A/N: I've noticed updating on an early Friday morning has become kind of a thing? I think I'll keep that up, at least while I have the time to write as much as I do now. But on another note, I've gotten a quite a few questions about how I "came up" with Law's condition, and really it's all kind of a personal twist. Real life situations and such have influenced my writing for this story greatly so, yeah. That's how it is. If there's anything else you'd like me to answer I'd be glad to :) For now, enjoy this chapter, and I guess I'll see you all next Friday! ~S
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Depression, Anxiety, Panic attack.
It's 6:28am, and Law hasn't slept for the past... forty hours? It could be a Friday now, he's really clueless. He hasn't gone out, checked his phone, or even looked out the window. His senses have completely deluded, he's numb. Quite frankly he doesn't care, he can't bring himself to care.
But that night, he'd caved. He went down to one of the twenty-four hour convenience shops a few blocks down and bought himself a nice pack of cigarettes. Very nice, if he'd remembered to bring a lighter with him.
That was four hours ago. He's sitting on his bed, fiddling around with the plastic that the box is wrapped in, he's having doubts. And that should be good, right? That he's not as weak as he'd thought. That he's hasn't given in completely.
He doesn't know what sparks it. It's really just out of the blue. But he starts hyperventilating. Like he's being suffocated. And there's the moment he drops the pack of cigarettes to the floor, and he drops to his knees. He's struggling to breathe and there are monsters all around him. Monsters of the dark, the ones that consume him. But he fights it, or at least tries to. He doesn't give in, not right away.
But it's hard. It's so fucking hard. Law's trying his damned best, and it's not good enough. Nothing he does is good enough. It washes over him, all this fear, panic; he's stricken with terror. He's scared. And his heart aches and he wonders if maybe this time it's actually a heart attack, but his mind is too jumbled and the obvious lack of oxygen isn't helping his already clouded thinking. He's just on the floor, kicks his feet against ground so he can push himself into the corner of his room, where he's safest. Because now he can see everything that's going on around him. No sneak attacks, no being blind sighted. But he still can't breathe, and he thinks no, god please no, not again because every time this happens, he spirals back down into the sink hole.
"Go away." It comes out like a whisper but he really means to shout it. Can't, his voice is shaky. If anyone were to see or hear him now they'd agree, he looks scared shitless.
"Panic" comes from the ancient Greeks. It's told they have experienced overwhelming terror when they encountered Pan, their god of nature. Half man, half beast, Pan had a scream so intense that terrified travelers who happened upon him in the forest, they died from fear. It's how Law feels right now. He's a traveler, not in a forest, but more of in a sea of black. And it's so dark, cold, and lonesome. It's frightening. And that's how he feels. That he could die from fear.
It comes out of nowhere. He feels a tremendous wave of fear for no reason at all. His heart is pounding, his chest hurts, it aches, and it's getting harder to breathe with each passing second. He thinks he's really going to die. This is how he's going to go out, he's really going to die. He's rocking back and forth, but he doesn't feel it. It's his body moving on its own. All he's doing is trying desperately to get oxygen to his lungs, it's not working. Nothing he's doing is working. He's trying so hard and failing and it's all become such a weak attempt at keeping himself sane.
He thinks of what his psychiatrist would say. That bitch would tell him to relax, just chill out, and calm down. Easy to say. Hard to do.
He can't stand up, he can't move his arms, there's pain all over. He's stuck. His heart is freezing over, chills going down his spine, his nerves ice. Chained to where he sits. It feels like someone's squeezing the life out of him. He's in the palm of depression and it's closing in on him until he's nothing but a tiny ball of hurt.
He wants to run, to run for his life and never look back. To just, get out and get away. From his so called life, go somewhere else and start anew. He can't move.
Law's safe. He tells himself he's safe. He needs to breathe, he has to breathe. He can't let it consume him, he needs to breathe. He'll be fine. He will. He will, he will, he will. He repeats it over and over in his mind, trying to calm himself down. He's okay, he'll be okay. Everything will be okay. It's just a panic attack; it's just a panic attack. He gets them all the time, he's not going to die, no one's choking him, no one's squeezing him, he's fine.
