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Sun-kissed skin. A bare chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Black hair spilled across his forehead, swaying with the sea breeze until a faint frown tugged at his brows; with a lazy movement, he brushed the stubborn strands away, and the moment the annoyance disappeared, his expression softened into something almost vulnerable. Eyes closed, lashes casting delicate shadows across his cheeks, his scar faintly flushed from the sun, lips soft pink and slightly parted, letting out the quietest little snores—and I couldn't look away if my life depended on it.
I should be working. The crystals are still between my hands, untouched. Usopp is going to kill me. But I can't stop watching the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers twitch every so often as if he's reaching for something in his dreams, the way that faint smile appears and disappears like a secret he doesn't even know he's keeping.
I've watched him a thousand times before —in battle, at the dinner table, laughing with the crew— but it's in moments like this, when there's no chaos, no danger, nothing but the quiet cadence of his breathing, that I realize I'm not just watching him anymore. I'm burning every detail into my brain, like a treasure.
By the time I come back to my senses, the sky has already begun to melt into shades of orange and pink, and the breeze carries the faint citrus scent of the trees. The crystals are still exactly where I left them. Usopp is going to be so mad. Stop looking at him. You need to finish your work.
But I can't. I don't want to.
The wind stirs once more, letting his fringe fall back over his eyes, and something coils in my stomach, a feeling I know all too well. If only I could walk over, kneel beside him, brush that stray lock away from his forehead, just once, just let myself touch him, just for a second. The thought is so vivid, so dangerously tempting, that I don't notice my feet carrying me forward. I don't notice the distance closing between us. I don't notice anything except the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the way his lips are slightly parted, the way he looks so peaceful.
I can see myself caress the skin of his cheek. I can feel it.
It's warm.
So warm.
...
Wait.
...What?
A hand wraps around my wrist. Not rough, not startled—just firm enough to stop me from retreating.
My breath catches.
I'm on my knees beside him, leaning over his sleeping form, close enough that my hair brushes against his shoulder. When did I get this close?
My body refuses to obey me. I don't know what to do, where to look, how to breathe. My gaze drops to his neck, to the curve of his collarbone, then inevitably to his lips—they're so close, I can feel the heat of his breath against my face—and I force myself to look higher, to meet his gaze, and that's when I realize I'm already lost.
It wasn't the color of his eyes that undid me—it was the way he was looking at me. Not with confusion, not with surprise, but with something quiet and wondering, as if he had woken up to find my hand on his cheek and had decided, in that instant, that he didn't want me to move. The amber light of the setting sun caught the edges of his irises. All I could feel, was that the moment our gazes locked, the whole world dissolved, leaving nothing behind but the weight of his attention holding me captive.
"I liked that," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
"What…?" I barely managed to whisper.
"This." Without taking his eyes off me, he released my wrist, and for a moment I thought it was over—but then he gently took the back of my hand and guided it back to his cheek, holding it there like it was the most natural thing in the world. His head tilted ever so slightly, leaning into my touch, and his eyes never left mine.
"It tingles," he murmured, his voice was so soft... so different from the captain I knew, I felt something crack open in my chest.
I was about to answer—I don't know what, I don't think I had words—when a voice shattered the silence. "Y/N!! How are the crysta—?" Usopp stood in the middle of the deck, his arms full of tiny gadgets, and the moment he saw us, he froze. Luffy let go of my hand and walked over to him with his usual curiosity, asking about the inventions, while Usopp remained paralyzed for a second, still processing what he'd just witnessed. "Huh?… Oh, right. This…" he muttered, awkwardly lifting one of the gadgets, and while Luffy examined it with his characteristic enthusiasm, Usopp's eyes drifted toward me for the briefest moment. He looked away, cleared his throat, and went right back to explaining his invention as if nothing had happened.
But something had happened. And we both knew it.
.....
That night, I couldn't sleep. The warmth of his cheek still seemed to linger against my palm, stubborn and undeniable. I closed my eyes, and all I could see was him—black hair, soft lips, long lashes, and that gaze, almost cosmic in its intensity, refusing to let me go.
With a quiet sigh, I slipped out of bed and let the cool night air guide me to the grassy deck, to the very place where he'd been napping that afternoon.
I let myself fall onto the grass and stared up at the sky. The full moon bathed the deck in silver light, and I remembered the last time I'd seen a moon like this—Onigashima. I remembered looking up and seeing him there, laughing, facing Kaido with a freedom that felt impossible. The ground had trembled beneath my feet, the air had reeked of smoke and blood, and yet when his eyes found mine across the chaos, when that grin spread across his face, the world had gone quiet.
What finally shattered every wall I'd built around my heart wasn't the warrior capable of standing against an Emperor. It was his smile. The very same carefree smile he wears when he falls asleep on the grass. The same smile he wore just a few hours ago while holding my hand against his cheek.
I closed my eyes, and I let myself admit what I'd been running from for months.
I was in love with him.
A soft sound broke the silence—footsteps on the grass— I turned my head to find him standing a few feet away, his straw hat covering the upper half of his face, casting a shadow down to his chin. He walked over and dropped down beside me—closer than before, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, and I shook my head.
He hummed thoughtfully, then lay back on the grass, staring up at the moon. "Mmm. The moon's really pretty tonight," he said, and I should have said something, but instead I watched the way the silver light traced the lines of his face, the way his fingers drummed lazily against his stomach. Then he spoke again, quieter this time. "Y/N." I didn't answer. "You've been staring at me all day."
My heart stopped. He turned his head, and his eyes found mine in the darkness.
"Why?"
The question hung between us, heavy and warm. I parted my lips, and for a moment I considered lying— but I was so tired of lying to myself. "Because," I whispered, "I can't help it."
He didn't look away. Neither did I.
The silence stretched between us, charged, every second passing like a heartbeat.
Then, slowly, he reached out. His fingers brushed against mine on the grass, tentative at first, then firmer, and he interlaced them with mine without a word.
"When you're not around," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I..."
A pause.
"I don't like it when you're not close, I feel like something is missing. Like I forgot something important, but I don't know what."
He fell silent. His thumb traced a slow circle on my skin.
I wanted to say something back. God, I wanted to. But the words were stuck in my throat.
I squeezed his hand instead.
He didn't ask for more. He just smiled that familiar, effortless smile and turned his gaze back to the moon.
Above us, the moon drifted quietly across the sky. Somewhere beyond the deck, the sea carried the Thousand Sunny forward through the night.
And for the first time, I stop running. I let myself fully feel the love I have for him.
Even if I couldn't say it out loud.