- TW:/ brief description of violence/abuse
"I thought you'd be good at this, but it seems you really are a child."
Doflamingo's voice was velvety, smooth, yet cold at the same time. It was unusual for the vibrato in someone's voice to make it so clear of their intentions towards you—but it had only taken Law a few months since the adoption to understand its lethal subtext.
Everyone Donquixote Doflamingo laid his celestial eyes upon was inferior—nothing more than a tool.
In Law's case, he was merely an increasingly disappointing one.
"Was all that practice for nothing?" A rustling of clothes, perhaps changing his posture. Law wouldn't know—he refused to look at him. "Hmm, Law?"
Law hated when he called his name. At the reminder of the grueling 2 hour sessions Doflamingo ordered each day, the child grit his teeth.
Everyday was spent in biology lessons, anatomy lessons, chemistry, holed up in a make-shift basement lab doing dissections. Then, after getting to see Lammy for a few minutes, he was taken to practice suturing in Doflamingo's drawing room. 'The Red Room', they sometimes called it.
The head of the Donquixoted Family would sit across from him, and despite his busy schedule cluttered with illegal, clandestine affairs, two hours were set aside each day to watch his newest protogé fiddle with strings and a suture kit, or do some other morbid surgery practice.
To date, it had been 2 months since this careful preparation began.
After leaving the nursery where Lammy spent most of her days on an IV drip, Law was prepared to endure Doflamingo's bored stare as he played a game of chess.
But today was different.
After 60 days, Doflamingo wanted to see the fruits of his investment.
Guards escorted Law from the drawing room, and instead threw him into the study—a dark, fully-panelled rosewood room. Red wood lined the corners, such a deep orange-red, in the dim lighting, they appeared crimson black.
The furniture was all worth millions, yet Doffy had no issue slashing his right-hand man's arm with the shattered edge of a decanter. Blood dripped all over the carpet, staining the floor red.
"Fix him."
Doffy said the words the same way you'd say, "Close the door," or "Turn off the light."
Tools.
Suddenly, a bodyguard kicked Law's knees, and he collapsed to the floor.
Thud.
What landed before him was a familiar suture kit.
Now, as his fingers trembled, one hand held the forceps and the other held the needle driver.
Vergo was an emotionless mannequin, blood weeping from his bicep as he sat in an expensive leather armchair. Doflamingo seemed to be aware of this.
"The leather is expensive," came Doffy's oppressive voice. "I'll have to take out the compensation for this elsewhere."
Law grit his teeth.
"You're crazy! I've never done this on someone alive before!" Used to dead animals, frogs, and the fake wounds from the suture kit—Law was unused to poking human flesh.
More importantly, there really was a problem with this man's logic.
Law wasn't the one who sliced open their supposed second in command just for the sake of seeing if a 10-year old could suture the wound! Yet he complained of blood staining his furniture. Law didn't even like Vergo. For all he cared he could bleed out!
"Never done this on someone alive?" Doffy raised a brow. "I believed I had already made this a suitable difficulty." There were footsteps behind him. "His wrists are unharmed. Instead, I cut straight into muscle. Unless you had preferred an artery?"
Law's hands shook as he flicked his wrist and wound the needle driver, sucking in a deep breath before piercing Vergo's skin again. As retribution, he stuck the needle a bit deeper than he needed to.
Predictably, Vergo didn't bat an eye. He was a biological marvel after all. If you opened him up completely, you'd realize he had no central nervous system whatsoever.
"Do you know, Law?" came Doffy's deep vibrato, louder and closer than before. Law frowned as he focused on closing the wound. "Do you know why you have ended up here?"
Law's trembling fingers paused. He could feel Vergo's uninterested eyes briefly land on him, before looking up. A shadow loomed over the armchair, one darker and more warped than physically possible. It cast them both in darkness—but nothing Law wasn't already used to.
Doflamingo chuckled, the half-broken decanter still in his hand. After cleaning out the broken shards and disinfecting the wound, the only evidence of pure violence for the sake of it were the drips of blood staining Doflamingo's hand.
"The clothes on your back are not your own. Neither is the medicine you take, nor that of your sister. The very threads you use to sew up this wound are all provided by me."
Law refused to look up. He wound the suture tighter than he needed to, before piercing the skin once again. Just 3 more stitches to go.
"The strings you use to stitch a man are not your own. The knowledge you use to fix him, is not your own. The hands you use to pierce skin…"
Suddenly, a hand shot out and seized Law's wrist. Dust floated in the air, as Law was yanked up by his arm to stand. Doflamingo towered over him, red-tinted glasses concealing his impersonal eyes.