Except he's really not. There's hardly enough oxygen getting to his head for him to believe that. He wishes he could, he wishes he could make it all stop spinning and stop seeing spots and just breathe. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in as much air as he can into his deprived lungs. Letting out as much as he can, until he feels empty. Repeat.
And then there's a sort of cool down period. Where he's just breathing heavily in order to keep himself from falling back into panic.
"Fuck," He mutters and he tries to get up, he's limp. He has no strength for anything. All he wants to do is sleep; he knows he won't get it though.
"Just great, just fucking great." He groans, tilts his head back and wipes off the sweat on his forehead with his arms. He feels gross, sweaty and sticky.
He's impatient, but he has to give it time. Crawling to the bathroom doesn't sound like a bad idea, but what'll he do when he gets there? Law's got about negative sixty two percent energy right now. Sixty four if he counts the fact he can't even lift the cigarette pack off the floor in front of him. His hands are still shaking so he stays put. Until the shaking, the heavy breathing, the fuzzy spots in his eyes stop. And until his heartbeat is regular, and not like it's about to erupt.
Law's standing out on his balcony, watching what little of the sunrise he can through buildings. His hair is soaking wet, dripping down onto the towel on his shoulders. The wind blowing through sends chills down his spine. He'll probably get sick like this, he thinks. Oh well.
He puts a cigarette between his dry lips, lights it and exhales. The amount of relief he feels with just that one breath is endless. Of course he thinks he's a big fucking idiot for doing it, caving. Falling to the crave. But who gives a damn?
He thinks the cool air blowing in the morning is invigorating. He can't remember the last time he'd felt so calm and at peace. Which in itself, is almost funny considering he was sure he was two minutes from his heart exploding earlier. He knows it's not going to be for long, but he'll enjoy it while he can. While it lasts. He'll soak up every last drop.
It's nearing noon when there's loud knocking at his door. He's finding it strange, that his door has been banged on more times in the past few days than it has in months. Maybe things are coming around, or maybe they're just building up to only come crashing down. He looks through the peephole, and all he can see is a big red '78%' and he thinks Luffy, and smiles. He opens the door, and instantly, Luffy's in his face.
"Hey-"
"Did ya see it? This sucker?" Luffy asks, shoving the paper into Law's hands. He's happy, Law's happy he's happy.
"I did." He says, still smiling at him and he feels proud of Luffy, the lazy butt who didn't want to do his paper. He'd only said 65%, and he'd gone and upstaged it all.
"I couldn't believe it! I walked into class and they were handing them back I almost shit my pants waiting!" Luffy says, walking in and being as overly gesticulative as possible, throwing his arms up in the air, ruffling up his hair like this had been super stressful for him, "I kept thinking what if I got a 64, or worse 64.5 and I was seriously about to crap, Law!"
"Do you have some kind of excretion problem?" He asks and he can't believe they're even having this conversation.
"No, ew! I poop just fine! I mean- I was scared I wouldn't do good enough!" Luffy tells him, really making himself at home, sitting his cheery ass down on Law's couch, Law walking to the kitchen. He remembers Luffy doesn't like coffee. Or tea. But he doesn't have any hot chocolate mix, he's not twelve. He thinks Luffy can settle for orange juice.
"Good enough for what?" He shouts a bit enough for Luffy to hear him over his own gawking at the paper.
"For you! Well, for you to tell me stuff!" Luffy shouts back and Law stops midway in pouring him a drink and just looks at him.
"You want to know that bad?"
"Well yeah! I want to know why someone as smart as you dropped out." He says, Law joining him on the couch and he hands him a glass full of orange, Luffy thanking him and drinking half of it in one go.
"You really don't waste any time do you?"
"No, I hate wasting time. Unless you think playing video games is a waste of time- which, let me tell you, it is not." Luffy huffs and Law smiles back at him, drinking his cup of coffee. Third cup. Luffy stares back at him, and he looks like he's about to spring up off the couch and attacks him with questions. But also looks like maybe he's waiting for Law to just get into it. He's too deprived to keep up.
"Uh well let's see. I was in my second year, your age. And I just couldn't take it for the most part. I loved my classes, but I had no motivation to do the work. I couldn't bring myself to." He says, and Luffy drinks his juice, puts down the empty cup and crosses his legs on the couch. He's way too at home.
