(Or, after things went wrong, Cora-san ends up in a coma and neither Law nor Doflamingo is taking it well.)Chapter Text
Law entered the room, his footsteps sharp against the sterile, white floor. At this point, this place had become his second home since last year or so; probably a bit more, he had stopped counting the days after a few months. It didn't help, anyway, just added to his sour mood.
He shut the door behind him, not bothering to listen to the light-clicking sound coming from the lock that didn't last even a moment. He grabbed the strap of his bag before letting it drop onto the small chair near the bed. He made sure to be careful; he had a computer in it, after all. The last thing he wanted was to have to go and beg Doflamingo for a new one just so he could attend his online classes.
He took a moment to just stand there, looking at the pale figure surrounded by machines and tubes lying in front of him. Cora-san... His benefactor, his guardian, the only person he truly cared for and he could trust.
His... everything, honestly.
He couldn't imagine a world where the blond man wasn't in it.
"Hey, Cora-san," Law muttered, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips, though it didn't feel as sincere as he would have liked —it was weak, tired, dejected. His voice cracked a little, it happened more and more now, and he hated himself for it. He knew Cora-san wouldn't like to know that he was feeling so down; the man probably would have blamed himself for it, despite both of them knowing there being nothing he could have done. So, he always tried to greet him like he was just asleep, like nothing had changed, as if he was just about to wake up.
He wasn’t sure if it helped. Probably not. But he did it anyway.
Just in case.
Without waiting for any response, Law walked over to the window and opened it wide, feeling the cold air rush in and bite at his skin. The room had that stale smell, the kind that clung to the hospitals: disinfectant and sickness, a mixture that felt suffocating. He knew Cora-san would have hated it, more than the cold that was probably seething in his skin. Could he feel it? He wasn't sure. The man gave no indication that he was freezing or feeling anything else, really. But he knew that the other always hated being trapped in spaces that felt like they were closing in, —he was a giant of a man, after all— even if he couldn’t speak it anymore.
He wished he could bring him somewhere else.
Law inhaled deeply, drawing in the cold, fresh air that smelled so crisp one more time, even if it was just for a second. He couldn't leave it open for too long since it could make Cora-san sick and complicate his recovery. What would he do, then?
“Smells like death in here, doesn’t it? I guess I need to get used to it if I want to be a surgeon, right?” Law said, mostly to himself, though his eyes were locked on Cora-san, as always. He wasn’t expecting an answer, not that he ever did. Not anymore.
But he still made sure to talk to the man every day.
His fingers tapped the windowsill, nervous energy radiating from him. He hoped Cora-san couldn't tell that; he would never want the man to think that he was making Law uncomfortable, or some stupid stuff like that. That was exactly what he would do, though.
"Anyway... classes are still a pain in the ass. And this damn red-haired asshole I mentioned before keeps talking like he knows everything. We were put together in a group project, and I swear, he thinks he's the goddamn king of the world. I should've been the one running the show, but no. He just keeps bossing everyone around and doesn't listen. Total nightmare.” Law exhaled, shaking his head, a half-hearted laugh slipping out.
Cora-san didn't like hearing him cursing, he had berated him about it so many times; almost the whole time they had been together, for that matter. He wished he would do that now, too. Maybe then he would promise to stop. He really would have this time. “Not that it matters, I guess. It's just one class, right? Just a few weeks and we'll be done with it.”
He glanced over at Cora-san again, hoping for some flicker of life; despite knowing that nothing would change. A shift of the hand. A flutter of an eyelash. Anything. But, of course, there was nothing. Nothing but the rhythmic beeping of the machines. The artificial breaths that the ventilators inflated Cora-san’s chest in and out. Up and down. It was a sad imitation of life.
But it was all that was left. And he would be damned if he lost hope.
That was the last thing that was supposed to perish, right?
'Hope dies last' was how the saying went, if he remembered right. 'What a stupid yet true statement.'
Law sighed and walked over to the bed before lowering his body into the small, blue chair that had become a permanent fixture in his life. It squeaked under his weight as he sank down —at this point there would should be his ass-print on it.
They were always on him, memorizing each part of him in his mind; comparing it to the past and noticing the changes, looking for a sign of life.
The room felt colder the longer he sat there, the silence sometimes being so unbearable that it made Law want to rip off his own ears. He hated this. He hated how there was nothing he could do. He hated how all doctors kept saying was that all they could do was wait. How long was he supposed to wait at this point? He just wanted to scream and cry like a little brat throwing a temper tantrum to get what he wanted.
"I think about topics I can talk to you, but..." His voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. "It’s just so hard, sometimes. I feel like I’m just talking to a wall. I don’t even know if I believe that you can hear me anymore.”
He let his words hang in the air before quickly dismissing them with a wave of his hand. The guilt came instantly, gripping him by the guts.
Fuck, he shouldn't have said that.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Please just forget about it, okay? It was selfish of me. I’m sure this is much harder for you. You can’t move, you can’t speak... hell, can't even open your eyes. You just hear the damn machines all the time, and the nurses coming in, doing the same thing over and over.” He bit his lip, feeling a tightness in his throat; a sensation he unfortunately had become familiar with over the months.
Gosh, he really didn't want to cry. Not here, at least. "...It must be boring as hell."
Law swallowed hard before continuing, he only had a limited time with Cora-san each day and he wouldn't let himself waste that time with some pity party. “I was thinking about going to the movies on Saturday. By myself, of course; can't let others see that I'm going to watch some kid's show, you know?" Ouch, that sounded cringe. Cora-san would have chuckled if he wasn't in a fucking coma, though.
"They’re finally doing a live-action movie for that Sora comic I liked back in middle school. You remember, right? I was obsessed with it for some reason. Bought every issue. Every figure. Spent all my damn pocket money on that crap and begged you for more.”
He chuckled softly, the sound hollow in the empty room. He could hear the other patients walking past their door, unaware of them; busy with their own suffering. In a way, it was comforting. At least it wasn't only them who were having a shitty time.
“I don’t even know what happened to all that stuff. It’s probably in a landfill somewhere, tossed out when we moved. Doesn’t matter, I guess. I don’t think I would have kept it anyway. I can barely remember the story anymore, or the characters.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes closed and thoughtful. “But… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go anyway. I could use a distraction, even if it’s crap. A little bit of nostalgia. Who knows? Maybe I'll like it again so much that I'll buy all those crap again, fill your house with little boy toys."
He hoped that the man at least knew he wasn't alone, that he wasn't abandoned, that Law had been at his side since the moment he ended up here.
He squeezed Cora-san’s hand again, harder this time. No reaction. He didn’t expect one, but still. He had long since stopped waiting for a flicker in his eyes, for a soft breath, for even the slightest movement. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. Maybe it was just the desperate hope that if he tried enough times, something—anything—would change. What if it did change?
That he would open his eyes, turn his head, and give Law that goofy smile of his. The one he only did for him, the one that made him look so stupid and oh so happy.
The touch was cold—colder than it should’ve been; as if the blood was moving too slow, too little. He held it gently in his, but the skin was soft and the flesh almost jelly-like, as if his bones were slowly melting away with time. It was mostly the lack of muscle tone. It was the opposite of what it was before: full of calluses, hard, thick, and strong. As if it could lift anything.
Before this, the blond man always felt like bigger than life. As if there was nothing that could hurt him other than himself: burning his own hat with his cigarette, tripping over his own feet and falling down, cutting his hand while cooking...he had been a walking disaster from day one but none of those things had ever caused lasting damage.
Why did this, then?
Law carefully lifted Cora-san’s hand, cradling it between his own. He blew warm breath onto the soft, cold fingers, his chest tight with the aching hope that somehow, somehow, Cora-san might feel it.
"How is it?" He asked, looking up. "Is it nice?" He wasn’t sure if he was asking the question for Cora-san’s sake or for his own, as if by some miracle the warmth would make its way through the deadened nerves, through the frozen flesh.
He held onto it tightly, hoping, maybe foolishly, that the warmth of his own hand would somehow make a difference. “Can you feel this?” Law asked again, whispering slowly. “Can you feel my hand, at least? Can you feel me here?"
He was being so so stupid.
“I’m sorry,” Law murmured quietly, his thumb gently stroking over Cora-san’s hand, his own getting engulfed by the other's. Despite being twenty-one, basically an adult at this point, he was still so much smaller than the man. Cora-san practically towered over him when he was standing, ever since he had been a child and nothing had changed.
“I know it’s cold in here. It’s always too cold. I wish I could make it better.” He tightened his grip a little, pressing Cora-san’s hand between his own, holding on tighter. “I just… I just wish I knew what you are feeling right now. Then maybe I could do something, anything. Go beg Doflamingo if I had to."
But then he caught himself—what if Cora-san could feel it? What if he could feel that warmth, but it only served to remind him how cold the rest of his body was, trapped in that paper-thin gown, surrounded by the unrelenting chill of the hospital room, not knowing when he would get better, get up and return to his home? Wouldn't that be worse? Wouldn't he being unconscious be better, then?
The thought troubled him.
He didn't like it either way.
Back then, he had stopped Cora-san each time he did that, showing that goofy smile; it had felt embarrassing, especially when he did it in front of Doflamingo, his teachers or worse, his classmates. Oh, he should have appreciated them more. How he wished he could go back to that time and slap some sense onto his younger self, Don't be an idiot,' he would have said then, 'You have any idea how much this will mean to you?'
“You know,” he continued, looking at Cora-san’s face, his chest tightening, “I met someone new today. Well, more like he ran into me with his damn bike. The guy’s a disaster. I had to drag him to the medical office because he twisted his ankle when we fell. He was carrying a tennis racket, so maybe he’s some sports guy or whatever. Just my luck, right? ...Honestly, though, he wasn’t too bad. Kinda funny. But definitely an idiot. A rock would be smarter than him. He said he would get me food sometime later, though."
Law let out a quiet laugh, the sound a brief, hollow thing in the otherwise oppressive silence, much more like a snort. “He said that was the third bike he broke this month, cried that his gramps was gonna kick his ass. Serves him right.”
At that moment, the door to their room opened, and two nurses came in. They didn't acknowledge him; they got used to his presence at this point. He was more like a decore, a piece of furniture put there to paint a pretty picture for the patient, something in the background. Very much like Coras-san, though he resembled a doll more. They moved around the bed with practiced efficiency, one of them checking for bedsores while the other connected a piss-colored IV to his J-tube.
Law watched them, his eyes never straying from the monitors and the tubes connected to the blond. He had memorized the procedures by now, and could probably do half of it himself. Not that they would let him; though he did make sure to move the man a little bit from time to time, to make sure there were no wounds or pain or anything. The workers here were overworked, tired, and sometimes, in his mind, just didn't have enough time to care enough for each patient for too long.
He couldn’t risk Cora-san being overlooked.
Not that Doflamingo would let something like this happen, he was sure of that much, at least. He probably paid a pretty penny for his brother's stay here. The only good thing that came from that overgrown flamingo being so close to them.
The nurses moved on, as quickly as they had come, leaving Law alone again in the still room, the only sounds the faint beeping and the artificial breathing that never stopped.
The ventilator was still inflating Cora-san's lungs with a methodical order. Up and down, up and down, ever so systemized like a good little machine. It was weird to think that the man couldn't even breathe without that thing anymore, as if he had forgotten how to.
He had looked at it so many times yet he still found something else to stare at; The LMA mask covered half of his face, and Law couldn’t help but imagine the discomfort that must be causing. It was such an obtrusive device, he couldn't help but hate it for what it was doing to him. The way it clung to Cora-san's head with its rubber straps, how it obscured the jawline that used to be so expressive...
“Your mouth must be killing you,” Law murmured to the still figure in the bed, his voice low. He imagined the way his jaw would ache from being so perpetually open, the muscles straining from the forced, unrelenting position. He thought about how that must make his throat sore, too. "I bet you would love to get a smoke break now..."
His thoughts wandered to the days when he had laughed—a sound that seemed like it would never come again. If Cora-san ever woke up, no, not if, when!, how would that feel? Would his voice be the same? Would it sound raspy and hoarse like it did before, the telltale signs of years of chain smoking, or would it be different now, raw and hoarse from the intubation? Could he lose his voice from it?
Law winced at the thought. He wasn’t sure which one he dreaded more—the idea of Cora-san's voice breaking with weakness, or the silence that followed each breath, each beep, when no voice came at all.
He would love him either way, however.
Why couldn't things go back to normal without them having to face any consequences?
"Fuck, I miss hearing you talk," Law huffed, more to himself than anyone else. "I just want to hear you scold me again...or complain about your work. Remember that time we argued for an hour about which pizza topping was the best? Like it mattered... Jesus, we were stupid." His voice trailed off as if the memory was more painful than it was comforting despite his small chuckle. "I want to do that again."
So many regrets... so many regrets, in fact, it felt like it was going to overflow from within him, choking him from the inside.
Law squeezed Cora-san’s hand again, harder this time. The warmth he hoped for was fleeting, disappearing into the cold air of the room quicker than he could provide. He could almost hear the whisper of Cora-san’s voice in his memory. It was still there, somewhere in the corners of his mind. He couldn't forget that, no, he wouldn't.
Cora-san would wake up at some point, he was sure of it, because Cora-san loved him too much to go and die and leave him behind. And until then, Law would have to suffice with voice recordings and videos of their time together before he was ready to get up again.
Then started the messages. The ding ding ding of the phone filled the air, a jarring reminder of the world outside this sterile bubble. Law glanced down at the screen, but it didn’t stop him from keeping his voice steady, trying to keep talking to Cora-san. He had read somewhere, a long time ago, that there had been cases—very few, and far between, but still—where someone in a vegetative state or in a long-term coma had responded to talking. Some had shown cognitive processing, some had even moved a finger or opened their eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, there would be a miracle with Cora-san too. Maybe he would open his eyes, or make a sound of acknowledgment, a flicker of movement to let Law know he wasn’t entirely alone in this room.
