Until You Will Laugh Again

A fan fiction by Crystalbluefox

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Chapter 6

Puppies and Hot Chocolate

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"So… you're a werewolf?" The new made hot chocolate steams in his face as he pours the drink up into a mug and adds some wiped cream before giving it to the teen. Thankfully the stores were still open just around the corner, but he had never imagined how hard it actually would be to walk among all those warm-blooded humans. He hadn't known this since he had kept himself far away from anybody but Zoro in all this time… and that old geezer –he shivers by the memory of it.

Chopper pulls the blanket more around himself before taking the offered hot chocolate with a mumbling "Thank you" but goes silent after that.

"Honestly, it's some bad side effect you got there, to freeze that much after such a transformation?" He finds himself a cigarette from an old pack he found in one of his drawers, just to bite into something, to keep himself at ease so he suddenly won't bite into someone instead. The smell of blood is still strong, there hasn't even gone four weeks since the last time he got any, only two and a half. It was too early to feel that craving, way to early. Even his teethes were starting to itch a little, two of them he felt was starting to grow little by little.

Way too early.

"Kind of." Chopper finally says such a long time after that Sanji almost forgot about what the question even was. Ah yeah, that.

"Kind of?" he repeats, trying to keep his breathing to a minimal. Why was the teen smelling so strongly of blood? No, not he, his bag. Sanji swallows dryly, his throat feeling dry as a desert in the middle of the burning day, his fingers itches to reach out and grab that bag, his body longs for whatever lays in it. There is no dead body in that thing though, because it doesn't smell of death either.

He leans back as he realises that he has straightened up and even have taken a step closer to the bag, he grabs the counter behind him hard and almost feels the surface crumble and moan underneath his fingers fierce grasp. He was thinking too much about it. He forces his eyes to look at Chopper, who hadn't even realised his inner turmoil and absence of listening, or if he had, he didn't show it –had he even said anything yet?

Chopper gives a nod and takes a sip from his warm chocolate, wiped cream covers his mouth like a white beard as he moans in pleasure. Something swells inside of him of that single-worded appreciation, but the hunger almost covers it up. Chopper licks his mouth clean and Sanji can't stop to imitate that gesture. 'Oh god, I have to think at something else. Answer already kid!'

"I was born this way," the teen finally says, without looking up. Apparently he's not comfortable talking about this stuff, now who would? Sanji fully understands him. "My mom was a normal human, but my dad were a wolf, not like a real wolf, but it's something in his line of his family, there does that he can transform himself into a wolf. And the transformation begins for the first time at age ten. We're aging slowly, meaning that we can live a lot longer than a normal human. In the beginning our mind and body evolves together, just like normal humans, but then at age eight or nine it stops and the aging of the body and part of the mind "sacks behind" so to speak. Like, my father's brother is fifty of age, but he acts and looks like one at age twenty. Even I are much younger than my age, so to speak." Sanji nods.

"So, you say that even though that you've lived for almost twenty years, your body and mind is much younger?" Chopper nods "How old are you then… ya know?"

"I'm in body and mind about ten summers, but has a part of my mind there evolves a lot faster than what is normal, not only normal in our race, but also what's normal when it comes to humans. Dad says it's because mom was a very smart girl even when she went in the kindergarten."

"She's a scientist now, isn't she?" Chopper beams him a smile. Sanji understands what the kid means with that only a part of his mind has evolved faster; in medical things he's very smart and very far in knowledge about such stuff, even more than many other famous doctors, but in the rest he was still like a kid. This had just been a Chopper-thing, so he had never given it any deeper thoughts about it. Yes, the so-called kid did look younger than his lean nineteen, but not that young again, he was about two head smaller than him, but that was about it. Chopper had always been that small, since like… well, as long as he'd known him.