Instead, Law stared at himself—at his own face, and saw the unadulterated fear that marred his features. His heartbeat hammered, but his face was free of any worry. But if you looked closely, in his eyes that reflected his eyes, they were trembling like a leaf. Fear.
"Listen here, boy." The grip on Law's wrist tightened. "These hands that you will use to thread flesh and bone; even they are not your own." Doflamingo twisted his wrist, and the needle driver slipped from his hands, landing with a soft thud to the floor.
"For even every sliver of string you use is not your own. Not even those here," and he gestured, forcing Law's arm to bend behind his back, and pressing overwhelming strength into his grip. "Not even the ones on your back."
Law wanted to refute; this psycho had finally fallen off his rocker. Doflamingo explained to him unfailingly, less a tool not know its place.
"You have ended up here, boy, because you are afflicted by a wound, yourself—a small, shallow slit that continues to bleed dry." A finger pressed into his spine, and Law was pushed to the ground from the sheer force. "Only I can stitch it shut. Only by using your hands, that you do not own, and the strings on your back, that I control, can the wound be closed."
A knee pressed into his back, and his arm was twisted for measure.
Law yelled out from the pain, but Doflamingo simply twisted it further. Law screamed and thrashed, and kicked his feet in protest. Vergo, still in the chair, merely stomped them back down.
Law was trembling on the floor, tears blurring his view of the red carpet, as Doflamingo disgraced himself by bending to his knees.
In the study, a small child laid face down on a carpet, and two ominous shadows loomed above him, as oppressive as an open, dark sky—but they were not in the open. Instead, there was a dark roof over their heads, and the stale air reeked of blood and salty tears.
Doffy didn't care if he had to stoop to the child's level to let him hear these words; This child didn't understand himself, and he had to make sure the whelp would never forget:
"You," he said definitively; so sure of himself, as if his lies were the law, "are destined for ruin. Only by my hand, can you bleed out, or suture that wound."
A bone in Law's back cracked, as the man above him pressed his foot further.
"You hear me, Law?"
Tears welled in Law's eyes, yet he could only part his mouth to take in the stale, metallic air.
His back was being crunched, his lungs were being crushed, yet all he could think of was Lammy, in the nursery, fearfully apprehensive, yet happy that she would be getting better. If it meant being stepped on, and having his spine broken into a million pieces, Law would gladly endure. He didn't care at all about his ALS.
He didn't even care if he were to die at this very moment.
Briefly, he closed his mouth, embraced the suffocation…
Yet Doflamingo sensed this change, and released his foot at once.
He used the tip of his shoe to flip the child over. Indifferent, blood red glasses regarded him in quiet wrath, those lenses having witnessed an offence so enraging the air around them vibrated.
Doflamingo rose to his full height once again, and his lips that were in a thin line parted to let out a low chuckle.
The splintered decanter hovered with possibility in his hand, yet the man merely took a sip from the shattered rim. Only he knew if the red liquid was blood, or wine, or something else.
"No matter how much I may want to skewer you right now, harming you would be as if harming myself." Lies, Law thought. Yet Doflamingo's chuckling did not stop.
"Know this, boy, and know it well. Every action you do, is wound by the strings around my fingers. Learn well, and perhaps one day I will cut them." Lies.
"But oppose me, like you did today, and those strings will only grow…They'll claw their way inside your heart, take residence in your narrow, pathetic veins, and then," he took another sip, draining the entire glass.
In a show of explosive power, he hurled it across the room, the remains shattering against the wall. "And then, Law, once I've let you sit with it for a while, those strings…shall be wound from the inside out."
He grinned, teeth pointed and stained with red. Law's heart thundered in his chest, as the man said,
"Even in death—consumed, you will be a man made of straw."
.
,
,
,
"-rao…Torao?"
Something was shaking Law's arm, the very arm that had been crushed against his own back.
As if haunted by the strings attached to his limbs, Law recoiled from the disturbance, arms flying to touch his back.
He was no longer in an old memory.
He was on the tour bus.
Sweat clung to Law's face, and his shirt was wet around the sleeves. Luffy's head had long since left his shoulder, but his warm eyes lingered on his own.
Again, they were earnest, and almost too clear. The young man certainly felt something for Law, so unabashedly so, but he himself seemed unaware of it. If he looked at him with such openness in his gaze, Law could only feel criminal for keeping his closed.
He did so anyway.
His gaze flitted away, staring outside instead, A frantic breath left his lips, as his chest rose and fell, trying to compose himself.
I've left the family, he could only remind himself. Lammy is cured—I-I'm cured. Corazon is safe.
