I hereby officially dedicate this story to crazykittylover whose beautiful review finally got my butt moving. Roci and Luffy give you their biggest smiles. Law frowns but secretly approves of your person. Doffy's a (lovable) dick so we're not bringing him here.
Law did not want to go home.
He had a backpack on his shoulders, his old fur hat on his head, and a heavy stone on his chest. The stone was metaphorical, but it still wouldn't let Law breathe. Every time he went to the uni, he felt so free he could fly. Every time he went back for a break, he felt like he was willingly walking into an open grave.
But he had to. For him, there was no escaping that place. He'd try, even if he was bound to fail, if it wasn't for that night thirteen years ago.
That night took someone from him, someone very important. More important than Law's education, more important than Law's dream, more important than Law's life. He wasn't leaving that place until he knew exactly what happened that night, in Doffy's ruined, blood-stained bedroom—
—but he didn't have to go straight home at once.
So he left his car in Times Square Parking, and leisurely walked to the square. He was never particularly fond of that place, but it was loud and busy, and Law didn't want to be alone with himself right now.
A hail of applause suddenly hit him from the side. Law turned his head, and saw a big crowd. There was loud cheering and whistling, and somebody was screaming:
"Make some noise for Monkey! Yeah!"
Like that just now wasn't enough noise, Law thought disbelievingly. But the crowd roared again, louder and wilder, and then there was chanting.
"Mon-key! Mon-key! Mon-key!" the people demanded.
Law found himself pushing through the crowd. He was naturally curious, and someone who attracted that much attention was probably rather good at whatever they did. Law just hoped they weren't a street magician.
When he finally got to the front he saw a short-ish, lanky guy. His sweaty hair was sticking to his forehead, for all that he didn't even have a jacket on, and the day was rather chilly. The guy was drinking water, nodding at something a tall, curly-haired man with a weird tattoo on his face was telling him.
Then the guy grinned. That grin hit Law like a punch in the gut.
It was just like Doffy's, that grin — wide and confident and unwavering. But it was also the furthest thing from Doffy's.
Doffy wore his smiles like he wore his knives, always ready to cut and intimidate.
This guy smiled like the sun, a blazing cosmic nuclear reactor that shone just because it existed.
"Mon-key!" the crowd screamed. "Dance! Dance! Dance!"
"Damn, y'all so noisy," the guy grinned. "Schrei, gimme the beats."
The music started slow, honey-sweet. The guy tossed the bottle over his shoulder to the tattooed man, and just — slipped into the beat, easily, fluidly, like he was riding a wave.
Law didn't know much about dancing, but the sheer energy the lanky guy exuded pulled him in like a magnet. The guy moved like — like he was making love. All lost in the dance, sheer passion on his face, moves incredibly fluid and confident — he attracted all the eyes in the crowd, but he danced like there was no one in the world but him and the music. He was smiling, too, unstoppable happiness shining through that smile. Law had never, ever seen anyone look this happy, except for — but those were memories for another time.
Law walked closer, entranced, and got punched in the nose with a bare heel.
Who even danced barefoot, he thought peevishly, holding his nose. There were disappointed "aw"s from the crowd.
"Sorry man," the dancer said, blinking at him with the biggest eyes Law had ever seen. "Here, I'll just…"
He spat on the front of his baggy hoodie and brought the wet fabric to Law's nose, flashing his tan, ripped belly. Law barely managed to escape the sweaty, spit-stained hoodie closing in on his face.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" he demanded, patting his pockets in search of wet wipes.
"I just wanted to help, man," the dancer said, dejected. "You're bleeding all over your face."
"Hygiene," Law said, gnashing his teeth in a futile effort to keep his cool. "Ever heard of that, idiot?"
"What, you a doctor or something?" the ridiculous Monkey man grinned, again. It was the widest grin Law had ever seen in his life. Weird things were happening in his belly. "Look, I'm sorry man. If you don't want me to help, at least let me buy you a beer. Sorry guys, show's over, see you later. Bye Schrei!"
