•I had a sudden urge to write another chapter for this story! I would've updated sooner, but I was working out a big Lawlu story to come soon... ^^ So, without further ado, here's chapter 6!•

—The rain soon turned to hail, destructive shards of ice falling from the sky and destroying the land around the lake. The water in the lake had started to freeze over, creating a thick, almost transparent layer of cold, hard ice. Nature, once blooming in abundance around the lake, was no more, and the water was full of deceased. A nearby seed, woven deep in soil, however, wriggled slightly.—

6. School

Luffy doesn't bother attending Grand Line High. His brother died. It's senior year. His brother died. His grades are okay. His brother died. He doesn't care.

His brother died.

So what was the point?

Months dragged on in this fashion, with Luffy walking around the apartment lazily, not bothering to look at the Calendar, his last cry unheard and unanswered. Ignores the mailbox outside filling with his mail. Doesn't ask how they magically appear on his table. Wonders for two seconds how he is still able to live in the apartment, since he hasn't paid rent for so long. Then. Doesn't wonder anymore.

His birthday passes. He laughed around the house on that day, kicking over several pieces of furniture, screaming how he hated his life. Laughing at himself, at his situation, at everything. Everything was just so damn funny. He doesn't notice the sympathetic stare from the peephole of his door. The next day, everything was put back into place, repaired.

Luffy doesn't know how food keeps reappearing in his fridge.

One day he would completely empty the fridge, not a speck of food left, the next, it would be full again. Luffy asked no questions, gave no fucks. Who cares where it's from, who cares if it would harm him. It was free food. He ate.

It was one day, a hot morning, where Luffy was so hungry it hurt, because he had skipped dinner the previous night, memories forbidding him from movement, from sanity, let alone eating. His Calendar suddenly fell from where it hung. Luffy looks at it and picks it up. Nothing else. He had stopped updating it the day he came back from the hospital. He was done with it. Those months of the past, originally full of happiness, were nothing now, nothing but pain and it hurt him. It hurt him a lot.

The teen scoured the fridge for meat, which he noticed was a bigger portion than the other foods his fridge provided him with, and, upon finding some, rips off an unsightly chunk and stuffs it in his mouth. The cold is unforgiving, and Luffy's eyes water at the uncomfortable feeling. He doesn't care. Fuck his teeth.

He turns from the fridge and eyes the growing pile of mail on his table, which were open, read, and stuffed back into the envelope. These sat in a neat stack on one side of the table. That wasn't what Luffy was looking at though. There was a certain letter left unopened, one that screamed at him, 'Open me!'. Luffy would've ignored it, but didn't, because there has never been a letter like this is the past few months. So. He opens it. Reads it. Narrows his eyes and balls it up.

Like hell he was going back to Grand Line High for summer school. How old was he, ten?

Luffy angrily fists the letter, and throws it to the other side of the room, where it rolls crookedly before coming to a stop. The paper had told him that because he's grades were superb during the school year, he could have a chance to get in those few remaining credits he missed by completing them over the summer. By taking this opportunity, he could start college as per usual in the fall-

And he stopped reading because it was hilarious. What college? What opportunity?

What future?

The teen glares at the offending paper before his eyes come to another letter on the table, one right below the invitation to summer school. He narrows his eyes at this one. There was nothing on the envelope, just a plain, white, blank space.

He reluctantly picks it up and opens it. Removes its contents. And tears form in his eyes.

It's Ace's will.

That's what it says, anyway, and Luffy almost doesn't believe it. But. The three lettered name still tears at his heart. He finds a chair to sit to read the letter. Because, surely, if he stands, he would collapse, and stay on the ground.

So he sits.

And reads the will.

I haven't known you long, Mom. But, thank you for giving birth to me. And thank you for holding me when I couldn't hold myself. For being there when I was alone. For giving me the opportunity to meet my brother, Luffy. And I...I'm sorry that I'm dying. I'll see you soon, so just wait a bit more. Next, my father. I hate you with a burning passion that will never die out, even after death. But you met my mother, and you do make up half of me. The part that I would rather exchange for dog shit, yes, but half of me, nevertheless. I wish I could talk to you about things. I guess I'll see you, too.