He leaned forward a little, keeping his voice soft, as though trying to coax some response from the still figure beside him. “The semester is almost over,” Law said, feeling the words leave his mouth, knowing they were just part of the daily monotony now, but hoping they would somehow reach Cora-san. He could bet he would love to hear anything other than the humdrum conversations the doctors and nurses had while passing by.
“My GPA is 3.46 now. It fell a little, but not too much. I decided to leave the pedagogical formation program for now. The classes just felt too much with it with everything that's going on right now. I might take it again once I graduate, though. You know, just in case; if things don't go as I planned. I would rather not be a teacher but still; better than getting a job at a grocery store or something."
As he spoke, he carefully laid his head on the side of Cora-san's body, right by his chest while being mindful of all the devices connected to him. He could hear the faint, steady thud of Cora-san's heart. It was a strange comfort, this heartbeat—the one sound that kept everything else at bay. That soft rhythm was still consistent though a little weak. It was still doing its job, pumping blood, keeping the body alive, even if the mind was so distant—a simple, beautiful sound of life. The only sound that mattered, really.
It was a reminder that Cora-san was still here, that even in all the stillness and silence, there was still something next to him, however small.
Law closed his eyes again, and tried to inhale Cora-san's smell behind all the disinfectant and medicine that shadowed him, trying to remember what the man smelt like before all of this. He still had a pack of cigarette he liked so much, near his bed, just to remind him but it wasn't the same thing. Cora-san had forgotten it in the kitchen that day and Law had it since then, pulling it out from his secret place and smell it time to time when things get too much sometimes.
Then the phone buzzed again, another ding. He opened his eyes reluctantly, and the moment was broken. Who was this persistent son of a bitch?
He first tried to ignore it but the phone kept buzzing with new notifications, each one a little more insistent than the last.
"This better be important," Law mumbled under his breath and pulled the phone out of his pocket, his eyes scanning the screen. Doflamingo’s name popped up again and again. There were thirteen missed calls. Thirteen. And lots of messages to accompany them as well. Which was indeed weird, considering they only talked when it was really necessary or if Cora-san was forcing them to spend some "family" time.
"Hey Cora-san," he asked, then. "Your annoying brother is trying to reach me. Should I give him a call? I don't really want to, but if you say so I will. You know I would do anything for you."
He turned his head towards the sleeping figure and waited for a moment. It looked like the man would expect him to make his own decision this time, however.
So, he opened the chat to see what the man wanted. Because that was what Cora-san would have wanted him to do, anyway.
He could already imagine the way he would have looked endearingly to him, just because he did something as small as responding to a text back. He always had wanted them to get along, after all.
Maybe he could try to be friendlier to the man after all of this. Maybe when Cora-san woke up and saw them resemble something of a family, it would motivate him to get even better.
Yeah, that was a nice thought.
Doflamingo: Law
Doflamingo: Open the goddamn phone
Doflamingo: We need to talk
Doflamingo: I'm done with your pissy attitude, you hear me??
Doflamingo: I'm not kidding
Doflamingo: Stop being a little bitch and call me back
Doflamingo: This is important
Law actually felt his stomach twist as he read them. Doflamingo seemed angry, but when was he not, really? It had been this way ever since Cora-san’s hospitalization. All they did was argue and argue and argue. Being in the same room as the other man had started to feel suffocating; so much more than it did ever before—like there was no air left between them, no space to breathe.
He leaned back in his chair, a deep sigh leaving him as he stared at the message. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with the other man’s temper. He’d been so stressed out lately, trying to keep everything together—university, Cora-san, his studies, and whatever mess Doflamingo was inevitably stirring up now, apparently.
Law didn’t respond right away, letting a few minutes pass. Doflamingo could wait. Law wasn’t going to let him dictate when he responded—at least, not today.
But then another message came through.
Doflamingo: I know you're online you idiot
Doflamingo: I know what the blue tick means
Doflamingo: I swear to god
Doflamingo: I'm gonna beat your ass this time fr
Law scoffed at the tone of the message. Doflamingo was clearly pissed for some damn reason—more pissed than usual, even but he couldn't think of a reason why. Law’s thumb hovered over the screen, trying to think of a way to diffuse it, not to escalate things when he was already drained from everything.
He typed out a response, then deleted it, then rewrote it, and repeated this a few more times before finally sending something in return.
Law: What
Law: What is it
Law: I'm with Cora-san atm
Law: Can't this wait
Law: ?
Almost instantly, the reply came. He must have been waiting on the phone the whole time.
Doflamingo: No it can't
Doflamingo: So get your ass back home
Doflamingo: ASAP
Doflamingo: Or I will just do whatever the hell I want and you can go cry about it later I don't care
Doflamingo: Yk I have no problem with that
Law felt the words sting, though he knew he shouldn’t let them. Doflamingo had always been like this—controlling, domineering, always needing attention like the drama queen he was. But this was different. Law knew that something was off. The text didn’t feel like a usual demand. The words were sharper, more biting, and something about the way it was phrased made him uneasy.
He stared at the phone for a moment, unsure. What was Doflamingo even talking about? What could be more important than being with Cora-san anyway?
Law typed a quick reply, his fingers shaking slightly with frustration.
Law: What are you on about now??
Law: I'm really not in the mood to fight
Law: I'm tired
Law: So just cut to the chase
And after a moment later, he added;
Law: Pls
The replies started to come just as quickly as before. Wasn't he at the job right now? Did he really have this much time to waste?
Not that Law was sure what the hell he was doing, but still.
Doflamingo: This isn't something that I'm going to talk about on the fucking phone you brat
Doflamingo: And I'm not searching for a fight either
Doflamingo: So you better come
Doflamingo: We'll talk about it this weekend
Doflamingo: You'll probably going to need it
Doflamingo: I'll just inform you of something and be done with it anyway
Law couldn't help but frown again. What the hell? He wasn’t even sure what Doflamingo was talking about anymore. He was being vague, distant, and now threatening to drop some news in person that couldn’t be shared over text? The whole thing felt like a game, and Law hated it.
He didn’t want to deal with it, not now, not when Cora-san’s condition was hanging over them still. But Law was stubborn, and he wasn’t about to let Doflamingo make demands without some explanation. If he wanted to order him around then he better had to have a good excuse.
Law: What
Law: What the fuck are you on about
Law: ??
Law: What's going on?
Law: Oh now you decide to shut up
Law: Doflamingo
The seconds ticked by with no reply. He still kept staring at the screen, however, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as if he could will Doflamingo to answer just by glaring at the thing. But there was nothing. No dots. No typing indication. Just a message left on read.
So he decided to text-bomb him next.
Law: Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?
Law: Or a ploy?? To get me home or smtng??
Law: D
Law: O
Law: F
Law: L
Law: A
Law: M
Law: I
Law: N
Law: G
Law: O
Law: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Law: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Law: You know I can do this all day
Law: Your such an asshole you know that?
Law: *You're
His blood was starting to boil, and if he didn't know any better he would have thrown the stupid phone across the room like those typical American coming-of-age movies with those annoying teenagers in them. Doflamingo really knew how to push his buttons, didn't he? He couldn't afford a new one, though. His phone almost slipped from his hand as he slammed it back into his pocket, muttering a curse under his breath.
"Goddamn it, what the hell is wrong with him?" He hissed aloud. "I swear, he does this on purpose. He just loves tormenting me, I know it."
His eyes flicked to the bed beside him, where Cora-san still lay motionless, surrounded by all those machines Law would bet that he didn't even know existed before this. The contrast between the chaos in his mind and the calm, quiet presence of the man beside him struck him hard. Cora-san would never do this. Would never act like Doflamingo— wouldn't order him around, wouldn't scream at him or push him, wouldn't act like he was better than him.
He wished the brothers could change places somehow, that it had been that pink flamingo who was battling over his own survival and not Cora-san.
With that, he slumped onto his chair.
Wow.
That had been a very selfish, mean, and nasty thing to hope for. Even for him. Even if it was Doflamingo he was thinking about.
Even he didn't deserve something like this.
...He really needed some rest.
He touched his phone through his pants, resisting the urge to send another message, to demand that Doflamingo explain himself. But what would it change? The other was unpredictable and as stubborn as a mule, and Law knew better than to push him when he was in one of his moods.
Instead, he squeezed Cora-san’s hand once more, trying to draw strength from the still body.
There had been a time—before all of this—when he and Doflamingo hadn’t had to walk on eggshells around each other; not like this, at least. When their rivalry had been something more lighthearted, something they both secretly enjoyed even if they weren't exactly family; not the way Cora-san was for the both of them.
But now? Now everything felt... heavier. Forced. Complicated.
He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. The cold of the hospital room had already sunk into his own skin. What did he really want to say to Doflamingo, really ? He didn’t want to be the one to take the first step, didn’t want to be the one to extend the olive branch.
....Especially since he knew he was blaming Law for this. For everything, honestly. How couldn't he? Even the young man himself was doing it.
He had tried to push the thought away, but it always came back, sharper each time. The tension between them wasn’t just some passing issue. It was the fallout from everything that had happened.
Doflamingo had never been the type to hide his feelings. He was blunt, often ruthless, but he had always been clear. And when it came to Cora-san, they had always been rivals. But it wasn’t just that. There had been a twisted form of affection, a weird kind of competition for Cora-san’s attention and time. They had fought over who could get the most out of him—who could make him laugh, who could make him smile, who could steal his time away from the other and show it to his face.
Back then, it was a game. And though the stakes were high—Cora-san was, after all, someone they both cared about deeply—it was still lighthearted. There was no animosity, no resentment... not until everything went wrong.
The accident, the fallout—it broke something in Law. He had pulled away, isolating himself in Cora-san’s hospital room, trying to deal with the chaos in his own way. And Doflamingo... well, Doflamingo had taken that as a betrayal, even if he never used those words out loud. He didn't know exactly what had happened, Law never said anything to anyone for that matter, but it didn't matter. He didn't have to come out and say it for him to know the man's feelings.
Law sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was responsible, though, wasn’t he? He had been there, he had been the one who had left the house so absurdly without saying anything and causing Cora-san to come after him, it was because of him they started to argue in the middle of the road and attract all that unwanted attention on them, cause someone to come after them.
And yet he hadn’t been able to stop any of it; just watched, frozen at his feet, as someone pulled a gun and...
The guilt weighed on him like a stone in his chest , making it hard to breathe sometimes. He thought about it all day every day, all the scenarios that could have been done differently if he had just used that stupid head of his.
And Doflamingo? He had probably been looking for someone to blame, someone to pour all that anger and frustration into as well. Someone who had been closest to Cora-san, someone who had seen what happened, at the very least. It only made sense that Doflamingo would turn his fury toward him.
God knows what the man would do if he knew he had been the sole reason Cora-san was now in this state. That if Law never had been in their lives, Cora-san most likely would have been fine.
Probably would have killed him with his own hands. And could he even blame him for it?
That's what he would have done, at least, if he had been in Doflamingo's shoes.
It hurt. It hurt more than Law had been willing to admit. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always believed that Doflamingo would get over it, find a way -most likely illegal- to make things better again. He always seemed like the guy who could handle everything, that nothing could break his spirit, that he was stronger than God.
But now, each time he went back to their apartment, he could see the way his eyes hidden behind those pink-tinted glasses hovered over him, looked past him in search of the only family member he had left. Expecting, hoping to see the other man he shared his blood, his life with to no avail.
How the fuck was Law supposed to face that without crumbling..?
No, there was no way in hell he could talk about this. Not to him.
He tried to push the thought away, but it stuck with him. If Doflamingo was this angry, this bitter, it had to be because of something he had done. His self-loathing was starting to eat away at him again, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
He had messed up.
He had ruined everything like he always did.
Everyone who got too close to him ended up getting hurt.
Maybe he was destined to be alone, to die alone.
And maybe that was a good thing because then no one would have to suffer other than him.
Law’s thumb hovered over the phone once more. 'Push over the guilt', he said to himself, 'there's no point in beating around the bush. It won't change anything anyway.'
He didn't deserve to hide away, close his eyes and ears. He didn't get to not face Doflamingo even if it caused this immense regret and shame to intensify, as if someone was grabbing him by the throat.
Maybe he should be with the man for that reason alone: as a self-inflicted punishment of some sort, if you will. God knows he deserved it. And who else would be better than that man himself to fulfill that? And maybe someone hurting him back and watching him squirm in misery and grief would also help with his own grief as well just as it would help Doflamingo to hurt the person who did all of this to his one and only little brother.
Law sighed.
He just wanted to forget about it all, honestly. He just wanted to sit here, watch Cora-san, and wait until his beloved benefactor opened his eyes again. Was that too much to ask? Maybe it was; for him, at least.
...He was indeed a coward through and through.
He glanced back at Cora-san; he was oh so blissfully unaware of everything; of his own suffering, of Law and his brother's anguish, of the time passing and the world that kept turning without waiting for him.
Law sniffed, and put a hand over his eyes.
He wished he had someone here who could tell him what to do, who could give him the comfort he desperately needed.
That was usually Cora-san's job. It had been for years, for that matter.
And honestly? He didn't even remember a time when this wasn't the case anymore.
If there just had been a way to turn back time...
Finally, Law sent a simple reply, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed.
Law: Fine.
Law: I’ll come home soon
Law: The visit time is almost over anyway
Doflamingo didn't send him a reply, just gave him a simple thumbs-up emoji just to let Law know that he would be expecting him.
