AN-Sorry for the wait. This chapter was really difficult to write. I do hope it does its job in being not just an excellent read, but does it in a respectable matter as well. Updates for my other stories coming up soon.
Death Lurks Inside the Pupils
-Then-
He had not shown up Friday afternoon. And when Doflamingo returned on Saturday, everything was as he had left it, with the eleven year old still missing from this world. And on Sunday, after spending a majority of the day nervously meandering around his house, hesitant to travel the long distance out of fear of being rejected by the older boy's sudden disappearance, Doflamingo, eight years old and feeling for the first time in his life that sudden creeping in his heart, stared at the cruel sight of an empty desert, his head slowly lowering down to the shallow ditch that had been dug up not too long ago, the unforgiving sight of treasure no longer buried, leaving only an empty shoebox cast aside, the top half having been captured by the dry wind.
Something terrible happened.
-Now-
It was happening again. Doflamingo had let his mind wander into a memory that had not been successfully repressed, and now, underneath the cloudy skies filled with gulls, he felt the same heave in his heart that made him sense that death was just around the corner. He fondled his pockets and groaned into his throat at the realization that he had left with no pair of sunglasses to hide behind. He felt a scowl grow on his face as he hurried past the figures of laughing beachgoers, their shrill cries of excitement making him sick to his stomach, their bright colored bikinis and short coming off as more obnoxious than anything else, their happiness driving him insane. Had they nothing better to do that run around all day at a stupid beach, wasting their lives away when they could be doing something more with themselves? Everyone was so unproductive.
He wasn't sure why he had thought going to the beach was a good idea to begin with. He had only spent maybe half an hour their before the feeling of perpetual guilt, the memories of falling into a deep, dark, mental abyss, took over and reminded him why he was here in the first place. Doflamingo had nearly forgotten that the beachside apartment, the wonderful Californian weather, and the magnificent view of the ocean were a temporary prison for him to endure till he completed his task. But after that half hour he remembered why he had done all of this, and after realizing that he had done hardly a thing the past three days since meeting Vergo, Doflamingo concluded that he had done the worse possible thing.
Staring at the ocean was a waste of time. He could stare at it later, once everything was completed, and once he had someone to share the view with.
Doflamingo continued uphill till he reached the familiar white foundation, one corner missing some of the white plaster and exposing an older, orangey bricklayer. Surrounding the apartment building was enough wild mint to nearly cover the smell of salt water, but Doflamingo new better than to let a plant hide away his punishment. Being lucky enough to live on the bottom floor, Doflamingo walked through the giant patch of wild herb and jumped right into his patio. Although he couldn't see the ocean from the patio, it still had a lovely…charm to it, the sort of thing you could only find in southern California. He couldn't wait for the day he could be free from work and take the time to decorate the place.
Doflamingo opened the sliding door, and, whilst closing it, eyed the phone that had been tossed on the couch two hours prior. He carefully walked across the small apartment, avoiding messy stacks of paper, books, clothing, and collected trinkets that had been placed wherever there was available space. Crocodile will know where to place everything, Doflamingo would often tell himself as he added another something to his temporary hoard.
He picked up the phone and felt his heart palpitate as his mind raced back to just a few years ago, the tight, firm grip belonging to death now on his shoulders, whispering fault right into his ears. He had one message. Doflamingo landed on the couch with a heavy thud, cradling the phone in his large hand while leaning over to the small table in front of him, tossing aside some notes he had worked on the night before and unearthing the flashing answering machine.
He knew who left the message, and seeing that he had taken the time to actually leave one behind was a warning to the tall blonde of his other failure from earlier this morning. It was a difficult thing, gathering information from Mihawk, and Doflamingo was rather sure of himself that this message left for him was the brooding man's way of reminding him that it wasn't possible to collect valuable detail from him, especially since he apparently had none to give. But Doflamingo knew this to be complete bullshit, knowing better than to believe what Mihawk would have to say. He had heard the truth a little over a year ago…he had heard him say it aloud, drunk, weary, and miserable: the absolute truth.