"How come?"
"Er, things." He can't.
"What kind of things?"
"Personal issues mostly." He really can't. Can't say it. He doesn't want to be specific. He's not at that level of trust; he's already shocked with himself as it is that he's even talking to Luffy about it.
"Hmm. Why don't you go back now?" Luffy asks and he wonders the same thing all the time, but he knows why.
"Good question."
"You don't know?" Luffy asks, but he does. He knows it'll be the same, if not worse. He doesn't think he's gotten any better since dropping out, and that was the main goal. To get better.
"I do. I just can't answer."
"You can't answer huh... weird." Luffy hums and Law watches his facial expressions change at least three times in four seconds. Confusion, contemplation, acceptance.
"Is it?"
"Well to me, yeah. I always have an answer to everything even when I don't!" He says with a smile, then looks like he's in deep thought for a couple of seconds before opening up his mouth again. "If I guess can you tell me?" He says, and Law looks at him seriously. He'll never give up.
"Nope."
"Aw come on!" He groans and falls back onto the couch dramatically.
"I don't really think you want to know anyway. It's one of those things you pick and bug at to know, then when you do you're kind of... turned away. And you wish you didn't know anymore." He says and his voice is sad, his eyes are sad, but he's half smiling. Takes a sip of his coffee, and he's full smiling now. Make it convincing, he tells himself.
"I won't be turned away! You could tell me the grossest, most revolting thing. I wouldn't leave I already told you that." Luffy tells him. Persistent as fuck bastard, Law thinks.
"You did, yes. But you have to understand that I have enormous amounts of trouble believing that." He says and he feels like a broken record.
"Kinda hard when I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Luffy mumbles and pulls at his feet. He's got two different socks on, Law notices. One's striped, red and white. The other is all blue.
"You'll find a way."
Luffy groans and opens his mouth to say something else, but the loud growling coming from his stomach happens first and Law stares at him before chuckling to himself.
"Stop laughing! I haven't eaten in… two hours!" Luffy says and it's more of an estimate. He's kind of crappy with time too. Unfortunately for him, Law hasn't done any shopping yet, so all he's got is left overs Rocinante's brought over.
"You can order something." And he probably sounds like a huge ass for not offering him something, but he's seen Luffy eat before and there's no way he'll settle for what little he's got in his fridge.
"NO WAY! That'd take way too long!" He groans and then gets out of his seat quickly; he's got so much energy, "C'mon lets go get some lunch!" He exclaims and Law's face immediately goes blank.
"You're not dragging me out to eat twice. No."
"You don't have a choice! I'm hungry and you haven't told me everything I want to know so come on!" Luffy shouts, grabbing and pulling Law's hands to try to lift him off the couch.
"You're so annoying." Law grumbles, but allows himself to be pulled up and dragged towards the door. He thinks secretly, he likes being involuntarily dragged out of the house, just because he's getting out of the house.
Of course, Luffy being Luffy wouldn't just drag him to some simple diner that'd be conveniently empty or at least much less crowded than the place he'd brought him to. It's not that he doesn't want to go out, it's just that when he does, he gets this overwhelming feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach that eats at him, bit by bit.
Though thankfully, Luffy picks the furthest corner inside the ridiculously fancy restaurant, that Law deems unnecessary for just lunch. The both of them not looking anywhere near dressed appropriately for the location either. They've both got ripped jeans on, while many of the others are at least dressed semi formal. He's got to thank the fact that it wasn't a place someone seated them at. Knowing his luck, he'd have ended up being put smack dab in the middle of everyone.
"You can sit on the comfy spot if you want!" Luffy tells him and he's confused for a second, before he realizes that on one side of the table is a chair while the other is as Luffy said, a comfy looking spot. So he nods, slides behind the table and sits down. And it doesn't take long before a tall female approaches their table, handing the two of them menus and such. And Law can't help but think Luffy's fucking nuts, because who goes to a restaurant that sells forty dollar steaks when you could get two for fifteen dollars at the local supermarket.
"They have the best steak here! You have to try it Law!" Luffy tells him, pointing at the picture on Law's menu, rather than his own, having to stretch in his seat to reach over the table.
