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There’s a soft breeze rustling her hair, strands coming loose from her braid. Some get in her hair and she brings up a hand to clear them out, but it gets intercepted by a warm tan hand. She looks up from where she’s resting on the grass and meets reddish brown eyes, shining brightly despite the shadow engulfing the top half of her face—an old, well taken care of straw hat resting over her free, messy curls. The stranger smiles, a scar stretching the skin of her left cheek. She curls the offending strand of pink hair around her finger, then pulls it out of the way and tucks it behind Koby’s ear.
She says something, but Koby can’t understand. She tries speaking, but not a word comes out of her mouth. She panics, hands coming up to cover her throat, but the stranger pries them off. She tries talking to Koby again, but still only silence remains. She keeps going, seemingly laughing at whatever she just said that Koby can’t hear—like there’s a conversation happening she isn’t part of despite their closeness. She looks at her hands, noticing the dress she’s wearing, like out of a period drama, and the jewelry she’s draped in.
The stranger plops down next to her and Koby jumps. She looks like she’s taking a nap, her straw hat placed strategically on her face, blocking the sunlight and continuing to hide her face. Koby fiddles with her fingers on her lap, twisting rings and tracing bracelets, all the while sneaking glimpses of the sleeping woman. She gives into curiosity eventually and tries scooting the straw hat out of the way.
A hand stops her, gripping her wrist tightly, almost but not quite painfully, and Koby startles back. The breeze turns into a cold gust of fast wind, stealing the warmth of the moment. Koby shakes, hair once more hitting her face, and is afraid to look down at the stranger. She opens her eyes carefully, and her vision is filled with red.
Koby wakes up with a gasp, clutching her chest and covered in sweat.
She doesn’t remember her dream at all.
There’s an upperclassman Koby sees often around campus with beautiful, if rowdy, curly brown hair and sunny tan skin, always wearing a straw hat either hanging behind her and tied around her neck by string or placed precariously on her head. She’s always laughing and surrounded by people—some even Koby recognizes, like Tony Tony Chopper, the genius med student that got into university as a 14 year old. It was very big news for a while, but now he’s just another student, albeit a slightly famous one.
Koby’s eyes always find her in crowds, in hallways, even in food establishments around campus. It’s not like she’s stalking the straw hat wearing student—Koby knows her name, it’s Monkey D. Luffy, completely by accident no matter what Helmeppo says—, but it seems she’s always orbiting the upperclassman. She’s in the periphery, close enough to watch, but too far to interact with her. It feels like an innocent crush, and, also, like unwavering, all-encompassing, love.
“Just ask her behind the gym and confess your big fat crush on her like you’re in a shoujo manga, for fuck’s sake,” Helmeppo doesn’t get tired of telling her. And she would; Koby’s not the timid, scaredy cat she was before, except…
Well, except that Luffy would never even agree to follow her somewhere let alone entertain a conversation.
The older girl hates Koby with apparent and quite loud passion. She doesn’t know what she did to upset her, but every time their eyes meet, Luffy’s face sours and she stomps as far away from Koby as she can. She even dropped a class once, back in Koby’s freshman year—walked in, shoulder thrown over a gorgeous black girl in yellow overalls and mid-laugh, made eye contact with Koby, who smiled awkwardly, then walked out and never came back. Usopp, the one in the yellow overalls, apologized profusely to Koby about it and they became good friends thanks to that class.
“She’s not usually like that,” she’d tell Koby, but the point was very clearly made.
So, Koby has put just as much effort into avoiding the other woman, not wanting to make her more upset than she apparently already does by existing. She avoids the cafeteria during meat-heavy menu days, peeks into cafés before going in and speeds out as soon as she has her drink in hand, ask Zoro for Luffy’s class schedule so she knows when it’s safe to be around campus, frequents places Luffy would never be caught dead in, like the library, declines hang-out invitations if she knows Luffy is attending, and so on and so forth.
“Sometimes it looks like you put more effort in avoiding Luffy than passing your classes,” Hibari told her once, when she was crouching behind a plant while Luffy made her way past them across the hallway.
“This is getting ridiculous, it’s been like, what, two years of this nonsense?” Vivi corners Koby one day, blocking her way with a hand slammed in the wall next to her head.
