The smoldering remains of the smuggler's den lay behind you. Thick, black smoke curls upwards into the sky, stinking sourly of gunpowder and the subtle, metallic odor of recent bloodshed. Out here, it's at least muted. Ignorable, to an extent. Inside was a different matter. Hmm. Best not to think about it.
Most of the damage to the place was inside, though the exterior shows clear signs of battle. Explosion-scarred stones and windows shattered from stray bullets. Thin, clean lines through the ground and nearby surroundings from the strings of your leader. One building was half collapsed. Gladius must have been inside when he'd blown, and the structure clearly couldn't withstand the damage.
The base was now yours. The young master was pleased with the conquest. The would-be competitors had been dealt with in short order, and this little escapade also net you a new place to call home. The compound was bigger, more ornate, than the little warehouse you'd thus far been holed up in for months. The promise of a nicer bed, stolen from those who opposed your merry little misfit family of pirates, was apparently too much to turn up.
You couldn't have cared less, truthfully. It was enough that everyone was safe and the battle was over. One bed was as good as another, in your humble opinion…
A sudden wind kicks up the dust and smoke, sending it higher into the sky above. Vergo had been concerned about the column of smoke leading authorities straight to this location, but the young master had waved that aside. A wandering Marine ship wouldn't be enough to dispatch with your group, even if they did happen to stumble upon you. Let them come, if they were foolish enough.
His words had inspired the others into comfort. Security. The thought of another fight simply made you blink. A rest sounded pertinent. Exhaustion weighs down your limbs, your bones. With the adrenaline fading, the fight finished, there's an unmistakable shake to your hands as you pull the pack of cigarettes from your pocket.
You breathe out a long sigh, stepping up to the rope fencing that lined the base's sea-facing walkway. The salty waves lapped against the concrete harbor you stood upon, looking out to the empty horizon. While the sun hadn't yet reached the horizon's edge, it wouldn't be long before the blue sky would saturate into the golden-orange of sunset.
A sudden presence beside you nearly makes you jump, fearing that someone had somehow survived the base's takeover. The hair on your arms stands on end, but then you see a familiar sight. Black feathers and the red cap that covered a mess of sandy-blonde hair. Your heart--which had leapt up into your throat from surprise--settled back into place. If he's noticed your momentary distressed, the man doesn't show it.
Corazon, as ever, was silent as he stood beside you facing the sea. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, you notice one of the sleeves of his shirt has been cut, the edges stained the dark red of blood. Peeking out from beneath the hole in the fabric is the white cloth bandages that have been applied to the wound. You hadn't seen him during the fighting, so there was no telling how bad it actually was.
Instinct wants to reach out to touch him, to lift his sleeve and survey the injury yourself with gentle fingers, but that would be a step too far. Resisting that urge was almost painful. He was an executive. Doflamingo's brother. Untouchable. Or so you kept telling yourself.
You worried one day that excuse would no longer hold you back.
Perhaps you've stared too long, because his head angles towards you, and your eyes flick up to meet the reflection of his sunglasses. Smoke lingers from his already-lit cigarette, held between his painted lips.
With a meaningful glance back down at his wound, his feather-covered shoulder lifts a little. No big deal, the gesture says. You'd grown adept at interpreting the man's non-verbal language, even if you didn't believe that he was trying to convey half the time. The mute brother of your leader was as much a liar as any other who spoke aloud. Downplaying pain was a typical MO of his.
The subtle lift of your brow must give away your doubt. Corazon gives a tiny shake of his head, a sign that he didn't want you prying. And while you couldn't stop your heart from swelling with worry that he'd been injured, you respected him enough to comply. Seeing as he'd already been given medical attention, there wasn't anything else for you to help with.
The sight and smell of his cigarette reminds you that you'd come out here to smoke to begin with. With a little shake of the carton, one stick falls out onto your palm. The rest return to your pocket as your close the lid. You hold it in your mouth as your hands search your person for the lighter you always carried.
