*THWAP*

[chibi_trillian]

This series has the worst titles EVER. So cheesy. Also, I think Nami and Luffy are standing in the background cracking their knuckles for a solid head-smacking on both sides.

Title: Missteps
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Sequel to Misunderstandings. Theoretically, talking about things is supposed to make them better, not worse. Crossposted to onepieceyaoi.


It’s done.

I’m not Luffy. I don’t do “unconditional love.” I’m not Chopper. I don’t come with a bottomless supply of patience and forgiveness. I was at the end of my goddamn rope with you, and I didn’t know if I wanted to throw it to you one last time or strangle you with it.

I meant to discuss it when I was prepared, on my own turf, in my own time. Pull the splinters of you out of me slow and careful so they hurt less, bleed less, heal quicker.

It’s your fault. You’re the one who came to me with your skin still smelling like blood, hands so hot and eyes so cold that I couldn’t stand it. It tore its way out of me premature and sudden, hot and wet and red and violent, words sharper than any sword you’ve ever swung, hitting harder than any kick I’ve ever landed. It hurt saying them, and they were supposed to hurt more being heard.

And all you could manage to do was look re-fucking-LIEVED for half a second before your eyes froze over again. I told you to get the hell out, and you didn’t so much as hesitate.

I wish we were in port, so I could sit in a bar and drink and not get asked questions.

I wish we were in port, so I’d have a thousand other things to think of and a hundred other places to be.

I wish we were in port, so I could find someone else for long enough to make you go away.

****

It’s done.

I didn’t have to give you up after all. You gave up on me instead.

I don’t blame you. It is, after all, something I really should have expected.

The rage in your voice, the venom in your words—I ought to welcome these things. You’re like a damn cat—if I’d have thrown you out, you’d have clung to me more tightly. You had to think it was your own idea. And it’s good for you. The farther away your skinny ass is from me, the better.

Luffy won’t be pleased. Quiet as we tried to keep this, he still knew. And somehow, he knew when I started pushing you away. He hasn’t said anything, but I can read his disapproval like it’s written on his forehead.

He doesn’t understand.

Humans are fragile. They’re emotional. They do stupid things that get them broken. Luffy’s a hell of a lot less breakable than most—he can afford to do dumb shit. Hell, he exists to do dumb shit.

I can’t. The Greatest Swordsman in the World stands on a pedestal meant for one. Why do you think Mihawk sails alone?

But you, dumb cook, you make things complicated, like everything else you touch. God forbid a sandwich exist unless it’s got capers or some shit on it. You had a better grip on my heart than you thought, and you did a decent job ripping it out with those precious hands of yours.

So that’s why I’m doing katas down here on the anchor deck. Calm down, focus, find the quiet place inside. Don’t think, don’t feel, just move.

Every slice of the blade through the air cuts away a little more of what hurts.