A/N: Heyo heyo. So here's chapter two n all. If you're not caught up to the manga then I apologize, there's spoilers. Enjoy. ~S
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Depression, Anxiety, Torture, Mentions of Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts (I feel the need to add this because though it isn't being planned or happening, some people might find themselves triggered by the discussion of it).
"What are you doing?" Law asks the girl who sits down and dangles her feet along side his off the dock. So close to the water, and he looks down at the reflection of the two of them. Watching it disappear and reappear with every crash of waves hitting the wooden poles under them.
"Keeping you company." The sweet girl turns and flashes a smile; he's missed that smile all too much. "You want me to go?"
"Don't you have better things to do?" He asks, furrowing his brows and watching the girl throw her arms back and kick her legs off the edge of the dock.
"Nah! I want to be here with you. That was some close call you had today." She says almost sadly. This was the same girl who'd told him to die three nights ago, what the fuck? His mind is playing games.
"Not close enough apparently." He mumbles. He's got a cigarette in his hand and he's putting it between his lips, breathing in all the chemicals he knows is bad for him and exhales. It's been too long.
"Why do you want to die so bad?" She asks almost out of nowhere.
"I deserve it." He tells her, it's true.
"You don't." She retorts, and he's looking at her like she's an idiot. She has no idea what he's done.
"I do." He tells her again, trying to get her to understand.
"Don't." She smiles at him and furrows her brows like his to mock him, teasing him.
"Lamie-" He's angry now, not at her, well sort of. He's just frustrated with her childish ways.
"Law." She says back, just as angry. He sighs, taking another hit of his cigarette and exhales.
"You want someone to save you. You want to be able to find something to make you happy, right? To not feel sad all the time anymore." She starts and he's just looking out to sea. Maybe drowning would be a good way to go. "You want to be able to have a good life. One where you don't have to worry about people staring, the unsettling sadness and where you can just be… free." She keeps going, and that's pretty much how he feels. She knows him so well it's painful and makes his heart ache. She looks at him and smiles, throwing her arms over him, squeezing him in a tight hug, and then it's all black.
Law's somewhere. He's not sure where. It's pretty dark and quiet except for this spine chilling rattling of metal that hits every twenty seconds. He's sure he can hear something bubbling too; maybe it's his blood.
"Get them out." He has no idea who he's asking. Who he's talking to.
"Get them out, get them out… the needles, get them out!" He's shouting now, at the top of his lungs.
"They're there, take them out take them out please, don't leave them in me!" He's still shouting, no one's helping him and he's crying, picking at the insides of his elbows.
He feels as if his skin is being burned by acid and by the butt of a cigarette. Now he's craving nicotine. He can see a shadow over him grabbing his wrists and cutting them open. Blood spilling down onto the floor before he screeches, his fingernails being ripped off one by one. Someone's laughing above him at the expensive of his pain.
The next time he thinks opens his eyes Law's alone, sweaty and light headed. His feet are wet, and not by water. There's a puddle of blood under him. His toes sink into the thick red liquid and he's mortified. Why is this happening to him? No one deserves this. So why him? He looks up, teary eyed and sweaty, to finds his mother, shot in the head twice, four times in the chest. One was bad enough, but five unnecessary bullets were enough to throw him off the edge.
He's screaming, trying to fold his arms but the needles are jabbing into his veins and he's panicking now, he needs to help. But something's pulling him down. The act of moving has never been so difficult, it's as if he's paralyzed. There are hands grabbing at his legs through the blood he stands in, pulling him down. And again he wonders why, why this happens to him. He's crying and screaming, begging for someone to help him and to stop this, but there's no sound. His mouth is moving, he knows it is, he can feel how heavy his own jaw feels when he shouts out cries for help.
There's absolutely no one.
It's quiet. And then it's black again.
His golden eyes shoot open to see nothing around him but black. He's panting, jolts up in bed and turns on the lamp on his bedside table. He goes straight for his arms, but there are no needles. There's nothing. He falls back, head hitting his pillow and he looks to his sides. He's alone.
His room is dark, quiet. Feels like he's in a sanatorium. Thank god he doesn't have any restrains, he doesn't know how much of this he can take.
He's so empty, and he thinks for a second this is how it feels to be dead. He doesn't mind it all that much.
It's a quarter past eight when Law is awoken by the knocking coming from his door that's so loud it, could wake the neighbours. Then again no one else but him and maybe infants would be asleep at eight. He gets up all too quickly and immediately a sharp pain and pounding in his head. He's dizzy, terrific.
His body thanks him a bit for the sleep he managed to get, his mind cursing him for the nightmares. He'll shake it off with a few deep breaths. It's nothing, he has to remind himself. There's nothing.