Luffy's hands shake while on the paper, gripping the fragile object tightly. He bites his lip hard, remembering the one time he had brought up the subject of Ace's parents. He remembers his brother quickly dismissing the subject, obviously too personal, too touchy a topic. And now this...this was too much.

Sabo. I love you. You complete Luffy and I, and we both miss you from the bottom of our hearts. I hope that you will continue to live in Luffy's heart, just like you did for mine. Keep watching over him, please? I'll be helping you with that task soon.

The teen's breath hitches at the mention of his other descended sibling, and his mind wanders back in time, where he knows it shouldn't be. But he can't help but live in the past. It's where his happiness resides, where he left it. It's also the cause of his pain, says a small voice. Luffy agrees with a small, bitter smile. He missed Sabo.

Law. Thank you for bailing me out. It honestly means a lot to me. Could you please take care of my little brother? I know, I know, you're some stranger, and you probably don't give two shits, but. There's something about you that feels like home. Like comfort. I can't really explain, but I feel as if I can trust you. Could you do me this last favor and take care of him? I leave you with all my books, rent money, and my apartment. Then, paying for Luffy will be easy.

Luffy blinks a few times and rereads. Without a doubt, Law's name is on Ace's will. Law, his doctor. What the hell is he doing on such a personal document? How the hell did they know each other? 'Bailing him out'? Confusion swirls throughout Luffy's brain, overtaking the sadness for a moment.

Just a moment.

Luffy, you are the light of my world. My rock, my shelter, my shoulder to lean on. Without a doubt, the feeling is mutual. That's why I'm. It's why I want to apologize. For just leaving you hanging when you needed me most. Please don't blame Marco for this. It is all my fault, the blame lies with me. If you ever want to release your anger, please do so on my gravestone, I give you my permission. I love you so much it hurts. And I'm such an idiot of an older brother. I leave you with everything in my possession, minus the things I had already left to Law.

Luffy sets down the paper and doesn't do anything. Doesn't move. Doesn't blink, doesn't breathe. And then, a whimper escapes him. Then another, and another after that. The dark haired shakes his head slowly, curled fingers gripping his dark hair. "Damn it all," he mutters quietly, crying softly in the cold apartment, alone, the will Ace left in his possession catching each salty tear. Everything in his vision blurred and tilted.

Hah.

He was in the floor. Luffy laughs then, a big, booming one.

Everything is so funny, so damned funny, and he both loved and hated it. That he was alone, that he's just lost and confused. And just hates. Hates hates hates. The envelope flutters down beside him, and he almost doesn't see it, the small name at the bottom.

"Marco," Luffy breathes and it's not fake. It's not fake, not a single letter of it, it's all real and genuine, and Luffy's a sobbing mess all over again. And to think this was the same man that he had held against the wall, choking him. The man he hated. He despised. He ignored.

Yet he was able to bring him this. Ace. He was able to bring him his last words and thoughts. Suddenly, Marco isn't all that bad in his eyes, and thinking about all the things Luffy did to him makes his throat contract.

His eyes quickly skim over the page again. Then. A nagging feeling blossoms in his chest. Law. If that man was on Ace's will, then he should've been an important person to his brother. Why didn't he say anything in the hospital? Emotions rage through Luffy like an uncontrolled storm, and fury quickly dominates all others. It's what drives him to get up and stomp towards his front door, pulling it open with such force that the wood almost comes off its hinges. Luffy, eyes wide with anger, curls his fingers into shaking fists. Narrowing his gaze, and aiming it at the door down the hall, where he knew his doctor just so happened to live, Luffy stalks out of his room and approaches the door. Stands before it for a second.

Intentionally knocks rudely five times.

No answer.

Luffy blinks before trying again, but to no avail. With no outlet to release his anger on, it sort of just disappears. Leaving the dark haired with only sadness, which he should really call depression, and loneliness. He was more alone in this world than he would admit to, and that single fact alone gave way to fury. Luffy was just about to turn from the door when his eyes catch a small flyer sticking out from just underneath it.

