A/N: So I totally did not mean for this to end up as long as it did. It was supposed to be two chapters, but what the heck. Also to the people who messaged me on tumblr thanking me for writing this, thank you. It means so much to me. Nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. ~S
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Depression, Anxiety, Drug Abuse.
Law wakes up, fluttering his eyes, blinking away the burn. Not feeling all that crappy. He's got to admit, that as little sleep as he got, it's way better than running on fumes and coffee. He'll still have it though, his coffee. It's the only kind of ritual he has. Shower. Coffee. And surprisingly, his body doesn't ache the way it usually does. Sleep is nice when he gets it.
Perhaps today won't be that shitty for Law.
It's when he notices it's still pitch black outside, he feels a tiny bit upset. Looking down at his alarm clock, 5:48am written in neon red. Damn. That's seven hours of sleep he got. Seven glorious, nightmare free hours. He wonders why his damned psychiatrist didn't put him on this earlier, but no matter. Now he had a means of escape, if he ever needed it.
He gets out of bed, just sits up and stretches, groaning aloud and thinks it's not so bad. That it's almost six in the morning, and that's normal for some people. Working people. He should apply for jobs, something, anything. He should. It's too early for him to think about it though. Tosses that thought into the large 'I'll get back to it later bin' in his mind. The very back.
He yawns, arms outstretched in front of him, there's a disgusting metallic taste in his mouth. So he gets up, thinks back to if he had forgotten to brush his teeth. He didn't. He just can't seem to wash out or down with water. And it's dry, his mouth. Drier than the desert. The taste is glued to his tongue; even drinking a liquid tastes oddly metallic to him. Sort of like brushing your teeth, then drinking orange juice after. Only instead it's metal, like blood metal.
He'll survive though. It's just a bad taste that should go away as the day goes on.
For the most part, he just sits in his bed. Doesn't do much, reads a book. One he's read over fifty times he thinks, puts it down. There's not much to do at six in the morning, other than dread the fact he can't fall back asleep. So he'll just lay there, paying attention to detail that his room, is in fact, really fucking dirty. So he gets up, throws his covers off and climbs out of bed again, starts pilling up all the clothes that are scattered over the floor. Hanging off anything they can, and Law has to wonder how the hell they even ended up so disorganized.
So he's cleaning. Maybe maids do this, but he's not one of them, so it's odd to him, that he's fucking cleaning. At six fucking thirty in the morning. At least he's getting something done, it beats just laying around, and moping at the fact he can't sleep. Then he figures he might as well clean the entire apartment while he's at it. He's got nothing better to do, and it has been a while. So why not. It'll be his version of spring cleaning. Only in mid October. So fall cleaning, kind of.
Law's afternoon is quiet, kind of. Minus the noise coming through the walls, that are by no means thin, his neighbors are just that fucking loud. And so is their dog. It's giving him a headache. Other than that, it's quiet. He's quite hungry though, so he's standing in his kitchen, cracking a couple of eggs into the pan when a piece of the shell also finds its way in, and it takes him almost five minutes just to get that bastard piece of shit shell out of his damned eggs. Not like it'd really matter anyway, if he'd bit into it he'll hear it crack then just spit it out.
He sits down with his overly scrambled, scrambled eggs, on the couch and his appetite gets thrown out the window. Nibbling on them, picking at them, everything but eating properly is what he does. Doesn't have any reason as to why. And it's so annoying, having the same reoccurring feeling of 'I don't know why' be his reason for almost everything now. Not hungry, don't know why. Can't sleep, don't know why. Can't function for the life of him, don't know why. All he does know for certain, is that it's damn irritating.
He's flipping through channels aimlessly, not really looking for anything but he won't say no if something interesting happens to pop up on his screen. There's the news. A building caught fire, a kid's gone missing, same with two teenagers. How depressing. Some elderly woman celebrates her hundredth birthday. A couple of twins are looking for someone to donate their bone marrow. Nothing he can do about it. And he's got to think to himself, that really, his life is pretty petty. He does exactly nothing when he could be doing… a lot of stuff. His lack of will to do… said stuff, is alarmingly low. So to hell with it, he'll stay put. At least he's comfy.
He's been on his own for too long. He's got plenty to do, but he still feels unfulfilled. Today he's cooped up at home, and outside his window, life is going on. People are actually living. Doing something with their lives. Setting out on adventures, falling in love, making things happen, making a difference. But he's afraid. Of what'll happen if he goes outside, breaks his isolation and tries to live the way others do. To other people. It seems like the norm, for them to go out and do their duties. But not to him.
He keeps flipping through channels, there's a cooking show on. The lady is so energetic and all she's doing is cracking some fucking eggs. No damned shells seem to get into her stupid five hundred dollar pan set that's also being advertised on the side, big letters reading 'call now for a free second set!' across the bottom of the screen. Who in their right mind would buy $500 worth of kitchen pots and pans? He stares and furrows his brows wondering how the hell she's so happy when all she's doing is frying some damn dead poultry chicks.
Frustration and disappointment linger within his mind. Like they've been woven into his brain and can't be taken out without some sort of recoil damage. He should be successful. Go to school, have graduated with a masters degree. But he's in denial, it's so blatantly obvious. Written all over his face. He'll tell himself, and others if they ask, that he's fine. Really, honestly, fine. But the sickening reality is that he's not. Pain and psychological suffering is inescapable. So he sits there, and repeats the words that he's okay, he's fine.
