Work Text:
The Cross Guild flag flapped around in the wind, gaudy and grotesque. Buggy hated looking at it.
A clown’s grinning face stared down at the seas, a joke painted in blood and fear. The world whispered his name in terror, calling him “Emperor,” and for once, he’d gotten everything he claimed he wanted and more.
Buggy knew better.
It was Crocodile’s cunningness and Mihawk’s blade.
Smoke and mirrors, and him shoved into the spotlight. A puppet all dolled up playing Emperor. And every time someone bowed their head in fear, praised him for his “greatness,” Buggy felt a hollow ache gnaw at him.
Because no matter how high he rose, how much he’s achieved, he would never outshine the shadow that haunted him all his life.
And now that shadow was close by.
The rumors reached him before the glass of booze could warm: The red-haired Pirates had docked nearby.
Buggy nearly choked on his drink when he heard. He covered it up with a laugh, sneering about how he didn’t care, how the world was big enough for the both of them. Later, when the tavern had emptied and his crew stumbled back to the ship, he decided to stay behind. Alone.
That’s when the door opened.
When he walked in.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
Buggy’s heart lurched.
“Buggy!?” Shanks' voice was warm, tender, annoyingly familiar.
It didn’t sit right with him.
Buggy leaned back in his chair with a smirk that felt like a mask cracking.
“What’s the great Red-haired Shanks doing in a dump like this? Ran out of expensive sake and adoring fans?”
Shanks smiled, sliding into the seat across from him like no time had passed. “I’ve heard the news, Emperor Buggy. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
Buggy barked out a laugh, bitter and jagged. “Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not-”
“Yes, you are!” Buggy’s voice shook as he slammed his mug down. “You think this is real? That I’m nothing more than Crocodie and Mihawk’s damn puppet? The whole world might be fooled, but you-” His chest heaved as he spoke. “You’re not supposed to be fooled, Shanks.”
Shanks’ smile faded. His gaze softened, and suddenly, to him, Buggy was a boy again.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The sea stretched endlessly, and gold shimmered in the evening light. Shanks leaned against the railing, hair tousled by the breeze, a fishing pole dangling in one hand.
“Someday,” Shanks said, voice brimming with certainty, “I’ll have a crew that laughs louder than anyone else. A family that sails together no matter what.”
Buggy flicked a coin between his fingers, scoffing. “Dreams don’t mean anything out here. You’ll get crushed.”
Shanks grinned, eyes bright, filled with determination. “Then I’ll keep dreaming until I die.”
Buggy’s breath caught at the sight. Mouth slightly agape. Shanks’ sun-kissed skin glowing in the setting sun, the way his hair billowed in the wind. It was breathtaking. Just for a second. It felt like it was just the two of them. Just them and no one else, Buggy quickly covered it with a scowl, snapping, “You’re insufferable.”
Shanks laughed, warm and unstoppable. Buggy quickly looks away as the heat on his face becomes noticeable; he tries to hide it.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
Buggy forced a sneer. “Look at you. You’ve got everything you’ve wanted. The world adores you. And me?” He smiled painfully. “The world thinks of me as a joke.”
“Buggy-“ Shanks’ brows furrowed. Concern growing.
“Don’t you dare say my name like that!” Buggy’s laugh was sharp. Like broken glass in his throat. “Don’t look at me like I matter, I never did.”
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
While most of the crew slept, Buggy sat alone on the deck, arms wrapped around his knees, blinking away tears of frustration after another shouting match with Shanks.
Footsteps could be heard behind him. “You always sit out here when you’re upset.” Shanks said
Buggy groaned while he wiped away his tears. “Go away.”
Instead, Shanks sat beside him, close enough that their shoulder brushed. He held out half a loaf of bread. “You’re pain, y’know that?”
Buggy snatched the bread with a glare. “And you’re an idiot.”
Shanks laughed softly, his eyes fixated on the way the waves moved. “Yeah, but I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I could do all this without you.”
Buggy froze, the bread halfway to his mouth. He turned away quickly, pretending to chew so Shanks wouldn’t see his face crumple in the dark.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The memory stabbed through him, sharper than any blade. Buggy slammed his hand against the table, tears burning hot in his eyes.
“If you really cared, you would’ve chosen me back then. But you didn’t. And you never will.”
Silence choked the room. Shanks reached across the table, slow and careful, like Buggy was
something fragile.
Buggy jerked back before those fingers could touch him.
“Go back to your perfect crew. Your perfect dream.” His grin stretched too wide, his voice splintering under it. “Leave me to my circus. That’s all i’ve been good for.”
He stormed out into the night, boots striking the pier like war drums. The salty wind hits his face, tears stinging his eye.
Shanks didn’t follow.
He never followed.
Buggy laughed, wild and broken, because clowns are supposed to laugh. Because if the world wanted to believe he was an emperor, then let them.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
He’d always be the fool betting on losing dogs.
And that dog’s name was Shanks.