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(Y/n)'s P.O.V
The Next Morning
I woke to sunlight and the sound of someone humming.
Shanks was sitting at his desk, boots propped up on the wood, a sake cup in his hand. He wasn't looking at me, his eyes were fixed on something outside the window, but I knew he'd noticed I was awake.
"You snore," he said.
"I do not."
"Do too."
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. My head still ached, but it was better than yesterday. More distant. Like a bad dream I was waking up from.
Except I wasn't waking up.
This was real.
"Shanks," I said.
He turned.
"Thank you," I continued. "For... for not asking too many questions. For letting me stay. For not-" I stopped. Swallowed. "For not treating me like I'm crazy."
Shanks set down his sake cup. He stood and crossed the room, then sat on the edge of the bed.
"You're not crazy," he said. "Something happened to you. Something bad. And when you're ready to tell me what it was... I'll be here."
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"But no pressure, kid. Take your time."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Shanks smiled,soft, gentle, nothing like his usual grin, and stood.
"Now get dressed. We've got a long day ahead." He left before I could respond.
I sat in his bed, in his shirt, in a world that wasn't mine, and tried very hard not to fall apart.
Help me.
I'm trying, I thought back at the voice. I'm trying.
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