He gets up to stretch; his back cracks a couple times. Then his arms, shoulders and neck. It's gross. The sound of bones cracking. It's loud in his ears; someone might as well be blowing a horn in them. He goes to throw out his now, cold and mushy eggs. Takes out a water bottle from the fridge. Leans against the counter and reads the label. It's just how bored he is, he's reading how supposedly, "cool and refreshing" this water is, opposed to other water. People are crazy. But then again, how longs it been since he last drank anything? He nearly gulps the whole bottle down, and finds himself thinking,
It's not all that cool, nor is it refreshing. It's just fucking water.
His evening is the same. He's sitting out on a stool on his balcony that he's dragged out from the kitchen. Legs propped up on the railing. Notebook in his lap, pen in between his fingers, twirling it around. There are a couple old cigarette butts on the cold cement; he wishes he had a pack on him. There's a plant too, that he has no memory of purchasing and placing there. Must have been Rocinante. It's long dead now though, the cold air and obvious lack of water got to it first.
He's scribbling his interpretation of the plant. No reason why, it's just the only thing that's caught his attention. That and the couple he can hear screaming from down below. Twelve fucking floors below. Something about not buying groceries. He finds it funny, that the only person that'd nag him about not buying groceries, is himself. Sometimes. He's kind of fine, not eating.
He breathes in, he's just taking in the air. Watching the sun set through buildings. It's nice. The view isn't top notch, but it's better than noting. He likes the way the sunlight reflects off the windows. He tilts his head, doodles it down. A tall building with light emitting from it. If it was anymore comfortable he thinks maybe he'd be able to fall asleep.
Unfortunately, the hard wall behind him and the wooden stool aren't going to cut it as particularly luxurious. His other neighbors, the not so crazy ones, have this swing. It's more of a large woven chair that's got a cushion in it. Looks promising.
He yawns though, but he knows that hardly means shit. So what if he's tired? Doesn't mean sleep will come easy. So he sits there, rubbing his face, picking and scratching at his hands. Then his wrists. He's got a bad habit of interrupting the healing process of his cuts. Doesn't mean to, his nails always find their way to the scabs, pick them off and let them rebleed.
His hands are bruised from the pinching, but not too bad. They're starting to heal now, a light green color on his tanned skin. He can't help but pinch at it anyway. Digging his nails into his skin as hard and deep as he can. He's anxious. Doesn't know why he is. And there's a feeling of wanting to cry creeping up on him but he's not going to allow it. He won't.
Night is... in a word, fucked. He doesn't know how many times this has happened now. Him fucking some random person he'd just met at a club. He thinks five. It could be six. All in just the past week. He's getting dressed, the guy, who he thinks is named Jack, is too. At least, he's trying to. He doesn't particularly care for him; he's no different than the other people he'd fucked around with the past few days.
It's kind of funny to him. That he's not drunk. He's high. The guy, whatever his name was, had offered him a kind, free bump of blow before they got into it. Who was he to reject something so thoughtful? It'd be foolish, plus he has nothing else to lose. So why not.
And there he was, with a little bump of white powder on the back of his bruised up hand, bringing face down low enough to take it all in. And it's not too long before the initial rush punches him in the gut. But it's a good punch, in the weird way that it sounds. Like he's worth a million dollars, he's that high up. Sitting on top of the world. And he's so full of energy he feels like he could run a marathon right now.
He was full of energy, like no amount of coffee could have ever given him. Euphoria running through his veins, but he's more invincible than anything. Much more alert than he's been in ages. The result of that was him going full steam.
So here he is now, pants down to his knees, shirt somewhere across the room. Getting dressed, ready to leave now that he's done what he set out for. The guy, mystery man, grabs his hand, slips a little napkin in it and gives him one last kiss on the cheek before Law walks out of the room, back into the loud obnoxious atmosphere of the club and finds his way outside, tossing the napkin that did in fact not say Jack, but Mike, what the fuck? Straight into the trash. He has no use for him, thinks he's kind of shitty for it, but who cares.
He's practically dragging himself to the bus stop, it feels like his legs aren't even attached to his body and he finds himself repeatedly looking down to make sure that they in fact, were still there. He's really alert though, just the sound of footsteps at least twenty feet behind him are loud, ringing in his ears. As if he's some wild animal with exemplary sensory skills.
Law's on the bus now. Hoping it's the right one. It smells horrible, like someone had just puked in the back. He's not sure. He's kind of zoned out, coming down from his high that's mostly left him depressed. Not really paying attention to his surroundings. He is hungry though, evident by how loud his stomach is grumbling, assuming everyone on the bus could hear it. Wishing he had more, in a way. But he's never been one to consider fucking his life up with drugs. At least not recreational types.
He doesn't notice when a homeless looking man sits down next to him until he's being elbowed in the side several times.
"Boy I said ya smell like cigarettes, d'ya mind if I bum one off ya?" The man asks, and Law looks back at him strangely. He hasn't smoked in months, must be from the club.
"I don't smoke anymore, sorry. Smell probably stuck to me." What he'd do for a pack of cigarettes right now though.