The disappointed crowd started dispersing. The dancer and the tattooed man hugged as Law was testily wiping the blood off his face. Then the dancer was jumping on one leg, pulling on his dusty sneakers.
"So," he finally said, straightening and looking at Law, "how about that beer?"
"This better be some damn fine beer," Law griped, gingerly holding his nose.
"Man, you're moody," the dancer marveled.
"You just mauled me," Law pointed out.
"A wimp, too," the dancer determined. "Come with me." He grabbed Law's hand and dragged him over to an — ancient-looking Honda Fireblade?
"There are many bars nearby," Law pointed out.
"Nah. I know a place," the guy grinned. "I'm Luffy, by the way."
Law opened his mouth to introduce himself.
"Get on," Luffy commanded, starting the motorbike.
"I have a car parked nearby," Law reasonably offered, "we can take your bike and—"
"Shut up," Luffy demanded, dazzling him with his smile again, "you're so stuffy, man. But Imma shake you out of it. Get on," he ordered.
Very grudgingly, Law got on the bike, and reluctantly locked his hands over Luffy's damp, sweat-stained hoodie.
Luffy turned around, huge eyes and chapped lips mere inches from Law's face.
"Better hold on tight," he grinned.
"Wait! What about the helmets! The helmets!" Law remembered.
Too late. Luffy hit the gas, and in a blink, they were off.
Later, Law dimly recalled screaming at the top of his lungs. Luffy was insane. He broke just about all the traffic rules Law was aware of. At some point, Law even felt the jeans on his knee drag against the road — and then again, and again, and again. They were going so fast the night city blurred around them, all the streetlights and skyscrapers and the glowing signs and the giant billboards. The only solid reality was Luffy's back pressed to his chest, Luffy's hard belly under his palms, Luffy's windswept hair in his face.
They flew through the streets, barely touching the ground. And then everything stopped, and the bike reared up, throwing Law's butt up and rushing his whole body down. Law felt his stomach lurch, saw the ground flying in his face, and squeezed his eyes shut, clutching onto Luffy with a death grip.
"That's the place I was talking about," Luffy said nonchalantly, all sure and steady in Law's hands. "Hey man, you alright? Are you gonna puke on me? Please don't, there's a whole road for that."
The ground seemed to be back to its rightful place.
Law slid down the bike and onto the ground, now hatless and breathing hard. Did he really survive, or was it all a hallucination in his last moments before death?
"Never again," he said in a wobbly voice. "You're crazy. Fucking crazy. Fuck."
"Man, you're weak," Luffy laughed, pulling him up with a firm hand. "You shoulda seen Ace riding this baby. This thing here was tame."
"Who's Ace," Law asked, still trying to get his legs to work right.
"My big brother," suddenly Luffy didn't seem so cheerful. "He's… he's away now. But he let me keep the Striker. Said he wanted her back in mint condition when he returned, so I'm riding extra careful."
"Are you saying this was careful," Law sarcastically said. Well, more like he tried for sarcasm but couldn't muster any in his still-shellshocked state. At least he managed a decent deadpan, he thought.
"Man, you're such a wimp," Luffy laughed. "Come now, I'll get you that beer."
He grabbed Law's hand and pulled, and Law blindly followed, forgetting all about his shock, about the new holes on his pants, about everything that wasn't Luffy.
"Stop calling me ‛man,'" he belatedly remembered. "My name is Law. Use it."
"What, you're not a man? I coulda sworn you were one," Luffy turned around, a million-watt grin blinding Law and leaving him breathless. "You're such a grump, man. Come, it's a good place. They have yummy food, too."
For some reason, Law's mind went straight into the gutter after the word "come." He let Luffy drag him around the bar that turned out to be a — jazz club?..