Notes:
Again, another day and another multi-chapter fic that was supposed to be a one-shot at first...I wrote this instead of the world is a wasteland in case anyone' s wondering about that but I swear that will come next!
Thanks for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts!
Chapter Text
Law spent a few more minutes by Cora-san's side, continued to whisper some small, everyday things as he did before getting those texts ; how he had finally caught up on some of the readings he had to do for class, how he had tried some Chinese food but didn't quite like it, how he had started watching that TV show Cora used to talk about often so they could chat about it once he was standing again, hoping that these soothing words somehow reached the motionless man.
These moments hurt more, honestly, and made him remember all those times he should have appreciated the man more: sitting on the couch together, eating shitty frozen food they heated up in the microwave despite Doflamingo's nagging, taking a walk together each evening, taking a nap in the room where Cora-san was doing something...
Yeah, he should have hung out more with Cora-san, made more time for him. And he was going to! He had a long list of all the things he wanted to do with Cora-san after he healed up and was ready to be his old self again. And even if some things changed, and he was pretty certain it would, they could always find something else.
...And maybe even let the pink bastard join them as well. If he agreed to be tolerable , that is.
His moment with Cora-san was interrupted when a nurse gently knocked on the door. "I'm sorry but the visitation time is over."
Law nodded silently, the familiar sting of frustration bubbling up already. He wasn’t ready to leave; he’d never be ready to leave. And why was visitation time so short, anyway? How could anyone tolerate having such limited time with their loved one? But there was nothing he could do other than sigh and come back the next day like he did every day since the other was brought here.
"I will see you later, Cora-san. Please rest and get better," he said, and after making sure the nurse was gone, leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the man's forehead. The skin was cold, and the blond strings of his hair tickled his lips.
And, with that, Law turned around and left the room with his bag, not letting himself look back because if he did he would try to stay a little longer and he didn't exactly want the staff to see him as a nuisance. His footsteps were drowned by the hospital's usual noise, though at this hour it was less crowded.
He finally reached the exit and stepped outside, the cool air making him shiver as the slight breeze ruffled his jacket. He wished he had gotten a scarf or something. The clouds above were thick, he noticed, heavy with the rain. Law pulled his jacket tighter around himself and quickly walked towards the bus stop. Hopefully, he would be home before it started to rain; the last thing he needed was to get sick and be bedridden.
As he stood waiting, he saw that the class group chat was talking about some homework and assignments. Law scrolled down to see if there was anything he missed but found nothing but a lot of idiots asking the same question over and over again rather than looking at the damn chats to find the answer that was already written.
When the bus finally arrived, Law climbed aboard and found himself a seat between an uncle who was snoring quietly and a grandpa who kept sneezing in his own mask. Great. He regretted not getting his own mask, or going and standing at the end of the bus facing away from everyone, as the vehicle began driving away through the city.
The view of the hospital quickly disappeared as they rolled past familiar streets, swallowed by the towering buildings he got familiar with. Law stared out of the window, hoping that staring at things would help the time pass faster and before he knew it, he would be in front of his apartment.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out, muttering a small and annoyed "What is it now?" under his breath before seeing that it was a call from Sachi. And just like that, his frustration melted away. He accepted the call and put the phone over his ear.
"Hey, man! How are you?" Sachi's voice sounded upbeat, but he could hear Bepo and Penguin in the background, probably eavesdropping on the call to make sure he was okay.
"I'm fine," Law replied quickly, his voice quite flat. "Just heading home from the hospital now. What about you?"
"Oh, I should have guessed! I hope things are okay. Any updates on Cora-san? Am I bothering you?"
"No, no, it is fine. He's still the same, though. But that's fine. We can wait."
There was a brief pause before Sachi replied, "Well... if you ever need any help, we're here for you, man. Don't forget that!"
Before Law could say anything, Penguin snatched the phone from Sachi, at least that's what he assumed happened considering the sudden cursing and buzzing sound that assaulted his hearing, and greeted him with his usual enthusiasm.
"Hey, buddy! We haven't seen you in a while! Just wanted to ask since we're already talking, you got any free time soon? We should hang out. It's been ages!"
Law thought for a moment, unsure. The idea of spending time with his friends was indeed tempting but there was just so much to do. "I'm not sure. Doflamingo wants to talk about something with me, but I don't know how long it'll take. I probably can't make it."
The line crackled a little before Bepo's voice chimed in, "Sorry! It doesn't matter when, Law! Just pick a date! You're the busiest among all of us. We'll meet you anytime, anywhere. You've got so much going on right now, and we know it must be really tough on you and stuff! But! Maybe hanging out for a bit will help?"
“I’m barely keeping up with my classes, so maybe… after the midterms? We could go to the mall or something?” Law suggested, unsure but willing to at least entertain the idea of a normal day, even if only for a little while. It would be heartless to refuse them like this, honestly.
"YES!!!" came the excited chorus from all three of them, and almost bursting his eardrum at the process. "We're in for anything! Drinks, fast food, movies, books, whatever!" Sachi added with the most energy after successfully taking his phone back from the others.
"Alright, alright. After midterms. I'll let you know. " He could not help but chuckle. Then added after he noticed the bus approaching his stop. "I'm almost home, I need to hang up. I'll call you guys later."
There was a brief pause, and then Penguin's voice was back, this time more hesitant. "Uhh..! Wait, Law...! Just... before you go, we wanted to say something."
Law raised his brow, even though the other wouldn't see, and waited. "Yeah?"
"I, I mean we... we just wanted to let you know we are here for you, you know?" He was told by a tense noise. He could almost see Penguin's nervous head scratch as well. "You have been really closed off lately, and... well, I don't know... that's not good for you! You know that, right?"
Law suddenly felt this sharp frick of frustration but held it back. Gosh, why couldn't they just leave it alone? This was really the last thing he needed. He wanted to give a snarky response back but knew that they were just being concerned, like the good friends they were, this wasn't out of maliciousness, no, far away from it. How could he snap at them for that? It was him who was being weird about stuff like this.
"I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my plate, that's all. You all know that."
"Yeah, we know!" Shachi interjected quickly. "We just wanted you to really really know that you can talk to us; we are here for you, got your back! We're worried, dude. It doesn't seem like Cora-san is going to get any better anytime soon, and..."
Law's chest tightened, and he felt his anger flare up once again. How could he say that? How could he even imply such a thing? So what if Cora-san was taking his time? It was only expected! He had gotten through such a big trauma, and lost so much blood, no wonder his body was slow at healing!
Before he could really unleash his anger, Bepo's apologetic voice cut through the tension once again, "Sorry, Law! We didn't mean it like that! We just wanted to make sure you are okay! Please forgive us!"
Law closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He could already feel the familiar ache in his temples warning him if he didn't get some ibuprofen soon, he would not be able to rest tonight. Shit, he really felt so exhausted. The weight of everything —Cora-san, Doflamingo, his studies, his friends, all these damn responsibilities he had to juggle— was becoming unbearable, to say the least.
"It's fine, guys. I'm fine, too, just tired. Who wouldn't, right?"
The others didn’t seem entirely convinced, but after a few more exchanges, Law excused himself from the call. "Look, thank you for checking up on me but I got to go now. We'll speak later," and with that, he closed his phone and put it inside his back after putting it into airplane mode. This was enough for today.
He pressed the stop button on the bus, stood up, and made his way to the exit, still feeling like shit. He didn't even care about bumping into other passengers as he threw himself out of the suffocating vehicle.
The cold night air bit at his skin again, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.
Law walked down the street, the crunch of leaves under his boots the only sound he could hear other than the occasional car driving past him.
He reached the gated entrance of the complex soon after, just fifteen minutes of walking from where he had gotten off.
He didn't need to show his keys to the security guard. The man recognized him immediately and waved him through with a drowsy smile. Law returned the gesture and walked away.
As he passed the empty, locked pool, he heard the laughs of some brats who lived here as well. When was the last time I laughed like this, he wondered out of the blue. Even at his bestest moments he rarely made a sound, choosing to crack a grin instead. The number of people who heard him laughing out loud probably couldn't have exceeded one hand, at that.
Law reached the entrance of the building and headed toward the elevator. He pulled the key from his jacket's pocket and held it between his fingers before pressing the button for the 19th floor. Then he leaned against the corner, waiting in silence and listening to the same elevator music that played for years now.
Once he was on his floor, the doors opened with a soft chime. He didn't wait for them to open fully to step out to the hall and he turned towards his left and reached to the black, steel door.
His hand hesitated on the handle, fingers going cold and stiff. For a brief moment, Law did nothing, the key still in the lock, and listened. The apartment was quiet, unnaturally so. Even after a year and a half, he had not gotten used to not having a certain blond man's clumsy cooking experiments, of him humming along to songs as Law came back for lunch or if he was extra late, dinner.
Those memories felt suffocating now, however selfish that made him sound.
Doflamingo was waiting for him in there, too.
'I can't do this,' he thought for a moment, but just for a brief moment. After all, what choice did he have? He couldn't not get inside, he couldn't not talk to the man, he couldn't keep avoiding anything and everything just because it felt too difficult to handle.
'Just rip it off,' he thought, 'like a bandaid; painful, but quick and easy, and get over with it.'
And with, he took a deep breath, turned the handle, and stepped inside.
The apartment greeted him with its familiar, stifled silence. The faint scent of cleaning supplies gave him the hint that the cleaning lady had visited them and for a moment he half-expected to smell the lingering traces of Cora-san's cheap cologne as well.
He paused for a moment at the threshold, eyes landing on Doflamingo’s shoes, tossed carelessly to the side; it was like a small piece of thorn stabbing into his eyes, honestly.
They weren't as shiny as they used to be; the leather wasn't as polished, the laces were slightly worn out, and small tears starting to show on the soles. Doflamingo hadn't bothered with them in a long time —just as he hadn’t bothered with much of anything, for that matter.
That thought gnawed at his guts, though he did not like to admit it. Doflamingo, the man who was once so meticulous, so domineering, so loud and so full of life had fallen into this constant state of decay as well just like everything else in this damn house.
Law knew how things used to be; how the man threw lavish parties at the drop of the hat or dragged them to overpriced restaurants and clothing stores just because he could. How he’d insist on “redecorating” the apartment with gaudy art pieces he called "peak design," though they looked more like hideous imitations of wealth made by some asshole artist as money grab than anything close to tasteful; and lots of pink and flamingos, too, for that matter. How, despite his arrogance and self-importance, Doflamingo had occasionally put in the effort to cook or even show genuine care—taking them on vacations to far-flung destinations, trying (albeit poorly) to act like a family because -just like Law- he knew how much it mattered for his little brother.
But all of that was gone now. The man had faded into this dull shadow, and even worse, Doflamingo's pain had become Law's fault in his eyes as well. This was certainly why he avoided coming here so much. Law had taken Cora from him, just as he had taken him from himself all those years ago.
He swallowed the bile stuck in his throat and took a step forward.
He knew from experience that Doflamingo wouldn't be sitting in the living room so he skipped to the kitchen instead, wallowing in his misery. And, surely enough, as he entered, the sour smell of alcohol hit him in waves, making him scrunch his face. The kitchen was a total mess —empty bottles scattered across the table and the ground, some of them toppled, some swaying dangerously close to falling off the edge.
And there, slumped over the dinner table was Doflamingo. His once-pristine suit was now wrinkled and disheveled, the tie loosely hanging around his neck; he had not bothered to change his clothes and, apparently must have felt too tired for it, too depressed. At least he was still going to work, he supposed, and didn't decide to bedrot instead.
The man's fingers were curled loosely around a wine bottle, the liquid inside almost gone as his head rested against the wooden surface. It didn't even look like he had noticed Law coming in.
The kitchen reeked of stale alcohol and something else, something nasty—something that made Law’s stomach twist even more with disgust. Had he come early today, and drunk himself to sleep maybe ? He wasn't sure. But he knew, without a doubt, that somewhere in this house, there would be a puddle of vomit for Law to clean up.
But it wasn't just the mess that made Law's heart ache so much. No, it was the fact that this wasn't some late-night drinking for one like it used to; but a way to cope, to numb himself and silence the thoughts in his head every night. Law knew it was not just the alcohol that was the problem —it was the nightmares. The images of his baby brother that he oh so very much loved, riddled with bullet holes, dragged to the ER with doctors screaming at each other as blood kept pouring out of them.
They never spoke about it - and Law surely never commented on it, because how the hel could he?— but he had heard Doflamingo gasping in the night several times, the sound of his overly large body falling from the bed and sometimes, if he was really unlucky, accompanied by quiet sobs that he knew the man tried to muffle because he didn't want Law to hear it.
It was like the unspoken rule between them: never show weakness, never admit that they were hurting even if it didn't really help with anything other than keeping their pride.
He had thought about saying something; that maybe they should get help from a psychologist or any other mental health expert because this was not okay but always faltered each moment when he opened his mouth and came eye to eye with the man.
Doflamingo had always looked like larger than life, untouchable with his arrogance and pride. But now? He looked nothing more than some middle-aged drunkard who couldn't keep himself sober even for a single night. And just like a child who had learned their parents weren't indeed invincible, Law realized that he wasn't some superhuman being either, that his heart could break and he could lose hope.
He couldn't help his hands from trembling slightly as he approached the table. The other thing that had changed was how Doflamingo had cut his hair so short that it barely clung to his scalp. The unkempt prickles of it stood out but the man didn't care; he didn't care for most things, for that matter.
Law didn't know he could make him care , really.
For some unfathomable reason he could not understand, however, Law was one of those things that he did keep track of just like the business he spent years building through blood and tears.
