*warning- death, violence mentioned. major angst!!*

When your eyes flickered open it couldn't have been much later.

The room was still dark, but when you turned over the light from the bedside lamp made you able to see. And there was Law, sitting up, reading a book. Steel eyes scanning the pages. Tattooed hands flipping the pages carefully.

God he's so attractive.

His eyes flickered to you when he noticed you awake. His voice was low, quiet,

"You hardly slept, why are you awake?"

You grabbed the pillow and buried your face into it.

You couldn't sleep. Even when you weren't having disturbing nightmares, your body wouldn't let you rest.

"What time is it?"

"Still early."

You turned your face to the side to look at him again.

God he might've been the most attractive man you'd ever seen. And here he was shirtless, sitting beside you, in his bed.

Just when your thoughts started to turn lewd, you remembered your nightmare. He had found you passed out on the bathroom floor half naked,

How embarrassing.

You glanced down at the shirt he had dressed you in. A t-shirt that was a yellow color with the Heart Pirates symbol on it in black. In your opinion, it was quite an eyesore, but knowing it was his somehow made your heart flutter.

Your gaze flickered back to his as you spoke,

"I'm sorry..."

"...for causing trouble for you."

He looked at you, his usual stoic expression.

"Stop apologizing."

You sighed softly.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

His eyes flickered back to the pages of the book,

"Does it shock you to know I have insomnia?"

No.

With those bags under your eyes, it doesn't.

Of course you didn't say that outloud.

"I guess not."

Because somehow those tired eyes of his were so mesmerizing.

There was a moment of silence, before you broke it again.

"What book are you reading?"

His gaze flickered back to yours,

"You talk too much."

Your eyes narrowed.

"You talk too little."

He let out a slight laugh at your response, then closed his book and set it on the bedside before leaning over and turning the bedside lamp off.

He laid down back down in bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you to his chest.

He deeply inhaled, enjoying every last bit of your sweet scent. The way you felt against him. Soft hair, soft small figure.

"Go back to sleep Shiina-ya."

"I'm not tired anymore."

You heard him let out a sigh, probably of annoyance, but he stayed quiet.

You spoke your face buried against him,

"I'd ask you to tell me a story to sleep but I don't want to hear a sad one."

"And last time you told me a sad one."

He scoffed,

"The point was to distract you from your stitches when I told that one. And it served its purpose so I don't want to hear it."

You went silent for a moment.

The truth was the story he had told you stuck with you for some strange reason.

"You know I think about that story a lot. The little boy. It was so sad- you finished it and he was all on his own. He lost everyone. It just... breaks my heart when I think about it."

Well no wonder it stuck with you, it reminded you of yourself.

You realized how stupid you sounded, getting sappy over a made up story so you quickly added,

"Even though you just made it up to distract me... I know it's stupid..."

You felt his grip on you tighten, but he stayed silent.

You could hear his steady breaths, get slightly shallower as he finally uttered,

"Shiina-ya."

"It's not made up."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

It's not?

You pulled your face away from his chest so you could look at him.

And then it clicked.

That look on his face.

When you yelled at him on the deck.

When you told him he didn't know what it was like to lose everyone.

He did.

That story he told you was about him.

You felt your chest tighten- heart nearly stop as you immediately clutched him tightly,

"Law..."

You felt your throat tightening.

Your head was spinning.

A boy who lived on an island where a disease killed his sister.

His home was destroyed by the neighboring kingdoms and world government.

It reminded you of a story Shouga told you when you were younger.

You were 10.

"I want another story daddy, I can't sleep."

Shouga smiled and nodded his head, his fingertips gently stroking your hair.

"There once, about 7 years ago, was a town called Flevance."

"In the North Blue. The people's livelihood came from mining a material called Amber Lead."

"Little to be known- it would cause them to contract a deadly disease that would make them go crazy."

You gasped,

"Daddy that's scary..."

"Hush, hush listen baby..." he held your hand and squeezed it gently.

He continued,

"The contagious disease made the people go crazy- infected their bodies and minds."

The townspeople were losing their minds, trying to harm the neighboring kingdoms and spread their infectious disease."