"Ah damn what a shame." The man huffs almost, and Law can't help it? That he doesn't smoke. Almost like he feels guilty for it. He turns back to stare out the window, watching the quick flashing of car lights pass by.
"Y'know that ain't good for ya." The man next to him says, and he turns back to him, confused. He has no idea what he's talking about. Why's he even talking?
"What?"
"That. What you're doin' to your hands." The man says, pointing down to Law's fingers that are digging into the skin on the back of his hands, scratching and pinching. Again.
"Ya should really stop doin' that." He says, and Law stops, but his hands shake when he does. Like he needs to keep going to keep himself calm. So he starts twisting his fingers, cracking every bone he can. Then his knuckles.
"I'm not really in the mood-"
"Why do ya do that?" The man, who's got to be around his mid-fifties, interrupts him. Continuing to stare down at his hands and he can't help but pinch even harder.
"Calms me down."
"Y'know when I was about ya age, I did the same thing. Here, look see," he says, and holds out his hands in front of Law's face, close enough for him to see the scars all over. And he can't help but find it weird, that this man he's never met before in his life is just sitting there casually showing off the remains of his own bad habits. Flaunting, almost.
"I was mad crazy, 'spose that's why I'm out here now." He says, turning back around and stuffing his own hands in his pockets, Law figures he should too, to prevent him from tearing up his skin anymore.
"Out here?" Law asks, because now he's at least slightly curious. Or maybe he just feels bad for the guy, so he keeps the conversation going. Though to a bare minimum.
"Homeless ya know? S'been bout' twenty years I believe. Over that maybe." The man says, and Law's all too tired and fogged up with his own depressive feeling he can't really take listening to another persons life story right now. But he can't bring himself to tell the man to shut up, or get off the bus a few stops early either. He just sits there, and listens.
"It was pretty sad, y'know? To be abandoned by the ones ya call your family."
"They abandoned you?" Law asks because he's genuinely shocked. He assumes family is supposed to be there through thick and thin, so he just doesn't understand.
"Yeah, after I lost my job, then came my wife n' kids, n' my house. Soon I found myself on the corner of the street."
"Why didn't you go to someone else? Any relatives?"
"My boy no one wants a jobless depressed man livin' in their basement. No one. Not even my brothers."
"They sound like jackasses, no offence-" He says, but gets cut off again. What an annoying habit. That strangely reminds him of someone, but he's too far out of his own mind to remember.
"S'understandable y'know? But I figured, family first. I s'pose they didn't see it that way. Durin' my time out here, I found people I didn't even know, strangers, other homeless people, were much kinder to me than my own family." The man says, and Law stares back and can't help but feel a bit foolish. That he thinks he has it so bad, but in reality there are many people out there that have it worse. And the man sitting next to him very obviously notices his change in expression and his softens.
"Don't take it the wrong way, I didn't mean to make it seem like ya don't got it bad."
"Yeah." Is all Law can really mutter out, he's just lost in his own train of thought. Can't help but feel worse just by talking to this man next to him, who's clearly had a hard life. And here he sits, bitching to himself about maybe how shitty his eggs were earlier. He thinks of himself as pathetic.
"Didn't mean to make ya sad boy. It's not always gonna be bad for ya, don't stress so much."
"You're still young, yeah? You got time. Me, well I'm growin' old. There's nothing much for me to do. You look like a smart boy, ya got your whole life ahead of you." He says, and Law thinks sure. If maybe he at least went to school, or had a job, maybe. But they're always maybes, never for sure answers. But that's life.
"Hmm." Law hums, because he can't just open his mouth and tell the man to shut up, that he's got no idea.
"Maybe ya can't see it, cause' it's so cloudy up there, but ya know it's there. Just gotta make it to the other side of them damn clouds." The man gestures, pointing to his head. Law can't help but choke out a laugh, not that anything is particularly funny. He just really has nothing to say, so laughing is apparently his way of replying.
"Also boy, stop doing whatever drugs ya darn kids are doin' these days. Don't intentionally fuck up ya life like that, you got it good. Don't let it go to waste." The man says and Law couldn't look more like a deer in headlights. He's sitting there, now nervously laughing at how good this man next to him is at reading people.
"Yeah, sorry." Not really agreeing that he "has it good" but more of, he's not going to do anything stupid again. At least not in the drugs department, no promises for anything else. Though the man does have a point.
The bus chimes the stop, and Law realizes that's meant for him, so he pushes the red button alerting the driver to stop when the approach it. He gets up, walks past the old man's legs and turns back around.
"Thanks. For sharing." He says, not really the best thank you but it's as good as he can get it. Short, sweet, and to the point.
"My pleasure kiddo' take care of ya'self!" He shouts and smiles back. And for a man who's been on the streets for twenty plus years, Law can't help but think he smiles bright. For someone who's been in the dark, he's light.
It's been at least a week, and he hasn't had to deal with anything particularly bad or annoying. At least until now. Law thinks his phone is the most annoying thing to have existed in this world right now. The way it hasn't stopped ringing for ten minutes straight is driving him mad. Each call, coming from none other than Luffy. Law's regretting ever continuing a conversation with him. Thinking if he'd only known he was going to be this annoying, he'd have ran out so quick and hopped into the first taxi he saw.