But Doflamingo went ahead and pressed the flashing button, allowing Mihawk the time he deserved to have his say. Even though the man would have the advantage of being a message that couldn't be argued with, the sobriety that would assure him the ability to lie through his tongue, and the time necessary to say just about whatever he needed in order to shift the blame on Doflamingo. He took a deep breath and relaxed himself, staring up at the ceiling and counting the cracks as the message began:
"I see you finally remembered I live in New York…"
"Shit," Doflamingo muttered. He chuckled nervously, shaking his head disapprovingly at his terrible memory.
"…But that's not the reason you called. Of course, it never is." There was a short pause, the proof Doflamingo needed to justify that this one sided exchange between a man and a message was pointless. "You already know what I'm about to tell you, Doflamingo."
"You don't know where he is," Doflamingo scoffed.
"I don't know where he is," Mihawk's voice rang through the machine. "And I haven't seen him since–"
"–the last time we were all together," Doflamingo finished loudly, cancelling the sound of Mihawk's overly calm, monotone, annoying, lying-piece-of-shit voice. "Yada-yada, whatever."
"Look, it's almost October, and if you'd like I–" Doflamingo pressed the delete button, erasing the rest of the message. He'd have to try again later, when the man was less sober, unprepared to be properly interrogated.
Doflamingo held on tightly to the phone, considering whether he ought to try once more today before waiting another month or so to call Mihawk again. Approaching him face to face wouldn't work. Doflamingo couldn't even begin to imagine the things he'd do to Mihawk if he ever saw him in person. The man was a liar. He was keeping the most important thing away from him, and all the money he had saved up would mean nothing if he couldn't use it on what he desired most. Doflamingo moved his hand upward, feeling the antenna poke his chin and slide up his face. He continued to look up at the ceiling, ignoring his organized mess as he let his mind turn attention to his previous plans.
He had to think of a way to make more money. Even with all the funds he had made the previous year the amount in his savings account was still only in the five digits. Yes, it was more than what most twenty-something-year-olds had, but it wasn't enough for what he needed. He still couldn't afford Crocodile.
Cocaine was…decent, the middle of the ladder when it came to most drugs, a stepping stone to harder, darker things. It was the drug someone took when they were tired of the nicotine and high, but was too afraid to commit to things like meth or ecstasy. It was a cop-out drug, and a lot of people were willing to give the supposedly safer drug a hit or two before moving on to the next things. It was this very reason Caesar wanted to cook something stronger, but also the same reason Doflamingo picked it over anything else. He wanted a nice, steady flow of customers that would become addicted and buy from him for as long possible. Caesar only saw the money and ill effects of being addicted to a poison that could very well kill you after one hit.
Until recently Doflamingo didn't mind the smaller paychecks.
Now he had to think how he was going to run two different businesses. Vergo was off taking endurance tests in order to sell inside bases across the country, and Caesar was...doing whatever the hell Caesar did. Doflamingo felt comfortable with the two of them working in the drug business, and he didn't want to risk their well-being in order to help build up this new one, so he would have to find another few heads to help him work his black market.
But where to start?
Doflamingo raised his head and peered over the coffee table, staring at the notes he had written earlier in the morning. He sat himself upright and carefully leaned over the table, trying to grab the messy pile he had created without actually getting up from his seat. He made a few attempts at this before moving off the couch and resting halfway on the table, grabbing several of the sheets and falling right back into his seat. He read quietly at the scribbles he had made in a less sober state, taking in the wisdom of the few eligible lines that he could make out.
"I need a woman," he muttered to himself. Someone who could lure ignorant people into his trap? Someone who could attract both men and women? Someone with a nice, trustworthy disposition that no one would ever suspect was a criminal? Definitely a woman.