The rustle of clothing persists as you still can't locate the damn lighter, pocket after pocket turned out with nothing to show. Frowning, you check again. No luck. An annoyed groan escapes you, as the realization that you must have lost it during your fight settles in. There was no telling where in this mess of debris it might be laying. How inconvenient…
You're about to put the cigarette back in the box when gentle, slender fingers pull your chin to the side and up. It takes several rapid blinks to fully register the fact that Corazon's face was pulled so close to your own, the end of his red-lit cigarette touched to yours. The glow lights in his sunglasses, but you're drawn to the sight of his lips and cheeks as he sucks in a long inhale, encouraging the heat to ignite your own.
Later, you'd think to wonder why he hadn't simply offered his own lighter. Or why it felt as though he'd caressed your skin. But that thought was lost in the shock of here and now.
You're struck still, motionless. Caught in the moment. It wouldn't be the first time you'd imagined him with his fingers on your jaw, face tilted down to regard you from his superior height, but the circumstances had been a bit…different, of course. There had certainly not been cigarettes or sunglasses in the way. Oh, how you wanted to see his eyes boring into yours, with heat or care or…oh, you don't know what you'd prefer more.
It was hard to look away from his lips. Oh dear…
An ache pierces your heart just beneath your breast. It would be so easy…to just lean in, to throw caution to the wind and obey what your feelings demanded. Your attraction to the blonde was a secret you'd lived with for going on a year. Ever since you'd first been recruited. There hadn't been a moment when this man didn't fascinate you. So kind and yet so distant. You wondered which he'd be to you, if you actually told him the truth.
The odds, unfortunately, likely weren't in your favor. And so you stayed quiet. Suffered in silence. Was it even possible for a woman to desire a man to this degree? Ugh…
It was unfair, how close he could be while being so far from your grasp. A whimper threatens to come out of your mouth as he finally--perhaps hesitantly--leans away, his fingers slipping from your chin and leaving trails of fire behind. The ghost of his skin on yours. Only an iron grip over your self-restraint keeps it in the deepest parts of your chest.
Could he tell? Did he know? There were times when you suspected he knew of your inner feelings for him. And truthfully, you couldn't tell if that would have been a good or bad thing. Not only would it likely disrupt the family dynamic amongst your band of pirates, you doubted Doflamingo would be too thrilled to know you were pining after his brother.
And he was not a man to cross. That was a fact well enough established by now. So no matter how much you wanted to hold Corazon in your arms and tell him that you were all his, should he choose to have you, it was not wise. You were to be left wanting, just as you always had been.
No matter how useful a woman you'd been to the young master, you didn't think it was enough to get between the blood of family.
He's still staring at you from behind his sunglasses, exhales of smoke coming from his nose. Was Corazon…surprised by his own actions? There was a distinct possibility you were just looking way too into it. But then, why was his hand twitching at his side? The movement was caught in your peripherals.
The first few puffs on the cigarette helped to calm the beating of your heart and the nerves that were alight from his touch. Reality descends like an ice bath over your veins. Jittery, fading thoughts of future possibilities are mentally shoved back into the recesses of your brain as you hear the voices of your fellow pirates somewhere in the distance behind you. Pretending as if you weren't reeling from the contact, you give a small nod as a pathetic offer of thanks.
A matching one comes from your silent companion, who now broke his gaze and turned back towards the sea. He seemed content to stand beside you as the sun slowly set. Any opportunity to be at his side was a welcome one. And when it was just silence, just the two of you, it was easy enough to convince yourself that he wanted this just as much as you did. Ah, pathetic…
And so with a yearning heart that beat against the confines of your ribcage, you smoke your meager cigarette, hoping it'll tide your senses over to not act a fool in front of the man you wished with all of your heart could be yours.
Maybe another day…or maybe never…one could only wonder.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
