Work Text:
Doflamingo sat alone in the VIP booth overlooking the dance floor; long legs spread carelessly, pink feather coat slipping from one shoulder. Half-empty drinks crowded the table in front of him. Whiskey, rum and something that looked disgustingly sweet. “A vodka cranberry?” One of his men had asked. “Seriously?”
Scoffing, Doflamingo’s gaze didn’t lift from his glass. It took everything in him not to throw the drink directly at the man’s head. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out his phone and turned it on; only to be met with a photo of you and him. His stomach turned as he took another sip to numb himself.
“Everyone out.” He snarled, his grip tightening around the glass. Almost immediately, everyone left. Leaning back into the leather seat, he dragged his hand down his face in exasperation. Removing his sunglasses, he placed them on the table. Looking back down at his phone, Doflamingo’s chest tightened. He should’ve deleted the photo weeks ago. “Fuck it.” He mumbled, dialing the number he had memorized. It rang a few times before you answered, clearly half asleep.
“Hello?” You muttered, voice a little raspy.
“Hey.”
The sound of sheets rustling played through the speaker. Sitting up, you spoke.
“D-Doflamingo?” A pause. “What happened?”
He found himself nodding even though you couldn’t see him.
“Nothin.” He replied, words a little slurred.
“You sound drunk.”
“I am drunk.” He mumbled.
“Doffy...” You said before you could stop yourself.
The nickname is what sent him over the edge. How could you still be so sweet to him after what he did?
“Where are you? I’ll come get you.” You offer.
“I’m....at the club.”
The sound of you getting out of bed relayed through the phone and he finally broke. You were coming to get him. You still cared.
Doflamingo bowed his head, shoulders shaking as another helpless sob slipped out into the noise of the club.
And for the first time in years, he let somebody hear it.