"I'd never take you for a jazz lover," Law dubiously said as Luffy was pushing through the crowd towards the counter. The place was surprisingly busy. All the tables were full, and Law saw people standing in the corners, even sitting on the floor. What kind of jazz club allowed that?
"I'm not," Luffy said. "But Brook is something else. I think he's playing in about twenty minutes. Just you wait, it's gonna be awesome. Oi, Makino! Ah, Sanji's substituting for her today. SANJI!" he suddenly bellowed, so loud Law's ears rang.
Nobody raised an eyebrow. Apparently Luffy was a regular.
"Stop bothering the patrons, you shithead," a handsome blond bartender lazily said. "The fuck do you want?"
"One milkshake, one beer. Hey man, what kind do you like?"
"Lager," Law automatically said. "A milkshake? Seriously?"
"What?! I like milk!"
"Hey Luffy," a beautiful, voluptuous waitress with hot pink hair suddenly swanned in, plopping her ample breasts on the counter.
"Hey Reiju!" Luffy beamed. "What's up?"
"It's been too quiet without you here. I missed you," she winked. "My place tonight?"
"Nah, not today. I'm showing around this guy here. I think I broke his nose, so I brought him here to apologize."
"I see," she gave Law a look-over and nodded with a slight smile. Law thought he saw pity in her eyes.
She gracefully got up and walked into the kitchen, perfect legs looking even longer in those pink high-heeled shoes, frilly skirt barely covering what looked like an excellent bubble butt.
"Your girlfriend?" Law asked, looking back at Luffy, throat dry for some reason.
"Nope," Luffy grinned. "She's a good friend. Sometimes we fuck."
"I — see. You are not in a relationship, then?"
"It's not like that for me. Jinbe says I'm poly-whatever. I like a lot of people. If they like me back, we fuck. It's all about feeling good, man."
"Polyamorous," Law said.
"Yeah, that. Anyway, where's my milkshake? SANJI!"
Polyamory was fine. Law could work with that. Law could work with "just sex," too. It was all about not getting attached, and Law was a pro in that regard.
"Luffy! Are you once again encroaching on my sister?! I thought I told you she was off-limits!" Sanji scowled, putting two glasses on the counter with a thunderous clang.
"It's up to her to decide," Luffy said easily. "Not you."
As he sipped on his milkshake, holding the glass with both hands like a little kid, Law remembered something.
"Hey Luffy," a white trail was running down Luffy's chin. Law wanted to lick it off. What? "Who's Jinbe?"
"Mm-hmm? Oh, he's my manager."
"Your manager? What, you a star or something?"
"Um. Kinda?" Luffy said. In the dim lights of the club, with that white trail on his chin, he didn't look like a star. He looked like a high school boy out after curfew and looking for trouble, and Law was itching to give it to him. "I mean, I have an Instagram and everything. I don't know shit about how it works, though. Jinbe deals with all that stuff. He says I'm terrible at publicity, ha ha ha!"
Law kissed him.
"Having an Instagram does not make you a star," he said, and licked that damn milk trail off his chin. It was slightly salty with Luffy's sweat. Law felt instantly drunk.
Luffy grinned.
"I suppose," he said. "Come with me."
It was an invitation Law couldn't refuse.
As he was kissing Luffy's neck in the narrow bathroom stall, one hand pulling on his wild hair and the other hand working Luffy's dick in his pants, he wondered how a short stop on his way from the uni to the House turned into this. Getting his nose broken (not, but Luffy didn't necessarily need to know that), nearly dying several times on his way for beer, having a one-night stand with the maddest man Law had ever met…
Luffy's legs were around his waist, Luffy's fingers were in his hair, and Luffy's clear, boyish voice rang in his ears:
"You're slacking off, man. Put your back into it!"
"Shut up," Law growled. "My. Name. Is. Law."
"Well, make sure I… h-haa… remember it," Luffy grinned in between the moans.
"Damn it Luffy, I told you: no fucking in the bathroom!" Sanji's irate voice came from behind the door.