Doflamingo let the other sheets in his hand fall over his body as he continued to read his notes. She needed to be young, perhaps younger than him, but not younger than Violet otherwise he'd risk ending up on the offenders list. She would need to know, or would have to commit to learning, more than two other languages, perhaps Spanish and Chinese since they were the next two popular languages, in order to gather in more unsuspecting goods. She needed to be smart, but obedience was a must. Most importantly, she needed to be able to fit the role of a secretary, because most of what he had written was very hard to read, and Doflamingo didn't have the time to learn how to properly use a keyboard.
Doflamingo pondered for a few moments on the limitations of finding such a person in such a short time. He turned and stared at the pile of clothes that took up the other half of the couch and began to claw at it, tossing the mixture of clean and unclean articles all over the room as he dug through it in hopes of finding his laptop that he had "lost" several days prior (An organized mess! He really did know where everything was.) . Finally, Doflamingo pulled from the remaining pile a long cord, his charger. He carefully tugged at it, letting his hand travel across it before feeling the smooth top of his personal PC. He yanked the laptop free from its prison and opened it up, smiling gleefully when he was able to turn the thing on.
He could think of only one place where he could get whatever, or whomever he wanted without having to try too hard. Of course, with great privileges come terrifying risks. Doflamingo typed in the name of the site on his search bar, silently praying to God that he wouldn't end up catching the eyes of a bunch of weirdoes like he had the last time he had put up a personal ad. He knew he had no right to complain; Craigslist did give him Caesar after all.
He closed his laptop right before it died and, still retaining his smirk, got up from the couch and headed to his room. He carried his laptop with him, finding the first electric outlet located in the hallways, and left his device to gather energy for later use.
He was starting to feel better already. Being productive was such a wonderful thing!
Doflamingo went right into his closet and began to pick through the clothes that hung in the crowded space. He needed to wear something bright, something that would bring a permanent smile on his face for the rest of the day.
Doflamingo pulled out a long sleeved shirt from his array and threw it on the bed, giving one last stare into his messy wardrobe before settling with his choice. As he was about to undress he noticed something stand out in the corner of his eye, stopping him from what he was doing and drawing him to the dresser's mirror. He walked over and looked above the mirror, purposely avoiding his own reflection, and rested his gaze at the sunglasses that lay crookedly on top.
Why would I leave it here, he thought. He raised his arm and carefully removed the shades, bringing them to his chest before observing the colorful plastic, checking for any new signs of scratches. He stared at his distorted reflection, the true reality, and watched his eyes begin to shake and twitch with emotion.
It was getting to that point. Doflamingo knew he needed to fix himself up before completing all his goals. These long nights injecting himself with caffeine and stimulants, leaving him up all day and night, but leaving him very little conscious time to actually get anything important done, were beginning to take its toll on him. His mind supposedly ran better when it was at its most fragile state, but waking up without a clue to what had occurred prior was a stressful consequence. These sunglasses were important, one of a kind.
He needed to be careful. He needed to take better care of his things. It's hard to replace something once it was broken, hard to find something that is lost…lost out there, in the great, big world, alive…but!
Doflamingo rested his hand on the dresser, watching his reflection place the sunglasses on their respected spot, covering his weakened eyes with the intense orange spectacles that glimmered alongside his growing smile. He continued to stare at this familiar copy, the figure that he could relate to in this particular form, and as he felt a warm embrace within his chest, that strange looming guilt still clung around the air in his room, constantly reminding him of his past mistakes, the limitations of time, and that small chance that the world he currently fought against wasn't even real.
Oh, what if, he thought, what…if Mihawk was right?
He immediately pushed the thought aside, telling himself over and over again that such a thing couldn't be, but found it rather difficult to keep his head up, his posture confident, his smile on as he continued to reassure himself.
Doflamingo grabbed the shirt from the bed, letting the fabric wrinkle his constricted grasp as he let himself go and stare up into space. He viewed the world through colorful lenses for just a second, letting his guard lower, closing his eyes only after feeling his heart break and crumble under the stress of actions he couldn't undo, lips closing shut, the mind traveling far back to show him the signs he should have memorized as warnings.