Koby clutches her bag against her chest, spooked out of her mind. “Um, sorry?”
“You’re coming to our Halloween party.”
“Uh, well, I mean,” Koby avoids Vivi’s eyes, looking everywhere but at her friend, which would be easy due to their height difference if Koby weren’t as nervous as she is. “I have that Legal History assignment that’s due soon, so…”
“In two weeks, and you’re already done with it.”
“Whaaaaaaat,” she fakes indignation. “No, I’m not…?”
Vivi holds her phone up, unimpressed. “Helmeppo told me.”
That traitor, Koby thinks.
“He also said you’re free Saturday, and that he already got you a costume.”
That fucker, Koby corrects herself. She deflates, feeling tiredness sweep over her.
“Vivi, you know I…”
“Being in the same place for one night is not gonna kill ya,” she shakes her head. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is with each other and honestly? I don’t care! I want my friends–all my friends to come to my house and have a good time, ok?!”
Koby’s left wide eyed by Vivi’s insistence, zeroing in on the newly settled grief simmering under the surface of Vivi’s taut shoulders. She sighs and Vivi cheers.
Koby stares at the partial mask, and the suit, and the stuffy coat all displaced on her bed, and then turns to Helmeppo with “what the fuck is this” written on her face.
“You’re gonna look great, Koby,” Hibari pies in, already wearing her mime costume, sans the make up.
“It was this or you were gonna be the ketchup to my mustard,” Helmeppo deadpans, throwing her dress shoes at her. Koby barely ducks, but steels herself to her fate. She’s never even seen the Phantom of the Opera—musicals are more her best friend’s speed. But still, she gets dressed; slowly, reluctantly, like she’s getting ready for a disciplinary hearing.
Vivi’s house is a little out of town, surrounded by other secluded lake houses and a bunch of trees. A perfect place to get murdered in, Koby thinks every time she visits. She knows the security is tight, with how much money Vivi has and how overprotective her family is—her dad, specifically, took great care of her safety when they moved here.
The blue haired girl is ecstatic she made it, complimenting her costume, her hair and what little of the makeup peeks out from under her mask—Helmeppo and Hibari beam at this, the culprits behind her look.
There’s no sign of Luffy anywhere, which helps her relax for the time being. Koby says hi to more people than she spoke to in her first eighteen years of life—if it weren’t for Luffy, Koby’s friend group would be so much larger, huh. She’s friendly and acquainted with so many of the ones also orbiting the other girl, but even her close knit group know and seem to like Koby alright. Her heart pangs with yearning for a moment, but she keeps going through the party, from group to another, like nothings wrong.
She makes drinks with Sanji and Zoro, the two fighting so close together Koby wonders if they want to kill each other or just kiss; she stays on the couch for like an hour listening to Law and Kid discuss music genres—they also spend a long time threatening physical violence but nothing comes of it. Brook, Uta, and Five (her name’s maybe Barbara, but everyone calls her Baby or Five, Koby thinks?) rope her into an impromptu karaoke session she’s having too much fun in to care how badly they smoke her. She dodges Pudding’s flirting attempts, redirecting her towards where her siblings are hoarding the candy.
By the time Perona, Cindry and Doll let her go—having read her star chart, dissected her blood type personality traits, read her aura and gave her a tarot reading (which said her love life is looking up, and that her destined partner is waiting for her and something about their heavy history that flew right over her head—, Koby feels like she needs to pass out. She’s not even drinking, surviving off of the bowl of potato chips scattered around the house and the mini sandwiches she wolfed down in the kitchen hours ago. She sneaks upstairs, with Vivi’s permission, with a tray of baked potatoes and chicken tenders she had to fight Penguin and Sachi for.
She’s sitting in an empty closet, munching on the baked potatoes and dipping them in spicy mustard, when the door bursts open and Luffy, dressed in a Lara Croft costume, stumbles in, drunk off her mind. That’s weird, Koby has never heard of Luffy even sipping alcohol—Zoro says she doesn’t like the taste. She grabs her plate and places it as far away from Luffy as she can, bundling her coat and using it to hide it from view.