"Fuck off," Luffy laughed, clenching around Law, and with his ringing laughter Law came, the hardest he ever came in his life.
Luffy lazily pulled his pants up with one hand. His other hand was on the nape of Law's neck, and his lips were on Law's mouth. They tasted of cherry milkshake, robbing Law's mind of all reason.
"You didn't come," Law rasped, throwing out the condom and making a half-assed move to remedy the situation. His body felt like warm jelly.
"We've got all night," Luffy grinned. "Let's go, Brook's starting in a minute or so."
"Huh?" Law blinked, and instantly got dragged out of the bathroom and back into the dining room. The crowd seemed even bigger than before. He barely remembered to zip up his pants before Luffy pulled him over to a motley crew of people of all genders and sizes.
"Yo guys!" Luffy sunnily greeted them.
Amidst all the "yo"s and "hi"s, Law discreetly adjusted his sweatshirt to look more or less presentable.
"This idiot isn't gonna introduce us any time soon, so I'll just start with myself," the blond bartender said. "I'm Sanji. My old fart owns the place. This lovely goddess here is Nami, this dark and mysterious beauty is Robin, this dude is from Robin's work and I don't know his shitty name, this useless moron here is Zoro—"
"Oi!"
"—the long-nosed idiot is Usopp, the small idiot is Tony, the big idiot is Franky, and the oldest idiot is coming to the stage in several seconds. What's your name now?"
"Trafalgar Law," Law said, and a whirlwind of music suddenly broke into the buzzing of the crowd, cutting through the electric tension in the club.
"Wheeeeee!" Luffy yelled, jumping up. "Brooook! It's Brooooook!"
And everyone in the crowd cheered along with him.
The concert flew by so fast — it felt like Law just blinked once, and suddenly it was midnight. He was tired and full, his hands were hurting from all the clapping, and he felt — happy. Yeah, if he recalled correctly, that was how happiness was supposed to feel.
Luffy sunnily grinned by his side, all rumpled and disheveled and so very delicious.
Luffy's friends were departing one by one. The first ones to leave were the tall, dark-haired woman and her even taller, black, curly-haired companion. They barely talked through the night, just listening with closed eyes and slightly nodding to the music; Law didn't even get the guy's name. Luckily, he didn't care a fig.
The next ones were the bossy red-haired girl in the skimpy dress, the long-nosed black artist who bragged non-stop about his new exhibition, and the timid high schooler who kept asking Law about Harvard. Apparently, he was hoping to get a scholarship for the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. Law vocally commended him for dreaming so big, and privately held a moment of silence for the kid's ambitions.
The tall, ripped man was methodically drinking at the counter and steadily bickering with the pretty blond bartender. It felt like they didn't even stop for a second through the whole night. Law had to admire their dedication.
A new band started playing — no, not a band but rather Luffy's huge, eccentric friend in a Hawaiian shirt, accompanied by Luffy's senior, eccentric friend who was the star of tonight's show. Together, they burst forth into something that sounded frightfully like "Don't Stop Believin'."
Law listened, hoping somewhere deep inside he could stay like that until dawn, a daiquiri in one hand, Luffy's waist in the other. It felt so good to unwind and forget, even just for a few short hours.
In about two seconds, Luffy's phone rang.
"Oh, it's Jinbe. HELLO JINBE," Luffy screamed, so loudly the people standing around jumped. One guy startled so hard he splashed his absinthe all over the front of his shirt.
"What the fuck, du— oh. You're Monkey, right? The hip hop dancer from the Nike ads and Beyoncé's latest MV?"
"JINBE I'M IN THE BARATIE RIGHT NOW! SPEAK LOUDER! Eh? He ended the call," Luffy suspiciously stared at the phone screen. A message popped up. Law read it over Luffy's shoulder.
It's great that you are having fun, but you have a competition tomorrow. Please come home soon. I made pizza.
"That's — your manager, right?" Law asked dubiously. Because the message kinda read like it was written by a mother hen boyfriend.