"Uh, I'm not big on meat." Law says and shoos his hand away so he can flip the page.
"You... don't like meat?!" Luffy shouts and it's a bit too loud, but he's not all that surprised by that either. He's strangely used to it. Still, he rolls his eyes and sighs.
"I said I'm not big on it, not that I didn't like it."
"What's the difference?!" Luffy shouts, and he almost looks offended. That someone could say such a thing.
"Never mind. Who eats steak for lunch anyways?" He asks. It's a valid question.
"Well what the hell do you have? A salad?" Luffy asks back and Law thinks he's got a fair point. He just shrugs and Luffy laughs.
Law's stuck. He can't get over the way Luffy smiles and outstretches his hand, and refuses to take back. His eyes are quite black, the colour of coal. But there's nothing dark about him, at least nothing Law can read. And he considers himself as a pretty good judge of character. Reading people for the most part, comes easy to him.
But Luffy, he's almost too pure. It's frightening. He makes Law feel warm and relaxed. And for a split second he's not sitting in a restaurant, but he's sitting in front of a large bonfire. Watching the wood slowly burn to ash. The fire is Luffy, and it sparks every time he acts protective over Law. When he's calm, the fire dies down but it never goes out. It's always lit.
And Law's thinking of how ridiculously corny he sounds. Though he doesn't exactly care all that much, because he's comfortable. For the first time in a long time, he's not as anxious as he'd normally be eating out, or just out in general.
Law yawns, he's so fucking tired, god damn.
"Hey don't fall asleep before the food comes!" Luffy says and he looks back up. Coffee seems to have lost it's affect on him.
"I won't. I didn't even order-"
"I ordered for you while you were day dreaming! You can nap after, naps are the best." Luffy says and he's yawning now too. Law stares at him, wondering what the hell he should expect to show up on his plate.
"I'd nap six times a day if my brain would let me." Law gets out and Luffy purses his lips and it's pretty obvious he has no idea what to say to that. So Law just gives him a small smile.
"Stop pouting."
"I'm not pouting!" Luffy says and yawns again. At this rate Law thinks the two of them are going to fall asleep on the table before they even get a glass of water.
"Would you ever go back to school?" Luffy asks and it's more of a mumble but Law hears him, loud and clear. And he stops fidgeting to really think about it. He's had the idea before, but he's positive it'd be the same thing again. Just a big waste of money.
"I don't know. Maybe." He says, and the same lady from before places two tall glasses of water on their table and flashes Law a smile, much to Luffy's clear disapproval.
"You should! You're really smart, it wouldn't be hard for you to get back into it!" Luffy says and he makes it sound so easy.
"That's not really the problem." Law says, and Luffy hums while rubbing his chin like he's doing some hard thinking.
"Oh the no motivation thing right?" Luffy says, like he already knows. He's got it.
"Ah... no. Yeah. It's complicated." He says and it really isn't all that difficult to explain, it's just the process of explaining... the right words and actually getting them out of his mouth was the complicated part.
"You're not going to tell me how it's complicated, are you?" Luffy asks and Law feels somewhat bad, because there's Luffy. Sitting right in front of him, eager as hell to know more. To get to know him more. And he's just got some really shitty trust issues, and can't let anyone in. And the manipulative part in him wouldn't let them out once he has opened up anyway. He knows it'll end up bad, so he just sighs.
"Not now, no." He says and closes his mouth quickly after.
"But you will?" Luffy says and Law thinks shit, could he have given a worse answer? Probably, but this was pretty bad in itself too. He doesn't answer, just smiles and drinks his water. He thinks the smiles probably given Luffy a bit more hope along with his words and just, fucking shit.
Thankfully, as if on some miraculous cue, the waitress walks up to their table with two large plates of food in hand and puts them down in front of the two. Luffy says a loud ass thank you that Law follows up with a much quieter one, and he stares down to the plate that's got some crazy ass colours on it.
"Is this food or some kids attempt at painting?" Law asks and Luffy laughs.
"It's good! I can't remember the name but just try it!" Luffy says and Law looks down at his food, groans, and takes a bite. He really doesn't want to show it, but the way his eyes widened and Luffy's smile grew as if to say 'what'd I tell you?' is enough.