He steps out, and suddenly feels the chill of every other room in the apartment hit him. His own was hot, blistering even. Comparable to a sauna. Everywhere else felt like he'd been chucked out into the tundra with nothing but sweats. He grabs one of the sweaters lying on the floor of his living room and throws it on before walking over and answering the door to see none other than his old family friend, and now landlord.
"Well it's about time!" The man, otherwise known as Rocinante, shouts and makes his way in with a large tray of what Law can only assume is food by the whiff he catches as he walks in, kicking his shoes off. Destination: kitchen.
"I thought you were never going to answer good god. Making me wait outside, how rude." He shouts some more, mostly sarcastic. He was such a character, Law thought, following him with his eyes and walking behind him like a mother goose and her chicks.
"Hey boy what's wrong? You're sweating. And you're so clammy... nightmare?" He guesses and Law nods back, sitting on one of the stools and picking at the tray of food the mans brought over. He knows him almost inside out, there's no hiding a single thing. But then again Law looks completely disoriented, can't focus on a single thing. He's so busy looking around and sweating it's not that hard to guess something at the very least, is wrong.
"You wanna walk about it?" The blond asks, he knows all too well about them, and knows theres hardly a chance he will, but offers anyways.
"Not in particular, no."
"Well alright. I just don't want ya to freak so much 'bout it." He says, taking the aluminum foil off the tray completely so Law's not just picking underneath it. "But look see, I had a lot of left overs and I figured you'd probably be up for anything considering your fridge has been empty for… a while." He smiles and practically shoves the food on top of him, urging him to eat. He's visibly lost weight, maybe another five pounds from the last week he'd seen him. That's not a good sign. He recognizes that Law's slowly but surely, getting worse. Going back down into the dark hole he was in a few months ago and he prays under his breath.
"Yeah… I meant to shop I just… kinda got… distracted." He says between bites, he only hopes hes able to keep this food down and Rocinante stares at him with large blue eyes. Confused.
"Distracted?"
"I almost got hit by a car." He tells him, Rocinante being the only person he's known his entire life who'd never let him down. Not yet at least, stares at him. Not in the way he hates, he thanks. Rocinante knows not to look at him like that. With pity.
"You what?! Are you okay?! Did you go to the hospital?! Who's the asshole, did you get the license plate number?!" He asks frantically, and then adds if he'd called the police on the douche bag who'd almost killed him and he shakes his head and almost laughs. It's more of a scoff, but all the same.
"I walked onto the street when it was red, I just… I wasn't thinking of anything but how convenient it'd be if I got hit." He admits to the older man, and Rocinante looks back at him like he'd just stabbed him through the heart with his words. And now everything the older man had wondered and suspected comes to light.
"Law…" He sighs. Pushing his hand through his hair he walks over and takes a seat next to the young adult who looks like he's about to cry into his food as he eats it. But he fights them, the tears. Doesn't want to shed a single one.
"You can't keep going on like this. Aren't you taking your medication?" He asks, staring right at him, but Law can't return the gaze. He's embarrassed, scared.
"No. It wasn't working-"
"I don't think that's for you to decide."
"It is though. It just… wasn't helping. I didn't feel any less sad, any less suicidal. I still hate myself as much as I did two months ago, if not more." He's crying now, a few tears dampen the sleeve of his sweater and he curses whoever thought it was a good idea to make him this fucking emotional. What a bastard.
Rocinante looks at him. Still, not with the kind of look that he's always hated people having when they speak to him, but that of understanding and longing to help. He feels terrible that he's pouring all this out on him, and it only makes him cry more. Because he knows in all reality, there's nothing Rocinante can do but sit there and watch him cry. He can't make it all go away.
The man reaches over and throws an arm over his shoulder, consoling him and telling him everything will be all right. It's so damned cliché, but that's okay to him because of who's saying it. Anyone else and he'd have snapped, maybe tore their tongue out for spewing such blatant lies. But he lets it go, because it's Roci.
It's about a week later, and Law's standing in line at a local café. Waiting for his coffee when he hears obnoxious shouting coming from behind him. He's got no idea who it is, what they want or if they're even addressing him. But he turns around anyway, and makes eye contact with an all too cheery, and strangely familiar face. He gulps and turns back when the lady is saying 'hey hey, your coffee sir,' and takes it. Trying to hurdle his way around the people who won't move for the life of them, the assholes, trying to make his way to the second exit on the other side of the café. Until the back of his sweater suddenly feels like it weighs and extra hundred and twenty pounds. He turns around to curse whoever it is that's touching him, when he's found about chest to face with a significantly shorter teenager.