He didn't really know what to do. He didn't know how to fix this. How could you fix something like Doflamingo? How could you fix a person who had always gotten what he wanted, then suddenly pushed into this situation where nothing -not even the millions he earned- could get him the one thing he wanted back? And what could he say to someone who had always been untouchable, someone who had built their empire on the idea of never needing anyone, who always taken the role of a provider and protector until shit really hit the fan and had to come to the realization that there wasn't really anything he could do when it really mattered?
He guessed he couldn't do anything that really would matter in this situation. But he still had the impulse to do something, anything, so he gently grabbed the empty bottles from the table and carefully threw them into the trash while making sure not to break them.
Doflamingo's groan broke the silence, and Law turned to find the older man lifting his head ever so slightly, his eyes still unfocused. He seemed to be struggling to sit up, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated.
Without a word, Law went to the counter and poured a glass of water, then he placed it in front of Doflamingo, who blinked a few times as if trying to understand what was happening around him.
"Here, drink this."
He didn't say anything at first but then mumbled a thanks, his voice rough and cracked. Law wasn't sure if it was because of the excessive drinking or his secret crying sessions where he would scream and throw things to the walls without caring what he would break.
He grabbed the glass without hesitation and brought it to his lips, draining it in one go, the sound of the water sloshing against the glass ringing and him gulping through the quiet room.
While Doflamingo was trying to wake himself up, Law went to his room. He threw his bag on the bed and pulled out his computer before plugging it in so it could charge. He used this moment to change his clothes as well and threw the dirty ones into the laundry basket.
After fifteen minutes or so, Law returned to the kitchen with this stressful feeling gnawing at his chest. He noticed quickly that Doflamingo had barely moved, still seated with his head hanging low but had opened the door to the balcony so the smell of booze would leave the room.
Without a word, Law slid into the chair opposite him and looked up at Doflamingo, waiting for what the man had to say to him.
"So?" He tilted his head. "What did you want to talk about?"
Doflamingo rubbed his temples and scoffed, "What do you think? It's about Rosinante."
"Cora-san?!" He screeched, frantic, almost jumping over the table to reach the man. "Did the doctors say something? Is he improving? Are they going to try a new medication or something? Maybe some experimental surgery?"
Despite the questions that he practically blurted out in a single breath, Doflamingo didn't react much. He didn't even look up at him, still staring at the cold, smooth surface of the table through his pink-tinted sunglasses that he was wearing inside for some fucking reason, as though he couldn't bring himself to meet Law's frantic ones.
Oh, he did not like that thought at all.
"No," the man finally muttered, licking his dry lips as if the words themselves were bitter on his tongue; a low, humorless chuckle escaping his throat. "They said that we should consider pulling the plug, actually."
Law froze for a few minutes as if his brain had stopped working. Then, the fear came. An unimaginable dread that gripped him by his throat and his heart started to beat so hard against his chest he thought he would throw up and pass out.
"What?! No! That can't be true-"
"Want to hear what they said?" Doflamingo grinned; it was clear he still wasn't in the right mind, still intoxicated. "I want to start by acknowledging how difficult this situation is, and I’m truly sorry for what you’re going through..." He slurred, his words mocking as he mimicked the doctor’s formal tone. "Unfortunately, after assessing Mr. Donquixote's injuries, it’s clear that the damage is far too extensive. The gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen have caused severe trauma... minimal brain activity...plus the head wound..."
Law couldn't breathe. He really couldn't breathe. Was this an allergic reaction? Could you develop a sudden reaction to the wine particles in the air? He didn't think so, yet this did nothing to ease his throat so he could fucking breathe in some much-needed air. Maybe this was what they called a panic attack. No. No, no, no—
Doflamingo continued, his voice quieter now. "At this point, it’s unlikely he will regain consciousness, not after being in a coma for so long. They said... we should consider discontinuing life support..."
Law laughed for some reason, despite not finding this situation funny in the slightest. He felt his eyes get teary and he tried to stop the laugh from coming out by pressing a hand on his mouth. "You said no, though, right?" He asked, then, and looked at Doflamingo expectantly. "They're crazy for thinking that we would go through this, right?"
But Doflamingo didn’t agree with him, as he had expected. He didn’t even lift his head. Fuck! Fuck, that was the only word that could describe this situation at this point. His stomach sank as another cackle that sounded far too wet and painful got out of him.
"Doflamingo!" He screamed at the top of his lungs and slammed his hands onto the table. He didn't even feel the sting. "You’re not planning on going through with this, are you? You aren’t going to kill Cora-san, are you? You would never do this!"
That son of a bitch snorted, actually fucking cackled, for that matter. "Kill?" His voice slurred. "Gosh, Law, he's already dead. They knew it from the start... we just have to accept it as well."
Law hit the man this time, but Doflamingo didn't even budge. Didn’t even acknowledge it, honestly. "How can you say that?!" His voice cracked as he grabbed the bastard by the collar, pulling him closer. God, he wanted to slam his head to the wall until he got some sense into it! "This is Cora-san we're talking about, your own brother, your flesh and blood! Are you really going to give up on him?!"
“Law, stop this bullshit, okay?” Doflamingo said, his voice barely more than a whisper. It was low, defeated—something Law had never expected to hear from the man and decided that he didn't like it on him instantly at the same moment. He sounded... pathetic , in a way he had never known him to be. He wished he hadn't, honestly.
He never would have thought he would prefer his arrogant, asshole side to whatever the hell this was.
“At this point, we’re just forcing a corpse to breathe so it doesn’t rot. What’s the point?”
"I held him just a few hours ago!" He didn't want to cry, he really didn't. Not now, definitely not now. "I held his hand! I touched his cheek, and I listened to his heartbeat! So what if he’s bound to a machine? Blood still flows through his veins! There’s still hope!"
"It's almost two years now. If he was going to wake up, he would have done already." Doflamingo scoffed again and got up on his wobbly legs. He approached one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of champagne. It was one of those Doflamingo kept for cooking; he could make a hell of a cream sauce for seafood with that thing.
He didn't buy the expensive ones anymore, they were for celebrations and neither of them had anything to celebrate anymore.
“You know it. I know it. The doctors know it. We just... We just have to let go.”
Law grabbed the champagne before it even got to touch the man's lips and hurled it to the ground with all the force he could muster. The thing exploded against the tiles, the sharp shards scattering across the floor, and the dark red liquid spilled everywhere.
“Can you take this seriously for one moment?!” Law screamed, his voice breaking as he turned to face Doflamingo. The man didn’t even flinch, however. "Can you stay sober for just a damn minute?!"
He was heaving, it felt like his heart was about to burst out from his body like those chestbursters. He had to keep calm, he had to be composed and cool so he could make Doflamingo understand how unreasonable he was being; that something like this was not even a choice in this matter.
"I don’t care how long it takes, okay? We can wait! We’ll wait as long as we need to. He’s our family. He...He would have done the same for us. We can’t betray him like this. We can’t just give up on him! Who cares if it takes a decade or two?!"
He was begging now at this point, and he hated it: He felt like a little child, both humiliated and looked down upon. As if it was him who was being unreasonable.
Law had waited for Doflamingo to get angry after his little stunt with the bottle but the man just kept staring at the shards on the ground. Then, he turned his head towards Law with this blank look on his face, "He's not going to wake up, Law." He said again. “And even if he did somehow...who knows what problems he’ll have to live with? Paralysis, memory problems, aphasia, and some other shit. His quality of life will fall. It’ll be difficult for him to be independent, handle his own problems, look after himself, or even interact with others, let alone work and live his own life."
“Who cares?!” He hated the thought of Cora-san being in pain but the thought of never seeing him again, never having him by his side and loving him was so much worse. How could he possibly live with that? They might as well bury Law with him, preferably in the same grave.
“Who cares if he– he needs help?! I will help! You will help! We’ll go to therapy, we’ll get medication for him! We can make this work! As long as he’s alive, there’s hope! He’s not gone. He’s not gone, he really isn't, I know it! We just need a bit more time.”
The man sighed as if Law was being an insolent little brat who didn't know what he was talking about. "So I should prolong his suffering then? Just because we don't want to say goodbye? That's not a good enough reason to let him live in pain."
"It’s not that, and you know it!" Law spat back. "He would have done the same thing for us! He would have looked after us without complaining once! He wouldn't want this! He wouldn't want you to go through this!"
That was the moment Doflamingo saw red, "What would you know, ha?! He screamed at Law, making him flinch. The man straightened himself and towered over Law, hands shaking and his veins bulging from anger as if he was about to punch him.
"What would you know about what he wants?! He's my brother, my family! I'm the one who grew up with him, I was the one who beat the bullies off of his back at school, I helped him with his homework, I kept him safe and fed! We spent our whole lives together since he was born! And you think you know him better than me?! A brat he found somewhere on the street and took pity on, for fuck's sake?"
Law kept his head down the whole time. His eyes were stinging from unshed tears, not that he could keep them in anymore.
Doflamingo stopped screaming as abruptly as he had started and put a hand on his eyes to rub them, causing his sunglasses to slide from his nose a little. Law saw that he had a few new wrinkles on his face with dark circles under his eyes, most likely caused by all the stress and grief they had gone through recently. It didn't suit the man.
Law wanted to believe, for just a fleeting moment, that Doflamingo regretted the harsh words he had thrown at him. He wanted to believe that, maybe, just maybe, Doflamingo saw him as more than just a stranger—a part of his family, a nephew or some kind of, he didn't know, cousin or something, despite their not-so-stellar past, but alas, the man did nothing to prove that and he didn't dare to ask about it again.
"We'll discontinue the life support next Tuesday," Doflamingo said then, very much matter-of-factly. And raised his hand to stop Law when he saw the younger man open his mouth to object. "I'm not changing my mind over this, kid, so don't bother. I'm done watching Rosinante wither away like this. The least he deserves is to get to leave with some dignity."
He started to walk away, which pointed out to Law that the conversation was over. He couldn't believe this; he couldn't believe that Cora-san was really going to die, that he would never see him again, that he would never hear his voice, see his smile, feel his hugs, get to sit beside him, talk about mundane things they would forget the next day and cringe at his dad jokes.
This time, he couldn't stop the tears from falling and he begged Doflamingo one more time, clinging to his arm with pleading eyes, “No… no, please…Please, Doffy! Doflamingo!” he sobbed to the man, with snot and all, and stopped him in his track. “Please, don’t do this! I—I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a spoiled brat, I’m sorry for being such a tight-ass, I’m sorry for being disrespectful and mean to you all the time for no damn reason. I—I didn’t mean it! Please, Doffy, I’ll do anything! I’ll help around the house more, I’ll do more chores, I’ll get a part-time job, and I’ll pay for my own tuition! I’ll do whatever you want! Just… just please… don’t let them do this!"
Doflamingo listened to him, without his expression faltering even for a moment like a stone wall, and let the boy cry himself out. And, for a moment, he even dared to believe that he might have succeeded in changing his mind but alas. He pulled Law away from him and turned towards the door again.
“This isn’t about us, Law,” He was told. “This is what is best for Rosinante.”
How could dying be better for him, Law thought, how could being away from his loved ones be better for him? Didn't Doflamingo know that Cora-san didn't like being alone? Didn't he know he didn't like being in the dark? Didn't he know he didn't like the cold? That was all the things he would have to endure if they buried him, and he would definitely hate that! Law knew it! And, surely, Doflamingo must know these things as well.
He couldn’t take it anymore. God, he couldn't breathe and if he was lucky, maybe he would suffocate in his own snot and die before this shit happened as well.
He stormed into his room and slammed the door shut with such force it rattled the entire frame.
His vision blurred with tears, and for the first time since he had been taken to his fifth foster home that would end up as his real one after months of making hell and trying to make both men's lives as miserable as he had felt at the time, he indulged in his own anger and let it consume him, burning away the last remnants of his composure just like that
No, they could not do this. Not to him, not to his beloved Cora-san, of all people.
He hurled every book he had on his desk onto the floor and watched them scatter across the room like everything else he had on that desk, including a very expensive table light he had gotten for Christmas four years ago; screw it, it was old anyway.
No, the man didn't deserve for such a thing to happen to him. Not after he had gotten shot while trying to protect Law because of a stupid shit he had tried to do. Fuck, he didn't even remember what he had gotten so angry about to run out like that; and wasn't that the worst part?
It should have been him who was lying on that hospital bed, not Cora-san. And if he really died because of him...
He let out a guttural scream from the top of his lungs, raw and full of rage, as he punched the first thing he saw. The wooden frame of the wardrobe splintered a little under the impact but it did no further damage than that. His throat felt like it was on fire as if his lungs were going to explode if he kept hollering like this, but he didn't care.
He honestly could not stop himself even if he wanted to.
There had to be something he could do; something to stop the man from going through this. He might be Cora-san's blood brother but Law was his legally adopted son as well; he should have some say in this, some say on what would happen to his own guardian! He lived with the man for more than a decade by now, for fuck's sake, no one could say he was just a random stranger! Having lived with Cora-san for this long had to mean something.
Then, the computer on his desk caught his eye. And before he knew it, he hurled it against the wall, ripping the charger from the plug in the process. The sound of it shattering in the wall echoed in the apartment, as well. He almost tripped and fell on the charger as he did that.
He knew Doflamingo had the power of attorney. But the important question was; could Law oppose it? Could he get authority over Cora-san's medical files and do it soon enough?
How much would something like that even cost?
His chest heaved as he stood there, staring at the destruction he’d caused, his entire body trembling with anger and pain. He knew Doflamigo heard it all, he had to, but the man didn't come. What could he do, anyway? He was shocked that he himself hadn't busted into that son of a bitch's room and tried to kick his skull in, for that matter.
Maybe it was good they were not in the same room at the moment.
