Monkey D. Luffy is stuck.
Every amazing or strange sight used to inspire him to turn blank canvases into something free and alive. But now, whenever he's faced with something that used to make thousands stare in awe, it isn't the same. It causes him to feel as blank as his canvas.
He's tried everything.
Tried to stare at meat and recapture that wonderment he always experienced, visit art galleries, spend time with his nakama, wander the streets, more meat, spend time with his brothers, travel, visit Shanks, and drink booze like Zoro does.
Nothing is working.
Art, which used to make him feel weightless and happy, leaves him with a feeling like that of an abandoned room, forgotten in a castle. So getting drunk and eating meat until he passed out on a large unrolled paper with stupid scribbles of ink and splashes of paint that was forced felt like the best option. The keyword here is Felt.
Now, cradling his head while Zoro nags him like an old lady, clutching a bottle of booze with a piece of meat at the corner of his mouth, a five 'o clock shadow, and dried paint in his hair, he's not so sure.
"What time is it?" he mumbles sleepily.
Zoro scowls, "Afternoon."
"Oh." Luffy mumbles, "What day is it?"
Whoops. Zoro's vein in his neck is doing that throbbing thing.
Zoro grins suddenly, a feral edge to it as he practically saunters towards the blinds. Luffy watches, frowning, while his hungover brain attempts to figure out why he's suddenly got a bad feeling—
Dammit, Zoro!
Luffy clutches his eyes against the bright onslaught of sun, "Close the blinds! It burrrns ! You stupid jerk!"
"Can't do that, Captain."
After blinking the tears blurring his vision away, Luffy glares at Zoro, ready to punch the smirk off his stupid face—Zoro notices that with a feral grin—, but the artist refrains from doing so when Zoro gives him a look from messy, never brushed hair, to bare toes.
"You look like shit."
Luffy—the Pirate King of the Art World—merely pouts, running a hand over his mouth, grazing his five o'clock shadow. And okay, maybe he hasn't shaved or bathed in a few days, but he's stuck! Anyway, this is how Shank's looks most of the time, and Shanks' is cool.
"That's mean, Zoro!"
Zoro huffs, grinning. "The truth hurts, Captain."
Luffy pouts, "Zoro's just being a jerk 'cause Nami's gonna charge him." The shorter artist's grin widens, "Zoro's scared of Nami!"
Zoro scowls. "I'm already broke from what that sea witch charged me the last time you screwed up!"
Luffy huffs, narrowing his eyes at his nakama who merely scowls back.
"Huff all you want, but you need to get your shit together."
Stupid Zoro... why does he always have to be right?
Luffy frowns, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. "Art's supposed to be fun, Zoro. When did it start being..." he struggles, brows pinched together, "hard?"
Zoro sighs, a hand covering his eyes as the sun pouring in through the windows hits his green hair, causing it to appear like the grass on summer days that tickle the soles of your shoes as you walk.
"Cause life's hard and it isn't gonna stop unless you get up and push back. Or are you just some wanna be and not the Pirate King of the Art World?"
Luffy frowns, meeting Zoro's eyes as his nakama smirks challengingly. However, frowns don't stand a chance against Monkey D. Luffy, and the upside down smile turns right side up and crinkles the shorter artist's eyes. "Zoro's great!"
The man in question huffs, smirking.
"Damn right."
Stepping out of the studio to the light of day, Luffy frowns, tugging his hat lower to shield his eyes. He observes his surroundings in an attempt to see something that would cause him to pull out his sketchbook and not the baggie of meat in his opposite pocket.
The streets are bustling; the sky is a perfect blue and there's life in every inch of the street, from the chattering, to the birds, to the couples holding hands.
And yet...
The birds soaring in the sky doesn't cause him to want to sketch; the chattering in the crowd and between friends doesn't make him do anything other than smile and think of his own nakama; the couples holding hands doesn't inspire him to draw their interlocked hands or their lovestruck looks. Instead, that feeling of being a room in an abandoned castle increases tenfold.
With a huff, Luffy steps onto the sidewalk, glancing up at the sky. He doesn't feel the car until his ears are ringing, glass cutting his cheek and a teeth grinding pain in his stomach. In front of him, a car with a troubled driver. His vision is too blurry. He can't make out the driver's features. But with a dull realization, he realizes that he was hit by a car. But now the world is blurring, and there's something dribbling down his chin. He touches it, drawing back enough to see. It's red. Before his eyes slide shut despite his attempts to keep them open, he sees a man.
The man looks younger than him, with caramel skin and golden eyes. His hair shines blue beneath his spotted hat. Luffy wonders if it would be fluffy. The man's saying something to him, his sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to reveal black tattoos, before he's shouting at the driver of the car.
Despite the pain, the image of hands printed with the word death is what Luffy remembers the most.
When Luffy wakes up, he sees white.
Not the kind of white of something otherworldly, but the white of a hospital ceiling.
And if that didn't let him know that he's in a hospital, the antiseptic smell and IV in his hand does.
He groans, glancing blearily at the occupants in the waiting chairs. It's Ace and Sabo. Ace is asleep, leaning against the backrest. His hat is dangling, and he's frowning in his sleep, brows pinched together. For once, Ace actually has a something like a shirt on. It's a hospital robe that the hospital probably made him wear. It strains against his bulky form, showing the end of his green shorts. Sabo is dressed in a formal, stuffy outfit, but at least his top hat is the same.
