She was scared to let you in. She couldn't stop staring at you. You almost told Sanji you weren't feeling well and had to go home. Almost.

He walked in with you hanging off of his arm like some sort of child he was charged with looking after. Hesitantly, you willed yourself to let him go, still following him as he weaved his way through the crowd to find his little group of friends.

"Hey, guys," he greeted cheerfully. "Have you met [NAME]? I wanted to bring her with me. She doesn't get out a whole lot."

Nobody answered him for an uncomfortable moment. You wanted to bolt at any second, but your feet were glued to the floor. Nami looked you over judgementally. She pulled Sanji aside and whispered something about you.

"Nami, dear," he tried, "we can't just go off of rumours. There's no telling if that's true."

It was true. You hadn't even heard her, and you knew it was true. You shrunk, hoping you never had to confirm the rumours. You disgusted everyone, how was Sanji any different should you let that slip?

Sanji noticed that you were slowly stepping out of the circle before you yourself did. He gave you a smile that communicated understanding and warmed you up. You slowly stepped back into your place beside him.

"It is," Nami hissed. "You saw her two months ago, same as everyone else."

Sanji said nothing. You felt it was time for you to leave, so you started trying to step out again. However, Sanji wouldn't let go of your arm.

"Hey, guys," Vivi greeted as she came over to where you guys were. "I hope you're enjoying yourselves; I've never hosted a party before."

You nodded politely to her, but she quickly averted her gaze.

"It's a wonderful party, Vivi," Sanji gushed, "especially for your first one!"

He turned to look at you.

"But, I think [NAME] needs some fresh air."

You were vaguely aware of Sanji nudging you in the direction of the door.

"I'll be back in a bit."

Sanji took you outside and patted you on the back reassuringly.

"Sorry, [NAME]. I thought it'd do you some good to be in a social setting."

You shook your head. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry about Nami," he apologised again. "She's usually very sweet, but..."

You fiddled with your fingers, growing more disdainful of yourself by the second.

"...People are afraid of you, [NAME]," Sanji said simply, lighting a new cigarette for himself.

Afraid? You looked back up at him.

"Nami told me...that you were pregnant until two months ago."

You felt as though someone had dropped a massive weight on your head. Your eyes began to burn with more than just the cold. This was it. You braced yourself for a life without Sanji.

"Sanji..."

"[NAME]? Why are you crying?"

You hiccuped and wiped the tears off your face.

"I'm sorry," you sniffled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Sanji cautiously pulled you toward him, gently bringing your face into his chest.

"I'm here for you...if you're ready to talk about it."

You were shaking, and all you could manage was wrapping your arms around him.

"I want to know why you hurt."

Words wouldn't even begin to form in your head. All you wanted to do was hold onto Sanji and keep your mind cleared of everything else.

Sanji cleared his throat, but made no movement to separate from you.

"[NAME], when I was eleven, my mom and I ran away."

You looked up at him. Was this the explanation he'd promised to you?

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth so he could look down at you without blowing smoke in your face.

"We used to live in a pretty big house. There was lots of land for a kid to run around on. But, looking back, none of it matters. Never really did."

He hesitated, glancing to the side before continuing: "I used to wake up in the middle of the night and hear things. Mom always told me I had an overactive imagination, so I never really went to check them out. The noises, I mean. Once, though, when I was...nine? Yeah, when I was nine, I got up in the middle of the night."

He cleared his throat, looking away from you again so as to take another drag.

"I didn't know why I was up then. I still don't know. Something...possessed me, I guess. I, ah, I went to my parents' bedroom. I didn't knock on the door. It was weird. I guess, deep down, I knew something bad was going on."

He took another drag before pulling the cigarette out of his mouth again.

"She was...crying. I had never seen her cry before."

Your throat tightened.

"I was so angry, you know? I mean, that was my mom. And, well, she was the only person really looking out for me. My dad wasn't really anything more than a shadow in my life up until then. And - " here, he paused to rub the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his cool; " - it was a really dumb decision, but what can I say? I was an angry kid on my good days. I demanded to know why she was crying. He didn't answer me. He told me to go back to bed. I saw that he...he had a grip on her hair. He had been too shocked to let go when I opened the door. I wasn't stupid. I knew what was happening. I, uhm...I tried to attack him."

Was he going to cry? It looked like he was.

"She was hurt more that night than she was any other night before it. It only got worse from there. I made it worse for the next two years. I redeemed myself, though, [NAME]. I helped her get out of there, and I'm working really hard every day to make it up to her."

He took a particularly long drag from his cigarette, and you could hear him swallow a lump in his throat afterward. You wouldn't dare fight the urge to squeeze him, to tighten the grip your arms had on his waist. He rubbed your back.

"Can't really expect you to trust me with your story if I can't trust you with mine, can I?"

You shrunk. He had poured his heart out to you, told you a story he probably never told anyone.

Yet, you still couldn't find the will to do the same.

You pulled away from him, your body immediately missing the extra warmth that came from Sanji's.

"Don't think I'm trying to push you into anything either," he added quickly. "You tell me when you're ready."

He looked almost frantic, seeming as though he was afraid you'd run away again.

"I...can't," you managed, jamming your hands into your ratty coat pockets and looking at your feet. "I'm sorry."

Your apology was sounding cheaper every time the words came out of your mouth. Why couldn't you tell him the truth? More importantly, why did he care so much if you trusted him?

"I have to get home," you finished, your voice shaking.

"Do you need me to walk you?" he asked.

You shook your head reluctantly.

"It isn't too far."

Sanji took another drag off his cigarette that seemed to last forever before he spoke.

"You've always got a place to go, you know. My house is open."

You turned away, muttering a small thank you to him before heading back home.

You wanted to go further, to go to Sanji's house. You wanted to have dinner with him and his mother and sleep on the couch. You wanted to wake up in the morning to breakfast and be sent off to school with well wishes from Sanji's mother, but you couldn't. That wasn't your life. That was Sanji's. You had your own life, your own parents, your own brother. You had cereal for dinner if you were lucky, you tucked your brother in to bed before anything got too bad, you served as a stand-in for any bad thing that happened to your father during the day, you were there for your mother when she just 'didn't want to deal with it', and you took your brother out of the house as soon as the two of you were dressed for the day.

Sanji was too good to be true.