There's no point in having regrets about it now though. Luffy's calls persist, but he can't bring himself to decline, nor answer. He supposes the only way to make it stop would be to answer, tell him to never call again and then turn off his phone. But he figures as soon as he turns it back on again, the calls will start up again. Persistent bastard.
He's groaning. Sucking in a deep breath before he picks up and he doesn't even get the chance to say hello before Luffy's blaring in his ear. It's nine fucking am, he thinks.
"Fucking hell Law finally! You're one heavy as fuck sleeper!"
"I wasn't-"
"Whatever! Anyway! I've got a shit ton of fucking food with me right now and- just tell me what floor you're on, what's your apartment number?"
"What?"
"APARTMENT NUMBER, WHAT FLOOR ARE YOU ON HELLO? ARE YOU STILL ASLEEP?"
"Uh…"
"Nuuuuumber…" He hears Luffy groan from the other end. Exaggerating the word and Law can tell that he's got zero patience.
"Floor 12. 1208."
"Damn you're high up… okay I'm on my way!" he shouts and hangs up, not giving Law another second to ask why the hell he's even coming.
It's not even five minutes before he hears knocking at his door and shouting coming from behind it. He for a second thinks he can avoid this, he just needs to run out onto the fire escape and hide away somewhere for a couple hours. But his body thinks otherwise, and he's already opening the door. Damn.
"Well good morning sleepyhead! Here hold these will you," Luffy smiles and hands him two of the three paper bags he's got. His nostrils fill with the scent of baked goods. He thinks Luffy's some strange energetic bakery deity. He's not all that uncomfortable with him waltzing around his apartment. In fact it's kind of refreshing to have someone other than himself walk around the place. He doesn't let it get to his head though, or at least tries not to.
"Where'd you get all this?"
"My bro works at the bakery down the street and he hooked me the hell up…" He says in a low whisper like he'd just been dealing drugs. Not croissants and cinnamon buns. Luffy's unpacking the bags that are on the counter and he stops for a second to look around for something.
"What?"
"You got a pan or something? There's meat in here too. Bacon." He says with a smile and continues looking. Law has to wonder what the fuck he's doing with a stranger in his home, asking for a pan, which he has to admit he doesn't exactly trust him with. He looks like the kind of person to say they know what they're doing, then burn the entire place down. At least he knows the fire escape isn't all that far away.
"What the hell made you think you should come over here?"
"Huh? Don't friends have brunch? Or whatever that shit is? This is homemade brunch."
"Brunch is between breakfast and lunch. At eleven or something, not at nine, that's just breakfast."
"Oh. Whatever, Zoro was busy so I figured I'd drop by here. You're not all that far from my place anyway and eating alone is depressing." He says and Law knows, he knows all too well. He hangs his head a bit and scratches his neck, then walks over and gets out the pan Luffy's so intent on finding and places it on the stove.
"Oh good, this is going to be so good!" Luffy shouts and tries to take hold of the pan but Law's got a firm hold on it. For a second he thinks it'd be a good idea to just hit Luffy in the face with it. But he doesn't.
"Give me the bacon, I'll do it, I don't want you to burn my place down."
"Wha- I'm offended. I can't believe you think I'd do such a thing!" Luffy holds his hand to his chest as if he's appalled by the remark. Acting like a drama queen.
"Can you cook?" he asks him.
"Well-"
"Give me the bacon." He repeats. If he could, he wouldn't have to say 'well', he's not going to let him anywhere near the stove. Luffy pouts and does as he's told, how obedient. Like a dog.
"THIS… IS THE BEST BRUNCH I'VE EVER HAD!" Luffy shouts and continues to stuff his face. Law watching him eat like a literal animal who's been starving for ages and it's the most amusing thing he's seen in a while. The boy is walking entertainment. He can't really remember the last time he'd eaten breakfast with anyone else. The only time he'd eaten anything with anyone was again… with Luffy. He eats his own bacon, and Luffy tells him he should eat more. Put some meat on his bones and he chokes on his food for a second. Who was he to talk? He was about stick and bones himself.
He's got to agree though, it is the best meal he's had in a while. And though its mostly pastries and baked goods, he's kind of proud of himself for being able to sit still enough to finish a meal.
"SO hey," Luffy starts between bites and Law can only think how bad this is going to be, more questions, "What day is it today?" and Law's surprised it isnt some deep dark personal question, and he'd gladly answer if only he knew himself.
"Uh… I don't know." He takes out his phone and checks, "Thirtieth." He tells him and he's just as surprised as Luffy though he doesn't show it. He could have sworn he had a couple days before his next appointment, but apparently not.
"Damn I thought it was like, the twenty fifth or something!" and he's kind of laughing now but not, more of a low chuckle that sounds like his throat rubbing together uncomfortably. Luffy was even more far gone than he was when it came down to this.
"I asked because, well there's this party my friends having, he's like rich n' all but he's not an ass. I hate all the other snobby people that are gonna go though, so I figured I'd ask you to come with me!"
"Sorry what?"
"Halloween party, tomorrow. You wanna come with me?"
"If I thought that was even moderately funny, this is where I'd die of laughter." Law tells him, taking a bite out of his cinnamon roll and his face is as serious as ever. The expression 'if looks could kill' would be oddly fitting.