He looks down at Luffy's plate and he doesn't have a steak exactly, but some barbecued slab of meat. Close enough.
"What?" Luffy asks and Law looks back up at him.
"Nothing." He says and again Luffy's smile grows wide. He cuts off a piece of his food and holds out his fork.
"Here here, I hate sharing my food but you have to try it." Luffy says and Law's got himself in the most compromised position Luffy's put him in to date. He stares at the fork, that's being wiggled up and down by Luffy who's obviously impatient, and not to mention oblivious. Does he really expect him to just be fed? He kisses his teeth and takes the fork out of Luffy's hand, putting the meat in his mouth, without letting his lips touch the metal and gives it back.
"Well?!" Luffy asks excitedly and Law just hums.
"It's good-"
"I told you!" Luffy shouts and he looks so proud of himself, for what though? Getting him to eat a piece of meat? It's way too easy to satisfy him.
"You tell me a lot of things." Law mumbles and continues to eat his own food. He has to wonder if Luffy's got the know how on best places to eat in the city. He should become a professional food taster by the way he enjoys eating.
"And aren't I always right?" Luffy says while chewing on his food. Maybe not a professional, considering he's got zero table manners.
"Usually." Law says and Luffy smiles back at him.
Law's made up some excuse. That he's got to meet a friend in order to leave Luffy. And it's kind of ironic, because really, Luffy's the only "friend" he's got. He wasn't having a bad time, but he knows he'll never hear the end of it if he misses his session. So he's sitting in the fancy waiting room, staring at the aquarium in the wall. Trying to look through the water and all he sees is other patients.
He wonders for a second what each of them have. What they're there for. Were they like him? Worse? Better? If they're better, he really wants to ask how. How they're better. He's got no time, his name is called out and he gets up, walking lazily to the room which he notices through tired eyes, has had some redecorating. He prefers this to the old design. It's much more calming, less intimidating. Now he doesn't feel like he's really sitting in a psychiatrist's office.
"How are you today, Law?" She asks as he sits down on the much longer cushion seat that's replaced the old one.
"Shitty."
"How come?" She asks, fiddling around the desk behind her, grabbing her notebook and pen to come sit in front of him, smiling.
"I'm tired. Cranky I guess."
"You haven't slept?"
"No not for a while now. Longest I've gone in some time." He tells her, then yawns. Maybe the calming room will put him to sleep. That or his psychiatrist's endless questions.
"How long exactly?"
"I lost track, maybe two and a half days? Could be less." He says, really he has no idea. He yawns again.
"Was there anything keeping you up? Something on your mind maybe?"
"I went out and bought a pack of cigarettes. I gave into it. Not at first, I- I didn't have a choice though- I just randomly started having another panic attack and I was so scared I didn't know what to do, and after it was over I just needed to feel the relief." He says all in one breath and he's exhausted. Talking feels like a chore to him, so does existing.
"Tell me what happened before you became panicked."
"Nothing! I was just standing in my room, thinking about how nice it'd be to smoke, fiddling around with the box and it just... happened."
"Perhaps the anxiety of getting back into a bad habit sparked something?" She asks and he thinks maybe. He'd never have thought of it, he just considered it random. Routinely random.
"I mean, maybe? I'm not entirely sure."
"How did you feel during it? If you can remember."
"I don't know how it's possible to forget. A feeling like that I couldn't shake it for the rest of the morning. I was dying, I was seriously dying. I couldn't breathe and my heart was racing so fast I was afraid it was going to up and leave." He says and he starts pinching at his skin. Another bad habit. His hands are almost always bruised with how hard he holds his skin between his nails.
"Did you feel any fear? Terror?"
"Yeah I... I did."
"Anything come up during it?"
"No, it was just really random this time, I think. Are you sure that what you gave me actually works?" He asks, really doubtful now.
"It can take four to six weeks for you to feel the effects."
Of course it did, nothing ever came easy.
If his day were to have started at 11, Law would consider today not so bad. He's actually been productive, gone out and bought groceries, and replacement plates for the ones he broke. He thinks he really needs to stop taking his anger out on fine dining, but that's better than on himself or worse, on someone else.