What on earth was he to do with himself?
-Then-
The note Doflamingo had left underneath a small pile of rocks was gone. Last Sunday had been such a disappointment to him, but even though he was young and selfish, the boy had somehow managed to take a logical approach to the situation. Rather than getting too upset over the loss of the weekend, he had decided to try to reach out to the lost eleven year old, hoping to find out why he had wasted three days coming over to the desert and finding nothing. And yet you arrived so early.
The note was gone, but there was still no Crocodile, and when Doflamingo thought about it more, he realized that just because the note had been taken didn't necessarily mean that the right person had found it, read it. He couldn't imagine who else would have traveled so far out here in the middle of May, when the giants rocks reached temperatures of over 00 degrees, and the sand burned the flesh of anyone who wasn't careful enough.
Admittedly Doflamingo worried that this might have happened. He had left the note late Sunday afternoon, promising to return not in Friday, but instead on Saturday, hoping that maybe Crocodile would return Friday, find no one, and feel the same dread the boy had placed on him for three days. Since there was no one waiting for him Doflamingo had no choice but to assume the worse, after all: Crocodile gave no home address, never spoke of home or his family, and would sometimes grow anxious when the younger boy tried to bring it up. There had been some suspicions growing in the back of Doflamingo's mind for a long time. He knew from conversations brought up at school that sometimes parents hurt their children, or parents would argue with each other in front of their kids, not realizing what they were doing was traumatizing to the young witnesses. Hell, on one occasion a police officer visited his class and talked about the rare, taboo occasion of parents or other family members engaging in "bad touching" with a child.
Doflamingo sucked the spit to the back of his throat, wondering if, perhaps, this was why Crocodile had not appeared. Maybe he was being hurt by a family member, and could not leave the house for some related reason?
The boy looked around the dry scenery, the back of his neck burning from the harsh sunlight, as he wondered how he should approach such a situation. There was little he could do but hope that the letter he had left last Sunday was in fact picked up by the older boy. Doflamingo removed his backpack and threw it on the ground, feeling bitter and hopeless, pulled out a spiraled journal and a pencil, and, growing all the more upset, began to write.
He spent only a few minutes writing out his fears, advice, and pleas before forcing himself up on his weak, shaking legs and walking over to the piled of rocks that once hid a box full of stolen allowances, lunch money, and a promise to leave this town. He laid the paper flat and visible, placing only one rock on top of the sheet. If Crocodile returned this would be the first thing he would see once he made his way down the hills.
Doflamingo quietly made his way back into the neighborhood, reflecting hard on his short life and how awful it was that he was so young and had little control over these sorts of things. He wanted nothing more than to impress the older boy with his accomplishments: winning fights and arguments at school, getting away with said arguments and fights at school, becoming tougher, stronger, biking over to the neighborhood instead of taking a bus, learning how to take what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and so on. What was going on? Where was Crocodile? Would Doflamingo go to being alone in this boring world again?
He slide down the large mound of sand and walked over to the house closest to the desert, pulling out the key to the lock that tied his bike to the gate. After dusting off his clothes, Doflamingo rode off.
His mind continued to wander aimlessly as he passed by rows of houses, making the occasional glance at each building in hopes of spotting a familiar face. He had never really thought about his relationship with Crocodile in a long term way. Two years and not once did Doflamingo ever wonder what would happen once they stopped hanging out together. The very thought stung his heart with something he couldn't describe, it made him feel nauseous and weak, made his eyes burn with wetness and fury.
Doflamingo made a sharp right, cutting across the neighborhood through the small park located at the very center. He slowed himself down, allowing himself better, safer access through the drying grass. As he passed the playground Doflamingo detected a stiff, dark movement in the corner of his eyes, and almost instinctively knowing who it was, turned his head, his legs halting and brining him to rough break.