And, just like that, the fury he felt in him vanished just as quickly as it appeared and he stumbled into his bed. He buried his face into the pillow, pulled his legs onto his chest, and let the sobs take over again, his body shaking violently with each brute cry that left his body shaking.
He was surprised none of the neighbors called the police on them, honestly.
At some point, he was so exhausted he fell asleep, despite that being the last thing on his mind.
This was indeed the worst day of his life and he hadn't even thought that this was possible.
Notes:
So, how did you like this chapter?
Chapter Text
When Law woke up the first thing he noticed was the dryness of his throat and his stuffy nose. He blinked at the ceiling, the harsh sunlight streaming through the window, making his head throb. Gosh, his skull felt like it was about to split in half. It was already mid-afternoon. He groaned, pressed his palms into his eyes, and tried to clear the dizziness that clung to his senses.
His back hurt and so did his hands and arms thanks to his temper tantrum last night and his eyes were puffy from all the crying he did. The breakdown had left him physically drained and quite ashamed, to be honest.
He sat up on his bed and glanced around. He noticed that the apartment was eerily quiet. Not that it wasn't like that since forever but after what had happened he had half-expected for Doflamingo to stay back at home a bit longer just to bitch him out at the very least. But alas, the only thing he could hear was the faint hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock somewhere else, and the traffic from the outside.
That damn flamingo...whatever, Law didn't care about him anyway. Why would he?
He got up and walked into the bathroom. The cold tile floor was a sharp contrast to the warmth of the apartment and made him shiver for a moment.
He turned on the tap on the sink and splashed his face with cold water. The feeling of the water was momentarily refreshing even if a bit uncomfortable at first, but as he raised his head, he could not bear to look at his reflection in the mirror. No, no, he really couldn't look at his own face at the moment. And wasn't that stupid? He had no idea why he felt like that.
He gripped at the edge of the sink and tried to breathe in through his nose but it didn't help much, it only made his headache worse. He considered grabbing a nasal spray but he quickly dismissed that idea.
They just make things worse in the long run anyway, he thought, the temporary relief isn't really worth it.
He didn't bother cleaning up the mess around his room because he still felt a bit weak and dizzy. Some cleaning personnel would come and do it for him anyway.
He made his way to the kitchen next. The morning—or whatever part of the day it was now—seemed surreal, like a scene out of someone else’s life, for some reason. With that thought in mind, he opened the cabinet and grabbed a box of cereal. He poured it into a bowl and watched the flakes scatter around. Even the sound of it hitting the ceramic was annoying him.
He grabbed a cup, filled it with steaming hot coffee, and sat down at the small table in the corner. As he took his first bite of his breakfast, he imagined the sterile and quiet room where Cora-san lay, and how they were going to plug on the life support real soon; and the man did not even know that, for that matter.
The cereal got stuck in his throat and he found himself getting into a coughing fit. He tried to swallow, but it wouldn’t go down. Maybe they were too dry? His stomach turned with nausea, though, and he knew he would throw up soon if he didn't do anything.
Without thinking, he grabbed his coffee and downed it in one gulp. God, that burned like a bitch! The heat of it torched his throat all the way down as the food became mush in his stomach next.
Cora-san would have scolded him if he had died by choking, wouldn't he? It would be a very pitiful way to go, that was for sure.
Law rested his head on the table and drummed his fingers absent-mindedly against it. It was Saturday today and there were only two days to Tuesday. It was such a short amount of time yet, at that moment, it felt like it was forever away.
After a while, though, he glanced at the clock on the wall and saw how late it was —3:35 p.m.
It dawned on him that he would not be able to visit Cora-san even if he took an Uber to the hospital at that moment. Frustrated, he grabbed his hair and pulled harshly as guilt grabbed him in the gut again.
He always visited Cora-san, no matter the day, no matter what happened, no matter what he had to do. He didn't miss a single day, well... until today, apparently.
'There's no point in feeling bad' he reminded himself, however, and got up to get dressed. He needed to go there regardless if he wanted to learn how to replace Doflamingo and be Cora-san's power of attorney, anyway.
He wore a long-sleeved shirt and some jeans before grabbing his backpack and going for the door. He didn't even bother brushing his air, for that matter.
Law checked his pockets as he left the apartment to make sure his keys were securely in his hands before he closed the door behind him.
As he exited the building, the freezing air hit his face and reminded him that winter was coming soon. He pulled out his phone, more out of habit than any real desire to check it. It was like a third limb for him at this point.
The screen lit up and he stared at the wallpaper for a moment; a selfie of Cora-san and him. The man was making a peace sign while he looked away with a scowl. His smile looked perfect in this picture, even if the photo was a bit blurry.
He saw he had a few notifications—messages from the group chat he shared with Bepo, Sachi, and Penguin. He didn't open them, however, he didn't even open Whatsapp so he wouldn't leave them at read because he really was in no mood to talk to anyone but he also didn't want to look like an asshole.
Law had around two hours to get to the Admissions Department and have a talk with the Patient Services before they closed. He knew he couldn’t afford to waste time, so he quickly headed toward the nearest taxi next to their apartment complex.
He slid into the back of the cab and gave the driver the address of the hospital, barely acknowledging the man's greeting. The car pulled away from the curb, and Law let himself zone out as they moved through the busy streets, and listened to the taxi's engine and the muffled sounds of the world outside.
The ride wasn't smooth. Traffic had built up, causing the cab to slow to a crawl. His impatience, as well as the driver's, grew with every second that ticked by as well. Finally, in a bold move, the man honked and swerved into the adjacent line, and ran through a red light with a speed that made Law grip the seat harder.
Damn. He really hoped he would reach the hospital without having to be patient himself.
The car came to a screeching halt at the gates, and he got out of it with shaky legs. The ride cost him around 12,000 belli but he didn't complain. He had managed to bring him in less than twenty minutes, after all.
Law pushed past the rows of patients and reached to the front desk. There, a blond woman with long hair and warm brown eyes sat typing at the computer. She looked up when he heard him approach and her fingers stopped mid-keyboard. "How may I help you?"
He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words, then spoke, "Uh, hello, Miss Tate? I, uhh, would like to talk with Patient Services because a family member of mine is residing here at the moment. Could you tell me where I can find them?"
The woman paused and considered him for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. The Admissions Department is on the third floor, sir. You'll find Mr. Tegata's office there. You're in luck, though: His work days are usually Monday through Friday. You'll need to hurry, though, before he leaves for the day."
Law felt a sense of urgency and nodded quickly. He said a brief "Thank you," before he turned on his heel and headed towards the staircase. He didn't have time to waste with the elevator right now.
The first couple of steps were easy enough, but as he continued, his legs burned with each stride. By the time he reached the third floor, he was out of breath and sweat was beading on his forehead. It was a pathetic sight, really—how just a couple of flights of stairs could have him tired like this—but he refused to let that show. He forced himself to stand tall and wiped his forehead with the back of his hands.
One by one, he scanned the names on the doors as he moved down the hallway.
Mrs. Kabuto, Mr. Muchana, Mrs. Eponi, Mrs. Marie, Mr. Dwanger, Mr. Nafk...
And then, finally, there it was.
Mr. Tegata.
At the end of the corridor, almost hidden behind a sharp turn, he found the door he was looking for. Law paused, standing still for a moment as he tried to catch his breath and knocked on the door.
He had to knock a few more times before someone said "Come in."
Carefully, Law stepped into the office and looked around the room. The space was functional, the walls white like the rest of the place, with a worn-out desk and filing cabinets stacked against the walls. The air had the familiar scent of hospital sterility, a mix of antiseptic and paperwork as well.
His eyes then landed on the man sitting behind the desk.
Mr Tegata looked like he was in his late forties, maybe even early fifties, with long hair that fell to his shoulders, though the top of his head was balding. Law could not help but bite the inside of his cheeks, his eyes flickering to the thinning hairline. Wouldn't it be better to just shave it all off? he thought for a moment, though he quickly dismissed the thought. It was rude to judge, and at that moment, there were more pressing matters on his mind.
The man glanced up from his papers and offered a slight smile. "Ah, young man, please come in. Have a seat."
"Thank you, sir."
"So, what can I help you with, Mr..?"
"Trafalgar," Law said and then tried to explain the situation as quickly as possible. “I… well, my father— I mean, my adopted father— he’s here. He’s been here for almost two years now. I wanted to get information on how I could get the power of attorney over him.”
The man looked surprised at the mention of POA. Maybe it wasn't so often that people changed that? Law wasn't sure.
His eyes flickered down to a few papers on his desk, then back at him, “May I ask what this is about exactly?”
Law could feel his heart pounding, and he could have sworn his hands were trembling a bit, too. "I’m talking about Donquixote Rosinante. He came here after… after an attack, and now he’s on life support. My uncle— step-uncle— is planning on stopping the life support, and I wanted to replace him before he does that.”
Mr. Tegata frowned, and his fingers started to click rapidly on the keyboard as he searched for something on his computer. He couldn't see anything, though.
After a few moments, he looked back at Law with a serious expression. "Well, Mr. Trafalgar," he began. "Changing a patient's POA is not so easy. We can’t just do it because a family member is not happy with the decision that the current power of attorney made."
Law felt a sudden wave of frustration, and he opened his mouth to argue, but the man held up a hand, signaling him to let him finish.
"Here," Mr. Tegata continued, "we have a legal team and an ethics department that handles matters related to legal decisions such as this. I recommend you get a lawyer before having a meeting with them, however."
Law clenched his jaw. A lawyer? Really? That just meant more barriers and more delays. He already knew how long these things could take—longer than he could afford to wait at that moment.
"Do I really have to do all of this just to talk to a couple of people?"
The man nodded. "You’ll need to bring a lot of papers, Mr. Trafalgar and some of them are not things you’ll be able to get by yourself. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe there are some documents that would have to go through a notary to verify their legality. It would be much easier and faster for you if a lawyer did that in your place."
"What kind of documents?"
"A lawyer specializing in medical laws would be able to give you more reliable information on this," Mr. Tegata repeated, his tone clearly signaling that he wasn’t about to take on any more responsibility in the matter. He seemed ready to pass the burden onto someone else, and Law could feel his patience waning even though they had barely talked.
Fucking asshole.
"Okay," Law sighed and stood up from his chair. "Thanks."
More like 'thanks for pointing him in yet another direction that seemed to lead nowhere'.
Mr. Tegata gave him a quick nod, clearly glad that he was getting rid of the young man so quickly, and smiled politely. "Have a nice day."
Once he was out of the office, Law pulled out his phone again. Do lawyers even work on weekends? he wondered. According to Google, most did on Saturdays, but not on Sundays—which, in a small twist of luck, worked in his favor. He still had a few hours before the end of the workday, after all. He could make this work if he was efficient enough!
Downtown seemed like his best shot. That’s where most of the law offices were, lined up side by side, waiting for clients, if he remembered correctly. He imagined they might not get as many walk-ins on weekends, so maybe he could get a lawyer to talk to him quickly. With that thought, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and hurried toward the bus stop.
When he arrived, the line for the 7 bus to downtown stretched far longer than he expected. The crowd of people shoved and jostled against each other, all eager to get on and go home. Law wouldn't let them push him away, though, and forced his way inside just the same.
He didn’t even care when an old woman started cussing him out, yelling about the younger generation being rude. Usually, he’d have been the first to offer an apology or step back, but today was not that day. Today, he needed to get to that office, and nothing—no one—was going to slow him down.
Once on the bus, he headed straight for a spot by the window, gripping the railing as the bus lurched forward. He stared out at the streets, barely taking in the passing scenery as his mind returned to the earlier conversation with Mr. Tegata.
Getting a lawyer would most likely get really expensive really soon and the thought of using Doflamingo's own money against him made him feel a bit ashamed but alas, there wasn't much he could do. He could pay the man back later for that anyway.
Doflamingo hadn’t texted or called at all since last night, now that he thought about it. Law tried not to let his mind linger on it for too long.
It took them around twenty or so minutes to reach the last stop.
He threw himself off the bus then and there and immediately began walking. The streets were crowded, bustling with people, and Law's eyes darted from one shop to the next, scanning for any signs of law offices. But instead of anything legal, the first few blocks were lined with food vendors and clothing shops—plenty of trendy places, but nothing that would help him right now.
So many of them... Law muttered to himself in frustration, Who needed so many fast food chains in the same street, for God's sake?!
He needed to ask someone for directions, didn't he? In the corner of his vision, he spotted a small grocer with the sign "Bakkal" written above the door. Maybe it is Turkish-owned, Law thought and stepped inside.
The shop was small and cluttered with goods, but the man behind the counter looked up with a smile when Law approached.
"Excuse me, sir," He started, "Do you know where any law firms are around here?"
The man stared at him for a moment, maybe he didn't know the language very well, and started to speak in a thick accent, "Law firms? Ah, yes, yes! Side streets! Over there, not here!" The man pointed to the left, adding more frantic hand movements. "Here, too busy, too busy!" He shook his head and gestured wildly toward a nearby side street. "That way! Side street!"
Law blinked and tried to make sense of what he was told. His speech made it hard to follow, but the message was clear enough: the law offices were down the side streets, not along the main road.
He nodded, thanking him for the help, and quickly made his way toward the direction the man had pointed.
As he rounded the corner, he found what he was looking for, thankfully. Some of the buildings housed multiple firms on the same floor, sharing office space with what looked like competing firms.
How do they all afford to be here? Law wondered, How many lawyers could someone need anyway? Wasn't it odd for so many competitors to operate right next to each other? The whole thing seemed strange to him, but he didn't have the luxury of time to dwell on it. The clock was ticking, and he needed to find someone to help him fast.