Luffy doesn't care if it's prying, so he bends and retrieves the flyer.

The colors are bright and familiar.

Grand Line High School Summer School, a job as a teacher.

Luffy's eyes widen. Law, a teacher at Grand Line? Schooling his expression into something that resembles impassiveness, the teen turns from the door quickly, retreating into his own apartment and closing the door. Thinks, and thinks hard. He walks over to where the balled up flyer from his school lay. Gets to work straightening it as best as he could. Grabs his brother's will, and barely holds back a suffering, strangled sound.

He walks with heavy feet to his room, the two papers in each hand. He lays them on his nightstand, officially worn, and crawls onto the bed he got up from half an hour ago.

"I'm tired..." he mutters to no one. "My head hurts."

They're the first comprehensible words he's spoken in weeks.

—•—

Law taps his foot irritably, blinking lazily at the lecture the Director of Staff was giving him on tips for classroom teaching. He wasn't entirely sure why he even applied for the job- a gut feeling, maybe, if he were to say. It was so uncanny of him. Something he, on his own, would've never applied for.

But.

This gut feeling.

That tells him something would change in him because of this job. Something would happen. Just, something. Shachi had laughed at him the other day when he had mentioned the opportunity, almost in tears when imagining him helping students. But, in the end, it was all well and good. "Why the hell not?" Shachi had said, laughing at the frustrated face of the surgeon. "It lets you torture kids and still talk about your favorite subject. A win-win situation, if you ask me."

Law bit his lip absentmindedly while looking over the packet they gave him, basically information on how to provide a safe, clean, and effective learning environment, how to adequately care for each individual student's needs, and how not to be a creepy pedophile.

To say he'd had enough was an understatement.

It was mid lecture when the woman, whose name he didn't really catch, Nami, maybe, called him up for something. Bored, annoyed, and completely drained of any and all energy, the man stood. The orange haired girl smiled a little too brightly. "Mr. Trafalgar? We are hoping you would be our Health teacher for this term of Grand Line's annual Summer School. Can you please tell us, with your viewpoint as a surgeon, on how one could care for their body?"

And Law gave her the most openly drained look. Lowered eyebrows, narrowed eyes, looking at the woman as if trash. Even a hand on his hip. And Nami only smiles wider, because she knows the effect she has on the man. Sighing, the surgeon walks towards the front of the classroom, the stares of about twenty other adults on him, and Law is anything but comfortable. He really just wants to get back to his homey apartment. He's been out all day.

Clearing his throat once, he faces the Director and the others sitting in the room. "Thank you for letting me have this opportunity," he begins with the most forced smile he's ever made in his life. "To care for your body, and taking my being a surgeon myself into account, I believe that..."

...

Law got the letter the next day. He'd been accepted for the job.

It's hilarious how far sugar coated words can get you, especially in a profession. And it helped that the woman had thought him rather good looking, and chose him quickly over his bland competitors. But yet, he still had to attend various training sessions; most of which started early in the morning and didn't let out around four, and it annoyed him to no end. But.

That gut feeling.

And Law endured. For a whole damned week, he endured.

But it went so fast.

The next day was the first day of summer school, and the man relapsed from the blatant cockiness he displayed in the training to a nervous school girl before her crush. He turned to Shachi for assistance, and the pink haired had the gall to laugh at him. "I've never seen you so out of it, Law-kun," he gasps between uncontrollable hiccups, and Law glares at him from over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Don't push it," Law growls, setting down the mug forcibly. "I just have a few jitters. I am teaching a classroom, with irritable, hormone-driven teenagers. Anyone, especially one how hasn't exactly taught before, would be a just a bit nervous."

Shachi wipes the final tear from his eyes, and gathers his wits about him. Finally. He says, "Well, what're you gonna teach?"

Law stands to put the empty cup in his sink, and grabs the flyer from Grand Line on his way back. It somehow ended up on the ground by the door, but Law doesn't question it too much. He always misplaces his crap. "Health," he responds, eyes rereading the slip of paper. "Classes start tomorrow and I don't even have a plan."