The older boy stared back at him, eyes wide, but mouth his barely open, his left hand holding a folded sheet of paper, his right hand holding something in between his index finger and thumb.
Doflamingo felt a rush of relief fill his body.
"Crocodile," the boy called.
The older boy remained still. As Doflamingo moved in closer he could make out peculiar features that made him stand out more than usual. His hair wasn't pulled back, leaving several of his long bangs across his pale face, speaking of which; his face appeared almost colorless, his lips practically indistinguishable. It was hot, but the boy wore a dark flannel shirt over his regular clothing. There was nothing on his person. Once the younger boy was within a few feet from him, Doflamingo caught the quick flashed movement of something small dropping out of Crocodile's right hand, falling into the grass and disappearing from sight.
Doflamingo couldn't care less about the small "thing" that fell, focusing his attention on the older boy that had neglected him for three days. But he did see that there was something off about the boy, his paler than normal complexion being the most worrisome of all the signs.
"Are you ok?" he asked. He let his bike fall as he attempted to reach out and touch Crocodile. The boy backed away, using his free hand as a deterrent to Doflamingo's. The boy pulled his arm back, feeling more nervous as he watched Crocodile carefully tuck folded sheet of paper, which was thick and full of something dark, into his back pocket.
"Why didn't you show up?" Doflamingo asked.
"I wasn't feeling well," the boy answered.
"Are you sick?" he asked.
"You came early," the boy muttered. He turned away from Doflamingo, looking over his shoulder as though he were afraid someone might be watching. "You never come this early."
"I was worried," Doflamingo answered.
"Worried? About what?" there was something terribly cruel in his shaky voice, but Doflamingo did everything in his power to ignore it.
"You," Doflamingo said. His face tickled with unwanted heat. He watched Crocodile; still looking away from him, pull in his lips, closing his eyes, hearing his breath become loud and uneven. But he didn't cry. Crocodile never seemed to cry. Without a warning Doflamingo grabbed the older boys hand, his body shaking as he saw the older boy nearly jump from the sudden contact.
"What's wrong," Doflamingo asked. "Why are you acting so strange?"
Crocodile struggled to free his hand from the younger boy's grasp, but his strength wasn't at his best today. No, he was certainly weaker than normal. There was something wrong, but Doflamingo couldn't begin to guess what it was.
"I'm just not feeling good," Crocodile answered. "Just go back home." The cruelness that had tried to push Doflamingo away was gone and replaced with something shaky and weak, alerting the younger child that his worries were justified.
"Let me take you home," Doflamingo beckoned, tugging Crocodile closer towards him. "Please, I know you wanna keep it a secret…"
Somehow Crocodile managed to free himself once he heard Doflamingo offer his plea to help him, and the boy got to see, for the first time, a real look of fear on his face once he had brought up that forbidden subject.
"No!" Crocodile yelled. "I'm not going back there."
"Why not?"
Crocodile shook his head, covering his face with his arm. Doflamingo lurched forward, hoping to catch the sign of tears or sounds of whimpering, but was welcomed with silence.
Finally, Crocodile answered, "I'm not going back."
"But you don't feel good," Doflamingo argued. He looked down at the ground and tried to find whatever Crocodile had let fall from his hand. No sooner had he began to stare downward, Crocodile removed his arm and began to grow agitated.
"What are you doing?" he heard the older boy ask in an accusatory tone.
Doflamingo looked up at Crocodile, "You dropped something."
"So?" the boy asked.
Doflamingo wasn't used to this. Never had he experienced this side of the boy before. There was never a time before where Crocodile was so...frightened. But of what? Being sick? That couldn't possibly be it. Maybe he was being hurt; maybe that's why he refused to go home, even in his current state.
He looked down at the grass, then back at the older boy. "I don't want to leave you," he whined, allowing his voice to break right at the end.
"…Medicine," Crocodile answered.
"Medicine?" he asked.
