Nothing to your Everything

Relapse

Law's mind, crippled and intelligent as it was, could not be asked to provide him with answers in that moment.

There's been very few times in his life where something has truly struck him enough to make him abandon his normal process of thinking things through. He could count the number of times on one hand, where he acted without thinking, threw away his plans and consistency.

One)

The sound of gunshots and screams echoing down the hall, creating a symphony of tragedy sung for the destined dead. His sister, so small, fragile, delicate, white stains on her skin created from a concoction of disease and greed, in his arms as he puts her in the closet. She's crying, and it's loud, makes him cringe. He shushes her and says be quiet, it'll all be okay, just be quiet, quiet.

The fire is quiet, and Law wonders, were the gunmen coming for it too?

The heat from crimson flames lapping at his heels is numb. Law looks before him and sees the product of a world gone wrong, and it seems dystopic, seems apocalyptic the way his heart is torn, the way the world breaks in two, an echo of a thought inside his mind and nothing else,

Why?

Two)

Law's been walking for days, weeks, months, time was a fruitless procedure.

Little thought is given to the sinking cavern of his stomach or the hundreds of screams playing on repeat inside his head. His feet stumble on like a solider's towards war, which was ironic, in a way, because he's just left one, he's just left behind the dead eyes of his sister and the decaying rot of his parents, he's left behind the poison and gunfire and screams.

It's funny. How everyday his teacher made them pray and everyday they thanked the Lord, and Law was never much for it, never saw the point. It's funny how he's alive and the ones who prayed and yearned and begged are burning, funny how the ones who wanted to live are dead.

There's a voice in the distance and Law freezes.

It takes him a moment to distinguish it from the ones inside his head, but he looks up, and the world tilts for a moment before straightening out, a man looking down at him. A face painted with makeup and worry stares him down and Law doesn't think as he throws himself into a stranger's arms.

If he was one of the gunmen, set to burry him along with all the ones he left behind, burn him to cinders and scatter him to the wind, Law doesn't care. If this is his last breath and all after this is nothing except the end, Law would be happy.

The strangers arms wrap around him, not to constrict, not to harm, but to comfort, like his mother, like her bloody skull, like her cold lifeless arms that Law had clung to for hours, and he sobs.

It's a rapture, the ending of his trek from home.

Three)

Law's vision is blurry, shapes undefined, unknown.

Voices, loud, free, brave, not quiet like they need to be because Law's head hurts and it's supposed to be quiet, the gunmen will hear.

He blinks rapidly, an attempt to restore his vision and get the world back together. When he tries to push himself up his arms feel weak and frail, and Law hasn't felt like this in so long, not since those days in ruin where he lived on borrowed time and hid amongst the decay of his friends.

There's a shout, one he can't quite identify, but it feels warm and comforting. Like he should know it, should love it, covet it.

Blurry shapes turn towards him. It's confusing, what's happening, where he is, his mind is truly a muddled mess. He can't tell if he should be quiet, quiet they would hear, or if he should ask Cora what's happening, or if he should just lie here, alone, within the hollow depths of his apartment where little of the outside world could reach him.

He murmurs a "What?" That takes more effort than it should.

There's more noises, but it's all gibberish, incomprehensible.

He focuses hard, tries to get the shapes to smooth out into something he understands. Slowly, the blob of green in the corner becomes a man with green hair, the orange becomes a woman, the brown becomes another man with a long nose, and the black becomes Luffy.

Oh fuck.

Law's eyes widen, jolting back a little and hissing as his vision begins to spin again, bringing a hand up to his head. It comes rushing back to him in waves, Luffy, the car accident, the space in-between, Luffy.

"-and you came into the room and you looked really bad- like, really bad, I think you looked kinda like Brook- and then the nurses said you were delirious and put you in the bed next to me!"

Law swallows, throat dry and scratchy. When was the last time he drank something? The last time he ate? (A voice that persists in the back of his head, one that didn't run as soon as Luffy was revealed, but stayed to begin to haunt Law anew tells him that he's gone more days without eating. Tells him that he needs to save all the food he gets and hoard it, cans of expired food were treasure, back then, luxuries he only indulged in on special occasions.)

"Um..." He mumbles, because Luffy was still talking, wasn't he? He couldn't tell. Maybe he was just another voice in his head.

Luffy stops mid rant and looks to him, concern washing over his cheerful look that makes a sting of guilt and self hatred strike Law, who was he to ruin another's mood?

"Torao, are you okay?" He asks, and it's delicate, the way he words it, so unlike his loud and boisterous personality that Law's dumbfounded.

Law wonders who thought he deserved this man. Who paired him with a being so much more good than him that he was left feeling horrible, despicable, the weight of his sins were great and heavy on his shoulders, he might as well be Atlas with the world on his back, forced to hold it up for eons.

He's absolutely nothing compared to Luffy in his kindness, and maybe it's just him, who thinks this, maybe it's just himself being delusional and idolizing something so he had something to believe besides his impending end, but Law feels like the villain in this story.

Maybe he's the one causing Luffy's stress and worries. Maybe he's the reason he can't smile and live and be free as the wind at his back. Maybe he's the reason Luffy's stuck here, stuck with him, a being not worthy of his time or consideration.

Luffy had said that his soulmark was bad, hadn't he? With a mournful expression and shivering fingers, he had said it was wrong, and Law, well, that must've been his fault, wasn't it? It was his fault Luffy was so opposed to the idea of soulmates and his fault that he was sad, when he looked at it, lonely, betrayed, hurt.

How could something vile and wretched like Law even dare to put a damper on his smile? How did he deserve to breath the same air as him, walk the same steps, live on the same planet? It was a mystery, he supposed, one that the world would never reveal, like if Lami would have hated him (she would have) or if his parents would still love him (they wouldn't) or if the gunmen ever thought about all the children they'd slaughtered and burned (they didn't).

When a no comes tumbling past his lips before he can stop it, it doesn't surprise him, because he's not, is he? He's fallen back down the pit, one that had taken him years to climb out of last time, one that he only reached the top of through Cora, through his support, but he's not sure that will help, this time. He may as well be chained to the bottom.

Law says no before he can think to stop himself, and it's funny, how he's alive, and everyone else is dead.

This time, if you couldn't tell, was happening now.

A/N: imagine having a consistent update schedule, couldn't be me lmao.

Anyway, I feel like I've been going a little hard on the Law angst recently, so I'm either gonna have a shit ton of fluff for the next few chapters or some angst for Luffy to even it out.