"God, are you seriously a mute and deaf or something? I've been calling you!" The boy, whoever the hell he is, is smiling up at him a bit eccentrically and Law can't help but look down at him confused. Why, why, why?
"What?"
"Aha! So you can talk! What the hell man I just wanted to say I'm glad you're still in one piece!" he continues, not taking into regard the current situation or the thirty or so people staring at the two of them. His palms begin to sweat and he swears, if he could he'd knock the kid out and run. But instead, he looks at the teen and he remembers the same boy yelling at him asking him if he was trying to get himself run over. He decides its best to act like he has no idea who he is.
"What come on? You don't remember me?" The boy asks, almost frowning at him and he's got to play it cool.
"I don't know you." He gets out, good god.
"I pushed you out of the way of that car! Don't worry I don't want recognition or anything, that's not why I called you. No I just wanted to say I'm glad you're okay! Y'know, still in one piece n' all!" He smiles again and Law then notices a little band aid on his forehead where he remembered seeing blood the week prior. He should apologize.
But it's not his fault, he didn't ask for whoever this person was to jump out and tackle him to the floor.
Then he thinks maybe he should thank him, but there's nothing he's thankful about.
"Oh. Yeah."
"I'm Luffy!" He shouts out and Law's eyes widen. What the hell was he saying? Why's he taking the time out to introduce himself? Something like an alarm is going off inside him, telling him to run as fast as he can in the opposite direction. But he just stands there in the middle of the room, staring at the smiling teen and he's all choked up.
"Uh… Law." He answers and he has no idea why. Why he's even wasting a second trying to be somewhat friendly, rather than just pulling that old, 'look over there!' trick and running off.
"Law! That's cool. Where ya headed?" He asks him and Law's eyes widen again, and then squint in suspicion. He doesn't know how crazy that looks, but he can't help it. The boy, Luffy, keeps catching him off guard. Why was he so adamant on talking to him? It was strange and unsettling. What'd he want from him? He has to want something. Everyone wants something.
"Nowhere really."
"Nowhere huh? Sounds kind of gloomy if you ask me." He hears the boy say and he's got to admit, it does. But that's how he is, and if it were such a damper on his cheerful mood then it'd be better to just leave, wouldn't it?
"I think I'll go with you though."
"What?" He spits out. What was his deal? Did he think he needed a baby sitter now because he walked into oncoming traffic one time? To anyone else, yes. The answer would be simple, but to Law, oh, answers were never simple.
"It's stuffy in here. Come on!" The teen prances past him and tugs the sleeve of his sweater. And for a moment he thanks fucking god he didn't grab him by the wrist but curses him the next for throwing this loud boy on him. What was the purpose in it? He fails to see any benefit for Luffy in taking the time to say hello, check up on him, formally- to an extent- introduce himself. It's all weird.
Now they're both walking side by side down the street, Luffy sipping on whatever he'd gotten, something sweet he can smell, Law downing his coffee. Breathing it in to clean out the disgusting sweetness.
"You're not much of a talker are you?" He hears him ask and he just looks down at him as if to say no shit.
"I don't normally get dragged out of a café by strangers, so no."
"Haha, sorry! It's just so suffocating in there I can't even breathe! Out here's nice though. I like the fresh air." He says and Law almost wants to agree but just sips his coffee instead, the liquid somewhat burning his tongue and inside his throat. Doesn't feel it. They keep walking and Luffy's humming something he vaguely finds familiar but can't put a name on it.
"Do you go to school around here or something?" Luffy asks, can't keep his mouth shut for a second.
"Uh no, I don't go to school." More like he dropped out during his second year and hasn't made a single plan to go back. Which is funny the boy asks, he wonders if he's done some high tech background check on him before he just "casually" saved his life. Or whatever he thought he did. Definitely didn't save him from shit.
"I see. My schools down the street- kind of- and I figured I'd get some breakfast before I go." He told him. The boy, Luffy, was like an open book. If he'd asked him the most personal question he could think of he was certain he'd answer without hesitation. And then some. Maybe somehow connect a second story to the answer, that has little to no relevance. It's just an excuse to keep talking. And then flash that toothy smile he's had on the entire time, right after.
"Can I ask you something?" Law asks, even though that in itself is asking him something.
"Sure! What is it?"
"Why are you talking to me?" He asks bluntly and he can see that the boy who he assumes is younger than him by the way he looks, is taken aback by the question. But he's curious, he wants to know why. Why someone who is clearly outgoing is talking to someone who, well, is not. It should be easy for him to make friends if thats the issue, everyone loves happy cheery people that brighten up everyone's mood. So why him? The only reason he can think of is that he feels bad, pity. But he's yet to look at Law that way.
