Soulmates, Soulmates Everywhere
Written for a whole bunch of you! I had a lot of fun with all these requests, check out the collection on Ao3 for a bunch of awesome soulmates fics written by equally awesome folks.
Chapter 1: Garp/Roger, Garp/Sengoku: Sharing Thoughts
Things never really are the way they should be.
Notes: This is for you Angel! 3 Yeah it's angst I'm sorry I was in a mood.
Scattered images flicker back and forth in the recesses of Sengoku's mind. He shouldn't look. He knows he shouldn't. "Don't," he mutters to himself in the silence of his office. It's late. It is always late.
The days blend together, one crisis after another. One pirate crew after another. One meeting after another. Leave the office late, the moon disappearing into the distance. Arrive when the sun is about to crest the horizon.
Sengoku knows better than to tune in to the buzzing. It had long stopped being a sense of comfort. Loud and boisterous, wild and uncontainable. Something he had once aspired to be. To disregard the rules that wrapped around him.
But he knew now, that that wasn't how the world worked. The more you fight, the tighter the bonds. Yet still. The itch to look was there. The itch to peek. The urge to…
Roger laughs loudly, his smile lights the whole damn room. He's nude on the bed, getting closer to his face, leaning in, rough hands on his skin, pushing him back. The only man He would ever let do that! Their stomachs growl in unison and they grin. Food first then back to fun. Then a return to the chase chase chase over seas and islands, swords and fists and storms and wills–
The pen in Sengoku's hand snaps.
"Fuck," he whispers, putting his head in his hands. It always hurts, why the fuck does he always look?! Pain, soul deep, spasms across his chest. Sengoku gets to his feet, the silence of the office, the Loneliness of it, pouring salt on his wounds.
But where would he go if not here? Home? He scoffs, clenching his jaw. Home was just a structure he lived in. An address to send mail. A place to showcase his station. Something he was supposed to buy and fill with possessions, pass down to his children. But he had no children. He had no wife, no husband.
Because his soulmate, the one whose thoughts always festered in the back of his mind, did not want him.
For all his power, his strength, his commitment to his principles…none of that was worth a damn to Garp. Garp who protected. Garp who laughed. Garp who never filled out paperwork, who chased his goals like a whirlwind. Garp who did not give a single care to what "fate" had decided.
Sengoku sank back against his office door. The medals on his chest, for battles won, for achievements made, bars for his Admiral rank. They glinted in the harsh searchlights of Marineford through the window blinds. If he walked away from it all, where would he go? What would he do? Would they even let him go with all the information he knew?
Would he be able to live with his decisions no longer burdened by the demands of society?
He stares at the floorboards, the swirls of the wood grain. Did the trees have a choice in the way they grew? No. It was the laws of nature and chance.
He closed his eyes and sank into the thoughts that would never, never be about him.