Luffy frowns. “Eh, this isn’t the kitchen!”She turns to Koby and waves her hand around. “Is it?” Koby shakes her head, slowly. “But,” Luffy mumbles to herself, far too loudly not to be overheard, “I smelled something good…”
Koby’s eyes flick to her plate and scoots it further behind her coat. Luffy shrugs, flopping down next to her, cross legged. She looks very beautiful tonight, Koby thinks, the costume hugging her body perfectly. Not that Koby is looking, oh, no; Koby is pointedly staring at the ceiling.
“And who are you?”
Koby raises her eyes to look at Luffy’s brown ones.
“Me? I’m, well…” Now, if Koby were a smarter person, she would lie. But she isn’t, so she admits, “I’m…um, well, Koby…you know? We almost had a class together a couple of years back…”
Luffy leans closer, squinting and going cross eyed. Her nose bumps into Koby’s and she scoots back until she hits the wall. Luffy chases after her, tilting her head all sort of ways like she’s looking for something.
“No, you’re not,” she declares eventually, crossing her arms petulantly. “I know Koby and she’s way prettier than you!”
Koby’s brain screeches, comes to a stop, then restarts with so much force, it overheats. “Um, what?”
“Yeah! Koby has pretty hair, and eyes, and her voice is so sweet,” Luffy starts, then keeps going for what feels like hours, “…she’s also kind, and really smart!” She brings her hands up, curved like she’s cupping a pair of fruits. “Also, she has a nice pai–” Koby covers her mouth with her hands, panicked and overwhelmed.
“Wait–OUCH?!? Did you just bite me?!”
“Not-Koby is so mean just ’cause she’s not Koby…”
“Not–I am Koby!!”
“Nuh-uh,” Luffy crosses her arms again, shaking her head and pouting.
Koby has the irrational urge to go “Yuh-huh!” but she suppresses it, barely.
“Koby writes poetry in her free time, you know?” Luffy says out of nowhere.
“W–what?”
She does, in a small notebook shoved between her mattress and the box spring. No one but maybe her sister, Rebecca, knows; and only because she liked snooping when they were younger. She’s never told anyone, because…
“She’s terrible at it,” Luffy chuckles. There’s an odd expression on Luffy’s face that makes Koby’s chest hurt. “But I love it. They’re all for me, after all…”
“You can’t know that.”
“Not-Koby is so mean…I know ’cause Koby told me,” she shows Koby her tongue and huffs some hair off her eyes.
“No, I didn’t,” Koby whispers, once more stubbornly holding onto that particular detail.
“I know you didn’t, stupid. Koby did!”
“But I am Koby!” She goes to take her mask off, fed up with it, but Luffy blows a raspberry at her and she’s left stunned, like a living statue.
“Nope! I know Koby and you’re not her!”
“No, you don’t?! What?!”
Luffy turns melancholic, startling Koby. She drops her head and picks at her nails.
“Well, not this time…” Koby doesn’t know what to say. Luffy keeps going. “Koby runs away every time she sees me in this one…”
Koby can’t make sense of what that last part means, but she does point out, “No? That’s you! You look like I killed your dog every time you see me!”
“Eh? We’ve never met,” Luffy tilts her head, looking adorable. Koby closes her eyes, trying to block out how lovely she is.
“I mean,” she might as well, “like, Koby…”
“Oh,” Luffy frowns. “Well, something bad happens when I do…”
“Luffy, what does that mean?”
Luffy stares into the wall, then shakes whatever is bringing her down off, then jumps at Koby. She shrikes, jumping away once more and hitting the back of her head against the wall.
Luffy grabs Koby’s plate with a triumphant grin over her shoulder, resting comfortably over Koby’s lap. Koby’s face is warm, her blush spreading up to her ears.
“I knew I smelled something yummy!”
Koby gapes. She doesn’t know how she’s gonna make it through the night with Luffy giggling and so close to her for the first time, ever. She feels like she’s in a dream, and when her hand lands on Luffy’s face, something clicks into place. Almost as if she’s been missing a piece of her life that just slotted into place. Her hand burns and Luffy goes quiet.
“Thank the seas you’re not Koby,” she whispers, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to her again.” She closes her eyes, nuzzling into Koby’s palm.
For once, Koby doesn’t correct her. She can’t even get herself to ask what that means. She knows the moment she does, Luffy will slip through her fingers and the distance will be back.
I’ll ask her later, she thinks and lets the world outside and Luffy’s worries fade away.