"Hmm… dunno! You seem like an interesting person so I figured why not!" That was it? He thinks. This kid might just be more trouble than he's worth and it'd be best to end the conversation while he still could. But he can't. He's still curious. And he feels like the cat, the one that gets killed because of it's curiosity. That'd be his ultimate demise he thinks, talking with Luffy.
"Do you normally chat up strangers?" He questions, kind of confused at how outgoing, how extroverted, someone could be.
"Only the ones I've saved from getting run over!" He says a bit loudly and it's ringing in Law's ears. That the boy in front of him says he saved him. He thought of him as someone worth saving. It ticks him off, he's only fooling himself.
He looks down and he's the one who's taken aback now, not expecting that kind of an answer at all. He wasn't worth saving, he really, truly wasn't. So he's certain Luffy's delusional or something. He's no psychiatrist, but he makes his own judgements. As if he's one to judge, he thinks. Law's about to ask another one of his hundred questions, when he notices Luffy walks a bit faster.
"Shit, shit, that's my bus! Hey I'll see you another time okay Law!" He shouts while he speed walks to the stop. Law's just standing there, jaw dropped open like he's never heard those words before in his life. He doesn't say yeah. But he doesn't say no either, and before he knows it the sight of such a giddy character has already hopped on the 58 bus and is down the street. While he, is standing in place looking like an idiot.
"How are you feeling this week Law?" His psychiatrist asks him with a smile, greeting him kindly.
"Uh, the usual, I guess." He says, sitting down in the chair by the window, next to her small table across from her.
"Anything happen to you that you'd like to share?" She asks, looking like she's ready to write down his entire life story if he were to give it to her.
"Maybe. I don't know." He tells her, but he knows a couple things he could say. He's just being needlessly stubborn.
"Maybe?" She inquires and he knew that's what she would ask. She always does it.
"Uh well... a couple of days ago I uh, walked onto the street when it was red, like the light. I almost got hit by a car but some fucking kid pushed me out of the way. Like tackled, the more I think about it." He tells her and he's picking at his skin again, then goes to trace the letters on his knuckles while maintaining eye contact. She stares back at him before looking down and writing a couple things on her note pad. Law desperately wants to rip up into shreds and burn.
"Did you suffer any kind of injury I should be informed about?"
"I don't think so? I didn't go to the ER or anything, just a small bump on the head."
"I see. How do you feel about that?"
"About the bump?" He asks, what kind of stupid question-
"About not getting hit, by the car." She specifies. Oh.
"I… was furious. I still am! That I couldn't even get hit by a fucking car that was coming at me at 70km per hour, it's frustrating. Am I that pathetic?"
"No, you're not pathetic, Law. Unfortunately, it's your illness that makes you think that, it's not you. May I ask if you've been taking your medication?"
"Um, no. They sucked, if I'm honest. They don't do anything but make my fingers kind of numb sometimes." He tells her and he's cracking every bone he can in each of his hands. Phalanges and all.
"We'll try something different then. Perhaps a stronger dosage to help you with the reoccurring suicidal thoughts." She says, but it's more as if she's thinking aloud, writing it down on her notepad.
"Okay." He tells her, but he knows it's hopeless. He's a lost cause, and there's no getting him back.
"What did you do after the boy pushed you out of the way?" She asks, looking back up at him.
"I got up and left… then went home. I tried to sleep… and I did for a bit. But uh… the dreams were…" He trails off and he feels like he could really use a cigarette right now.
"You're still having them?" Question.
"Yeah… it was kind of a package deal this time. Like two for one." He says and he has whiplash of that night for a brief second before the woman in front of him speaking louder than usual snaps him back.
"What do you mean?" After question.
"Both incidents in one I guess." He says and he's clenching his fists, knuckles going white.
"What happened in them?" God she asks so many questions.
"The same… kind of. My sister was there but she was… weird. Nice weird, it was comforting for a bit before it went black and… that shit happened." He says, not wanting to explain the situation over again for the hundredth time, it feels like.
"How'd you feel when you woke up? Any panic attacks?" Two in one now, Law thinks. Maybe she's responsible for his dreams- no, nightmares.
He's shaking now, he can feel it. Every bone in his body is vibrating. The same way they would had he hit his knee on a table or chair, but he hasn't, he's just anxious. He's bouncing his legs up and down, and he's looking at everything he can above him, blinking ten times quicker, to keep the tears from flowing.
"No, no. I was sad. Scared. Pissed I couldn't sleep more." He says and he licks his lips and clenches his jaw. Looking out the window, he can't look at her directly. He really doesn't want to be here anymore, and he sure as hell doesn't want to keep talking about this crap with anyone.
