother, which you consider the most important aspect of your life?- you bend to pick up the pieces; a moment later, Shiru wordlessly hands you the broom he has just retrieved from the small closet across the room. 

“Thank you, darling. You wanted to tell me something?”

“Yes, a few of us are planning on going to the Park during the weekend, since it’s a friend’s birthday. Can I go?” your son asks, standing at the sink by your side. Shiru is a frequent visitor of the archipelago’s amusement park, with all its rides and attractions that are just what a kid his age could wish for, often spending all his pocket money on roller coasters, carousels -the teacup ride is his favourite, even though he protests he’s way too old to enjoy it- and cotton candy. You allow him to go, provided that he finishes his homework before, gets home by dinner time… and one or two parents remain with him and his friends as supervisors.

“Come on, mom, we’re not children anymore, we don’t need adults to accompany us…” Shiru protests, and you point out that whatever he wants to call himself, he’s way too young to wander about Sabaody Park by himself or at least without an adult accompanying him. Shiru scoffs but doesn’t protest, and as you finish sweeping the shards of glass away he returns to dry the tableware you have just washed, neatly putting each plate or glass away in the pantry. He’s been helping you with the housework since he was nine, a capable young man of the house who never complains that washing up or going to the shops is women’s work; he’s a good child, and you’re both grateful and proud you get to call him yours.

On the other hand, there are times you wish your son was just a little less perceptive…

“Is something wrong, mom?”

“No, darling; why?”

“You seem… strange, today; like you’re worried about something.” Shiru says, peering up at you in a way that brings out his resemblance to his father, that way that both have, or had, to look into your heart as if the rest of you were transparent “Did you have trouble at work? Are things at the restaurant not going well?”

You hurry to assure your son that no, you’re totally fine and on the contrary, the restaurant you managed to open three years ago, as it had been your lifelong dream of doing, is going more than well, since recently you have received a glowing review by a famous food critic who had visited the place incognito. You have a few ideas about dishes to add to the menu, and as usual, you will have your son taste them before anyone else.

“What about a new dessert?” Shiru, who is not particularly gluttonous but has a sweet tooth, asks eagerly.

“We’ll see; there’s a recipe for a new sponge cake I’ve been meaning to try. With almonds.”

“Oh, that sounds good…”

Shiru smiles, already anticipating the next time he’ll get to work as your food taster, and as you look at his face, the hair the same colour as yours that he insists on keeping long because that’s what most his peers do and the small scar near his mouth he got when he was seven after a dangerous tumble down the stairs, your heart is filled with a joy more intense and encompassing than anything you thought it was humanly possible to feel. You are not proud of all the choices you have made in your life, but having Shiru has made your life better, made you better, and there is no sacrifice you wouldn’t be willing to bear in order to protect him.

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, mom.” your son readily answers with a sunny smile he surely hasn’t gotten from you. He has not yet reached the age at which many kids stop expressing their feelings so easily and start hating their parents without a valid reason, and you hope he never will “Can you make me burgers for dinner tomorrow?”

“Well, if you insist…”

The sunflowers sit in their vase on the kitchen table only a few steps from you, a cheerful image you can’t help but associate with a period of your life you had thought you had left behind forever, but spending time with your son has as usual the power to make you feel as if nothing was wrong in the world. 

*****

Being a chef and a mother at the same time is not always easy, since your shifts at work extend beyond the restaurant’s opening hours and often keep you from spending as much time with Shiru as you wish and consider necessary, but fortunately your son is now old enough to remain at home alone for a few hours without you having to worry about him - or the house. You always make sure to share at least a meal with him every day other than breakfast, prepare healthy food for him to eat on his own, and sometimes have Shiru visit you at work when he gets out of school, where your colleagues of the food brigade are always happy to spoil him; your son is probably the best fed child of Sabaody Archipelago, which you are quite proud of.

Between caring for your child, your work commitments, and various other hassles, a few days pass before you have a chance to go look for the giver of the sunflower bouquet that still occupies the vase in the place of honour of your kitchen, the beautiful flowers having sadly started to whiter. You have spent those days reflecting on the matter as you sliced vegetables or checked the degree of doneness of a steak, or as you folded the laundry at home, and have decided that taking the initiative is the best course of action.

He has, after all, signaled his presence on the archipelago and desire to reconnect with you in the most discreet way possible rather than showing up unannounced at your door, which you feel grateful for. Nothing and no one is forcing you to go meet him, and the archipelago is large and populated enough you might both spend years there without meeting, but you don’t want to simply find yourself face to face with him as you buy groceries, enjoy a drink in your favourite little coffee shop or, worse, accompany Shiru to the dentist. You want the meeting to take place on your terms, and take some time to decide what you will tell him.