"I'm not joking!" Luffy shouts back, and he can see how eager Luffy is it's almost funny. Almost.
"In that case, no. Absolutely not." He tells him, he's not the party kind of guy, if he hadn't noticed already.
"Oh come on!" Luffy groans and looks like he's about to get on his hands and knees and beg.
"No." He refuses again. He's not about to let this teenager drag him to a damn party filled with as he'd said, snobby people.
"You don't like parties?" Luffy asks, bottom lip pursed out.
"Hate them." His answer is simple, that's all.
"WHAT! You're such a Debbie downer. Lame Law. Loser Law." Luffy says and Law's looking at him like he's an idiot. Name calling? Really?
"Just go alone."
"I don't wanna go alone, where's the fun in that?!" Luffy pouts even more and if he's to go even further down the pit of acting like a baby his lips might even fall off.
"Don't ask me."
"Come on please! Consider it a repayment for brunch!"
"I didn't ask you to bring a shit ton of food here-" He says, he feels like Luffy's using him already and for what? A fucking party?
"I know, I know! Just… come and if you don't want to stay we can leave!"
Law stays quiet, trying to weigh out his pros and cons. If he goes, he'll have to see a lot of people, and a lot of people will look at him, he's sure it'll be uncomfortable as fuck, and he hates that. Also, drinking. That's a pro and a con. He tosses that into the pro section though. And then there's having to deal with Luffy the entire night. Definetly con. Now he's sure he should say no.
"N-"
"Please! Please please please please please!" Luffy's begging him now and really pouting his lips like a baby and he's got his hands held together, shaking them to add to his desperation. Law's too much of a push over and a sucker, he'll feel bad if he says no now. So he complies.
"Fine. But if I don't like it-"
"We'll leave!" Luffy says and Law notes the way he says 'we'll' like he's ready to drop and do anything Law asks of him. In a way it's flattering but he feels like there's motive behind it. He's always suspicious, but he can't help that. He has to be careful, and vigilant.
"WOO! This is going to be fun! I'll come by tomorrow at 9? If that's fine!"
"Yeah, whatever."
"HOORAY! You'll have fun, I'm sure! Lighten up!" He says, whacking Law on the shoulder across the table between them and Law's glaring at him now, contemplating kicking him the hell out.
After forty minutes of riding on the bus and listening to Luffy's ridiculous stories, Law finds himself standing in front of a rather large house. He's thinking might in fact be the first mansion he's ever seen in his life. And he takes a second to take it all in, that's ruined when Luffy pushes him telling him to hurry up and walks up a bit in front of him.
He's walking through the door behind Luffy. He can already feel the crippling anxiety of being in a room, no, a large over 3,000 square feet home of some random friend of Luffy's. Who he most likely also met as a stranger and forced to become friends with, that's filled with people.
"ZORO!" He hears Luffy shout over the blasting music and he has no idea how a voice can reach that high, but whatever.
"Hey Luffy." He sees the man Luffy's trying to talk to over the music. He's a tall, green haired man. Who the hell had green hair?
"This is Law! He's my friend I hope you don't mind I brought him."
"Nah it's cool. The more people the merrier right?" He says and Law's pretty sure it's addressed to him. He clears his throat, "Uh yeah." He says and shakes the hand that Zoro had extended to him.
They talk about some crap Law can't hear over whatever shitty music is playing. He figures it's some mainstream shit and he doesn't bother with it. Luffy turns back to ask him something he can't hear, and he just nods. Then Luffy's gone. He has no idea if he's supposed to have followed or not, all he knows is now he's standing alone. Though there are at least fifty people around him. Luffy's friend, Zoro, standing right in front of him saying something.
"Sorry what?"
"I said, how do you know Luffy?" He hears him ask. Oh you know, the usual. He saved him from getting hit from a car on a street he walked onto. On purpose.
"Uh we met at a café." He says, which is kind of true, formally at least.
"Oh boy I bet you he forced his way into your life pretty much. He's like that. He's not bad though, he's a good guy." Zoro says. He's wondering why the fuck the guy's pretty much vouching for Luffy's good citizenship status.
"What about you?" He asks, it's only polite right? Looks like he's after that Good Samaritan title too by the way things are going.
"Ah we go to the same school. He was the loudest guy in class- well still is. He's a riot, believe me."
"Yeah." He agrees, because well, the green haired man isn't wrong. And he's shit at keeping up conversation, especially ones he's got to yell for. He notices a giddy boy walking back, and Luffy's somehow managing to hold three cups in his hands.
"Do you go to our school too? Have I just never seen you around?"
"Law doesn't go to school!" Luffy says, "Here you go!" Luffy's handing him a cup and the other to Zoro. "And I also took this. I hope you don't mind or whatever." Luffy says to Zoro, one hand reaching to his back pocket and he pulls out a full bottle of vodka. Law assumes it's about, 500ml. Hoping he's not going to try to drink that all himself, he doesn't want to have to take care of him.
"I didn't even buy that, you must have taken someone else's booze." Zoro laughs and Law can't help but curl his lips up into a half smile, finding it amusing.
"Oh? Whatever who cares, sharing is caring." He says and chugs whatever he's got in his cup, Law doing the same and it's almost like a juice but he feels the burn shortly afterwards. Sweet and hot.