"Understandable-"
"I… I can't fucking do this anymore. I can't talk about it anymore." He says frantically, and his veins are popping out in his neck. He'd gone from upset, but calm to angry in no time flat. He was positive she was writing it down with that smug look of hers and overpriced pen engraved with her initials. That he was having "an episode" or was "moody". Fuck that.
"Law, I want you to take a few deep breaths." She pretty much orders, and Law can't help but rebuttal and practically declare war against her.
"No. No fuck that. I don't need you to teach me how to fucking breathe. I need to be able to fucking sleep. Y-you need to help me fucking sleep and not wake up by some sick bastard mutilating me to his own fucking sick twisted satisfaction! I need to stop seeing my mom dead on the fucking floor and see myself drenched in the blood that's seeping out every fucking bullet hole! It's driving me fucking insane, don't you understand?! I'm so far gone I don't know if I'll even go home tonight! I'll probably just jump off a bridge or- or a fucking cliff I don't know, whatever kills me quicker!" He's panting and standing up to show his dominance but the lady in front of him doesn't move, and she doesn't look scared of him. He thinks she's almost mocking him by just sitting there and it drives his rage further. Then there's a moment of 'shit, I shouldn't have said that' in him and he hopes she didn't catch it, but there's no way she couldn't have. He was loud enough for at least five offices over, each side, to hear him.
He's not a danger to himself. He's not. He's just frustrated.
"Law, sit down. If the medication isn't working, we can change the dosage and the type. These things take time; you can't expect to be cured of all your problems in no time flat. Unfortunately, suffering is a part of getting better." She tells him and that's really the last thing he wants to hear. He didn't have money flowing out of his ass to pay for all this fucking medication that wasn't even doing its job.
"No! Fuck, this is all such bullshit!" He yells and turns to kick the chair he sat in against the wall, cracking the paint and foundation a bit. "I'm so tired of this, me talking and you writing all this shit down! Do you laugh it up with your friends?! Do you laugh at my expense, the way I feel?! Is it fucking entertainment to you guys?!" He's just finding anything he can to yell at now. His uncharacteristic anger flowing through every vein. Coursing through his bloodstream and he feels like he's gone mad.
His face heats up and suddenly it's over a hundred degrees in the room, his blood is boiling.
He notices her get up and he's thinking maybe she'll call security. Or maybe, she's going to call someone and have them haul him away in a straight jacket. All for what? One measly kick to a chair. The next second, he's dead terrified. He looks at her and there are tears flowing. Fuck. She puts the phone down and sighs, walking past him to pick up the chair and settling it behind him. He chokes on his sobs and sits down. He's has yet to stop shaking and he feels like his muscles are going to rip themselves apart if he doesn't. He can hear rattling, his bones are shaking under the spazzing of his muscles. The veins in his neck are pulsing, alerting him he's alive and it does nothing but drive him even crazier.
But he's not crazy; he swears he's not. He's just sad, lonely, and sometimes has anger "issues". But he's not crazy.
"This is so fucking annoying." He curses while wiping away the tears with the back of his hands and the woman in front of him now only hums.
"We discussed this. That your anger stems from you being-"
"Bipolar, I know." He says sighing, and he tilts his head back and lets the lights above him burn his eyes through closed eyelids. "Don't send me to the nut house."
"Law, I don't deem you crazy."
He lets out a sigh of relief, then bites his lip. Trying to stop it from quivering and he's desperately trying to hold back the waterworks. He can't help but doubt her. After all, people always say what they need to to get what they want. He just hadn't figured out what she was after yet. They sat in silence the rest of the hour, mostly him. She keep asking questions but he's too busy staring out the window, picking at his skin and she wrote some stuff down before breaking the silence.
"I'll be changing your prescription to deal with your insomnia to Eszopiclone. It's not a long-term usage type of drug, so I'll prescribe two weeks worth and we'll see how you fair. How long have you been off your antidepressants?"
"I uh- two, three weeks? I don't know."
"Well then they should be out of your system. To tackle your bipolar disorder as well I'm going to have you go on Olanzapine-Fluoxetine. Take it once every evening." She tells him and scribbles away on her prescription pad and Law can feel himself losing any and all interest in getting better now. She rips off the sheet from the pad and gets up to hand it to him, "and do not, stop taking your medication this time. Got it? If you ever feel like you're in danger, you know to call-"
"Yeah. Yeah I know." He tells her and leaves with that. The paper in his hand he stuffs in his pocket, and makes his way to the pharmacy, dreading how much this is going to drain him.