Law feels fine. It's a strange feeling, he's not sad, he's not mad; he's just there. Hovering on a cloud in the middle, and he's trying to fly a bit higher. It's a bit cloudy past where he is. He's fine where he's at for now. It's tolerable.
He hasn't lashed out at anyone. He doesn't feel anxious. Today is an okay day.
While now he's trying to think of a way to kill time since he's near positive he won't be able to sleep unless he ups his dosage, he's stuck. He has a smoke on the way home, it's relaxing. So much so, that he has another. He's making up for lost time.
Law makes it back to his place, dropping off his purchases. Putting all the food in the fridge, plates in the cabinets and he stands in the kitchen. Looking around and thinks damn it's a mess. So he cleans, and he'll be damned because this is the most productive he's been in…. way too long. A smile even manages to creep its way onto his face. And it's because he's cleaning, of all things.
Once he's done he's sighs, in content. He's proud of himself, and he can't stop saying that it's the first time in a long time he's felt like this, because, well it is. And he's just so overjoyed with the fact, he'll say it again.
Cleaning, shopping, to him, they're big things. So he writes it down, sitting on the couch, just scribbling down how he feels, what he's done. It's messy, almost unreadable, but he knows what he's saying and he chews on the tip of the pen, looking down and he's quite satisfied. The fact it's only nearing four thirty makes him all the more fulfilled.
Restless nights have turned into a special place,
Moments without a beginning or start.
Nostalgia oozes out of my skin,
Every cold sweat a work of art.
When the pillow accepts your temple,
And your body is fooled by the illusion of rest,
The mind wanders aimlessly,
As a burning anxiousness build's in your chest.
The heavy burdens of what wasn't said,
The torments of the cold side of the bed.
If you asked me where my dreams are,
I'll let you in on my nightmares instead.
They're all dead.
It's kind of depressing, what he's writing. But it's all that comes to mind, and he thinks back to the time his psychiatrist told him it was a good idea if he'd write out what he was feeling, in any form. Notes, poems, just drabbles. Anything to get his feelings off his chest.
Who knew he could be such a poet. He leans his head back, hanging off the couch, playing around with the pen between his teeth. And he can see a shadow approach the door, then there's knocking. Again. He knows it's not Luffy, he knocks all too hard and fast. This was simpler, classic three knocks. Part of him doesn't want to get up because he's doing so well. He's getting some really good shit down.
Now he hears an annoying 'yoo-hoo!' coming from behind the door. Rocinante.
"You have the key, you know." He yells and then he hears keys jingling. He'd forgotten. Law's all too comfy in his spot to move. Rocinante enters with a loud slam of the door.
"You know, Law, you could have just saved me the time by getting up and greeting me!" Rocinante grumbles as he walks in, kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket onto the coat rack.
"I could have, but I'm comfortable." Law says and Rocinante grunts back.
"Oh? Well excuse me then princess, my apologies." Rocinante spits and walks towards him, Law smiling with his head still hanging over the arm of his couch, blood rushing to his head.
"Don't do that you look like a tomato." Rocinante says and comes close enough for Law to think he's actually going to knee him in the face, so he sits up straight.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh dear Law, I came to check up on you. How are you?" He asks and shoves Law's legs off the couch so he can sit down. Law looking back at him displeased, he really was comfy.
"I'm fine."
"Oh. Oh! That's wonderful!" Rocinante says and Law smiles back at him. He's fine.
"Did you go today?" The older man asks, he usually only sends a text asking.
"Yeah, I didn't really want to, but I knew you'd never shut the hell up if you got a call saying I didn't go or skipped or whatever." He says, scribbling into his notebook while exchanging eye contact with the older man.
"Damn right I wouldn't! It's important kiddo." He says and Law just scoffs.
"You know, I was looking something up the other day. Shit said if you exercise it's almost like a natural remedy for depression!" Rocinante says and he looks so happy, as if he'd found the cure for cancer. Or solved the problem behind world hunger. "Well maybe not remedy exactly, but-"
"You can't be serious." Law says and Rocinante just grins back.
"But I am my dear Law. What are you in to? Running? Biking? Hiking?" Rocinante asks and Law just rolls his eyes.