He stood there for a moment, though, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices. Should he pick one at random? Or was there a better way to go about this? Pulling his phone from his pocket one more time, he quickly googled the firms listed on the buildings nearby, hoping to see reviews or any sort of insight into their reliability so he could make an informed decision.
After scrolling through a few pages, he quickly found that many of the law firms had mixed reviews. Some were highly rated, but others were mediocre at best and chose one at random, and some didn't even have websites.
Then something caught his eye.
Miss Ganmi's legal office had a profile on BizReach as well when he looked for it, and her rates were more affordable than many others. Plus, she seemed younger than most lawyers he'd encountered in his life—brown hair, brown eyes, and much younger compared to the older, more established figures that often filled the legal field.
He figured that might mean she was more likely to be on his side, especially since her profile mentioned she was passionate about helping clients with complicated, personal cases.
That was exactly what he needed.
Law stood in front of the apartment building and stared up at the rows of doorbells on the wall. How the hell was he supposed to figure out which door belonged to Miss Ganmi? He clanged back up at the building again and noticed her window was on the third floor. I’ll have to try ringing a few between 9 and 12, he thought, but the indecision was eating at him for a moment before he sighed, Screw it, let's just choose randomly.
He pressed number 10 and hoped for the best. A few moments later, the door clicked open, and an elderly man stood in the doorway, looking at Law with a puzzled expression.
Law quickly bowed a little and apologized, a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry for bothering you, mister. I just… I’m looking for someone?"
The grandpa muttered something under his breath that he couldn’t quite make out, but the door was soon shut again. Better than getting berated, he supposed.
Feeling a bit foolish and frustrated, Law started to climb up the stairs. This time, he noticed that Miss Ganmi had at least made an effort to help out her clients. There was a sign on the door—her name and the office number clearly marked for anyone looking for her.
It would have been more helpful if it had been outside, though.
Law made his way there and knocked firmly. There was no answer right away, and he stood there waiting. When no one came after a couple of minutes, he grabbed the door handle—just to check it out—and found the door was unlocked.
His hand hovered over the handle, uncertain if he should just let himself in. Was that rude? Would it be creepy? Or was it a crime just to get in even if it was a place of business? He wasn’t sure. So he waited a bit longer, the soft hum of the city outside providing the only sound, until, finally, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.
The door swung open, and there, standing in front of him, was Miss Ganmi. Her brown hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she wore professional attire.
"Good evening, sir!" she greeted him with a smile, her cheeks a bit flushed. She looked approachable and easy to get along with. "I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting. I need to get that ringbell checked soon."
"Oh, no problem. I just came here anyways."
She motioned for him to enter, stepping aside as she led him into her office.
As they walked, they exchanged introductions. "I’m Trafalgar Law, by the way," he said, though it still felt strange to introduce himself like that in a professional setting.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Trafalgar. Please, make yourself comfortable." She pointed to a chair by a small desk cluttered with legal paperwork, files, and a laptop. It wasn’t the most elegant office, but it felt personal, and warm—far different from the cold, sterile spaces Law had expected thanks to all the crime shows he had watched in his teenage years.
Law awkwardly shifted on his seat and fiddled with the hem of his jacket as Miss Ganmi offered him some coffee or tea if he preferred that instead. He shook his head, though, almost too quickly. Gosh, he was being so awkward!
"No, thank you," he said, his voice a little rough from the nerves he’d been carrying with him all day. "I’m sorry to bother you this late. I know you’re about to close. I didn’t mean to—"
"Oh, it’s no problem at all!" the woman laughed it off. "A potential customer is more important than closing early, anyway. So, what brought you here, Mr. Trafalgar?"
Law was grateful for her directness, to be honest. She wasn’t trying to pry into his personal life or make any remarks about his age either, which he had expected some lawyers might do. Instead, she just got to the point, making him feel like his concerns were valid.
"Well," he began. "I have this family member, Cora-san, uhh, my dad, I mean. He got into an accident two years prior that pushed him into a coma of some sort. He’s on life support, and I want to become his power of attorney."
"And why is that, if you don't mind me asking?"
"The current POA is my uncle, Doflamingo... and I'm not sure when he and the doctors talked but they decided that they want to pull him out of the support and, uh, I wanted to stop that from happening. They're planning to do this on Tuesday so I'm really short on time."
Miss Ganmi's expression turned into a frown once he was finished. This couldn't be a good sign, could it?
"So, this was something recommended by the medical team who overlooks Mr. Cora?" she asked.
Law looked down at his hands again and nodded.
The young woman sighed thoughtfully and sat back in her chair with folded arms. "I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. Trafalgar, but the situation isn’t ideal. For a family member to oppose the current Power of Attorney, there has to be a valid reason: some kind of incapacity, misuse or abuse of authority, failure to act in the best interest of the family member, fraud, coercion, or inability or refusal to act. Something of that nature, at least." She tried to explain. "It doesn’t look like your uncle is doing any of that."
Fuck, this was what he had been afraid to hear. He clenched his jaw and felt the frustration boil over. Why? Why did everything have to be so complicated all the damn time? He had expected things to be difficult, but hearing her lay it out so plainly made him feel more hopeless than ever.
"But I'm his son, even if not by blood!" he tried to argue. "Doesn’t that count for anything? I have every right to make sure he’s treated properly, to stop him from dying! Why doesn't anyone understand that?"
She didn't seem surprised by his sudden outburst and kept getting into details, "If it wasn’t something recommended by the hospital itself, we could have argued that the POA was refusing to do his job, acting in his own interests rather than your father's. But that’s not the case. Your uncle, while perhaps not doing what you want, is acting within his rights as the current POA and listening to the advice of the medical staff. There aren't many judges who would go against that as far as I know, unfortunately."
"Can’t I still try to sue?" He asked, then. "Even if it’s just to push the death date a bit further? Maybe then Doflamingo will get the hint and stop it."
Miss Ganmi let out a slow, thoughtful breath. This seemed to be just as hard on her as it was on him. "It would take a week or two just to finish the paperwork before we could even present our case to a judge," she explained. "and then we'll have to wait for our case to be opened. I’m afraid we won’t be able to stop the execution before that."
Law let out a laugh, it sounded bitter and angry, but he could not help it. "So I should give up? Is that what you're telling me?"
"I could give you false hope and say I could try to speed things along, but that would be nothing more than me trying to grab some cash from you," she sighed. Well, no one would like to be the bearer of bad news, he supposed. "And I'm not heartless enough to do that to another human being. All I can say is that you have a better chance trying to talk this out within the family, because there's just not enough time for the legal route, Mr. Trafalgar."
But that didn't work, that was why he had to come here in the first place! That stubborn son of a bitch never changed his decision on something in all the years he had known him. Why would it be any different now?
"So this is what any other lawyer would recommend me to do?"
"Any that has empathy."
This was it then.
There was indeed nothing he could do.
He felt that familiar tightness around his throat again, like someone was lightly choking him.
"Thank you for your time," he muttered without looking at her and got up to leave.
She didn't accompany him to the door, and he shut it behind him as he left. He stepped out of the building and met with the cool evening air as it brushed against his skin, but it did not take long for it to rain. It soon turned into a downpour, and the view in front of him blurred into this greyish mess.
Law pulled out his phone absently, squinting at the screen in the dim light as he tried to shield it from the rain with his palm. It was already five fifty-two.
Despite the weather, he decided to walk back home. He had no energy left to wait for a bus, and the thought of being trapped in the crowd made him feel more claustrophobic than he'd felt in days.
Maybe walking in the rain would clear his head, anyway. Maybe it would help him think things over, too, not that he thought it would but still. At least he wouldn't feel like running into traffic anymore, perhaps.
The rain started to pour harder and soaked him to the bone; his hair was flattened against his forehead, and his clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin as well.
First, he could still feel the droplets hitting him, cold and sharp. But soon enough, he didn’t feel the rain at all; he was already drenched, dripping water from head to toe. His shoes sloshed with each step, and his fingers went numb from the cold even in the pockets, but none of that mattered; not to him.
Once he reached home and passed the security, Law pulled out his jacket. It was heavy and left a trail of water behind it as it dripped with every step he took toward their door. The fabric clung to his back and left a cold chill behind.
Once inside, he threw the thing onto the ground without much thought. It crumbled where it landed and made a mess. He didn't really care.
The apartment was warm, it was nice. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it just for a moment to catch his breath. His hands were shaking slightly, fingers still numb from the cold of the storm.
He went to the bathroom and locked it. There, he stripped off his wet clothes and threw them into a pile on the floor. He could do the laundry later. Or Doflamingo could pay someone to do it or something. Who cared? It wasn't important.
He crouched near the bathtub and waited for it to fill as the chill of the air cut against his skin. The sound of the water running was oddly calming, he decided, the rush of liquid filling the silence of the room.
Once the water in the tub reached the rim, he stepped in. The heat hit him like an electric fence. His skin burned with the sudden rush of warmth, but it was so nice, so welcoming. He sank into the water and let it surround him, the heat relaxing his tense muscles as it turned his skin into lobster red.
He refused to go out even when it became unbearable, though.
He had no idea for how long he sat there but enough time had passed for the water to cool down and be lukewarm.
Then he heard it. The faint jingle of keys, followed by the sound of one sliding into the lock. It was a small noise, but to Law, it felt louder than anything else in the room. After all, he could even identify who was coming just by hearing their footsteps, a skill he had learned over the years. Something like this wouldn't go unnoticed by him.
Doflamingo must have come back. He sighed deeply, the sound escaping his lips like a long-held breath.
He really didn't want to talk to the man right now. Did that make him a bad person?
Without thinking about too much, he sank deeper into the water, hugging his knees to his chest. As the seconds passed, his lungs started to burn with the desire to breathe but Law ignored it and instead watched the soapy water ripple slightly as his body shifted beneath the surface.
And for a moment, he wondered if it was possible to drown like this. Maybe if he opened his mouth and let the water fill his lungs fast enough, he would be able to lose consciousness before his mind kicked in and tried to cough it all out.
He wondered what Doflamingo's reaction would be to find his adopted nephew's body in the bathtub like that: heavy, slippery, and bloated. Would his body float to the top a bit or just sink deeper, for that matter?
...Funnily enough, he couldn't think of any reaction the man could realistically make, however.
Then, he heard the faint noise of the door knocking and even someone trying to force it open. He opened his eyes and let the water blur his vision as he got up, an arm resting at the side. The chilly air against his skin made the hairs on his arm spike up. "... Yeah?"
From the other side of the bathroom door, Doflamingo’s voice came again, a little more irritated this time. "… Were you even listening? Fuck it, doesn't matter... I was just saying that I sent the necessary paperwork to your dean so you can take the month off. You can get notes from your classmate or something."
Law wanted to say that this was not a damn middle school where a parent could just go and give some excuse to pull out their child but he was actually grateful that he wouldn't have to worry about attendance. Cora-san would not have liked it if he knew that Law got kicked out for something as silly as that, after all.
Law made a grunt as a response, a guttural sound that came from the back of his throat, and continued to sit inside there limply.
"And you've been there for a long while now, Law." the man said next. Law found his voice oddly calm. "Get out already."
He watched as Doflamingo's shadow slowly disappeared from under the door and once again, he was left alone.
It took him a long while to find the energy to pull himself out of the bathtub, though.
Notes:
Honestly, I'm just bullshitting my way through the POA stuff and how the hospital deals with situations like this but I really hope it isn't so bad. I hate having to write legal stuff.
I was actually thinking of making Law meet with Luffy or Eustass at the end of the chapter and have a breakdown in front of them but decided against it since it felt it would be too random. Like, I only mentioned both of them once without even using their name, would that not be too weird?
And, yay! We're halfway done with the story already! How are we feeling?
Chapter 4
Notes:
TW: This chapter has implied/referenced self-harm (and suicidal thoughts overall). So, be mindful of that (I added the tag later so I thought I should say something now).
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Law woke up around dawn. The sky was still dark, too. He could hear a few birds chirping outside, so it must have been near four or five o'clock if he had to guess.
He didn't bother getting up and reached for his phone. The screen’s blue glow lit his face —it hurt his eyes like a bitch— as he unlocked it, and for a while, he just doomscrolled through Tiktok, Pixiv, and X like he always did. You know, the usual: meaningless shitposts, news, new trends he didn't really care to follow up, videos with the volume off...
He saw a message from the hospital, one of those automated updates about visiting hours. He swiped it away without reading.
After a while, he let the phone drop to his chest and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t really dreamt of anything, or, at least, even if he did, he didn’t remember it.
He planned on sleeping the whole day off, really, because what else was there to do? He couldn’t visit Cora-san today anyway, so he might as well bedrot away until Monday.
And, like that, he dozed off again.
When Law woke up once again , it wasn’t because of his phone or the sun or his shitty sleeping schedule, which he never really got to correct despite many attempts over the years.
It was footsteps.
Someone was walking around the apartment.
Doflamingo, of course. Who else could it be?
His steps weren't in a hurry, but he wasn't particularly trying ot be quiet either. He was probably getting ready for his job, so it must have been around seven o'clock now.
The sun was up now, too, and it hit him squarely in the face, cutting through the half-closed curtains. Law felt too lazy to get up and do anything about it, however, and just groaned a bit before yanking the blanket up over his head and curling into himself.
It was really hot under there. Stuffy as well. The air was thick and made it hard to breathe, but he didn't care. It was too nice and warm to get up, even if he was sweating because of it.
He felt a headache coming on. It started behind his eyes, like this dull pressure pushing inside his skull. But then it stretched to his temples like he was getting hit with a hammer. His nose was stuffed, too —one side completely blocked, the other barely managing.