Law's walking past a lot of people, hands in his pocket and his chin, tucked under the collar of his jacket. There are so many people he's sure their eyes are burning through his skin and lighting a fire inside him. He's practically engulfed in flames; it's eating him alive. He wants to punch someone; he's got all this pent up anger held in that one kick to the chair was nothing.
He's walking down the main street he was on before, and he suddenly hears that same voice that had called out to him earlier. He turns around, but there's no one there and a man bumps into him and curses at him, claiming he was in the way. He kisses his teeth and turns back around to find himself facing the same energetic boy he had met formally earlier in the day. He's half thinking he's imagining him there, but when he bends down to pick up something off the floor, Law panics.
"That asshole made you drop this-"
"Don't touch that!" He shouts and grabs the paper bag that rattles with his medication inside it and shoves it in his pocket and walks past him.
"Hey! Wait up!" He hears behind him and he's so desperate for this boy to leave him alone he'll do anything.
"I'm sorry! I just didn't think you noticed it fell." Luffy says and Law's glaring at him, all too uncomfortable. He already feels embarrassed enough when he goes to pick up his accursed pills. But having strangers on the street see it was another story.
"Whatever." He spits and keeps walking, speeding up his pace but Luffy's keeping up. He was the human embodiment of energy and it put Law off. It hadn't been that long since they departed. Maybe three hours max and he's slightly wondering why he's walking next to the boy who claimed to have gone to school.
"Can you believe how boring math class can be? God it's like do this for x, do that for y, shut the hell up!" He's ranting? Law thinks and he looks down at Luffy who's walking with his hands tucked in his pocket. But he frequently takes one of them out to emphasize and add oomph to the conversation. He's very gesticulative.
"So what are you up to?" He hears him ask and he's missed the entire story about just how boring math can be and he thanks himself for zoning out on it.
"I'm going home." He answers simply. Nothing really special, he's done for the day.
"Man, that sounds boring! Let's get something to eat!"
What the hell was this kid's problem, really? Did he always force himself onto people he'd just met?
"You're strange." He lets out in a low, hoarse voice. His throat feeling a bit of the aftermath of yelling earlier. It's almost tickling him.
"Hm? How?" Luffy turns his head and cocks it a bit to the side in his own confusion.
"Is it routine for you to find any stranger, save them then ask them to go out for a bite to eat?"
"Actually, I didn't ask. I'm telling you, let's get something to eat! I'm starving!" And that's the end of that. He doesn't go on with a lengthy explanation the way Law thought he would. Adding enough adjectives to describe the entirety of an old play if he had to. To give Law a justified reason. But he's quite simple, and gets right to the point. Which granted, makes little to no sense to him, so he just stares back and looks at him, confused.
"What do you feel like? Chinese? Italian? Oh, maybe you're a Greek kinda guy. You look like a Greek kinda guy…" He mumbles the last part and he's holding his chin with one arm propped on the other crossed over his chest.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Law asks him, he's seriously so far beyond confused it's ridiculous.
"Nothing insulting! Do you like kebabs?" The boy asks in return, eyes gleaming along with the question.
"I guess?" He answers.
"WOO! Meat is always a good choice. I know this amazing grill down a couple blocks." He says and steps a bit in front of Law, as if he's leading the way of a great excursion.
Law's hating himself for being so unable to just say no. He's sitting in the most crowded place with the most annoying, loud mouthed boy he's ever had the displeasure of meeting. He wants to slam his head on the table. Repeatedly. Hopefully causing his brain to knock against his skull one too many times and cause some internal bleeding.
He's watching Luffy eat and he's taking small, hesitant bites out of his own food. He has to admit, it's good.
"SO! Law," Luffy says between bites and he braces himself for the worst. Or the stupidest question he thinks is possible to come out of the boys mouth, "How old are you?"
That's it? He thinks. What a relief.
"Twenty two." He answers and sips on his water.
"Aw seriously?! I was way off."
"How old did you think I was?" He questions, quite curious to know and he was sure he wasn't going to like the answer.
"I dunno, maybe twenty five or six?" Luffy guesses and takes another bite out of his sandwich.
Law doesn't know why, he feels rather insulted, but he supposes with stupidity came lack of reason.
"Your eye bags kinda make you look older." Luffy says tracing under his own eyes with his pinkies. They're the only fingers not covered in whatever five sauces he had asked for on the side. Law puts down his food. He can feel himself going beet red and he's anxious to get out, to leave, but Luffy quickly apologizes.
"I didn't mean to say something… rude or whatever! I swear!" He stammers and he swears he can see sweat trickle down the side of the older man's face.