And so it is that, after you have spent twenty uninterrupted minutes staring at a bowl of freshly peeled potatoes as if they contained the mysteries of life and death and your sous-chefs have started worrying you are working too much, you decide you will take the bull by the horns and go look for the man who you have no reason to fear or to expect trouble from, but the thought of meeting whom has the power to fill you with trepidation.

The perfect occasion presents itself four days after you received the sunflower bouquet; Shiru is at a friend’s place and a work commitment you had scheduled for today has been postponed, leaving you with several hours free. Normally you wouldn’t know where to start, since there the archipelago is inhabited by thousands of people and the man you are looking for left you no clue regarding where he lives or spends his days, but after such a long separation you are still able to guess the sort of place he would choose: a small, clean inn in a Grove part of the gambling district, the sort of place where people are mostly left to their own devices, and a host can be paid extra to keep his mouth shut about the identity of his newest lodger.

There are a number of places on Sabaody that fit these parameters, but you are lucky and hit the mark on your third attempt. You have just stepped into the inn and your gaze is spreading over the people, at least two dozens and mostly of the masculine variety, sitting at the round tables nursing a drink or playing cards, and he’s neither the tallest nor the largest, nor the only one with his specific hair colour, nor is he shouting or doing anything to attract attention. And yet, your eyes are immediately, irrevocably drawn to a man sitting with a beer on the counter in front of him, quietly listening to the chatting and arguing around him.

It’s him, you don’t even have to approach or wait for the man to turn to be sure, you just know it because something inside you -not your heart nor your brain nor that part of your body he had learnt to know intimately over the several years of your relationship; rather it’s something more akin to your soul- has started calling to him, like the inexorable pull that leads migratory birds across the world to reach their nesting sites, the same partially irrational but overwhelming attraction to a place, or a person, that is too much an integral part of you to be easily ignored.

It’s him. It’s really him, no more than a few paces from you, and he’s here, here where you are, close enough that you could…

You could, but you don’t. You remain completely still, neither moving nor calling, like a statue the inn patrons have to walk around to reach the counter or their table; a few glances, both curious or merely annoyed, touch you, and remain unnoticed as you keep looking at the man you have both loved and hated, waited for and tried to forget, a man who has aroused so many and different feelings in your heart you couldn’t begin to make heads or tails of them.

A pirate of his caliber, you think, should have already sensed someone is looking at him, but finally the intensity of your gaze succeeds in what the fear gnawing at your heart has stopped you from doing, alerting the man of your presence. You see him look up from his beer, suddenly startled, and turn on his stool, and a moment later he’s seeing you, and he’s standing and moving across the room’s width, deftly avoiding both a maid carrying a tray so full the beer is practically begging to be spilled and a pair of men grabbing at each other’s neck, until the distance separating you is reduced to less than a step, which is still much farther than you once were.

“(name).” he murmurs, and you hate him, and even more you hate yourself, for the way hearing him utter your name makes you feel inside. He’s smiling, not a grin or a smirk like the one gracing his bounty poster, but a real smile, sunny and happy, as he regards you with the sort of marvel a devotee would experience when finding themself face to face with a relic “You found me.”

“And you found me first.” you point out; your mouth is so dry speaking is almost physically painful “Hello, Rayleigh.”

*****

You can’t remember the day you met Rayleigh.

It might seem strange, and somehow inappropriate given the part each of you has played in the other’s life or at least the first part of it, but you doubt you could be blamed for that shortcoming, since your and Rayleigh’s first meeting happened in that period of your early childhood memories dating back to which soon disappear once adulthood is reached.

The village you were born in was small, small enough for all its children to be part of the same play group, irrespective of gender and age difference. Only a few years apart, you and the man who would one day be your first love -first of three at most, no less- thus grew up together, friends more because of the circumstances than out of shared interests or a personal syntony, but a close bond nonetheless… one that was spectacularly shattered a night soon after your sixteenth birthday, on the occasion of the village’s fete. Rayleigh complimented your dress -second-hand but still pretty, with little sunflowers on the hem and the sleeves- you boldly invited him to dance…

… and soon after you were together behind the mayor’s barn, the music and merriment the whole village was taking part in completely forgotten, locked in an embrace, your mouth pressing against his, his strong hands cupping your hips.