"You've always somewhat reminded me of a puppy anyway," he spurts out and realises that breathing have become harder – every molecule in the air suddenly reeks of the fucking blood. He wants to hold his breath, but knows that it won't be any good for him, so he goes to take slow breaths of air instead and not too deep, it's the best he can do anyway. He had so many questions, so many unanswered explanation to all this new shit, answers that he both wanted and dreaded to hear. He didn't even know himself anymore; was he still he or what was he? He'd wanted to ask Zoro for a long time about it, but as said; he was dreaded to hear the truth and hell, never had the bones to stand straight up and directly ask the man.

Zoro.

Zoro who had been there for him these past 8 months. Zoro, who he had almost killed last time.

Who ever said that the vampire slayer would ever see him again, beside see him hanging from the tip of his sword? Who said that sending Chopper to him wasn't to show off that he had no chance of doing anything "stupid" before any of them would be able to rip off his head? Showing off their weapon like that shit-head down in North Korea does every now and then: a warning.

He feels his fingers go through the wood in the counter, feels it groan, feels his nails embed almost all the way through it, feels that grasping the counter the way he did was the only thing from keeping him in place.

Zoro… Zoro would surely hate him now.

Chopper showed just what he thought about him back then when he had shot him. Unfortunately the bullet could only harm him a little… sadly it couldn't kill him because surely that is what he deserved. The kid was already sitting there shivering like a leaf in the wind of pure fear. Though all those hidden muscles and strength, no matter of what; the kid was still a kid.

He didn't realise that he was crying before a salty tear reached his mouth, he hadn't realised how much he was crying before he reached a hand up to touch his own wet face.

Monsters shouldn't be able to cry!

His fingers are pale, cold, icy cold, and then again it more like feels as if he'd burned them, all the way to their bones.

Maybe he should do just that the next time, just to punish himself hard enough for what he have done? Burning… didn't that normally kill creatures like him?

Why hadn't he thought about that somewhat before? All he had to do was step out into the sun, naked and stay there, then the sun would do the rest. He remembers the first time he felt the sun's ray after that night, since then, he kept his skin as well hidden as possible, whenever he crossed a place bathed in sunlight.

Chopper is speaking, maybe even yelling –there's panic in his voice though, but he sounds so far away. He thinks that he feels those smaller fingers on his arm though, but he's not even sure. Then, the young doctor is gone, not long after he's back and presses something into his hand there almost makes him double over or lunge forward at it. He blearily looks down and sees something red, deep red.

Smells red.

Smells of blood.

He takes a deep intake of air thick of its smell, he can literally feel his eyes turning red -he can feel it, slowly, like someone's dripping red paint little by little into his eyes. He's pale and cold and barely there to register anything but what is in his trembling white hand.

It was too early to long so much for it. Why?

"Sanji! Sanji! Bite in the bag, Sanji!" he barely registers the horrified voice begging him to do. He do have enough senses though to turn his back to the other and face the sink instead, before, after a trembling intake of air, he leans down, barely keeps himself from lunging down to it, and embeds his now fully outgrown fangs into the plastic, through it and - there. There is the longing taste of that narcotic there both makes him relax and at the same time long for more. He almost hums at it or maybe he doesn't. It tastes funny though, as the blood streams into his mouth and down through his throat, funny in a way like chilled down food tastes; not good but still okay to eat, it is okay to eat when you're hungry though, even starving. And that is what he feels like he is; a starving man eating a cold dish.

He lunges for the other as soon as he has finished emptying the one in his hands.

It tastes weird not only because it is cold.

It tastes weird because it's not Zoro's.

Only midway through it he realises what he just have thought and what in the hell he's even doing. He stops and feels the blood running down his now coloured warm trembling fingers. Cheeks still wet from once falling salty tears, before a single tear releases again to clean the path, the tear tastes of salt and blood as it reached his lips. He stares at the container in his hands, blood bobbling under the immense trembling. He lays his hands into the sink, but does not let go of it.

"Take it away, Chopper." He begs in a barely whisper. He's disgusted at himself.