"So if you don't go to school, what do you do?" Zoro asks between taking large gulps of his drink and he thinks shit, he does nothing. He doesn't go to school, he doesn't work, he does nothing. He doesn't know what to say, he thinks he looks like a pig sweating under lights.
"ZORO! This is a party why the hell are you asking such boring questions?!" Luffy shouts and Law thinks thank god, and lets out a sigh of relief.
"Man what do you want me to ask him? His blood type? How he gets his hair to stick up like that?" Zoro asks him and Law's just standing there like a dumbass not communicating. He's looking around and taking in the atmosphere and he sees this group of girls staring at him. Then turning back to laugh and giggle.
"That's not too bad, I've been wondering that too, it looks cool."
"Uh… I just wake up like this." When he does wake up that is.
"I'm jealous" Luffy pouts. He's pouring some vodka into his cup, then Zoro's. Takes the bottle for himself, not holding back and Law's pretty sure he just downed four shots at once. What a champion in such a little body. Luffy shouts and the three of them are having quite the time. He's not really hating it, that's got to be a good sign right. Wrong. Zoro's shouting something like going to say hello to a different friend and when he looks over in the direction Zoro's walking. He see's Kid. Eustass Kid, the piece of shit that'd left him for dead. Couldn't bother with little old Law, he was too much effort. Not worth the time. Next to him, his little arm candy, Bonney. They'd been on and off way more times than Law could even remember. And Law can feel himself pale out, and Luffy's trying to snap him out of it.
"HEY! What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost!" Luffy shouts in a drunken slur mostly, but he's able to make the words out clear enough for Law to understand.
"Yeah, kind of." He admits. It is like a ghost. Looking at his past in one second and having it all flash right before his eyes. Luffy's still slurring something. Law feels like he's having his entire life replay in slow motion right in front of him. The people he'd once known and called his friends. All on the other side of the large home laughing and drinking together and he can't help but get angry. Agitated at the picture.
"Helloooooo earth to Law!" Luffy shouts and is punching his arm when he turns to him.
"What?"
"I don't know what, you tell me what, because you know the what, the what I don't know, I don't know what." He says and Law's just furious he could scream right now but holds it in, holds it back. He looks back and he swears, he fucking swears, he makes eye contact with Bonney and he sees her nudging Kid's arm. Then he swears, Kid looks right at him and that's when he's turned away by Luffy pulling on his arm.
"What the hell, let go of me-" Luffy does as he's asked, and shoves the bottle of vodka into his hands.
"You look like you… could use this." He says and well, Luffy's not wrong. But he's pissed he needs Luffy to tell him that.
"Shut the fuck up," He spits, but takes a large swing, downing at least half of whats left in it and his throats on fire. He shouldn't be drinking, he really shouldn't. His medication says not to, but who gives a shit right now? Life is much too full of shit to give a damn about some restrictions right now.
Luffy's laughing and he doesn't understand what's funny, and it's pissing him off. He can still see them from where he and Luffy are now standing and Luffy's just falling all over the place. Grabbing onto Law's arm for support and he winces and pushes Luffy off, Luffy hitting the wall behind him. Harder than he'd expected.
"Ow, what the hell?!" He shouts back and a couple people look over at them, and he's about to lose it. Like he's about to burst into tears, scream at the top of his lungs or just full out start throwing everything within arms reach at whoever. He shoves the bottle into Luffy's chest. Waiting for him to hold it with his hands before letting go and walking in the opposite direction of the people that had hurt him. He's shoving through people that stand in his way and he hears Luffy calling out his name from behind.
He's annoyed by how one little thing sets him off. A comment, an obstruction to his routine, which in this case, are his old friends, and down that slope he goes sliding again. Down the endless bumpy slide into a dark pit where he'll stay for who knows how long. He keeps walking until he ends up in a courtyard or backyard or whatever, some fucking yard.
He can hear the footsteps behind him getting louder and he's just so fucking sick. His heart aches, his head is throbbing and his stomach… well that's a given. There's not that many people around though. Considering it is pretty cold out, so if he were to spew chunks all over the place it wouldn't be that mortifying.
"HEY WHAT THE FUCK LAW!" He hears behind him, and he can't deal with this right now. He just needs Luffy to leave him the fuck alone right now. He knows how far fetched that idea is.
"Leave me alone Luffy I swear to god-"
"Why the hell are you pushing me around?! What's your fucking problem?!" Luffy shouts back and of course it's not really much of a shock that he'd interrupt him.
"I didn't- Just leave me alone. God." He yells back and he keeps walking, he doesn't know where he's going but he sees a fountain. That looks nice.
"Where are you going?! Why are you so fucking angry?!"
Why was he angry? He could list off at least fifty different reasons, but he wasn't about to waste his breath explaining.
"I just don't belong there, okay?! I wanted to get out, is that so fucking hard to understand?!" Or maybe he was. He doesn't really know himself, so maybe he and Luffy could sit down, have a nice conversation about life.
"I said if you didn't want to stay we would leave didn't I?!" Luffy shouts back.
"It's so… awful in there. I felt like I was going to fucking explode on the spot. What the fuck else was I supposed to do?!"
"You should have told me!" Luffy shouts back and it's weird how surprisingly coherent he's become in about five minutes, when he was just falling all over the place.