That was the start of it all - it being a relationship that encompassed the whole of your youth, an on-again, off-again rapport that was neither tranquil nor stable, but that mattered more to each of you than words could have explained. Maybe you were just too young to settle down, no matter how deep the affection between you; maybe you were too stubborn to admit you wanted more before the other did, and too insecure, and too frustrated with the small village you both felt you had outgrown, even though you hadn’t the faintest idea of what else you could do.

The longest span of time you and Rayleigh spent together between a fight and another was perhaps three months; the shortest was three days. You were each other’s first - in many ways; he fought to defend you from other men who seemed unable to keep their hands to themselves; you patched him up and fed him whenever Rayleigh’s father’s temper made it unsafe for him to be home. He was the first to believe in your dream of becoming a successful chef at the head of her own restaurant; you were the sole, perhaps, to think he would one day amount to more than becoming a violent drunkard like his father - to think that he was special, and destined to greatness.

I love you was something you both only said when drunk, desperate to be taken back, or the other person was asleep; during your several breaks Rayleigh flirted with any creature who wore a skirt above the age of majority, and you gave him a run for his money in that regard like in many others. You would have gladly jumped in front of a bullet to save each other’s life, but the mere thought of having dinner to meet each other’s parents was ludicrous, and not simply because in a tiny place like the one you lived in everyone knew everyone already and neither had a family worthy to be introduced. 

Then there were the fights, never violent but bitter, with shouting being heard across the village -once again, that was not a large distance for sound to cover, but still- and curses and insults traded valiantly on both parts, quarrels that made you and Rayleigh feel guilter the higher the percentage of those recriminations being unjustified. You made love before, after and even during those fights, your reciprocal ardor made even more intense by the agitation; sometimes passion and tenderness helped you make peace, in other occasions it exacerbated the distance separating you.

You caused each other’s tears and you dried them. Among other relationships, nothing could compare to what you and Rayleigh shared since, you reflected more than once, if soulmates did exist, it was written nowhere that love was enough for two people to get along and live in harmony.

“Sometimes I wish I could forget you; my life would be a lot easier without you, without what I feel for you.” Rayleigh told you one night; he had come to your place to apologise after yet another fight, bringing a a single sunflower as a gift because he couldn’t afford a bouquet, and you had cooked him dinner by way of forgiveness, and now you were looking at the stars outside your balcony, wrapped in each other’s embrace “You’re special to me, (name), you know you are the one I want, but it’s like we’re cursed, unable to be together for more than a few weeks before we fuck everything up.”

It was undeniably true, something you had already reflected on several times, unable to decide whether you found it more romantic or tragic, or both things equally. “Well, I don’t care if we fight.” you said in the end, turning in your lover’s arms to meet his eyes “I wish he didn’t, but… every time we do it, we always make peace. Maybe that’s what matters the most; that whatever happens, we never fail to look for each other and make things right.”

Rayleigh agreed, and he ended up spending the night at your place, something you secretly enjoyed but rarely dared asking him; a moment before you fell asleep in each other’s arms, your lover murmured in your ear that he would always come back to you, because you were the love of his life. Maybe he had only dared uttering those words because he thought you were asleep, but they made you happy, because in the vague, non-binding fashion that had always characterised your occasional discussion of the future they seemed to suggest Rayleigh envisioned a life together for the two of you; one complicated and not always peaceful perhaps, but one you would share nonetheless. 

You thought that Rayleigh had meant those words, and maybe he did, for a while… until a straw-hatted captain chanced upon your village and any hope you might have had for a life together for you and your lover were completely screwed up.

*****

“You’re wearing glasses.” you say, breaking a silence that has grown more and more uncomfortable over the several minutes you and Rayleigh have spent in each other’s company, sitting on a bench out the back of the inn, a surprisingly quiet corner much more appropriate for the conversation you are going to have - or maybe you aren’t; you haven’t decided yet.

“Oh… yeah, have for at least a decade by now.” he explains, openly grateful for that neutral, if not properly friendly, approach, his fingertips rising to touch the round lens in front of his brown eyes “I can’t even read the paper without them, but I have always thought a pirate with glasses looks ridiculous.”

“Hmmm…”

You see him grin at you, a smile you’re about to return for a moment before your brain, and your heart, call you to order, reminding you of all the pain and heartache this man has caused you, and for which you haven’t forgiven him yet. You hurry to look away, but Rayleigh is undeterred, having not grown less stubborn than you remember him to be in your youth.

“You look very well.” he says kindly, making you scoff. Despite years of effort, you have never managed to lose the weight you had gained during your pregnancy, and while you have never bothered to count the wrinkles that time has carved on your face since you and Rayleigh last saw each other, you know the number would not be of your liking. You have aged, obviously, and while you like to think you look your age and not a year more, you doubt many of your friends and neighbours in your old village would recognise you now.