"Yeah. I guess I'll be going, then! I don't want the pizza to get cold. Jinbe makes the best pizza!"
"Wait. You're really famous then?" Law said incredulously, finally catching on to what the absinthe guy said. The night was getting weirder by the minute.
Luffy just shrugged, like the fame was the last thing he cared about.
"Sorry for cutting the night short, Traffy," he said. "See you tomorrow!"
He kissed Law, brief and hard, stealing all the breath from his lungs.
"Wait!" Law remembered. "How do I even find you? Give me your number or something!"
"Later, the pizza's getting cold! Just come to the Baratie, I'll be celebrating my win here," Luffy waved and dashed to the door.
Cocky much? Law thought, and suddenly remembered something Luffy said…
"Sorry for cutting the night short, Traffy!"
Why "Traffy," Law helplessly thought. Well, at least it was better than "man."
There he was, back after two too-short months of studying.
Law stared at the tall mansion in the bright sconce lights, a chimerical silhouette in the deep darkness of the night.
The House.
A tribute to the distant Spain Doffy so loved, a piece of Barcelona in the heart of New York. The whimsical, Gaudi-esque building of grand yet fluid forms, windows of stained glass always making the sunlight dance with all the colors in the world, and a garden that, come summer, would be drowning in flowers. Red, blue, yellow, violet, a sea of color around the tall, brown sugar cliff that was the House.
Roci and he would fool around after his classes and Roci's work, wrestling on the thick lush carpets under those stained-glass windows, and then try to catch the flickers of that jewel light, seizing them in their palms. One big, one small, and Law would always marvel how that huge palm so overwhelmingly dwarfed his own.
And then the huge palm would ruffle his ever-messy hair, and the most precious person in the world would smile at him from above, a crown of jewel light in his pale hair.
With Roci, this place was a wonderland.
Without Roci, the House was a prison.
They would laugh and wrestle and fool around, and then they would count the crystal figurines on Doffy's favorite chandelier, the one he personally picked for the Hall. Glowing angels on see-through strings, hands spread wide, forever frozen in flight under the Hall's domed ceiling.
They would always stare at those angels and try to count them, pointing their fingers at each little glittering man in turn, and they would always eventually lose count, the crystal figures glowing blindingly bright in the electric lights.
After the Big Cleaning, Law looked up at that chandelier, and tried counting them. He couldn't.
The glass men were hanging down, trapped on invisible strings, their hands raised in helpless terror. The light shone through them like they were nothing, those men — just an ornament for Doffy's ambitions.
Law hastily looked away, and never looked up in the Hall again.
Well, Law thought, taking a deep breath, here we go.
He opened the door.
The House was sleeping, like an old, vengeful dragon.
Law walked the empty corridors, and looked at their walls, the walls that seemed so tall back when he was a child.
The House remained ever unchanged, still full of that vivid, daring grandiosity from thirteen years ago. In Law's memory, it was only significantly renovated once — after the Big Cleaning, when so many vases and carpets and paintings got burned in the yard of the House. The glass burst in the roaring fire, shrill and terribly loud, and the stench of smoke had lingered for days — or at least it felt like that for Law.
Now few things in the House reminded of the time when Law first arrived here, sixteen years ago, when he first saw the tall strange man in a silk shirt and weird makeup, when that man smiled at him for the first time, and said,
"Does it hurt? Let me clean that,"
and pointed at Law's scraped, bloody knee.
Roci, where are you, Law thought again, for the millionth time, slowly walking the corridors where they used to play tag, just the two of them. Roci would let him win half the time, for all that his legs were so much longer than Law's.
For thirteen years now Law had been chasing his shadow, in vain.
Could that man really have killed Roci, that night — or maybe later?
But then Law remembered what he saw that night in Doffy's bedroom, and thought: he wouldn't. He couldn't. Even for Doffy, there was someone he couldn't kill.