A/N: Okay people, I think it's fair to say that everyone here knows that I don't own One Piece, any of the characters, or any of the episodes. Do not sue me. I wouldn't show up to court, and then you'd just look silly, so we can avoid that whole situation right now and here with this disclaimer.
Ghost of a Dream
He must have thought I was asleep.
Admittedly, I understand how someone could come to such a conclusion. Hate to say it, but ever since I joined this crew, I've been getting lazier. Back when I was a hunter, before all this started, I could get by on four or five hours of sleep easily. Now, my midday naps sprawled on the sunny deck that had become so much my habit have grown longer as the seas have grown calm. I guess it comes from boredom. After all, there really aren't very many swordfights when you're out in the middle of the ocean, far from any island. How long has it been since we were on land? Two weeks? Something like that …
At first, even I thought I was dreaming. The net of stars strewn across the sky swam in my sleep-crippled vision, the ship only slightly more illuminated than the night by the glow of the flickering lantern. I didn't know what had stirred me from my sleep, and was about to roll over and fall asleep again.
That's when I saw him.
I've never seen anyone look quite so lost in thought, with that long, lanky form perched on the railing just so, staring out into the water. The lantern, swinging gently in the breeze, sent dramatic shadows dancing over his face. The glowing red tip of a lit cigarette shone bright through the darkness.
That expression…serious and thoughtful, yet calm and serene…He was like a dream, so like a dream, and even now, I can't quite convince myself that it wasn't just that. The way the waves gently rocked against the boat, like a mother's cradle; the lantern's halo of light warm and comfortable; the delicate shadows that caressed his graceful image…
He was beautiful. Sitting there, with his chin rested on his hand, staring out into the sea, as if he were searching for something, he was just so beautiful... The thought hit me in an instant, so many questions and answers occurring simultaneously in my mind. I, a man, seeing him, also a man, as beautiful…for some reason the shock just never came.
I suddenly realized that he was beautiful.
He always came up on deck for a smoke during the day. It's the only thing that can drag him away from his beloved kitchen, except to run to Nami's side. Maybe this is where he comes for a smoke during the night, too. Maybe this breathtaking little ritual has been taking place every night since he joined on this little journey of ours, and I'd slept through it every time. What a waste of beauty, left in the cold night for no one to see.
For a few minutes, I just lay there, watching him under the ruse of half-lidded eyes. Watched him smoke his cigarette in that certain way of his; watched him sigh gently under his breath, barely recognizable from the sigh of the sea; watched his golden-colored hair fluttering in the slight breeze, a mysterious silk veil across his face…I saw him in a way I had never seen anyone before.
Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he looked at me…
He must have thought I was asleep. That one, jet black eye, looking at me…in a thousand years, I could not describe the look in that eye in that short moment. It seemed to be sorrow and anger and longing and loneliness and joy and every other emotion all at the same time. I could swear I could see tears welling in his eyes…but that could have been a trick of the light.
Turning away again, he snorted in indignation, taking an angry puff off his cigarette.
"Hn! Crap swordsman!" he muttered quietly under his breath. I was tempted to grin, for some reason. Those petty little names that we called each other, trying to get the other's goat…they were amusing.
He must have been sure I was asleep when he then whispered, barely audible over the sound of the sea:
"Goddamnit…why must I love you?"
In all my years, it has never taken such discipline, such power of will, such restraint of basic instincts than it took in that instant to not gasp.
Now I finally knew what those mysterious eyes were trying to tell me.
It wasn't a few more minutes before he had practically smoked it down to the filter. He continued to watch the ocean, head in his hands. I can only imagine what kind of thoughts were running through his head. Maybe they were as incomprehensible as the mass of convoluted mass of thoughts that were invading mine. When at last it seemed he had done all the damage he could to that poor cigarette, he tossed the glowing tip over the side of the boat, watching it fall into the water where it might have flickered for a half second before fizzling out.
That one last sigh must have hurt the most as he stood up, head hung low, and disappeared down below the deck once again. For just a moment, I wondered if he would find sleep that night. I knew I wouldn't.
For the first time in a really long time, I couldn't sleep. I spent the hours just laying there, hovering somewhere between rational debate and emotional ravings in my mind, hovering somewhere between keeping my cool and breaking down.
Now, the sun is starting to rise over the horizon, the dawn starting to pink the sky. The beauty of the sunrise is somehow lessened by his beauty, which still lingers with me. And, ironically enough, through what this should be a day that brings joy to my heart, I feel an ominous fear that has crept within me.
Because for the first time, I wonder if I have what it takes.
I wonder if I can see him today, working red-faced over the stove, perspiration forming on his brow as he cooks the eggs for breakfast, and somehow not see the beautiful ghost of my dream. I wonder if I can call him 'crap cook' and quibble over all the little inconsequential things that start us shouting nearly every day and has become the normalcy on this ship. I wonder if I have the courage to go to him when he is alone and tell him that he need not tell his sorrows to the night anymore. I wonder if I can tell him that his feelings are not unreturned.
I wonder if I can somehow manage to say those three simple words that are supposed to change the whole world.
But, most of all, I wonder if I have the strength to get up in a few hours for breakfast, meet those dark eyes with my own, and refuse to shed a single tear.
Because I know I have to have the strength to believe that he was not just the ghost of my dream.
A/N: So, did you like it? Hate it? Feel okay with it? Well don't just sit there! Review it!