January
Thursday 23 February 2012 photo 4/4
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ÅTER IGEN ID
It's pouring with rain. No pleasant summer rain, no cooling shower.
It's pouring rain, icy and uncomfortable, and every pirate in his senses makes himself scarce and gets back inside as quick as possible.
Not Shanks, of course.
And now he's sitting on an abandoned warehouse's rooftop, hiding next to a broken chimney, his look focussed on the two figures in the building opposite of him, a stone's throw away.
He can see them through the window, in a stylish bedroom with a working fireplace, some other furniture, a gigantic workbench covered with blueprints and a wardrobe. A hotel room, to make it simple.
They're dancing, he's twirling her around the room, spinning her over the floor and onto the bed.
Shanks sighs. He knew that would happen sooner or later, and since he promised Hope he would bring Eru back unharmed, he needed to prevent her from any knife injuries and whatnot.
He forced himself to watch.
They're both grinning in common consent as she removes his scarf and he undresses her and throws her black dress on the floor and gently lowers her onto the sheets.
Shanks flinches as he sees her body – the marks...are those WORDS ?
He shudders.
Better not think about what he did to – BUGGY OWNS.
Light red framed crimson letters on silky pale skin.
He has his sword at the ready, but he doesn't see any knife this time.
And Shanks remembers the time on The oro jackson together with him. When they both were good friends, and the vow they made, "No girls allowed".
Not that any of them believed that they could keep it up. Sooner or later, girls would be the only thing on their minds. Shanks oftenly joked with Buggy about the fact that his red nose could prevent him from getting laid, but she... she was different. She liked it, not that she shouldn't... But the fact she was beaming with pride and joy.
He doesn't want to remember.
Instead, he zooms on the Clown's face – and ghasps.
What...no.
No.
Shanks feels his heart beating, hammering, his grip tightens around the binocular, the rain pouring over his shape, crouched on the rooftop.
And as their mingled laughters become a numb background soundtrack, as their rhythmically moving bodies become a greyish blob, his thoughts are drifting apart, and his mind wanders to Andrea...Selina...Silver...
His stomach cramped, his mind a mess.
No.
He realizes he sits cross-legged, the binocular pressed against his face, so hard it almost hurts.
What the FUCK is he doing ?
'Just grabb the damn sword, smash the window – the element of surprise is on your side – and take them back to the ship, just as Hope requested.'
NOW.
Do it, do it now.
Why the fuck is he HESITATING ?
Still, he doesn't move.
His body is aching, the icy rain numbing his fingers, the binocular still pressed against his face, his mouth one bitter line.
Is it anger ?
Frustration ?
Uncertainty ?
...is it hate ?
Or...is it ... could it be ... envy ?
Does he envy his best friend for being able to show something like this very emotion ?
That's ridiculous, he sure fakes it. He always jokes. He fakes it.
He fakes it.
(No he doesn't.)
It's pure envy.
Shanks's consumed with envy.
He's eaten up with envy.
And he can't stand that.
He can't take his eyes away from the greasy window.
He has seen the look in his eyes.
Emerald glowing circles, sparkling, glistening, beaming.
This look does not only say „You're mine, you belong to me", but the other way round.
He knows that even with strongest denial, with angry despair, he'll never forget this look.
This look says „I'm yours".
And even SHE might not be able to see it. And HE himself will probably hide it whenever possible.
Shanks feels the cold rain on his face, the water running down his mantle, the sharp wind cutting his clinched figure on the rooftop.
His eyes. He didn't lie.
He didn't lie.
And Buggy's lips form „I love you". They DO.
Wheezing, their entwined bodies come to rest, and they kiss, eyes shut.
She falls asleep shortly after, but he doesn't. He strokes her hair, his head resting on his palm, and he SMILES.
And Shanks continues to watch until he can't feel his fingers anymore.
...
It's about five AM when the captain of the red-hair pirates returns to his ship.
And he's tired. For the first time, he feels the tiredness crawling up his every limb.
He drops in his armchair and his body feels like steel, the mantle dragging him down to an almost fetal position.
'Rough night ?'
Benn's voice, 24/7 nice and calm and not the slightest bit mocking tonight.
'Hmm', Shanks mumbles, eyes closed.
The firstmate makes a few steps forward, eyeing the Captain.
'So, Shanks, might one ask whether you did catch the crazy buffoons ?'
And Shanks sighs, his bloodshot eyes widen and he straightens in the armchair.
'No, Benn, I didn't. I waited all night long, but the clowns didn't show up. Now even for a second.'
Benn raises an eyebrow in confusion, thinking that it's for the better not to ask the captain any further questions, instead he gently lays a hand on his shoulder.
'Next time, Capt'n. Next time for sure.'
