I read the latest chapter and I had to get the feelings out. Basically, this is all fucking word vomit, but eh. It should go without saying that this drabble contains spoilers for anyone not caught up on the manga.
"Uhaha! This one's got a screw or seven loose!"
Fingers clutch into the fabric mockery of a blanket—adolescent, bony fingers meddled with white invading tan. The skin stretched over his knuckles have lost their buoyancy, ash-grey meshed over the backs of his hands. He coughs, quietly, as so to not wake the man just a few feet next to him. Corazon fell asleep sitting up, spine curled precariously forward—he has submitted to sleep while tending to the fire, and just a little, Law feels guilty. It's obvious that the man hasn't been getting much rest in between their travels—too wired up caring for Law. And not for the first time, Law is angry. A sort of slow, loathing burn at the back of his throat, pulling hot tears from his eyes. He says he no longer cares about anything, but he's still so goddamned pissed; at himself, at the doctors treating him as if he's epidemic, at the world, at everything—-"The sort of terrible glare birthed in those that have faced the most horrible of experiences."
Doffy had treated his suffering as a badge of honor. Like the fucked up cracks and blood-rust in his personality were something he should be proud of. Maybe he should be. Thankful that he's alive.
Except he's not alive. He's dying—he's dying no matter how far and wide Corazon searches. A part of him is already dead. Members of the Donquixote family often compare him to a ticking time bomb; but he's not. Rather, he's slowly going silent. A clock whose gears are jammed and the ticks are slowly fading into nothingness. After he dies, who will remember him? His family is already dead. His light will have truly been snubbed out.
He's dying. Just another soul lost in the tragedy of The White City.
"A young boy saying that he's going to die. That's too sad!" Law's nose feels stuffed. Eyes numb and sore and still itching with the sobs he shed earlier. He swallows back some of the phlegm in his throat; there's an eerie calm in the air as the sun rises. The sky morphs into a shade of blue—the same shade of indigo his room used to be painted, back in Flevance. For a moment, it's peaceful, as seagulls fill the silence with their chatter and waves slap against the shore.
Corazon ruins the moment with a loud chainsaw snore.
Law wrinkles his nose, letting out an exasperated, maybe fond, but mostly tired sigh. Closes his eyes for a moment and mutters thoughtlessly—-
"Cora-san."