The second installment (the sequel) to Ace of Spades is now out.
Read 'The Hanged Man' once you've finished this one.
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A rascal with a penchant for making friends with the wrong people, you were often regarded as a troublemaker by...
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Law made his way to the hospital for the umpteenth time that week, his hands shoved deep into his coat and his nose buried into the dark collar that kept the whistling wind at bay.
It had been only three days since he left you on the front porch of Ace's house, and ever since then, Law hadn't been able to focus quite as he usually did; even going as far as to ignoring your texts, which he rarely did, for fear of leaving you to fend for yourself if you ever found danger.
Didn't you know just how much of a danger Portgas-ya was?
With an irritated click of his tongue, he walked into the large double doors of the hospital and quickly changed out of his usual attire for his scrubs, first donning those before slipping into a pristine, white overcoat.
Security card clipped to his chest, he ascended the brightly lit stairs to the second floor, greeting his other peers as he did, before rounding to a familiar corner that he knew would lead to his office. A breath escaped from him, slow and casual, when he passed by the room you had occupied during your stay here.
Law eyeballed the metal tag of the room plastered to the front of the door, knowing that stepping in would only distract him from his duties. So... he didn't, but that didn't keep him from envisioning you with those bandages over your arms, and that hollow look in your eyes; so plain and devoid of emotion.
The concern of your well-being rose to the fore-front of his mind again, subtle, yet annoying, and with a click of his tongue, he squandered it, opting to push away the irritating nag at the back of his head to focus on his current responsibilities.
His work came first, and you came second, was a motto he often told himself as he found the lure of normalcy returned to him. With a huff of indignation, he allowed himself to be dragged into the monotonous pull of his work, quickly forgetting you until he heard his superior call for lunch break.
A mere two minutes in the hospital had turned into seven hours.
Law rolled out his shoulders with a tired groan, tan arms stretching back until he heard a distinct 'pop' in one of his joints. Eager to fill his empty stomach with grub, he then pushed away from his spot. It would do him good to get outside and breath in some of the fresh air before returning to the back-breaking grind at the hospital.
Eyes strained from the bright light of the monitor, he scooted away and stood up, fingers cracking one by one until they were free of the pressurized pain of typing away all day, his feet taking him to the door, and opening it.
Upon stepping out, he noticed another person idling just outside the hall, several feet from his room, where he often found other visitors waiting. This woman, however, seemed to be another orderly, with a tight-bun to keep the strays from falling out and a smattering of freckles on her well-rounded face.