The pink haired fake gasps, holding a concerned hand to his chest, and Law eyes him warily. "You're not helping," the tattooed man mutters with slight annoyance in his voice. He sits back down next to Shachi, though, and rubs his temples tiredly.

"Oh, is this the same Law I've grown to love?" Shachi questions dramatically, swooning on his shoulder. Law looks at the man as one would at vermin. The nurse continues on regardless. "You always have a plan, and you're never nervous."

Law sighs and discards the paper, leaning back on his couch and staring at the ceiling. "That's what I thought, too," he admits with a small smile.

Shachi's laughter fills him up, and tugs Law's lips upwards. Then his companion quiets, and Law feels his stare on his face.

"Ok, now you're just creepy."

"Cut me a damned break, Shachi-ya. I have lots of work to do. Er, rather, begin."

"Then just doooo it," the pink haired drawls, waving an unconcerned hand. "I'll try my best to bother and distract you."

Law rolls his eyes, a low, sarcastic, "Thank you" falling from his lips, which were curled into an unnoticeable grin.

—•—

Luffy takes another look at his blank, empty Calendar silently, his breathing ragged and uncontrolled. He was staring at earlier months. Ace's handwriting. His words, his penmanship, his day to day events. Next to Luffy's.

He doesn't know why he tortures himself like this.

In one hand he grips the flyer to summer school. In the other, he grips his brother's will. Tightly, the both of them, until his hands and hurting and clammy and sweaty, and suddenly Luffy's whole body is shaking. He grits his teeth to stop the scream rising in his throat, accompanied by the bile, and he stops it, because no. No. Just, no.

And then Luffy sits. Stares at the will. Law's name appears again. And then he thinks about the school paper under his door. Looks at the one in his hand.

Law was going to be at this Grand Line High this summer.

The damned doctor was never at his door to answer his questions, and Luffy had given up after a few days. Not only because the surgeon wasn't home, but also because. Lately he felt uncomfortable outside of his apartment, and it wasn't a welcome feeling.

Funny how he used to love the outside air, thinking the inside was stale and unmoving.

Luffy takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. He needed answers. From Law. And he obviously wasn't going to be in his apartment soon, and he didn't know the guy's schedule.

But there was one thing he did know, and the answer laid crumpled in his palm. "Guess I'll go," he mutters to no one in particular. "Only one day, just to get answers." And not for his brother, oh, definitely not. That name hurt and thinking about him hurt, and though his brother probably would've wanted Luffy to go school as an opportunity to actually start college on the fall, he couldn't.

All of his ambitions, hopes, and dreams died with Ace.

They only thing driving him to go, and for a day only, mind you, is because Law's name appears on the will. He still couldn't believe it. He knew Ace, and dearly, if he were to put the man on his will, but yet he told Luffy absolutely nothing. His teeth clench before violently opening the fridge, restocked yet again to the brim with food. He didn't want to think about anything anymore.

He eats.

And doesn't think.

It is May 29th. School started the 30th. 9AM sharp. Ends at 4PM. And Luffy would be there.

That was his only exception for thoughts. That, and Marco. Because Marco deserved a thought or two. And a hug, maybe even an apology. Because. Luffy treated him like shit, and he could see the pain in the blonde's eyes when he looked at him, but he ignored the look. Horrible. Just horrible.

Well.

Maybe Luffy had a lot to think about.

—•—

Marco sits with his long, slender legs crossed at the knee, arms folded, and mouth twisted down in a deep frown. He had been sitting for all of ten minutes, and his patience has worn very, very thin. Within the registration office, he, a man arguing quite loudly on the phone, and a woman dressed in all black, sat, politely leaving space between each other. The blue eyed man didn't bother looking at the other customers waiting for their certificate of death, and vice versa. The atmosphere was dark and gloomy, and Marco kind of liked it. He could grieve without the emotions stirring from him alone.

"Mr. Marco?" tentatively calls out the desk lady. She had once told the him her name, but Marco forgot.

Rude.

But he couldn't care less.

"Please come to the front desk, if you may."

Grunting, he peels his sorry self from the chair he sat in and walks slowly to the desk, where the woman gave him a warm smile. Marco blinks. It's not warm at all. No, wait, it is, but just not to him. He just doesn't feel...anything.