"None of the above."
"How about boxing?" Rocinante suggests, and Law can oblige. If Rocinante's the punching bag.
"Oh I'll box something. You think if I do a couple of lunges and a squat or two I'll be magically cured?" He asks all snide and sassy, because really he knows Rocinante has nothing but the best intentions, but this was just… crazy.
"Don't be such a brat!"
"I'm not-"
"How about what you eat and drink?" Rocinante asks again not really giving him a chance to rebuttal that he is, in fact not a brat, and Law looks back up at him.
"What about it?" He questions. It's not like he eats all that much anyways.
"Well it said coffee and alcohol makes shit worse pretty much-"
"No." He says, stopping Rocinante right there because he knows what's going to come out of his mouth.
"I haven't even finished!" Rocinante spits back and Law stares at him seriously. He's not an idiot.
"You're going to tell me to cut them out of my diet right?" He says and Rocinante's jaw drops. Like shit, he'd caught him now. Law figures as much, and looks back down at his notebook to excuse himself from making eye contact with Rocinante.
"If you know that much why haven't you done it already?!" The older man asks him and the answer is quite simple, really.
"Because I need my coffee."
"If you can quit smoking you can quit coffee, kiddo." Rocinante says but the expression on Law's face is the biggest give away. He's usually composed, but Rocinante just catches him each and every time he tries to remain calm, his eyes dart to the table in front of the couch and then back to his notebook. Mentally repeating 'shit' because he's just given himself away. Surprised the smell hasn't already.
Rocinante notices the opened cigarette pack on the coffee table in front of him, reaching over to grab it.
"Don't call me that, I'm not a kid." Law says, still looking down.
"I beg to differ, sometimes you can act like a spoiled twelve year old." Rocinante tells him, checking how many cigarettes are missing. Six.
"I don't."
"You do. You're just saying you don't because you know you do and you're embarrassed. Care to tell me what this is?" He asks, shoving the pack in Law's face. He grabs it out of his hand.
"Shut up, what does it look like? Did you just come here to taunt me?" Law spits and shoves it behind his back.
"I already told you I came to check up on you. You started smoking again?" Rocinante asks, but he's not one to talk.
"Yeah." He admits, feeling defeated. His lips pout a bit.
"How come?" Rocinante asks again as if he thinks Law's got all the answers in the world. He doesn't know, he just did. He needed it.
"I didn't know what to do." Law says, putting down his pen and tracing over his bottom lip with his index finger. Eyes looking everywhere but directly at Rocinante, like he feels guilty of it.
"Hmm. Okay come on, let's go out." Rocinante says, standing up and almost tripping over his own two feet.
"Where are we going to go? The fucking park?" Law says, putting his feet back up on the couch, not complying with Rocinante's obviously shitty idea. He's fine where he is.
"Wonderful idea, let's go on a walk. Fresh air is good!" He shouts, grabbing Law's ankles and pulling him off the couch.
"What the hell- Stop! I was just outside-" He shouts, falling off the couch and onto the cold hardwood floor under him. Damn Roci.
"Get up Law." He practically demands, looking down at Law who's just sitting on the floor looking back up at the tall blond who's not about to take no for an answer. It reminds him of Luffy, they're both so stubborn.
They're walking side by side, both with a cigarette in between their lips, exhaling into the cold. It's a mix of smoke and carbon dioxide mixed with moisture, breath in the air. They're not speaking, just walking. It's calming, and Law thinks maybe he'll take more walks like this.
Maybe.
A ball comes their way, hits Rocinante's leg and there are children calling out for it, to kick it back. He does. And now he's spouting some nonsense to the kids, about watching where they kick the ball, Law knows he's joking around. He smiles. Exhales.
"Remember when you used to play ball like that?" Rocinante asks, throwing the butt of his cigarette on the floor, stepping on it to put it out.
"Hardly. That was years ago."
"Seems like it was just yesterday." Rocinante says and he wipes away a non-existent tear. He's so dramatic, Law thinks, but he laughs anyway. Talking with him always manages to calm him, soothe the pain a bit.
Kind of like a vapor rub. Rocinante's his strange and annoying, vapor rub.