"You're drunk off your fucking ass what are you going to do?! You've just been laughing the whole god damned night like you're having such a great fucking time! Whoop-de-doo! Not everyone can be super duper happy like fucking majestic ass Luffy okay?!" After it comes out he realizes he sounds just as bad as a teenager.
Luffy looks back at him and Law can tell he's shocked. He's drunk but every word Law's saying is hitting him right where Law intends it to, and he thinks good. The little runt is getting what he just deserves. Finally he's not the only one who has to suffer.
"You fucking ride on this high horse of yours and prance around claiming you're my friend- I don't even fucking know you! And you sure as hell don't know me! You think knowing I like Greek food is knowing me?! You have no idea what I've been through! You just- you're making everything worse for me! I'm living in a literal version of hell right now because of you!" He'd better not think he's done, because god, Law's been waiting for this fucking moment. To shout and let it all out. He doesn't care if it takes every breath he's got, he'll do it.
"Law-"
"GOD, every time I hear your fucking voice I want to rip my ears off, just shut the fuck up! You're so god damn annoying don't you get it?! I'm not your fucking little friend who has stupid as fuck brunches and shit, what's your fucking deal?! What do you want from me?!" He goes on and Luffy's just staring at him now and he parts his lips and speaks in a low, quiet voice.
"We can leave-"
"Yeah fucking right, you brought me here in the first place. You knew. You know it all; you think it's all some fucking joke. I saw the way you laughed, like it's so fucking amusing to you huh? You think it's that funny?!" He shouts and Luffy's just staring back at him. Confused, he doesn't get why. Obviously Luffy knows, why else would he drag him out to such a suffocating place?
"Oh what now you have nothing to say? Nothing to laugh at? Because you got fucking caught?" He says and lets out a laugh, it's really empty air, but his laugh is cold. Luffy still standing there with his lips parted but no words are coming out and that's just perfect.
"This was your fucking… sick twisted idea in the first place right? To fucking bring me here, to embarrass me and make me feel like… like…" Like he wants to die. Like he could die right there on the spot.
"You're just like them. You're not some fucking saint who just saves people from oncoming traffic. You fucking bastard you're no different than those assholes! You can go join them in their fucking pathetic reign of high and mighty bullshit. You don't like rich and snobby people? Yeah fucking right, you're nothing but a pathological liar. You're having a fucking blast, and you bring me along, as your main source of entertainment. Fuck them, and fuck you too. Fuck every one you. You're all the same!" He finishes and takes a deep breath, swallows, then rubs his face with his hands that are sweaty and shaky, he feels like he can't breathe. Like he's just wasted what little oxygen he didn't have on Luffy. How worthless.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU GAIN FROM MAKING ME FEEL LIKE THIS?!" He shouts even louder now, and the few people that are outside all turn in their direction and he just wants to leave. He starts walking and pushes past Luffy. Just been standing there like he was mimicking the statue on the fountain that was behind Law. Or mocking him by just pretending he had no idea what he was talking about. He thinks its the ladder.
He's walking away, for the first time from anything. Usually it's him who gets left behind in the dust. Not this time. He can't hear anything behind him so he knows Luffy isn't following him again. He walks back into the house, shoving his way through sweaty loud people that all stick to him. He's so fucking pissed if he even sees Kid out the corner of his eye he'll walk over and punch him square in the face. Many times. He passes Zoro though, no Kid in sight. He's half relieved because he's not quite sure he'd be able to hold back in the case he does see him. He spots a bottle of tequila just placed on the table beside the exist and grabs it. He walks out the front door, and he's standing on some fucking rich neighborhood street.
Where the hell is he? Fuck. Luffy had been the one with the directions, and he paid no attention on the bus ride here. He's so pissed off. Fuck Luffy, fuck the party, fuck Kid and all the other bitches around him, fuck it all. In his fit of rage, he punches a cement pole. Not his smartest move, but he just needs to hit something. And it's like his hands have a mind of it's own, punching the cold cement over and over until Law's hand is bleeding. He doesn't' think he's broken a finger or whatever, but it's good. The pain. He chugs the rest of the bottle, which wasn't all that full to begin with but it's enough to make an impact. When he's done he smashes the bottle on the road, glass shattering and going in every direction.
He sits his sorry ass down on the curb a few feet away from Zoro's house, under the streetlight. He's got the worst headache now and he hates it. Everything. He's so sick of feeling. He was sure he didn't care, or maybe he'd just managed to trick himself into thinking he didn't care. It was crazy how just one look brought up so much pent up anger inside him. But it wasn't even that, he knows why he's like this. He blames them. He was never this bad before them. It's all because of them.
He doesn't have a clue about how long he's just been sitting there, the blood on his knuckles now dry and flaky and he's picking at it already. So maybe a half hour. Then there's a shadow, small compared to his own, in the streetlight on the road in front of him and he looks up. Luffy. Fucking terrific. He looks enraged and Law's thinking it's just perfect. Just rosy.
"What the fuck do you want from me now? I have nothing left to fucking give you." He tells him, and Luffy does nothing but stare down at him. Looks at him like he's pathetic, and he hates it.
There's tugging at his arm and he's pulled to his feet by Luffy and just why? Couldn't he ever be alone when he's asked?