Law inhaled deeply through his nostrils, held his breath for four beats, then exhaled through his lips. Luffy's gaze hadn't left him, and Law's awareness of this prickled his skin.
Belatedly, Law finally realized the drops of water that sluiced down the sides of the windows.
A barrage of rain fell from the sky, pit-pattering against the roof of the bus as sounds slowly returned to Law's ears. Around him, tourists spoke quietly, the sound of mobile phones and conversations suffused throughout the cabin, as the bus drove slowly down a winding, bumpy road.
Inside was considerably colder than when Law had dozed off, and he subconsciously tucked his hands into his hoodie pockets.
"A nightmare?"
Law whipped his head around, grey eyes colliding with brown.
Eyes that reflected the dreary, bleak heavens, cluttered with dark, insipid clouds, clashed against eyes that reflected the warmth of nature, a honey so rich with sweetness, it turned into a deep molasses.
Somehow, molasses leaked from Luffy's gaze, so potent, a wetness suddenly grazed Law's face.
Was the roof leaking?
"Shit," Law muttered, as he realized that he must have been crying. It was a single tear, yet it threatened to release a thousand more. Law bit down the urge with a shaky sigh. "It's none of your business."
Luffy frowned, but one in confusion, more than annoyance.
"None of my business?" Luffy didn't have to hide the way he completely doubted Law's words. Perhaps he was simply incapable of doing so—of giving anyone the benefit of the doubt.
"Hey Torao…Are you ok?" A hand tentatively stretched out to touch his shoulder. When Law spied the movement, he grabbed Luffy's hand and flung it away.
"I'm changing seats."
Law got up, and the minute he did, he realized there was no point in doing so. For some reason, he no longer felt excitement for anything—changing seats seemed like a waste of time. He was better off returning to the resort.
A hand pulled him back down.
"Why?"
Law didn't look at Luffy, instead looking at where a smaller, sturdy hand wrapped around his wrist. Law continued to stare at where two complexions, relatively the same tan, collided, yet the alien hand didn't retreat.
"Let go."
Luffy frowned again, this time looking so blatantly confused, Law felt momentarily apologetic. Then he stifled it.
"If I let go then you're gonna leave, aren't you? You can't leave when we're almost at the hot springs."
His eyes looked clear and free of a guilty conscience, as if he was merely stating a fact. Law felt sickened by this even further.
"Mr. Luffy," Law said calmly, removing the young man's grip, "because that's what you are—a stranger. Please refrain from carelessly touching me in the future." Hopefully there won't be one.
Law knew he was being cruel—but the kid clearly had some sort of fancy for him. Taking any and every opportunity to touch him, scaling his villa and imposing a dinner on him, throwing his hand around his neck, resting his head on his shoulder. By far, the biggest portion of evidence had to be that gaze—like a dog begging to be thrown a bone.
Law wasn't interested in a relationship—not after that dream, not after meeting Vergo two days ago, not since before any of this even started. And certainly not now.
What he needed to be doing right now, as a responsible, debt-riddled adult, was booking the first flight out of Poneiro, and either work himself to the bone, or look for a private investigator to end this once and for all.
He never dreamed about his past memories in the Donquixote House, and memories were an understatement. If this continued, he really would be consumed from the inside out.
A Straw Man.
Big eyes pered up at him again, not at all deterred. Luffy looked at Law as if he was being unreasonable. Truly, getting any kind of puzzled look from Luffy was an insult in and of itself.
"What's with you all of a sudden, Torao?" Luffy dipped his hand into his fanny pack tied around his waist, pulling out the polaroid camera. "Is it because I took this? Hmm, then here, you can have it back."
Law didn't have time for this. He coldly turned around and marched to the group of tour guides sitting towards the front. The bus drove over a particularly rough bump, and was in the air momentarily.
"Mr Trafalgar…" Amy's voice held a note of surprise. "Is something the matter?"
Between his seat and the walk here, Law figured as much that it would be unreasonable to ask for the bus to stop and let him off. He had no transportation, and they were on a narrow, precarious rode, and it was raining. Instead he asked: "When is the next available flight out of here?"
"Excuse me?"
Law's grey eyes glanced over her head, to Thomas, who had been intently watching the entire conversation. He astutely answered, "Next Monday, three days from now."
"Is it possible to book that?"
Thomas visibly frowned, as if a calculation didn't add up. "You'll only be receiving a partial refund, as your trip was already—"
"I don't care."
The man blinked.