"Why are you apologizing? You don't even know me. Why'd you even ask me to come here? Don't you have any other friends you can ditch school and grab something to eat with?" He questions and he's starting to feel like he's going to throw up all the food he'd eaten. And it was quite delicious too, what a shame.
"I guess... We're friends right?" The boy asks back and he continues to fall more and more into confusion. His mind can't find a way to wrap itself around anything that comes out of Luffy's mouth.
"When the hell did I ever say that?" He asks back, in an angry tone and he can see Luffy's realized he's pissed him off. Good, it's what he gets for being so damned stupid.
"You didn't have to say it, I figured since you told me your name and I saved your life n' all we're friends!" He says with a big smile and Law slides back into his seat, pressing his back as hard as he can to the chair.
Friends? Seriously? He had to be joking; this had to be some fucking sick joke. Someone somewhere was playing him. And that same someone was watching this. Laughing at his current facial expression that pretty much screamed 'what the fuck?!' and more.
"We're not friends."
"Sure we are here look, I'll give you five things about me, then you give me five things about you and we'll develop our new friendship ok?" The teen is clearly not listening to him and he's heating up inside, only praying he's not a mixture of tan and red.
He doesn't even have ten seconds to answer. Luffy's wiping off the sauce on his hands on some napkins and throws them onto the tray in front of him. Sitting back and sighing before opening his mouth again.
"Okay well since I asked you how old you were… I'm nineteen." And that shocks Law because honestly, in the wrong lighting, the boy looks fifteen.
"And uh… I love, love, meat. Beef, chicken, pork I'll eat it all." This, does not shock him. The way he ate his sandwich that he'd specifically asked for to be stuffed to the brim proved the point.
"Uh… wow thinking of these is harder than I thought… Oh! I hate school. I mean, I don't hate it you know? I just… get bored. Super quick." Law stares at him and he wonders why the hell he's still going, considering he's not going to utter a single word about himself back.
"Um… yeah I don't know." He laughs and scratches his face. "Okay your turn!" Luffy says after taking a large sip of his own soda.
"I'm not doing that." Law tells him, and the pit in his stomach is growing wider with every second he spends in this place.
"What? Come on! It's only fair!"
"It's not fair, your points were stupid." Law says back and he sees Luffy sarcastically scoff and hold his palm wide open to his chest in "shock" then laughs it off. He wasn't joking though, he was being completely serious.
"So I'll take being a huge asshole as your point?" Luffy jokes, but Law takes it seriously and looks away, out the window next to them. He can't help how he is, and Luffy sees he's said the wrong thing again.
"Sorry… my Gramps always says I don't have a filter for stuff like that." He apologizes and Law's hit beyond disoriented by the younger boy. That's twice now he's apologized to him and he's got no idea who he is. He want's to hit him for throwing around words like that so carelessly but knows he really can't.
He's sliding his arms carefully through the sleeves of his jacket, getting ready to leave. He's had enough of this farce and it's time for him to go home. He's been out almost four hours today and to him, that's plenty.
"Hey no! I'm really sorry you don't have to leave!"
"I have something to do." He lies, and stands up when Luffy grabs his own jacket and pulls it on following Law out of the grill.
"You big fat liar, you said you were going home when I asked you what you were doing!"
"I have something to do, at home." He says, and he's actually kind of shocked the boy remembered what he said to him, even he didn't.
"Yeah right." He pouts and Law's wondering what the hell is going on in that crazy mind of his. But he's no one to judge really, he'll do it anyway, but he knows if someone were to peek inside his own they'd ask the same thing.
"So where do you live?" Luffy asks. Law's really trying to convince himself he's not some serial killer. Disguised as a teenager who goes to university and gets kebabs like everyone else all happy-go-lucky.
"You do realize that is the weirdest question you've asked me right?"
"Well I didn't ask for your exact address and postal code, I mean the general area? What do I look like I'm gonna come kill you or something?" Law's seen this before, in one of those movies he watched with his friends a few years back. The killer acts like he's cool and friendly. And he asks shit like 'do I look like I'm going to kill you?' to get the focus taken off himself by asking. Then all the idiots surrounding him feel bad for suspecting him of being anything but good. And when the kids least expect it is when he attacks.
"No, I'm just saying. It's weird. You might want to hold off on asking that one to the next stranger you decide to pick up." He informs him, really a piece of advice. It all comes out kind of unconsciously too, like he doesn't even have to think about what he says around him.
"Pick up? I'm not picking you up, you're like… giant." Luffy says. Clearly not getting what he meant, but Law almost bluntly laughs at that statement but it doesn't make it all the way up his throat.
"Giant?"