Nothing seems to be warm in this world anymore.

"Here is your certificate, we will take care of the rest, if you may," she says brightly. "You can come back anytime to schedule a funeral if yo-"

"I," cuts off Marco with steel in his eyes. The poor girl jolts a little. "Can handle it myself, thank you."

She licks her lips and pushes back a strand of her short blonde hair. "Y- Yessir. Here's t- the certificate. Have a nice day, if you m- may."

Marco nods solemnly before stalking off, the desk lady's frightened eyes on his hunched back the entire time. He was just out the door, had just exited, when a slender arm taps his shoulder confidently. He turns with an annoyed eyebrow raised. What the hell did this woman want with him?

"Marco, is it?" she asks, and the blonde realizes she was the other woman in there, and she was apparently listening to the conversation he had with the desk woman. "Do you need help solving the murder?"

Marco narrows his eyes dangerously. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he says after a pause. Marco shrugs off her hand and strides, strides, strides away. Because. He doesn't want to revive those hideous, hideous feelings he experienced a few months back. It's lessened now, and he wants it to stay that woman clad in black makes no move to follow, but instead calls out, "Don't you want to know who killed Ace?"

And then Marco jolts because of that name, and in a mere second he has the neck of the lady in a firm, unforgiving grip against the wall. The cap covering most of her face lifts slightly, revealing only short, tangerine colored hair. She doesn't make a sound as Marco's grip tightens slightly, and instead smiles. "It seems you do know what I'm talking about," she whispers, amusement in her soft voice, and Marco's slitted gaze becomes venomous.

"Who in the hell are you, bitch?" he asks, and he's surprised suddenly. Because of his actions, how violent he's become. Because of his voice, how gruff and unfriendly it sounds. He was different before.

He was better before.

It was now when the orange haired feebly reaches for the hands around her neck and pulls slightly. Tilting her head up, as if to look down at the man, she glares with the deepest shade of blue he's ever seen. "Unhand me first," she commands quietly, but the threat is all too there, and the blonde hadn't expected that. At all.

But he complies, and he lets go. Stares at his hand. Shakes his head and chuckles bitterly. He really has changed.

"Let's go," she says, gesturing to him. "Let's talk over coffee." And, yeah. Marco could deal with some coffee.

Coffee sounds alright.

...

"I'm a trustable person," she begins with the straightest face ever, and Marco actually laughs at that, attracting many stares throughout the small shack. "I don't think I caught what's so funny," she snaps irritably.

"You're dressed in all black, tell me the name of that man-" At this she arches an eyebrow, "-not to mention that you think someone killed him, and then expect me to stay quiet and trust you?" Marco shakes his head. "I must be absolutely insane for following you here."

The woman smiles warmly before taking a sip of her dark beverage. "No, you're not. You're smart for coming with me." She lowers her lashes, and then says, "I may not look it, but I'm a part of the Investigate Police. I can solve any case I'm put on."

Smirking lifelessly, Marco goes, "Hmph. You look more like a gangster than the fucking police, but I guess that's not my business. Stop beating around the damned bush and spit it out, woman."

At that her eyebrows disappear into her hat, and those dark eyes of hers harden. Her once curved lips thin into a straight line before taking a long sip of coffee. "If not for that person, I would've stopped this whole Ace shit right when I heard it," she begins coldly, and Marco balls his hands into fists on the table. He'd had enough of this woman saying Ace's name without any regard for him, any respect.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asks, steel in his voice.

"I'm not obliged to tell the likes of you," the woman replies swiftly, smoothly, glaring deeply into his eyes.

The two stare at each other for a bit before Marco screams internally to calm the fuck down. That she was trying to help. He takes a deep breath. Lets it out. "Can you please tell me your name, officer?" he asks as politely as possible, and his company smiles as if the earlier confrontation never happened. As if he didn't almost choke her to death no more than ten minutes ago.

She was a weird lady. Composed, authoritative, and weird. Marco suddenly doubted her less.