"Let go of me you fucking asshole." He slurs and Luffy's pulling him down the street, and he's trying to keep up with his fast pace but his feet just wont cooperate. He's sure he looks worse than Luffy did earlier. Whatever.
"Are you fucking deaf? I said let go. Let me go." Law's still slurring, and it occurs to him Luffy might just be stupider than he thought.
"I don't need your help!" He shouts and Luffy changes his grip on his arm to grab Law's hand and pulls him from in front. He squeezes and it isn't out of some strange new developed affection, but out of anger. Rage. He's pissed the hell off and he's about to squeeze the blood right out of him.
He can't say he doesn't deserve it, but he's too drunk and too angry to care. If he had the stable hand eye coordination he needs, he'd punch him right out. He winces a bit when Luffy's nails are digging into his skin and he takes that as his sort of demand to shut the hell up. Who was he to give him orders?
"Stop, let me go." He shouts again and he's wiggling around in Luffy's grasp. No good though. Luffy's holding onto him with everything he's got. Through blurred eyes he sees his knuckles are completely white. No bloods getting to them except for Law's.
They're on a main street now. He thinks in the downtown part of the city and he shuts his mouth. He knows it's for the best, and if over there could shut up, then so could he. At least until the number of people surrounding them died down. He's trying to look at Luffy's face, but with his hoodie up he can't see anything but the occasional crinkle of his nose.
"I fucking hate you." He grumbles in a low voice, it's loud enough for Luffy to hear it. Part of him thinks he's trying to provoke Luffy on purpose, get any kind of reaction out of him and see what he'll do. How will he lie his way through the situation? Is he going to apologize? So many questions are running through his mind and he's not coherent enough to make sense of the lot of them.
People around them just seem to keep coming, one after the other. Groups of loud drunk friends stumbling out of bars and clubs. All onto the loud streets that illuminate under the streetlights. He's not sure how many, maybe forty, sixty, a hundred. Double that, because everything he sees are in twos. It's only adding to his pounding migraine so he just closes his eyes. Lets himself get pulled along like the drunk he is by Luffy. He's not sure how long he goes on like that, but soon he feels Luffy let go of his hand and his eyelids fly open.
They're standing in front of Law's apartment, well at least he is. Luffy's still walking, doesn't even mutter a word. His hands, now tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and he's just going to leave Law there. Because fuck, he's pissed too and he can't deal with the stupidity and rage Law's going to attack him with again if he says anything else. But he's no asshole, the least he could do was bring him back home, and now that he has, that's that. He's done his task.
Law's just standing there, almost leaning on the light post at the edge of the curb for support. Should he say something? Thank him for taking him home? No, fuck that. That's the last thing he wants to do. He doesn't deserve his thanks, much less another breath used to utter a single word to him. He pushes off the post and wobbles his way through the main entrance and he thinks walking is ten times harder than it was before. Because Luffy's not the one dragging him down the street anymore.
He fumbles around in his pocket and his fingers are shaking and he just can't grab his damned keys. He takes off his jacket and throws it to the floor in front of his door, key falling out and all and bends over to pick it up. Unlocks the door, and just kicks his jacket in like a little child who's having a hissy fit. Immediately he walks over to the kitchen, not even bothering to take off his shoes, and grabs the first bottle of alcohol he's got. Its some old red wine that Rocinante had brought over god knows how many months ago, oh well. He pops it open, doesn't even go for a glass. Just takes a huge swing from the bottle. He feels like some middle aged woman who knows her husband is cheating on her, but uses it as an excuse to just drink. Except he's a young adult, who's got the worst combination of illnesses and he's just looking for a means of escape. At least for a little while.
He's sitting on the couch now. Wondering all sorts of things that life wants from him. He's got nothing to give; he doesn't know why it keeps asking. He's so far gone, can't even open his eyes all the way anymore. He's feeling nothing but a need to not think. He doesn't know how much more miserable he can get, he's already so used to being the lowest of lows, it's not all that shocking to him anymore. The world he's created has become so narrow. Tight to walk through that even a few seconds in it sucks every bit of oxygen and energy right out of him. So he retreats, back into his head, thinking of distractions to exercise and numb out the pain. It's a terrible habit, he knows. Even in the pit of drunkenness he knows, but it's much more than that now. It's obsession. He's stuck in a vicious cycle that'll never let go no matter how much he gives in; it just keeps taking and taking.
His mind doesn't ask for much other than to suffer. Whereas happiness, in what little of it he can remember, is one tricky as fuck bastard. Can't trust it. He groans, takes another swing, some of the red liquid spilling down his chin. And he realizes the bottles empty. Damn. He tries to put it down on the coffee table in front of him. But he thinks there's four, five of them and picks the one he's certain is real. Then there's the sound of glass hitting the wooden floor, not breaking, to his surprise.
Law's eyes are droopy; he's kind of numb now. Not feeling nothing but he cant feel anything either. It's as if he's dying, but he knows he's not. His heart is beating so fast it feels like it could come to a stop or just explode altogether any second, but he knows it won't. Nothing ever goes the way he'd like them to, so there's no point in getting his hopes up. He just lays there, arm hanging off the couch and staring up into the darkness of his apartment, trying to keep his eyes open. He has no idea why though; this should be something he'd think of as wonderful.
He can finally go to sleep.