And, looking further around the room, there's tons of stuff that his nakama had to leave. From the tangerine sticker on his hand without the IV to the toy robot beside his bed, but before he can study the room any longer, the lurching in his stomach becomes chunks of the meat he had earlier today—or is it tomorrow?—smothering the white of the floor in vomit.
There's a sudden smack of shoes against the hospital floor, along with a groggy "Luffy!" coming from Ace as he rushes over, pushing back Luffy's sweaty hair and shouting some things that Luffy can't hear past the ringing in his ears. The hand rubbing his back must be Sabo, judging from the blonde strands of hair Luffy can make out in the corner of his eye.
With a definite relief from the rolling in his stomach, yet counterproductive pain that sitting up has brought, It's not much relief. Still, Luffy glances up, past Ace's freckled cheeks and Sabo's blonde hair, locking eyes with that man in the doorway.
How had he not seen him before?
"Hey, it's you." Luffy croaks, his throat dry.
The man in question, lean with broad shoulders beneath his yellow hoodie smirks, the back circles beneath his eyes more noticeable under the hospitals lighting. He's got the faint beginnings of a goatee. It'll suit him once it grows.
"Nice to see that you've joined the world of the living," the man's golden eyes flicks to Hat that Luffy hadn't seen previously on his lap, "Straw Hat."
But before Luffy can follow up, coughing because of the sandpaper feeling in his throat, Sabo is shoving a water bottle uncapped at him while Ace steps in front of the guy with tattoos, his hospital robe spanning half his stupidly tall frame.
"Who the hell are you?"
Sabo sighs beside Luffy, running a soothing hand in Luffy's raven hair before smacking Ace on the back of the head and walking the distance toward the guy that saved him that stupid Ace, even hunched over, is blocking mostly from his vision and offering a friendly hand. The man stares at his hand, briefly studying Sabo's face before shaking it.
"Outlook Sabo."
"Trafalgar Law."
Before the meeting can continue, a nurse billows in, eyeing the mess before giving Luffy a warm smile and squeezing his hand without the IV reassuringly. Her nurse outfit is nearly the same as the robe Ace is probably stretching out. She opens his hand and places two pills against his palm.
Seeing his curious gaze, she smiles. "It's pain pills."
Luffy frowns, looking at the floor and wondering if he drops it if he won't have to take it. Apparently she notices this also, and pushing back honey locks, she smiles kindly once more.
"I know that they're icky, but it'll make you feel better."
After he glares at the pills, she laughs warmly.
"I'll sneak in the really good food if you take it," she whispers conspiratorially into his ear. Luffy nods and practically shoves the pills down his throat. She offers him a glass of water which he downs gratefully. From where Ace has paused in his torrent of questions at Tra—damn, stupid dyslexia!—Torao, Sabo looks proud of himself, flashing his nearly perfect teeth.
"Told you it would work, Ms. Kaya." Sabo boasts.
Ace grins, shooting his fellow oldest brother a look. Luffy frowns, pouting at Sabo and Ace before shooting Nurse Kaya a look of betrayal. She laughs. "I'm sorry!" Wide brown eyes meet his own dark eyes, "That offer still stands."
The artist laughs, "Shishishi, s'okay!" before growing serious. "It better be really good meat."
Kaya nods, a glint of seriousness in her eyes, holding a hand against her heart. "Meat lovers honor."
She cracks a grin, and Luffy returns it.
Through it all, Torao's still staring at him.
Luffy turns towards Torao in the doorway, frowning when Torao's eyes widen and he looks away, a blush on his tan cheeks. But before he can ask why Torao's being weird, stupid Ace gets in the way again.
"So Trafalgar, again," Ace grins, a glint in his brown eyes, "who the hell are you?"
Torao frowns, studying Ace.
"He saved me." Luffy interrupts, meeting Torao's eyes. They're a pretty color that leans more toward gold than brown. Just another thing that's pretty about Torao. Maybe if Torao smiled, he could see everything about Torao. See if maybe the gold of his eyes would glint like pieces of gold beneath the sun, and the curve of his plump lips would be as edged as his smirk. And Luffy sees it, sees it like he hasn't anything else in the past few months. He's still staring at Torao, eyes wide and mouth open, ignoring Ace being a jerk and reaching for something, anything to sketch what he sees.
Somehow—maybe Sabo—Luffy's fumbling hands find a notebook and a pen, and he's ignoring Torao standing across him, his brothers, and the world as a whole, letting his hands guide him as he studies the perfect scene in his mind. It comes to life in black ink; curving and arching, and shading, and there's a weight off his shoulders, a thousand ideas, all of Torao, from his edged smirk to the gold of his eyes. And he doesn't stop, doesn't listen, doesn't feel Sabo watching him or Ace's incredulous stare, or the way Torao remains fixated in his spot at the doorway, even when a few minutes turns into an hour.
When he's done, Torao's staring back at him from a white sheet of paper with black lines, and he's not done, turning to the next page, unaware of Torao leaving when Ace and Sabo mutter something about, "When he gets like this", or that Zoro comes in with Nami on his trail, where he stands by his side, hip cocked against the bed and arms crossed while Nami crosses her legs, smiling.
The shared thought within the room? He's back.
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece , Eiichiro Oda does.
I should have posted this months ago. This was inspired by kaizokunohime's post about Luffy being an artist. I would link it but is weird like that. I have no idea when I will update this fic. Much hugs to kaizokunohime, who inspired this and looked over it!