"My name is Koala," she says, showing him her badge with one gloved hand, and extending the other towards the man. Marco takes it, shakes roughly, and lets it drop. She ignores the blunt act. "I've been asked by a certain person to help you solve the murder of Portgus D. Ace."

The blonde grits his teeth, painfully, before hissing, "How do you know this information about him? Can you ascertain that he was murdered?"

"I've orders from above to keep my lips sealed, so sealed they remain. But I will say this. I just have a gut feeling," Koala says, smiling emotionlessly, "And they usually turn out to be true." Marco shakes his head violently. "Look, Cookie, I don't have time for this-"

"And you think I do?" she interrupts sharply, frowning at her incorrect name. She leans back and crosses her arms. Warily eyeing her forgotten coffee, the orange haired sighs. "Let me remind you, I'm only doing this as a favor for someone else, since they can't be here at the moment. I started two months ago. Two." Koala looks into Marco's eyes seriously. "You're harder to find than you look."

Marco has no retort, and the woman goes on. "So, as stand in for that person-"

"Which you can't tell me either?"

"Glad you're catching on," Koala says with a slight smirk. "So, as stand in for that person, I'm gonna try my damned hardest. You're my only lead so far that's...should I say stable? You're my only emotionally stable lead."

That's hilarious.

Marco is anything but.

He reaches out to his cold coffee. Takes a small sip. Guess he hides it well.

Unlike Luffy, he thinks. Then. It hits him.

That's probably who she's talking about.

And then Koala narrows her eyes knowingly. "So we're going to be working together for a while. Here's my card." She turns to her left, reaching into her dark coat and pulling out a small slip of paper. "I'll contact you once I have found something, or if I need any information from you."

"Ah," Marco mutters, eyeing the paper.

"So," concludes Koala, standing. She puts a twenty on the table. "That's that."

She leaves with a flourish of her long coat, and people stare as she walks out. The blonde follows her with his eyes like his fellow coffee drinkers. She did, in fact, carry a certain air of authority around her, as a queen walking among peasants.

That's what snapped him out of the trance.

"W- Wait!" he calls after her, scrambling out of his seat and running after the woman. Koala doesn't answer, and instead walks out of the store. Marco tsks before pushing the glass door open, not more than five seconds after she had left, certain she'd be just outside.

But he stares at nothing but road and the setting sun.

—•—

Law groans and turns off the shrill noise of his alarm clock, waking him up at 6 AM. He gathers his bearings quickly, knowing that he had to be at Grand Line in a mere hour. He gets up reluctantly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He wasn't particularly excited, but neither was he nervous anymore.

He was. Just.

It was something that had to be done.

He moves groggily into his kitchen to make strong coffee, a small smile lighting his face at the aroma. Leaving it to brew, Law goes into his bathroom and takes a long shower, with warm water hitting his face to wake him up. Then he brushes his teeth. Throws on a dress shirt and slacks, along with with shoes, and even a tie. Makes his face and hair presentable. Gets back to the coffee and adds just a pinch of creamer before sipping gingerly, the hot liquid soothing and energizing. Grabs some Ritz crackers for breakfast, his secret binge food.

He glances at the time. 6:47. Laughs. Of course he'd be late.

Law grabs his coat, a dark one that reached his ankles, with a yellow smiley on the back and similarly colored dots adorning the bottom (Shachi had given it to him as a present for his birthday years ago, saying it "screams Law". Though it looked utterly ridiculous at the time, he had unknowingly grown fond of it). He grabs his dark duffel bag, stuffed to the brim with notes, lesson plans, supplies, his phone. Other teacher stuff Shachi thought he'd need. The man worried for him too much, but it made Law happy. Hell if he'd admit it though.

It was nice to be looked after. That's why he tried for Luffy.

He closes and his door, running a tired hand through his hair, and speed walks down the hall. Law pauses, however, right outside of Luffy's door. His eyes flicker towards the peek hole, contemplating. Should he check on him? He doesn't.

He continues to walk.

But speaking of Luffy.

He would have to deal another blow to his bank account to feed and house the teen.

Cursing under his breath, and hoping this job would pay enough (Shachi claimed he was already filthy rich because of his being a surgeon, but Law didn't think so), the man locates and enters his car, sets down his coffee, munches on more salty goodness, and pulls out of the parking lot.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself in front of a very pissed principal.