Crocodile nodded his head, a small smile appearing on his pale face. "It was medicine. I'm sick, but I'll be ok." He folded his arm, but not before trying to fix his messy hair, and then proceeded to calm himself down. "I'm ok. I'm just...a little upset." He moved in front of Doflamingo, bending his legs just a little so that the two would make eye contact with one another.
And they did. Oh, what a mistake that was on Crocodile's part. He though he could fool the boy with his usual tricks, but after witnessing everything that had happened the past several minutes, Doflamingo knew better than to believe Crocodile, so when he did look into those gorgeous eyes he saw something that he had never saw before, and considering all those previous opportunities when he was lucky enough to stare into those eyes, and understanding that he was staring at the same person who really hadn't undergone some new change in his life, Doflamingo could help but feel ashamed of himself.
"Go home, Doflamingo," Crocodile said. "Come back next Friday."
"What about you?" Doflamingo asked, his eyes still locked into the deep void. "You didn't take your medicine."
Crocodile chuckled, so slow, so soft; it made Doflamingo shiver.
"I took enough," he said. "I'll be ok."
Doflamingo forced a smiled. "Why don't you stay with me? You can sleep over."
"Next time, I promise," Crocodile replied. It sounded like a lie.
"Please," Doflamingo cried.
Crocodile frowned. "Next time."
"Please, please," Doflamingo begged. "You can't stay out. You didn't bring anything with you. You'll get thirsty, and you wont have anything to drink. When you're sick you're supposed to drink lots of stuff." Doflamingo once again latched on to Crocodile, wrapping his thin arms around the boy's slim body, half his face buried in clothing that was strangely cool, the other half peering up at a now uncomfortable looking child.
"I can't go," Crocodile whispered. Doflamingo felt Crocodile's arms jerks, his stomach making a strange sound. Crocodile looked paler.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, looking up with fright.
"No," Crocodile lied. Doflamingo eased his grasp on the older child. Crocodile didn't push him away this time. The young blonde took a step back and held on to Crocodile's hand, feeling himself grow calm when he pulled and the older boy, despite his lethargic state, move forward. Doflamingo would have treated this as a victory, but then heard a soft hiccup from the boy and turned to see Crocodile fighting tears.
"What's wrong?" Doflamingo asked, already forgetting the pointless attempt he had made just before.
But this time Crocodile answered, red eyed, voice shaking from frustration. "You're making things harder…"
Some time in between the bus ride home and sneaking past security and into the neighborhood filled with two, three story houses that all looked the same, Crocodile's condition deteriorated and Doflamingo began to worry over how he would make his dear friend feel any better.
Crocodile, lying silently on Doflamingo's messy bed, refused any food that was offered to him; even the candy that Doflamingo charmed the maid to give him was ignored and treated with disdain. Doflamingo had no sweet drinks that the older boy would drink, and Crocodile wouldn't even try to drink the juice and milk he had brought up. It was odd, but then again Doflamingo wasn't all that hungry himself, the strange predicament he was in had stolen his appetite.
"Want to play with the Nintendo?" Doflamingo asked.
Crocodile shook his head, curling himself and wrapping his arms around his shaking legs. He stared at Doflamingo, and then past Doflamingo, thinking about something for a few mintues while the child waited patiently for him to speak, then blinking a few times before finally admitting, "I need water."
"Water?" Doflamingo repeated. "You sure?" Water was boring, had no taste. He had never even seen Crocodile drink water before.
"Mhmm," Crocodile answered.
Doflamingo rushed down the stairs for the umpteenth time, skipping past the maid who didn't seem to notice the boy's strange behavior, giving the large living room window a quick glance to assure that his mother's car wasn't parked, and then hurried into the kitchen to get the water. When he returned Crocodile's eyes were closed, his legs, though somewhat tucked in, were freed and his arms now holding on to his lower stomach. Doflamingo dropped to his knees, placed the water carefully on the floor, and gave Crocodile a rough shake.