"You need to finish it up." Is the answer though, but he does not make any moves to lift it up, before the container with blood is pushed back up to his lips. He bites his lips, feels in every nerve in his body how much he still wants it –he hates it! "Drink, please Sanji." And he drinks, drinks until there is no more, until there's not even a drop left in it. It's gone before he even can start chewing on the plastic as well, just to get every taste of the blood out of it, so he goes to lick his fingers clean instead.

And Sanji is a mess right after that as he realises just this. He turns on the faucet and rinses his fingers in the clean cool water streaming down at them, leaving a red trail in its sink instead. He turns it off and just stands there, not looking at Chopper, not looking at anything but at the red lines in the sink disappear down the drain.

He's ashamed, more than ashamed. He's embarrassed and feels horrible within himself.

Chopper should never have seen something like this.

No one should never see him being this low.

"How did you even know where I was to begin with?" He suddenly asks without looking up, just stands there leaning over the sink, staring down into the wet metal, watching the drops of water form into different kind of forms in it. "I haven't been home for months, how did you know…?"

"My nose." Chopper points out and surely, Sanji can't stop looking at him by that comment. "Being a MaWolf –that's what our species are called- I have a really good smell. So I could track you down through the bits of smell there hangs in the air. People does that you know; leaving tracks in the air, on the ground, on anything, they touch. That's how a dog can find a criminal or a lost person. But, I couldn't smell you before, or, I could, but I wasn't really sure if it was you 'cause you smell differently. I don't mean anything bad about" Chopper adds in quickly "It's just it was… you, but not really you, you know? So I wasn't really sure, didn't really dare to get my hopes up that it was you, when everyone else said that you were in Germany." Sanji nods hesitantly, knowing what Chopper is trying to say, before stretching his back –the salty clothes scratches slightly against his skin. This is too much.

'I'm trapped.' He thinks. The message was clear; now that Chopper got his new smell he could run, he could hide all that he want, but now they could always find him again, wherever he went. Running away wouldn't help.

"Sanji?" Chopper says worried and lays a hand on his. He feels so warm, much warmer than any normal human. Had his temperature already stabilised itself? Sanji leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, before sighing and pulling his hand away.

"I need a bath." He says before disappearing into the bathroom.

Chopper doesn't follow, but he doesn't leave either, he stays in the living room and waits.

The water is scalding hot, the tiles are cool against his temple as he leans against them. He didn't know what to think anymore, everything was a mess in his head. He didn't want to live like this, like a monster… yet again a part of him, a surviving part of him still wanted to live.

If just things could go back to normal.

Sharp pointy teeth flashes for his eyes, the hiss, the roars whispering in his ears. Claws ripping in his flesh, teethes embedding it, here, there, everywhere. It hurts. He screams. He hears his own painfully screams from the past filling his ears, filling his memories.

He turns off the water and stands naked before the steamy mirror. He wants to see, he never has let himself to take a proper look before, didn't know if anything even was there... too scared to look. Letting a hand run over the wet glass a couple of times it finally clears… and reveals a horrified sight. Fingers pressing against the glass he stares at his own wisped reflection, at his skin.

Almost on every surface on his chest, his arms, his neck, stretches a web of hundreds of white New Moons; bite marks!

He looks ugly, disgustingly!

He feels violated.

He bolts back at the sight, steps away from the horrible reflection in the mirror.

Memories. Memories from back then keeps flashing in his mind and traps him, makes him relive that horrible day, second by second, from the moment he found Kamie laying in that kitchen with those monsters feasting on her blood.

He backs up against the wall, slides down along it and stays there with his trembling fingers threaded through his hair, grasping it tightly as the memories swallows him from this world. Tears are streaming down his face, he's trembling but he sees nothing and hears nothing, not even as Chopper runs in for his aid as he apparently have been screaming…again!

He is trapped, in a time where the horrifying nightmares started and sealed his destined life…

Or rather; his death!

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To be continued

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