“Ugh,” he mumbled into the pillow. His voice sounded gross. Wet and scratchy, like snot was about to drip any moment.
Did he have any painkillers left in the bathroom? He wasn't sure anymore. He had already finished two packs of it, and the month hadn't even finished yet.
He tried to doze off again. Really, he did. He turned to his side, turned the blanket so the outside part would be inside, and even shifted the pillow a couple of times to get the cold side back, but sleep didn't come.
Not that it stopped him from just closing his eyes and doing absolutely nothing.
Outside his door, he could hear the man walk around again. He was talking to someone over the phone, pacing around. It was most likely Vergo; Doflamingo always called Vergo for everything, after all.
Needed to plan a business deal that skirted six laws and a tax loophole? Call Vergo. Someone threatening the company’s image? Vergo would handle it—and break at least two kneecaps in the process, at the very least. Doflamingo forgets to book a flight at the last minute and throws a fit about it? Vergo, with his deadpan tone and immaculate calendar, would have it fixed in under five minutes.
Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if something was going on between them; not that Doflamingo ever admitted to it. Company loyalty and all was an expectation in their line of work, yes, and especially in their generation, but Vergo's devotion to Doflamingo was on another level than just a work relation. He followed the man like he was some kind of Messiah, like he could do no wrong and everything that went wrong was someone else's fault, surely.
Maybe it’s a one-sided thing, he mused, unrequited workplace infatuation of some kind. That’d explain the excessive ass-kissing. And the endless forgiveness. No amount of pay—at least in Law's opinion—was worth dealing with Doflamingo’s nonsense on a daily basis .
His stomach started to grumble, in that familiar emptiness. It was a familiar sensation, especially during his midterm and finals weeks when he would do nothing but study. Despite that, Law didn’t feel particularly hungry. The thought of getting up, going to the kitchen, and cooking something felt far too complicated, and frankly, not worth the trouble.
He shifted slightly under the covers, throwing the blanket a bit off because even he couldn't handle this much heat.
Then, he noticed it —a shadow stretching across the bottom of the doorframe.
Doflamingo. Now in front of his door.
Law wondered what the hell he was doing just standing there. The faint scrape of his shoes on the floor was barely audible, but the shadow remained unmoving. Then came a soft knock.
"Law, are you awake?" He asked in a low voice.
Law didn’t respond. He lay perfectly still, afraid that any noise would give him away and make the man barge in.
Well, despite not getting any answer from him, the man huffed and opened the door regardless. Law quickly closed his eyes and pretended he was still sleeping.
For a moment, there was just silence, and he wondered what Doflamingo was expecting to see because he was sure as hell not going to move or open his eyes.
After some time, the faint sound of footsteps came. Doflamingo was moving very carefully, being unusually considerate. Law hoped his act was convincing because it felt weirdly hard to keep his eyes closed without it feeling forced now that someone was really staring at him.
At least, if the man noticed, he didn’t call his bluff and continued to wander around his room like some creep .
What is he doing, Law thought when he noted that Doflamingo was standing over him. He thought he heard the other pick up his phone from the nightstand, then. His fingers were lightly tapping the screen. The urge to frown or snatch the phone away warred inside him, but he forced himself to stay still, listening instead.
Doflamingo kept the thing between his hands long enough for him to figure out that he would have to change his password into something more secure. Law wasn’t exactly worried about the man finding anything, though. He didn't have any nudes, porn, or any lewd messages, or anything like that; unless you counted anatomic drawings as something to wank to, of course.
He only had a few photos of himself with his friends and Cora-san, some songs he downloaded with a YouTube MP3 converter he found online because he refused to use Spotify or something like that, that one Bounty Rush game he rarely played, and lots of screenshots from his online lectures, WhatsApp conversations, and photos taken from the whiteboard from his normal classes.
Even Sachi and Penguin would joke about how his phone looked more like a work phone than something that belonged to a young adult. So, what in God’s name was the other searching for?
Then, after what felt like half an hour but couldn’t be more than a few minutes, Doflamingo put the phone back as silently as possible and left his room.
After the door was closed, Law cracked open his eye to make sure the man wouldn’t return and then grabbed his phone. He looked inside, went through his apps, and even checked the Trash. But alas, whatever the blond did, he had made sure to get rid of the evidence thoroughly, because there was nothing . He wouldn’t even have known someone had touched it if it weren’t for the fact that it happened right in front of his face, really. And that made him wonder, did Doflamingo go through his phone like this often? He seemed to have no problem opening it, that was for damn sure.
How did he even know his password, anyway?
He huffed. It was annoying, and a horrible breach of privacy to say the least, but he’d deal with it later. Honestly, he didn’t have the energy right now. With that, he shoved the phone under his pillow, rolled over, pulled the blanket up over his head, and forced himself to fall asleep again.
This time, it didn't take long for his mind to shut off.
And, yeah, he wished it hadn't.
Because he dreamt of that day again. How the air had felt thick with tension, how irrationally angry he had felt, how he had slammed his door before locking it. Cora-san had come to his door, knocked and knocked and knocked and knocked, and tried to talk “sense” into him. Doflamingo was there, too, and got angry at both of them as well because he didn’t like it when it wasn’t him who was screaming about.
Law remembered all the bad things he had said about Cora-san in his head, too. Bastard, smartass, self-righteous loser prick... He didn't get to tell him what to do when he still listened to his older brother's every word like a command while being in his thirties! Law wasn't a goddamn baby, for fuck's sake!
...God, he didn't even remember why he had argued with the man, why he had gotten so angry. And that? That made the pain worse somehow.
Then, he felt too angry to stay put, so without saying anything to either brother , he got his jacket and left the house when no one was looking. It was the first time he had run away, too.
He wandered around the streets, dark and cold. He walked and walked and walked. Where was he trying to go, really? He wasn’t sure anymore; he didn’t think he even had any destination in mind; he just had wanted to leave that "motherfucker” behind him, that was all.
His boots got drenched from the puddles everywhere. Some of the street lights weren’t working. A few cars were passing by; one even screeched as it slipped on a big bag of trash that was thrown on the road. The cracked glass in it sounded like an explosion, and made anyone near jump.
He went to a park near them and sat on a bench. It had been a favored place for the kids to hang out before, but it had gotten deserted after it became littered with beer bottles and cigarette buts from the drunkards and junkies who came to get their high in the middle of the night. Some even found needles near the middle schools here.
He hadn’t known that at the time.
That probably had been the reason why Cora-san was so insistent on Law having a curfew.
He didn’t even know how long he sat there, but it was enough to make his lips go numb and ears burn red with the cold.
That was when Cora-san had found him.
They argued again , the man tried to get a hold of his hand to pull him back, and then fight and fight and fight . He said so many nasty things, like all those poisonous words had been waiting for an opportunity to come out like this since the start. Had Law really been a nasty person like this from the beginning?
He hated it. He hated himself. He was such an ungrateful piece of shit, wasn't he? Why did he always bite the hand that adored him, anyway?
...He didn't know.
Then, from somewhere, from someone whom neither of them ever even met before, appeared.
It happened fast, so damn fast, just enough to blink.
Then, as a gun was held to his face, Cora-san got in front of him. Even more screams followed, five shots were fired, someone ran away, and Cora-san fell to the ground.
It had happened so fast.
He was shaking from head to toe. That also had been the second time he had almost died. Amber Lead hadn't been this frightening in comparison, however.
He remembered vividly how Cora-san's head hit the pavement. It made a loud thud sound. The blood painted his chest, and he was wheezing —the bullets pierced through his lungs and filled them crimson until he was choking in his own blood, covered with it in and out.
Despite that, however, those blue eyes never left him. They looked like ice, yet were filled with so much affection and care. Because, even when Cora-san was dying on the ground, the first and only thing he was worried about was his kid.
He loved Law so much. Always, always, always loved him. He probably had been the last person who would love him and had loved him this unconditionally, wasn't he?
Why? Why? Why? Why did he always have to ruin everything? First with Lami, and now this. Maybe both of them would have been happier, or at the very least still alive, if he hadn't been in their lives.
Law ruined everything.
That was his kismet .
And just like that, he flung himself to the ground and ran towards the bathroom. He barely reached the toilet as the bile in his throat came out. He clenched the bowl as he threw up what little he had in his stomach and grimaced when that disgusting taste hit him. He didn’t have to look up to know his hands were shaking. He was heaving, and after a few more rounds of nothing coming out, he got some toilet paper to clean his mouth and threw himself onto the ground. Did he look as disgusting as he felt? He wasn’t sure, but thankfully, no one was there to see it anyway.
Fuck, he was a mess.
He turned around to get his cheek onto the cold tile. It felt nice. He pulled out his shirt and let the shivers go down his spine. He tried to throw the thing into the basket without getting up and failed. The shirt pathetically fell to the ground.
While absentmindedly staring at the thing, his eyes wandered towards his wrists. Despite the years, the thin, horizontal lines were still as obvious as ever, but at least the cuts weren’t as pink and grotesque anymore as it were before. He didn’t think they would totally fade, however; they had been too deep for that, he hadn't in mind to survive to care about how they would look after, after all. He couldn’t wear short-sleeved shirts because of them, though, and it sucked in the summer’s heat, especially, since people stared at them constantly like he was the first damn person to self-harm in the whole country and whispered to each other as if he were deaf, too.
Maybe he could get tattoos on his arms to hide them. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but probably some kind of sleeve work; something that would cover the whole thing from his hands to his shoulders.
Something to remind him of Cora-san every time he looked at it.
And... despite knowing better —Because he did, he really did, but still. When you listened to those voices once, you could never get rid of them again for some reason, not forever like it was before, and they always stayed at the back of your mind— his head wandered towards the razors in the cupboard next to him.
It would be so easy to just break that cheap plastic and take the blade inside, and... just... you know... since he was planning on getting tattoss anyway...would it even matter if he got a few more cuts before..?
He sighed, and in shame and frustration that made his stomach churn, covered his eyes. What was he thinking? He couldn't do that. He wasn't going to do that. He wasn’t supposed to think like that at all, for that matter. Cora-san would have hated that. He couldn’t just slash himself whenever things got too, for God’s sake.
He still remembered the time Cora-san had caught him doing that, and the shame he had felt. No, he can’t just relapse into these old habits. The last thing he wanted was for Doflamingo to drag his ass back to a mental hospital again, either.
He didn’t want to, but he dragged himself upwards and got out of the bathroom. He knew the longer he stayed there, the worse the urge would get. He knew Doflamingo was gone by now, too, so he trudged to the kitchen to get something to eat.
He opened the fridge and looked around. There were stuff like asparagus, celery, and broccoli, but honestly? He didn't really want to cook anything right now, so he just closed it with a huff and grabbed a cup of instant noodles instead.
He had hoped that Doflamingo had left some leftover takeout or something, but alas. It didn't take more than a few minutes for the water to boil before he filled the cup with it to the brim. At least it was tomato-flavoured. He even made it look like some fancy stuff with an egg and a bit of parsley, then sat at the table to eat it.
It was a bit too spicy, because of course he had a horrible tolerance for spice, but he still finished the thing, and got rid of that bile taste out of his mouth even if it burned his throat, and even considered getting another one. It had been a while since he had an appetite, too, now that he thought about it. He got up to throw up the empty cup, but then tripped somehow and got the leftover juice all over the floor.
“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath and got a towel to clean it. He tried to wipe his slippers, too, but the red stain didn't leave no matter how much he scrubbed so he threw them into the washing machine in defeat.
While he was dealing with that, a knock came from the door. Law froze for a moment and wondered if Doflamingo came back to get something he forgot . But that didn’t make sense, did it? Why would he bother to knock when he already had a key to get inside? He frowned and threw the now-damp towel into the trash before going to the door.
He looked at the peephole, expecting a neighbor or maybe a delivery guy or something, but no; it was Sachi, up at the door glaring at the peephole as if he could really see Law from the other side while Penguin slapped him at the back of his head and tried to pull him away before someone saw them acting like a couple of idiots.
He quickly opened the door for them. The two stopped their bickering and smiled at Law, though it looked awkward, like they didn’t know what to do exactly, either.
"Heyyyy, Law!” Penguin greeted him and pulled him into a quick hug. “How are you doing, bro?”
“Good, but… what are you guys doing here?” Law asked, only now noticing Bepo lingering a few steps back, too. The whole crew was here.
Sachi huffed —not an annoyed huff, but a friendly one, mind you— and brushed past him into the apartment. “Can’t we just visit a friend? It’s been so long since we hung out, so we decided to bless you with our presence since you never seem to have the time!” he declared, carrying a plastic bag that he didn’t get a chance to peek into.
Penguin chuckled, though it sounded very much nervous for some reason. “Yeahhhh…! And, actually, some guy came to pick us up, too. Said you’d appreciate our company. I have no idea how he knew our addresses, though. Did you give it to him?”
Law raised a brow, Some guy?"
“Yeah,” Bepo added, shivering with the thought. “He looked like a total gangster, you know? Sunglasses, tattoos, and all that,” Then, he, as if suddenly feeling bad for judging someone for their appearance, looked down ashamedly and said, “Sorry...that was mean.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” he turned to Penguin. From the inside, he could hear Sachi starting to do something in the kitchen.
The other shrugged, just as clueless. “I think it was one of Mr. Donquixote’s men?” he guessed. “He was wearing a suit and everything. Expensive car, too. Said the ‘Boss’ told him to get us to you. Not gonna lie, it scared my mom to hell and back—she almost called the cops, haha!”
“Yeah!” Sachi called out. “I thought someone was trying to kidnap me, dude! You need to tell your uncle to chill out or somethin’!”
Then, his phone vibrated with the ding of a message. He took it out of his pocket to check it out . What a timing, right?