Who knows whether Rayleigh actually thinks you are still an attractive woman, you wonder despite yourself, or if he’s only saying it out of politeness. Neither case would be good news, you’re quite sure; in one case you would be humiliated, in the other flattered in a way a woman in your place can’t afford to feel.

He’s the one who looks well, you have to admit. Naturally tall and imposing, his years as a pirate have kept Rayleigh fit and strong, and age has gifted him a sort of charm younger men normally lack and which you are sure several women have fallen prey to, considering the way two girls maybe half your age have giggled while walking past him a few minutes ago. You can’t really blame them, nor him for having aged well, but the fact that after what he did to you, and after all those years he spent away without even keeping in touch once in a while, you still find him attractive fills your heart with shame and frustration. 

“How did you find me?” you ask, curious despite yourself, and Rayleigh admits it was relatively easy. He first returned to your island, where he was told you had departed years before, but a friend knew you had moved to Sabaody after receiving a job offer from a local restaurant; having reached the archipelago, Rayleigh only had to ask around a bit and dole out a few berry to discover where you lived.

“Did you get my flowers?”

“I must have, mustn’t I? Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” you point out, in a snappy tone your interlocutor despite everything does not deserve and which you immediately feel guilty for. “I’m sorry. Yes, I got the flowers, they were beautiful; thank you. Where did you find them? I’ve never seen sunflowers sold here on the archipelago.”

A new grin curves Rayleigh’s lips. “I have my ways.” 

A leg is swung over a bench, and then your former lover is staring openly at you, who in turn are still determined not to give him the satisfaction of betraying how deeply his presence is affecting you. “You do look well, you know; you haven’t changed at all.” he murmurs softly, and even with your gaze carefully averted you just know he’s looking at you in that particular way he always has, sweet and intimate, capable of making you feel as if no other woman existed in the world. It was the same way he looked at you during the first dance you shared that night at the village fete, and by the time the music had stopped you were completely lost already “How are you?”

“Fine; yeah, I’m good. I have opened my own restaurant, you know.”

“I heard; that’s great, I’m very happy for you. Are… are you married?”

Rayleigh flinches, probably aware of how his plan of sounding casual and nonchalant as he posed that last question failed miserably, and it did, enough to inflame you with the same rage you felt that day you discovered one of of the waiters at your restaurant was throwing away leftovers rather than having them delivered to a local charity which would ensure they were well used. You turn to look at him for the first time since you left the inn and 

“How dare you ask me this?!” you cry, jumping to your feet “You, of all people? You waltz back into my life after ages, and practically the first thing you ask is whether there is a man in my life? Are you fucking serious, Rayleigh?!” 

“I just wanted to…”

“I know perfectly what you wanted; I can imagine it, even after all these years. You think you can just search for me and, what? Start from where we had left, as if nothing had happened then and in the meantime? Because we can’t - we won’t. God, Rayleigh, you are incredible! As soon as you have nothing better to do you return and expect me to… to take you back? Who the hell did you take me for?”

You are shouting now, loud enough to be heard across the street and for a couple of faces to peek through the inn windows to check whether you are being murdered or kidnapped. You usually dislike raising your voice, one of the many ways in which motherhood has made you a better person, but you can’t help it right now, which in turn adds to your rage. Rayleigh has hurt you, perhaps more than anyone else ever has, but many years have passed since, and you have gone on, rather than nursing your broken heart and avoiding new relationships because you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Without Rayleigh, you have lived a good life; you have loved, become a mother, bought a house and become a successful chef. And yet, finding yourself face to face with your first love has been enough to distress you, and to make you forget all the promises you had made yourself to tackle this meeting like the level-headed, mature woman you are. Even the most sensible woman could feel resentment towards the former lover who broke her heart, but with Rayleigh it is different… with him is so much worse, in ways you don’t dare examine even in the privacy of your heart. 

Even after so many years seeing him again, and being asked about your relationship status, has knocked you sideways, and because of this you can’t help hating him… even aware as you are that the fault is yours and only yours. 

Rayleigh, to his credit, endures your temper tantrum with more grace than you would be able to rustle up in his place, looking appropriately chastised when faced with your accusations. He’s still looking at you, as intense and sweet as he was whenever you met to make peace at the end of yet another fight you had had, his pain evident at seeing yours. 