"Yeah, what are you like ten feet tall?" He asks looking up at him from way down below.
"I'm six foot three. Or four." He says, not really sure. He hasn't been measured or whatever in a long time, but he's pretty sure he's grown.
"Yeah what'd I say? Giant." Luffy tells him and they keep walking down the street.
They continue to walk. Law answering most of Luffy's questions that don't need anymore than three words to answer. Luffy seems okay with it, not trying to force anything out of him the way he was before, and Law thinks its nothing but a trap. Kind of like a set up for something big. He's got such fucked up trust issues.
"Are you uh… going to follow me all the way home?"
"What are you saying? I live this way!"
"Oh." He's so self absorbed he disgusts himself.
"If it bugs you that much I'll turn around and count to twenty and you can like, run away." Luffy suggests but its more of a joke, and Law almost considers taking the offer but he's not up to run. So he just shakes his head and presses his fingernails into his palms behind the closed cloth of his pockets.
They make it a bit further when Law sees his building and stops walking,
"Uh, this is me. So…"
"Oh! Okay! Fancy, fancy! Are you rich or something?" he asks but then laughs, and tells Law he's joking.
"Wait wait wait!" Luffy shouts and he reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out his phone. Oh god no.
"Gimmie your number!" He practically demands, and Law's internally screaming right now.
Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck.
"Uh… I hardly use my phone so-" He tries to make up some crappy excuse that isn't coming to him fast enough and he's cut off by the loud teen.
"Shut up and tell me!" Luffy insists and Law sighs. Telling the boy the digits and as soon as he's done he realizes he could have easily said something fake and he feels like an idiot. Luffy's walking away now, backwards. Waving at him and shouting goodbye and there are people across the street staring. He lifts his hand and semi waves before making his way into the apartment as fast as he can.
Law thinks six qualifies as evening and he pops open the bottle of… Olanzapine-Fluoxetine. He reads the label and looks at the red-yellow pill and he's dreading this. More chemicals in his body that he doubts will do anything. He puts it back in the little orange container and leans back, pulling his laptop that was next to him onto his lap and types in the name of the drug. He figures he should at least know what's going into his body.
Another thing people had always thought was crazy, was how obsessive he'd get over knowing what medication and chemicals he was ingesting. He has to know, he doesn't need a reason. He just has to.
He's reading up on everything and he's shocked at how long of a list the side effects are and his laugh is icy. Then there's a note at the bottom of the page saying 'if you're prescribed this, it means the person believes the outcome is greater than the side effects'. How's that possible when there's crap on the list like heart attacks and liver failure. He gets up, gets a glass of water and walks back, popping one of the pills in his mouth and swallowing it down anyway, chugging the entire glass. He's got nothing to care about anymore anyway, and he can deal with dizziness or nausea. But in the case his limbs stop responding, then he'll have a bone to pick with the bitch psychiatrist who put him on this crap.
He then sits back down. Does some reading up on the sleeping medication he got. And in a time span of four hours, he's found himself go from medical facts, to looking up random diseases. Then reading some philosophies on religion, society, life, to the weirdest string of videos he's ever watched. He closes his laptop, stretches, and lets out the weirdest noise and he thinks he really shouldn't have watched even a single one of them. Seeing the way they rubbed off on him. He gets up and he feels kind of gross, and he's not all that crummy feeling today, or at least right now so a shower sounds good. As good as it can to him.
And he's soon letting the hot water hit the back of his neck and go through his scalp and he wishes he could stay like this forever.
Unfortunately, he can't. Because the water goes cold after twenty minutes and it's not bad, he just prefers the hot steamy feel much more, so he drags himself out before he freezes.
Then he walks back to the living room, picking up the bottle that contained his key to sleep tonight, or so he hopes and goes to his room. Ready for it, for a good nights sleep that he's so desperate for, he'll do anything. He yawns, and that's a good sign to him, he's tired, he wants to sleep. His body knows it. His mind knows it. All that's left is for the other part of his mind that won't let him to understand that it wasn't going to get it's way, not tonight. And maybe even, not ever again. He's hopeful. And it's kind of weird. But he puts that feeling aside because right now he's got a pill between his fingertips and he can practically taste it. He opens his mouth and lets it drop, swallowing it without any need for water. His mouth is so wet with saliva from the odd craving for the pill he's got he doesn't need any other liquids.
He lets out as much air as he can. Until his lungs are completely empty. He makes a mental thank you note to the fact he hasn't had the urge to want to throw himself in front of a passing bus today. It was good. It was nice. He wishes he could feel like this all the time. He wishes he could have better days like this more.
He wishes. And it's goodnight for Law.