"Law," sighs the man, his dark fingers tap, tap tapping on the wooden desk. "You're late."

"I'm aware," Law says indifferently, relaxing further into his chair, and the lips on the principal twist upwards into an edgy smirk. Law really doesn't like the man he had to work for, and had honestly expected someone more...reserved.

This guy was so cocky and full of himself that it made Law want to puke. The principal sat in an obnoxiously large, pink fluffy chair, and making him look as if he wore a large coat. He studies Law carefully though those white rimmed shades of his for a moment too long, and the man on the receiving end of the gaze fidgets.

"I feel as if we are going to quickly become great acquaintances," the blonde before him purrs, and Law forces himself to smile, at least glad he didn't get into too much trouble on the first day. "I'm glad to work with you, Mr. Donquixote," Law says, and the happy-go-lucky expression he wore was starting to pain him.

Chuckling, the man extends a hand. "Doflamingo is fine."

Law takes it, and suppresses the urge to flinch. "Alright, Dolflamingo," and the name is poison on his tongue. The blonde squeezes the hand before letting go, Law's eyes narrow instinctively. A moment of silence passes between the two before Dolflamingo turns and rummages for something behind his desk. "Room 69," he says, and Law stares at him.

"C-Come again?"

"Your classroom is Room 69," Doflamingo repeats, giving him an all too suggestive smile, and Law clears his throat to rid of the bile.

"Oh. Okay," he manages weakly, and he takes the key handed to him, along with a slip of official looking paper. "Phone numbers to the other classrooms, a map of the school, emergency papers, other interesting things. Oh, but this number," he says, pointing to quickly scribbled handwriting in the corner, "is for me." Law's face blanks as he stares at the handwriting before glancing back up to him.

"Nami can really pick 'em," he mutters appreciatively, and Law pretends he doesn't hear as he gathers the objects. "I should be going, then," Law says awkwardly.

Dolflamingo nods twice. "Visit soon," is the call that echoes through the room as Law walks out of the lion's den.

—•—

Luffy sits in the small, bland kitchen by himself, eating cereal, glaring at the wall.

He really didn't want to go. He honestly, truly didn't want to go. Didn't want to move. He wanted to sleep everything off. But.

Ace would haunt him forever and always, and Luffy has accepted that. He really did. But.

Law was on his will, and that changes everything.

He's met everyone, or at least, heard directly from Ace about them, on the will. Except Law. His doctor of all people.

Luffy didn't know during his stay at the hospital. But he knows now.

And if he doesn't figure out the connection between the man and his brother, he would, sooner rather than later, surely, collapse under everything.

So he gets ready to go. 'Getting ready' was an overstatement, though, as Luffy simply stayed in his comfy harem pants (his house suddenly started to provide new clothes, which fit perfectly, on occasion) and wrinkled white tee from the night before. He leaves his bed hair untouched. Luffy didn't bother to dress up because he would only be there until he got his information. The first twenty minutes or so. Then he'd leave.

He finishes his cereal and puts it in the sink, which was miraculously clean and tidy, though dirty and full the night before. Grabs his car keys from the small table by the door. It's not covered in dust, but shining and sparkling. His house was a hard worker, honestly.

Luffy sighs loudly before leaving for his high school, re-entering society after almost half a month on leave. The sun's too bright, the wind too windy, and the people too loud. He hates it outside. Luffy just wants to get it over with.

Get in. Talk to Law. Get out.

The teen enters his car and starts the engine with shaking hands. Takes a deep, shuddering breath.

He was going to be okay, he was going to be alright.

But really, was he? "I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be alright," Luffy repeats, pulling out of the parking lot. And. He's surprised he remembers how to drive. Three months felt like three decades.

Ignoring the churning in his stomach, he chooses to believe his lies.

•I'm back! And lol about updating quicker. HAH. I personally loved writing the coffee shop scene, I was laughing by myself? Ok. Hmu with reviews, what do you all think? Until ch. 7! (I set a new record on longest chapter ever written ahh)•