“Please.” he murmurs soothingly when, too breathless to keep recriminating, you let yourself fall back to the bench, exhausted like at the end of a double shift at the restaurant “Please. (name), I’m very sorry, I… I didn’t mean to upset you. Believe me, I… I just wanted to see you. Maybe I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry…”

You mumble that you don’t presume to tell an adult man where he can go and what he can do, and you appreciated that he left you the chance to decide whether you wanted to meet him or not. “I’m not saying it’s not good to see you; because it is.” you add, an admission it’s harder to make to yourself than to him “It’s just hard. I haven’t forgotten what happened that day, you know; the fact that you left, and how.”

“I know. I did not expect you to; I… I just hope that’s not all you remember about me. About us.” he murmurs, and you point out that there is no us, there hasn’t been for quite some time and you doubt there could be again in the future. You’re face to face now, a million times closer than you expected the two of you would ever be again, and vastly farther than you once were. 

“You’re not here just to say hi, right?” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his eyes; that gaze is still able to captivate you, like it did before his glasses got in the way “Tell me the truth, Rayleigh, like you’ve always done.”

He sighs, and you could swear a touch of pink is colouring his cheeks as your former lover answers: “I’m not.”

“I see.”

“(name)...”

“It’s fine; I mean… I don’t know; I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.” you admit, feeling even more helpless than you sound; you have started wringing your hands, a telltale sign of anxiety you are painfully aware the man in front of you will recognise “I just hope you don’t expect me to… you know, to ask you to move in and the like, like this was a romance novel. I have cared for you a lot, Rayleigh, but I’m no longer the girl you knew; and you’re no longer the man I loved. I’m not sure there is still a place for you in my life, and whether I want to be part of yours.”

“I know. I know it, and I respect it.” Rayleigh says; you can see your words have pained him, but for all the times you have wished you could return the pain he has caused you when he left, that realization doesn’t make you happy. At all. “I just wish we could try. That we could be at least civil to each other; friends, maybe.” 

You strongly doubt that could be possible, for a series of reasons. “Even if it did, it would take time. What do you plan on doing, exactly? To hang around Sabaody indefinitely, until I decide whether we can have coffee together once a week? I know you wouldn’t pressure me, but I can’t ask you to do it, Rayleigh; not when I have no idea whatsoever about what will happen. Hell, until two hours ago I wasn’t even completely sure I wanted to see you again. I don’t want you to do anything you will later regret.”

Rayleigh’s wide, very wide shoulders raise in a shrug; a couple of inn patrons, a little tipsy given they seem to struggle a little while walking the straight path towards the main street, pass you by, and your former lover waits until you are alone once again before answering your question. “I’m not asking you for anything, (name); I know how things stand between us, and I’m well aware of how much I owe you. You can take your time, change your mind, tell me you never want to see me again; I’ll keep my distance in the meantime, and if you want I’ll leave Sabaody and never return. You have my word.”

You believe him, even though your former lover doesn’t exactly have a spotless record when it comes to promise-keeping. “Alright then; if you’re really sure.” you say with a shrug of your own, hoping you sound less awkward than you feel “I better go now.”

“Of course. I guess you won’t let me walk you home?”

You don’t, only in part because it’s not there you’re headed. “I’m not married.” you add softly as you stand once more “And I’m only telling you because… well, otherwise I would ask you to leave; even if we were to remain friends, I wouldn’t let a person I have shared so much with into my life if I had a spouse, or a partner. That’s not the sort of person I want to be.”

“I know what sort of person you are.”

“You don’t; but maybe one day you will.”

Your parting is all things considered friendly, even if not completely devoid of tension; for a moment you have the impression Rayleigh is about to brush his fingers against your cheek in a caress, but something on your face convinces him to reconsider. “I’m glad you came.” he says, and you nod in silence before walking away, well aware of the intense gaze following your every move, a reflection of who knows what thoughts; or maybe, you privately consider, he’s merely looking at your ass.

You manage to hold it together until you have rounded the corner, the inn’s backyard hidden behind a small sweets shop you have once visited with Shiru. Your son has gotten good grades recently and you have decided to make his favourite dishes for dinner, hence your intention to visit the shops to buy a few ingredients to prepare everything before you have to rush at the restaurant, but suddenly you can’t move - you can’t even think.

You slump against the closest wall, taking your head in your hands as you feel your heart pound in a way that would alarm any physician; you’re not sad, not exactly and not only at least, the feelings filling your heart are too numerous and contradictory to define, but the emotions themselves are intense enough to bring tears to your eyes. You thought you were ready for this, but you weren’t, not by a long shot, and you’re afraid that despite the best intentions on both parts your former lover’s return into your life will only lead to heartbreaking - your own, once again.

Good heavens, he’s so beautiful!