But the captain has fallen asleep.
It's pouring with rain. No pleasant summer rain, no cooling shower.
It's pouring rain, icy and uncomfortable, and every pirate in his senses makes himself scarce and gets back inside as quick as possible.
Not Shanks, of course.
And now he's sitting on an abandoned warehouse's rooftop, hiding next to a broken chimney, his look focussed on the two figures in the building opposite of him, a stone's throw away.
He can see them through the window, in a stylish bedroom with a working fireplace, some other furniture, a gigantic workbench covered with blueprints and a wardrobe. A hotel room, to make it simple.
They're dancing, he's twirling her around the room, spinning her over the floor and onto the bed.
Shanks sighs. He knew that would happen sooner or later, and since he promised Hope he would bring Eru back unharmed, he needed to prevent her from any knife injuries and whatnot.
He forced himself to watch.
They're both grinning in common consent as she removes his scarf and he undresses her and throws her black dress on the floor and gently lowers her onto the sheets.
Shanks flinches as he sees her body – the marks...are those WORDS ?
He shudders.
Better not think about what he did to – BUGGY OWNS.
Light red framed crimson letters on silky pale skin.
He has his sword at the ready, but he doesn't see any knife this time.
And Shanks remembers the time on The oro jackson together with him. When they both were good friends, and the vow they made, "No girls allowed".
Not that any of them believed that they could keep it up. Sooner or later, girls would be the only thing on their minds. Shanks oftenly joked with Buggy about the fact that his red nose could prevent him from getting laid, but she... she was different. She liked it, not that she shouldn't... But the fact she was beaming with pride and joy.
He doesn't want to remember.
Instead, he zooms on the Clown's face – and ghasps.
What...no.
No.
Shanks feels his heart beating, hammering, his grip tightens around the binocular, the rain pouring over his shape, crouched on the rooftop.
And as their mingled laughters become a numb background soundtrack, as their rhythmically moving bodies become a greyish blob, his thoughts are drifting apart, and his mind wanders to Andrea...Selina...Silver...
His stomach cramped, his mind a mess.
No.
He realizes he sits cross-legged, the binocular pressed against his face, so hard it almost hurts.
What the FUCK is he doing ?
'Just grabb the damn sword, smash the window – the element of surprise is on your side – and take them back to the ship, just as Hope requested.'
NOW.
Do it, do it now.
Why the fuck is he HESITATING ?
Still, he doesn't move.
His body is aching, the icy rain numbing his fingers, the binocular still pressed against his face, his mouth one bitter line.
Is it anger ?
Frustration ?
Uncertainty ?
...is it hate ?
Or...is it ... could it be ... envy ?
Does he envy his best friend for being able to show something like this very emotion ?
That's ridiculous, he sure fakes it. He always jokes. He fakes it.
He fakes it.
(No he doesn't.)
It's pure envy.
Shanks's consumed with envy.
He's eaten up with envy.
And he can't stand that.
He can't take his eyes away from the greasy window.
He has seen the look in his eyes.
Emerald glowing circles, sparkling, glistening, beaming.
This look does not only say „You're mine, you belong to me", but the other way round.
He knows that even with strongest denial, with angry despair, he'll never forget this look.
This look says „I'm yours".
And even SHE might not be able to see it. And HE himself will probably hide it whenever possible.
Shanks feels the cold rain on his face, the water running down his mantle, the sharp wind cutting his clinched figure on the rooftop.
His eyes. He didn't lie.
He didn't lie.
And Buggy's lips form „I love you". They DO.
Wheezing, their entwined bodies come to rest, and they kiss, eyes shut.
She falls asleep shortly after, but he doesn't. He strokes her hair, his head resting on his palm, and he SMILES.
And Shanks continues to watch until he can't feel his fingers anymore.
...
It's about five AM when the captain of the red-hair pirates returns to his ship.
And he's tired. For the first time, he feels the tiredness crawling up his every limb.
He drops in his armchair and his body feels like steel, the mantle dragging him down to an almost fetal position.
'Rough night ?'
Benn's voice, 24/7 nice and calm and not the slightest bit mocking tonight.
'Hmm', Shanks mumbles, eyes closed.
The firstmate makes a few steps forward, eyeing the Captain.
'So, Shanks, might one ask whether you did catch the crazy buffoons ?'
And Shanks sighs, his bloodshot eyes widen and he straightens in the armchair.
'No, Benn, I didn't. I waited all night long, but the clowns didn't show up. Now even for a second.'
Benn raises an eyebrow in confusion, thinking that it's for the better not to ask the captain any further questions, instead he gently lays a hand on his shoulder.
'Next time, Capt'n. Next time for sure.'
But the captain has fallen asleep.
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