Doflamingo: got ur friends 4 u
Before he could even process that, another notification popped up on his screen—it was from LinePay.
[You received 8.0000 belli from "Donquixote Doflamingo".]
What...?!
Then, the man texted again.
Doflamingo: get some 𓌉◯𓇋 to eat r somethin
Doflamingo: or buy coke idm
Doflamingo: we can snort it together wwwww
Doflamingo: syl "❀"( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
Law cringed so hard he actually grimaced like he ate something nasty. Had the man gotten a brain aneurysm in the days he hadn’t seen him or something? And who in their right mind had taught Doflamingo to use emoticons ?
Gosh, he was even trying to use slangs !
Was this… an attempt to be “relatable”? To smooth things over since they hadn’t spoken properly since the fight? He couldn’t even picture the blond thinking about reconciliation, let alone trying to make it happen through… sparkly hearts and smily faces?
.... Should he call him? But what the hell would he even say?
As he stood there, overthinking and feeling the beginnings of a dull throb behind his eyes that made him wonder how could someone get so many migraines back to back this often in such a short amount of time —a warning that if he didn’t take a pill soon, he’d have a full-on headache that would make him bitch to everyone— Sachi appeared and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the kitchen.
“So,” Sachi began, rolling up his sleeves with the exaggerated seriousness of a TV chef. “What do you wanna eat? I was planning on making pizza —homemade, of course— but I can make something else if you are in the mood for something else."
“It’s fine. Do whatever you want,” Law said, leaning against the counter and watching his friend rummage through the cupboards for a mixing bowl big enough to feed a small army. Given that there were four of them —with Bepo being almost a giant-like guy despite his soft personality— Sachi was going to need more than a couple of pizzas to fill them up, that was for sure.
“I ain’t doing anything, though. This was your idea,” he added flatly.
“Oh, no problem!” Penguin chirped, already hauling ingredients out of the fridge.
“Yeah!” Bepo agreed, smiling. “We’re here to cheer you up, anyway.”
The room froze for a split second. Bepo realized too late what he’d said, slapped his paws over his mouth, and mumbled a muffled, “I’m sorry!”
Sachi glared at the other. “Really, man?”
Penguin sighed in unison as well. “Come on, dude!”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Bepo repeated, looking like a kid who had gotten caught misbehaving. "It just slipped!"
“What the heck are you all talking about? Why cheer me up?” Law asked, confused.
The three exchanged glances, a silent game of who’s gonna say it first playing out between them. Finally, Sachi huffed in frustration, stepped forward, and locked eyes with him. “Your Uncle called us,” he said.
“Yeah, bombarded with texts, too,” Bepo added, before shrinking back when Sachi shot him a look that clearly meant zip it . “Sorry!”
"And?” Law asked, and he felt sick already. Had Doflamingo gotten everyone up-to-date on what was going on? Did he get his friends here so they could talk him out of trying to save Cora-san or something? Did he think he would attempt again? Was this why he had gotten a hold of his friends, as if that could make a difference?
“I’m going to cut to the chase, man,” Sachi said. “We know that… Mr. Donquixote decided to pull the plug, okay?”
Law wanted to leave the room. He needed to leave the room. He had to leave the room. He looked at his phone again. No notification. No messages. It was 14:06.
“So?”
“And,” the other continued, “we thought you might appreciate some company, you know?”
“Well, I don’t,” Law said plainly. And, yeah, he knew that the asshole thing to say, but it was what it was. “So you can leave if you want.”
There was a silence for a moment. They probably hadn’t thought Law would be this mean either.
“Come on, dude,” Penguin chuckled awkwardly. “You know we ain’t going anywhere. Not now.”
“I have stuff to do, though,” He said sharply. “So you should probably—”
“Like what?” Sachi interrupted him, scoffing.
Tension was rising between them.
That wasn't good.
“Like stopping Doflamingo from actually going through with this thing,” He snapped. That should’ve been obvious, right?
“And how are you going to manage that?” the other asked, folding his arms.
“I talked with a lawyer—”
“A lawyer ?!” Bepo blurted, but Law powered on.
“—but she said she didn’t have enough time to open a case—”
“What are you going to do now, then?” Penguin questioned next.
“I’ll try to call the Ministry of Health."
“ At a Sunday ?” Sachi raised an eyebrow. “They don’t even work today, dude.”
“I’ll go to the building, then,” Law replied firmly. “I’m sure there has to be someone working there.”
“I don’t think they look into stuff like this, tho,” Penguin muttered, scratching his arm. His reluctance was obvious, but it still grated on his nerves.
“How would you know?!” Law snapped. “Did you ever go there?”
“No, but—”
“Then don't say shit, okay?” he cut him off.
“ Okay, okay—!!! ” Bepo quickly stepped between them, holding up his hands like a referee. “Let’s all calm down, please! No need to fight!"
“No,” Sachi said then. “You know what? Might as well start this shit show and get it all out!" He looked at him. “You know this isn’t going to help Cora-san , right? He’s not going to wake up.”
“You don’t know that!” he screamed.
“The fucking doctors do, tho’!” Sachi roared back, stepping closer. “That’s what they said, isn’t it?! That’s why your Uncle decided to let him go!”
“They don’t know what they’re talking about!”
He could feel himself get red in the face, his vision blurry with tears. He hated, hated, hated, hated crying in front of other people.
“Of course they do!” Sachi barked. “Of fucking course they do! They studied this shit! They’ve seen cases like this all the time! Just because you don’t want to let go doesn’t change that, Law!”
“Fuck you!” Law screamed and pushed Sachi away from him hard. The other scattered but didn’t fall. “I’m not going to let him die! I won't abandon him! I’m going to file a complaint and say that Doflamingo wasn’t following the legal requirements to make a decision like this, since he is drunk most of the time, and that he was far too intoxicated to make a decision like this, and it’s going to work!”
"As if!" Sachi scoffed again. From the side, Law could see that Bepo had closed both of his ears from their fight. “You know they ain’t going to do shit !”
He was about to tell the other off again when Penguin got between them. “Okay, everyone needs to calm the hell down!” He turned to the other. “Why are you egging him more, man? Shut up a moment so that we can-“
“No!” Sachi said. “He doesn’t get to shut us out like this! Not after what happened the last time. He’ll spiral again because he always does that when he's alone, and it’ll only make things worse!”
Law froze, then, because he knew very well what he meant when he said ‘make things worse’. And, damn, they had promised that they wouldn’t talk about this ever again. They had said they wouldn’t bring it up ever again and just forget about it.
He remembered them again, and his wrist throbbed with that once-very-familiar ache.
And just like that, he said, “Screw this. I don’t have to deal with this,” and stormed out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going to run away, man?” Sachi called after him, quick footsteps following. "We are at your house!"
He thought he had heard Penguin swear under his breath, too, but wasn’t really sure, and he wasn't exactly going to stop just for that either.
He didn’t go to his own room. No —he darted into Cora-san’s room instead, shutting the door fast and locking it before any of them could reach him . He slid down with his back against it, knees drawn up, and stayed there on the floor.
“Law, come out,” Sachi said from the other side and banged on the door as if he had half the mind to break it.
Law didn’t respond. Without looking at them, he scratched his wrists so the itch would go away, but it didn’t really help. It never did. Never. Never. Never.
“We need to talk about this, okay?! Get your ass out here!"
“No, we fucking don’t!” He snapped, and he slammed his fist against the door behind him. “I don’t have to say anything!”
“Fine! Listen, then,” Penguin said, and sighed. Law could hear the faint scrape of them settling down on the floor outside as well. “So, look… I think, uhhh… okay, you know I’m not good with talking about stuff like this..!”
“None of us are,” Bepo muttered.
“Shut it,” Sachi said.
“Sorry!” Bepo apologized.
“WHAT I was trying to say was,” Penguin continued, “is that we care about you, Law. We know things are rough—”
Law snorted. Yeah, rough. None of them had ever lost someone who mattered. None of them ever had to choke on grief until it burned their lungs, or wake up in the middle of the night with regret sitting on their chest like a weight they couldn’t throw off until it made you want to die, too.
“—and things are messy at the moment, but we aren’t going anywhere, okay? Shit happens, bad things come and go, and it has nothing to do with you.”
“It HAS , though!” Law cried. His voice cracked halfway through. “It has to do with me! It’s my fault he ended up like this! If I hadn’t fought with him, if I hadn’t acted like a whiny little brat, if I hadn’t run out for some shitty reason and made him run after me, then he wouldn’t be strapped to a machine just to be able to breathe!”
The others didn't say anything for a moment.
“...You didn’t mean it,” Bepo said then.
“It doesn’t matter.” He sniffed. “He still got hurt.”
“You know Cora-san wouldn’t have blamed you for this,” Sachi said.
“I know. That makes it worse.”
Maybe if he did get angry, then he could turn into a ghost to haunt him. He could have seen him again, then, even if all the man did was scream curses at him. He would have deserved it anyway.
“He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for this,” Bepo said.
“Yeah,” Penguin added. Law could picture him nodding on the other side of the door. “You… you know he loved you more than anything, man. This was just… bad timing. Wrong time, wrong place.”
Not loves.
Loved.
His heart hurt so much.
“Neither of you could have known something like this would happen,” Sachi said.
“If anything, it’s that criminal’s fault!” Bepo burst out, his voice trembling. “He did this to Cora-san! Not you, Law!”
He held a hand over his mouth, then, trying to trap the sobs in his throat before they slipped out, but the effort was useless; he knew the three outside could still hear every uneven breath with how close they were. He didn't know why he was so ashamed of crying in front of them; he just couldn't help it. Snot trickling down, and he swiped at it with his sleeve without caring how disgusting it felt.
“…I can’t just give up on him,” he mumbled.
“This isn’t about ‘giving up,’ man,” Penguin said. “You know that. If there was even the slightest chance he could get better… You know Mr. Donquixote would’ve jumped on it.” Was the other crying, too? “If he’s given up… that means there’s no hope left.”
“You know better than all of us how he loved his brother more than anything,” Sachi agreed, quieter now. "They were inseparable."
Law sniffed and cried harder, his chest hitching with each breath. To distract himself from the helpless ache, he dug his nails into his thigh until the skin stung.
“So what do I do, then? Just … get over it? Forget about him? You think that’s going to make it better?”
“Of course not!” Bepo weeped. He had always been a crybaby.
“You’ll just… grieve,” Penguin said. “You’ll let him go, to a better place, and… you’ll cry because he’s not here anymore. It’ll feel like shit for a long, long time, like you’re dying too, but…”
“We’ll be with you along the way, whether you like it or not!” Sachi said with a booming voice. Law couldn’t help but snicker. “And then one day it’ll get better! Not like it was before, we'll always remember Cora-san, but still!"
“Yeah! We’ll stick together!” Bepo agreed. “And be with you every step along the way.”
“And I swear to God,” Sachi added, “if you plan on doing anything stupid, I’ll beat your ass even from beyond the grave, you hear me? You ain't getting rid of us anytime soon!"
“Sachi, why don’t you shut the fuck up a moment?!” Penguin hissed at him. And then he must have slapped him because a loud thud he heard with an “Auch! What was that for?!”
“Oh, you know why, you jackass!” Penguin shot back, his voice sharp. “I told you not to bring that stuff up, didn’t I?”
“Sorry…” Sachi mumbled and actually sounded a bit regretful with his choice of words .
Law lifted his head slowly, his neck stiff from how long he’d been hunched over, and let his eyes wander around the room. It was exactly the way Cora-san had left it the day they’d taken him to the hospital. Even the air still carried the faint smell of cigarettes he had been addicted to so much —that hadn't helped with his condition at all , had it? If he had somehow convinced the man to stop smoking, would his lungs have had a better chance at fighting this off?
...Neither he nor Doflamingo had stepped inside since then.
The bed was still unmade, sheets tangled like someone had just rolled out of them in a hurry. On the desk, a mug of coffee sat cold and abandoned and gotten stale , a thin layer of dust dulling its rim . The ashtray beside it was overflowing, a leaning tower of crumpled filters and gray ash. Beside the wall, a mountain of dirty laundry slumped against the floor.
Law crawled across the floor and rested his head against the mattress, then climbed up onto it. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing the red blotch in the far-left corner.
He’d made that stain himself. He remembered throwing one of those sticky elastic toys that looked like hands up there just to see how long it would stick. It had clung stubbornly for weeks before Cora-san had finally pried it off, leaving the mark behind.
Nobody ever thought to paint over it.
He tugged the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around himself, burrowing into its weight and its smell, not caring if he made more of a mess, honestly.
“I’ll start cooking!” Sachi called out, then, and banged on the door again.
“Yes! Let’s eat!” Penguin’s voice followed.
“And play video games!” Bepo added.
Law scrubbed at his face with the blanket, smearing the last of his tears into its worn fabric and letting it get wet. ' Nothing lives forever, yet life continues,' indeed, huh?
He wasn’t so sure if it could really get any better, however.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! Hope you guys liked it. This was actually going to be a bit longer but I decided to add that part to the next chapter so this could come out already.
Btw! When this fic is over, I'm planning on making two other one-shots from Doffy's and Cora's POV, by the way. What do you think?
GeminiAriesMoon on Chapter 1 Tue 11 Feb 2025 05:11PM UTC
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Identified_Deviant on Chapter 1 Tue 11 Feb 2025 06:22PM UTC
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Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart on Chapter 1 Wed 12 Feb 2025 01:01AM UTC
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Identified_Deviant on Chapter 1 Wed 12 Feb 2025 05:07AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 12 Feb 2025 05:11AM UTC
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Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart on Chapter 1 Tue 25 Feb 2025 12:56AM UTC
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