The boy slowly opened his eyes. Whatever was there before was gone; his eyes were showing new signs of life, but Doflamingo wasn't going to forget what he had seen before.
He smiled. "I got water," he said, lifting the glass and offering it to the boy. Crocodile forced himself up and took the glass, making a snide remark on how Doflamingo chose to fill it all the way to the top, causing some of it to spill on his jeans, but then finally drank from the glass. Doflamingo watched with interest as Crocodile closed his eyes and forced the entire drink down his throat, taking a deep breath when he finally finished. He handed the glass back to Doflamingo while his left hand held on to his stomach. His arms were very shaky.
"Where's your bathroom?" he asked. He took another deep breath and stared at the empty glass. "I'm going to need more water."
Doflamingo lead Crocodile quietly down the hall, making sure the creeks of the wood flooring weren't too loud to attract attention. Once he showed the boy the entrance to the restroom Doflamingo went back downstairs to refill the glass, feeling better about the situation now that Crocodile was drinking something. When he came back up he noticed the door to the bathroom was still closed, and the bathroom light on, so he went back to his room and waited, leaving the glass on top of his messy dresser drawer.
He walked around his room, picking some of his neglected toys from the floor and finding a respectable place for them to be hidden until Crocodile was well enough to leave. He had always hoped the boy would come over his place, but all of this was so sudden that he felt some embarrassment at the current state of his room. Doflamingo went over to his bed and attempted to make it up, stopping midway when he heard the door to his room open.
"Where did you put the glass?" Crocodile asked. Doflamingo was surprised to see that Crocodile looked worse than he had previously before entering the restroom. His face was flushed and his whole body seemed to shake. He pointed to the dresser and watched the boy take the glass and, like before, consume the entire drink in one sitting.
"Are you thirsty?" he asked. "Do you need more water?"
"I'm fine," Crocodile said. He placed the glass back on the dresser and then sat himself back on the bed. Doflamingo crawled closer to the older boy till they sat only inches from each other.
"Crocodile?"
"What?"
"Can I ask you a question?" Doflamingo muttered.
Crocodile shrugged. "Fine."
"Do you hate your home?"
Crocodile sighed. "Is that why you think I'm here with you?"
"No…it's just that you're sick, but you wont go home," Doflamingo said. "Are your parents mean to you? Is it bad there?"
"No," Crocodile said, staring at the television littered with wire from all the consoles that were attached to the bottom of it. "It's different. You're too young to understand. "
"You don't trust me," Doflamingo corrected.
"It doesn't matter," Crocodile said. "I'll have to go home now, and I'll probably get in trouble." He clasped his hands together and covered his face. "Everything is ruined. You should have just left me alone."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?" Crocodile asked.
"Because you're my best friend," Doflamingo answered hesitantly.
"…oh."
"It's scary," Doflamingo said. "What if I left you, and you're sick, and you have nothing with you, and…and what if you ended up dead?" He wiped at his face before the older boy could see him tear up, not wanting to diminish any more respect he had lost today. "That's really stupid, going out when it's really hot, in all those clothes, with nothing to drink. And you're sick. Why would you do that?"
Crocodile stood up and headed out the room without saying a word to Doflamingo. The younger boy took the time offered to him and tried to calm himself down. Oh, it was just so scary. What would he do if he lost Crocodile?
The boy returned with a flushed face, wiping his mouth and staggering back to the bed. Doflamingo wanted to continue to reprimand the boy, but felt his pain immediately fade once Crocodile fell upon the bed, looking more tired than ever. The bed that he had tried to make up was then wrinkled as the boy kicked off his chucks and covered his cold body with the top sheet, wrapping himself up tight and covering most of his face.
"You're cold?" Doflamingo asked, confused. It was hot. It made no sense.
"Very," the boy answered.
"Your breath smells funny," Doflamingo pointed out. "Like pennies and sour stuff."
"I'm sorry."