"Well," he glanced at Amy, who was more baffled than he was, "I suppose I'll do that right away Sir." Rather than out of sentimentality, he added out of a diligent concern for hotel profit. "If you do happen to change your mind, however, you have until Monday Morning—"
"That won't be happening." Law said this to himself as well, perhaps feeling the persistent gaze of the young man behind him. He turned around to see that Luffy had indeed followed him.
"Now you're being annoying."
"You're really leaving, Torao?" Luffy's eyes looked slightly surprised, slightly disappointed. He hadn't even dwelled on the insult. "For such a tall guy you sure are petty! You're leaving the island just because I took your camera?"
Law didn't bother wasting energy on the logical jump. Instead, he sighed, gave a parting glance to the bewildered tour guides, and brushed past Luffy to sit back down. The young man quickly followed.
"If I—"
"—Do you like me, or something?"
Luffy paused, mouth ajar, slow to process Law's words. He blinked a couple of times. Beads of sweat formed on his face, one after the other, and he tightly pressed his lips together and averted his eyes.
"W-What do you mean…HAHA! Torao, you sure are—"
"—Funny?" Law, for the first time since meeting Luffy, actively invaded his personal space. He leaned his head closer to Luffy's, resisting the pull of those open, brown eyes. Right now, they were half filled with panic, half filled with lingering confusion.
The young man pursed his lips and stubbornly refused to blink.
Law hadn't realized this had turned into a staring contest. And what kind of person participated so earnestly?
"Fine," Law said, easing up. Luffy let out an audible exhale.
"Let's say you don't like me. After all, we've only known each other for two days; what kind of idiot would develop feelings that quickly."
Luffy seemed to frown at the latter part, while Law felt a bit foolish just saying the former. He felt like he knew Luffy for far longer than that—but dwelling on this discrepancy could only take him into dangerous territory.
"Here's my warning for you not to." He cast a sidelong glance at Luffy, who looked a little wronged, and ignored that he might be being a bit unfair. Then he chided himself. He owed Luffy nothing. He already owed more than he could possibly owe, right about now.
"I'll take it that you're just a very tactile person, but we're not friends. Please understa—"
"—But we are friends!"
Law paused and looked over at Luffy. Now the young man looked offended.
"You helped me on the plane, and you accepted my gift, didn't you?" Law briefly recalled the distorted wooden figurine he had been given earlier today. "What's with you being so weird all of a sudden? Just an hour ago you let me rest on your shoulder, and touch your arm, and now you're being so cold. You really are a scummy guy, Torao!"
Law's mouth fell agape and he pointed a hand at himself. "Scummy?"
More importantly, why did that sound like he had just confirmed a suspicion?
"Why wouldn't I be allowed to like you?" Luffy tilted his chin upwards. "You can't tell me what to do."
Law blinked rapidly, wondering if this counted as a confession.
"W-What?"
Luffy looked at Law as if he were an idiot. Then he looked around, that wide, mischievous grin appearing on his face.
He leaned in covertly, cupping a hand around his mouth. He positioned that very grin close to Law's right ear, and whispered, "Whether I like you or not, that can only depend on Torao!"
What?
Law didn't know if his heart skipped a beat out of fear, anticipation, or anger, but he flinched away from Luffy as if it burned him. Luffy laughed, always carefree, as Law brought a hand to pinch his ear that Luffy had whispered into.
He's just a 20 year old kid, Law thought to himself. How does he know to flirt?
Luffy wasn't done.
"I was planning to move a bit slowly," he said, frowning at the polaroid in his hands. "But if Torao's planning on leaving so early, I can only try my best to convince him."
Law frowned, pulling his hand away from his ear. "Why are you talking about a me like I'm not here? Convince me to do what?"
He asked even though he knew the answer. For the first in a long time, since his first-ever meeting with Doflamingo, Law felt like he would be swallowed whole.
Luffy's eyes flickered up, and those warm, brown pools of molasses glinted with excitement. He took out his camera—Law's camera, and snapped a photo of Law's awestruck face. He plucked out the film and handed it to Law.
"Don't worry!" Luffy assured, and his gaze really was so earnest.
But now, Law felt that something had certainly shifted. Something about this felt like the tables had been flipped on him, and he was about to be hunted.
Hunted by a most enthusiastic 20-year-old, who really, really liked to touch him.
Luffy furrowed his brows, and met Law's anxious grey eyes with a zeal brighter than a thousand suns.
"You really are a little unfair, Torao." His frown was deep, but then his grin was equally blinding. "But I promise, I'll try my best to convince you to stay!"
The color drained from Law's face, and he looked like someone had just gutted him then left him to die.
What are you saying! Law thought frantically, dreading this entire exchange. Try your best on what!?