Click . Click. Click. One foot after the other. Their shoes had hit the pavement in rapid succession. Around a corner, over a fence, up a building, and on the roof they went. His form trailed behind them in haste.
Why? They didn't ask for this. Of all the people, why him? Just make it disappear. His existence haunted the deepest depths of their mind, blood pumping alarmingly fast at the sound of his laugh. They wished it would all just wash away.
He just wouldn't give up. Down the building and onto the sidewalk they dropped. As they began to run passed the sewing shop an idea crossed their mind.
"Pervert! He's following me! Help!" y/n yelled loudly in hopes of gaining the attention of some old friends.
Success. The older ladies of the shop raced out to help. They wouldn't let any harm come to their young friend.
---
It had started out as a small crush, easy to ignore. He never fawned over them, barely even looked their way. It was so simple to avoid those miniscule feelings. Keyword being "was".
Y/n was the Straw hat's artist. Their personal art was kept away from prying eyes. Until, he came along.
Early morning sun drifted over the quiet kitchen as their pencil shamelessly danced across paper, one stroke to the right, then a curve to the left. Vaguely aware of his presence, their attention was absorbed in their work.
Unknown to them Sanji had stopped prepping breakfast and was softly approaching. He leaned over their shoulder to see a masterpiece in the making. His hair caressed their ear. Y/n slowed down as realization had seeped in.
"The wispy lines make it look delicate, red ribbons add a nice pop of color, and the soft colorful shading really pulls it all together. It's probably your best work yet." Sanji said examining their work. His breath gently brushed a strand of y/n's hair.
"Thanks." y/n answered as calmly as possible, refusing to show how flustered they were.
Sanji strode away at an even pace, unknowing of y/n's lingering gaze.
How dare he....
Y/n's face grew slightly warmer as they tried desperately to focus on the drawing.
---
Y/n slowed their speed enough to amusingly glance back at his suffering.
That broom has got to hurt
Hastily y/n took a left turn, rushing toward the bridge.
When they arrived here the crew was surprised to find that it was y/n's home Island.
Y/n wanted to take a small break from the crew and stay there for a month to study under a master artist. Luffy agreed, but decided to make a game out of it.
If y/n could avoid being touched by Sanji for a whole hour they could leave to study for a month.
Then why was Sanji, so determined? Well, they didn't mention it was only for a month.
Dust and dirt coated his shirt, hair disheveled, and yet his will untouched. He arose from the pavement. Left turn and to the bridge he ran. Y/n was a third of the way across.
---
Slash after slash. He couldn't get close enough to land a decent kick. He'd gotten himself into a fight with a skilled distant to mid range fighter.
Warm crimson dripped down as he panted leaning against a wall. He dropped to the floor desperately to avoid another shot. Failure. Yet another hit had landed. Aggressively the air was stolen from his lungs. His vision grew blurry and sound distant. He'd lost. A gun pointed to his head, it was over.