"Huh?"
"For making you worry," Crocodile muttered, moving the sheets around him and covering the rest of his face. "I just wish you hadn't shown up."
"That's mean."
"That's the truth," the boy whispered. He rolled over, resting on his stomach. "I hate this."
"What do you hate?" Doflamingo asked.
"Everything," his answer muffled through the sheets.
"Do you hate me?" No.
The sheets moved. "No."
The boy remained sitting, watching the movement beginning to dwindle as Crocodile began to rest. It wasn't that hard, he didn't want to talk to the older boy anymore, and Crocodile's silence reassured him that the older boy preferred not to speak either. After ten minutes of keeping still, Doflamingo was welcomed with the calm, rhythmic sound of a sleeping beauty.
He almost forgot how upset he had been when he crawled closer to that resting body, watching the rising sheets with every inhale, how they shielded Crocodile from the rest of the world. It was strange, very strange, because as Doflamingo stared at this rolled up cocoon all he could think about was how "funny" it would be if he tried to peel away the layers cloaking the older boy. Not the just the bed cover or the sheets, but also other things as well. He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to see from Crocodile, just that there was this urge to keep the boy in his barest form, and have it all in such a way that the two of them, but mostly Doflamingo, would be happy. That "funny" feeling continued to tickle him till it reached a lower, more sacred spot, causing Doflamingo to silently panic and push these "funny" ideas out of his head. It didn't stop him from getting all the more closer though. The boy rested himself next to Crocodile, his small hands reaching out and moving away some of the covering.
Crocodile no longer looked flushed. He touched the boy's cheek. It wasn't so cold. The water must have really helped.
And wouldn't it be funny if you kissed him on the lips? Like the adults do?
Doflamingo answered this thought with a hushed "no," telling himself that was impossible to do since only boys and girls kissed each other like that. Even as he closed his eyes the terrible fantasy played in his head over and over, making the act of falling asleep a terrible chore.
It was the heat that got Doflamingo to wake up, late in the afternoon. He saw that he was being covered with the sheets, which told him that sometime during his sleep Crocodile must have decided to share. He sat up, stretching his arms and looking over to his left, spotting Crocodile still resting next to him, though his back was now facing him. He didn't look the same as he did before. He was still pale, but didn't look so bad. He wasn't shivering anymore, and he was warm.
Doflamingo yawned. He looked over to the mass of games he had offered Crocodile to play with him hours before and decided to do that while he waited for the older boy to reawaken. Maybe once Crocodile woke up he'd be in a better mood to play, assuming he still wasn't too sick to play. Doflamingo pulled his legs closer to him, feeling something brush against his leg. He moved the sheets aside and stared at two round, red pills. Iron. He picked each one up and continued to canvas the bed, finding another right next to the opening of Crocodile's back pockets. Iron pills.
He stared at the small red pills, amused at how they resembled something like candy, and almost felt compelled to give it one a quick lick before remembering that it may have been a while since Crocodile last took one. He did recall him saying that he had taken a lot of pills beforehand, but Doflamingo chose to be safe and decided to risk a smack and wake the older boy.
"Crocodile," Doflamingo said, grabbing the shoulder poking though the blue blankets. He skin was warm to the touch now: it made Doflamingo smile. "Hey, Crocodile, wake up."
The boy groaned, pushing sheets away and welcoming Doflamingo with a threatening glance. But once both eyes were open Doflamingo offered his hand to Crocodile, exposing the three red pills to his face.
"Your medicine," Doflamingo said, smiling at the boy whose eyes were locked on to the small, round–deadly–pills. "You need to take your medicine so you'll get better."
Crocodile's stared into Doflamingo's palm, his mouth opening as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out as he then looked down, lowering his head slowly, looking away from Doflamingo as his arm reached out and took the "medicine" from Doflamingo.
"Thank you," he muttered. You've failed.
Doflamingo grinned. "Do you want some more water?"
You're alive.
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