"The only people who weren't infected, who weren't a danger yet, was the Royal Family."

You immediately chimed in sniffling,

"What happened to them? Did they make it?"

He smiled stroking your cheek,

"Yes baby, our leaders within the world government, the great heroes that they are, managed to help them escape safely."

You eyes widened,

"And you work for the world government, don't you?"

"You could say that, yes..."

You squeezed him tightly and buried your face against him,

"That makes you even more of a hero."

He grinned as he stroked your hair.

"Yes..."

"A hero."

Flevance. In the North Blue. The 'White City".

"Law."

You whispered out as you looked at him.

"Flevance- in the North Blue."

His facial expression remained, cold, stern. Unwavering.

But his eyes, his eyes.

When you saw the look in his eyes, you knew.

You knew.

Everything Shouga told you was a lie.

Your heart clenched as you whispered into the darkness of the room,

"The world government let everyone die, didn't they."

There was a silence between you.

Damn them.

Fuck them.

They aren't heroes.

They let everything burn, burn to the fucking ground but helped the royals escape.

The disease wasn't even contagious.

They let all of the innocent people die.

You felt your own eyes beading with tears as you uttered,

"You're the boy. From the story."

A trembling hand moved to hold his face.

Your lip quivered as you uttered,

"I'm- I'm sorry."

Why am I apologizing?

Why do I feel like this is my fault?

Because the man that raised me was partially responsible for this and so many other tragedies.

The world was corrupt- and you had always been brainwashed to see it as good.

He pulled you closer to him again, his own mind plagued with memories and thoughts.

One hand in your hair pulling your head into him again as he felt your shaky breaths.

"Don't apologize." he whispered against your hair.

"It was a long time ago."

You pulled away from him tears streaming down your cheeks,

"I'm so sorry."

"I yelled at you- on the deck-"

A choked sob left your lips.

"I told you you had no idea what it was like."

You pictured a burning city.

And a 10 year old boy standing in front of it watching it burn.

Watching everyone be taken from him.

10 years old.

A child.

He watched his sister die of White Lead disease.

He watched his parents die before him.

"I'm so sorry."

Was all you could whisper against his body.

I'm so fucking selfish.

Why is he the one holding me while I cry?

You felt him holding you tight, as you just kept repeating the words, I'm sorry.

Because what else could you say?

And he was silent.

A mixture of relief that he didn't have to say a word.

That you knew.

You connected those dots.

His way of trying to explain a piece of him, he couldn't bring himself to actually speak about.

And you put it together.

But as much as he felt relief you finally understood what he tried to tell you, he was also so overwhelmingly scared.

Terrified.

Of someone knowing that part of him.

Knowing part of what haunted him. What kept him up at night. What plagued his dreams.

Knowing that he was beyond broken.

But he knew, you understood what that was like.

You knew.

You understood.

You were just two incredibly broken people.

His grip tightened on you as you cried.

You cried so hard, it hurt.

Your lungs couldn't keep up with the rapid choked up sobs.

You were crying, for him.

For the part of him that died that day.

For the 10 year old child, who watched his city burn before him.

The little boy, who watched his family die.

Crying for the part of him that grew to hate and distrust the world and everything in it.

Crying for him.

Your heart was broken for him.

For the child in him that had seen so much violence and destruction.

That had experienced the terrible unrelenting world so young.

Your sobs slowed, but his grip never loosened on you.

Because despite recalling all the terrible memories, holding you there. Feeling the way you cried for him.

It gave him peace.

Because despite never wanting anyone to know these parts of him, he knew you understood. Understood in a way no one else did.

You were just as broken and fucked up as he was.

You felt the heat of his breath in your hair as he uttered,

"It's impossible..."

You let out a shaky exhale,

"Impossible?"

His voice was barely audible,

"it's impossible not to..."

His voice went silent as he let out an exhale and pulled you tighter.

You didn't understand, but you didn't need to.

The two of you just stayed in silence, holding each other tight.

Tears drying, breaths gradually slowing.

And for the first time, in a long time, both of you slept.

Slept soundly, at peace.