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Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy.
Law’s pointer finger and thumb pinched the final wooden bead tightly, almost as if they were afraid to let go.
Especially those most in need of thy mercy.
He rolled the bead between the tips of his fingers, the textured wood now almost completely smooth under his constant touch.
Especially those most in need of thy mercy.
There were rays of sunlight still streaming into the Sunny’s library, painting his face with a soft golden glow; bathing the beads of his rosary.
And Luffy. He was laying on top of him as usual, his straw hat hooked carefully around his neck, his face pressed against the gentle dip between his pecs.
Law never told him where he was going, but of course, he found him anyway. Tucked between the shelves of the non-fiction section, beneath the largest window, he found solace on the carpet that never seemed to lose its sun-warmed feel.
He rolled the bead between his fingers again, fighting the urge to complete the rosary and start again. Would he feel any better?
Did he ever feel better?
Especially those in need of—
Law suddenly found a hand atop his own, warm fingers wrapping around the beads of the rosary and giving it the lightest tug.
“You’re in the loop,” Luffy began, his voice still dripping with sleep. “Are you thinking mean things about yourself again?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
Luffy only let out a sleepy giggle, releasing the rosary before trailing his hand upwards towards the exposed skin of his throat. He tilted his head upwards, opening his eyes just enough to be able to see the man he was laying on.
The pad of his thumb rubbed ever so gently across his neck, following the rounded edges of the scar he found there.
“Your spots are pretty, Law.” His voice was low, as if he knew he was treading into dangerous territory. “I wish you liked them.”
“I have no reason to.” It was his reply every time. Rehearsed. Intentional.
Law waited for a response, but one never came. The silence between him and Luffy stretched longer than it should have; it made the air feel thick and wrong. He lowered his eyes, frowning at the expression he found on the other’s face.
Luffy looked hurt. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just brought both hands upwards to cup Law’s face. He pulled himself up so they were face to face, simply staring into his golden eyes.
“Is it not enough that I like them?” He whispered, sitting up now and settling onto the man’s thighs. He detached one hand from his rosary, bringing it upwards and into the sunlight so he could examine it.
Across the man’s tanned and tattooed skin he found patches; scars. The remnants of the Amber Lead disease that had attempted to take him away.
Law only seemed to find pain in them, but Luffy found beauty. He trailed his fingers across his forearm, enjoying the variations of shapes and sizes. The edges melted together in an intricate pattern, like a watercolor background for the man’s bold tattoos.
“Can’t you love them because I love them, Law?” Luffy’s words were barely a whisper, a hot breath against the skin just above his wrist. There was a rather large patch there, one of the biggest Law had. The edges were raised ever so slightly, a sign of his body’s attempt to keep the disease from encroaching further into his tanned skin. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Law tensed ever so slightly beneath him as Luffy pressed a kiss against his wrist, lingering there as if his lips could heal the pain from long before they met.
“You keep blaming yourself but I don’t get it,” pulling back, he laced their fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze, “You beg and beg and beg for forgiveness but I don’t think you’ve even done anything wrong.”
There were a million things Law wanted to reply with, but his voice was nowhere to be found. Luffy was good at that; finding exactly where to punch him in the gut to take his voice away.
“Have you been listening to me pray again?” It was the only question he could muster. How else would Luffy know, if not the repeated Hail Mary’s and clicking of the beads at ungodly hours of the night?
“Hard not to.”
Law only sighed, letting his head fall to the side so he was staring at the lowest shelf of books nearest to the two of them. He chewed his lower lip as he thought for an answer, an explanation, something. He was about to turn back and just tell the younger man to ask Robin for a rundown of Catholicism when a book on the end of the nearest shelf caught his eye.
The Holy Land Mary Geoise.
Marineford.
Turning his gaze back up to Luffy, he still struggled to find the words. He settled instead for picking up his free hand and placing it atop the scar on Luffy’s chest, gazing into his violet eyes.
He remembered the moment he removed Luffy from his brother’s arms, remembered the feeling of his body sagging in his own grip.
Remembered breaking down sobbing when he realized Luffy would be okay— but he would never be the same.
The physical scars were different for the two of them, yes, but the emotional damage had been dealt. They were both forced to carry the weight of survival.
Luffy stayed quiet as he folded himself on top of the man again, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. He buried his fingers into his thick white hair, remembering all the times he’d told him how much he loved it.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be.” Somehow, the forgiveness he’d never allowed for himself came so easily for Luffy. His arms found their way around the younger man’s body, giving him a squeeze, as if he was the final bead. As if Luffy was the one that held the key to his forgiveness.
His arms tightened around him, eyes slowly shutting as he let himself relax a bit.
“You don’t ever need to be sorry, Luffy.”