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Description
Warning: a small word is said about suicide. If this triggers something by you, please refrain yourself from reading this. Thank you, dear.

Fifteen years ago, people would call you young and too innocent to comprehend what was happening and was dealing it at your own special way. Now, they would call you crazy for still believing it as if it was real. The person you had taken as your friend and could call upon whenever you needed it. Someone you could turn to when things in the outside world would get too much and the words reaching out to you hurt. That someone helped you to get through the worst of your middle and high school. He saved you when you couldn’t take it anymore and wanted to end it for once and for all.

He was your friend, named Dracule Mihawk

“Stop it!” You hissed, more to yourself than to anyone else as you held your knees to your chest.

“Are the voices pestering you again, mi amor?” A voice rang through the silent night like a soft whisper, caressing your form with its calming words. The sigh that followed made you look up, sight blurred by the large droplets of salty water that would fall down any second now. A sob escaped your lips and a large hand weighed down on your shoulder as Mihawk squatted down to lift your face with his other hand. “Oh dear. What did they do this time?” He whispered, wiping away the remainder of the silent waterfall on your rosy cheeks.

You closed your eyes tightly, bit your lip and shook your head left and right. His warm breath fanned over your face as a calm summer breeze, hinting the smell of the red wine he would always drink. Whether with you or without you, he still drank his wine regularly. “I’m useless.” You whispered as low as possible, fearing for the only person left to turn you down if they heard you. “Mihawk.. Please, why can’t I end this? It hurts so, so much.”

Mihawk furrowed his brows at your words and sighed before taking away the blade from the ground and throw it as far away as possible. “Because I need you to live, mi querida.” He told you, rubbing the shell of your ear softly with his nose as he sat down next to you. His arms wrapped around your shivering form like a warm blanket and you leaned into his touch with a heavy sigh.

He did the talking, like he always did. He was the reason you were still alive after all. His words were leading you to reason as he told you how amazing you were. How fearless, at which you snorted, and how loveable.

Your eyelids drooped a little as you thought of feeling his touch through your clothes, secretly loving how he held you in his arms. His breath warmed your neck rhythmically with every exhale he made. “Thank you, Mihawk.” You muttered tiredly. Mihawk’s hand stroke your head without even thinking about it. His perfect face twisted in a frown.

He couldn’t let you sleep on this tiled floor. It was too cold for a human like you. “You need to get back to your bed, (y/n).” He said. His words, aiming for you to stand and walk away, contradicted with his actions. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Your soft and smaller hands grabbed his arms tightly, fearing for him to leave you on your own. A whine left your lips as you pushed your lids apart with all your might.

“Kay.” You murmered and left the safe haven of the person you could trust with almost everything. “Thank you, Mihawk.” You yawned as he walked up next to you, gently leading you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. His yellow eyes fixed on your face, he couldn’t miss the sad look coming from your (e/c) orbs. “Sleep well.”

“Sleep well.” He whispered, watching you fall down on the matrass, hitting it off to your dreams immediately. His hand held yours. Mihawk watched your face shift from sadness to serene as hour followed hour. His knowing eyes never left your paling face as coldness invaded your curled fingers. He pushed away the few strand of hair from your face and kissed your temple lovingly. “Mi querida, you should live.” Your lips parted slowly, soft breathing flowing in and out.

“It hurts.” Your voice whispered in the dark, a silent tear leaking from your closed eyelids.

“I know.” His finger traced over the skin of the palm of your hand towards your shoulder. (e/c) eyes met the golden ones of the older male. They looked sad, yet a flicker of happiness would come through as your tired eyes looked up at them.

“But I didn’t cut.” Your brain was giving static the longer you looked at your friend, feeling energy seeping out of your form.

“Indeed, you didn’t.” A songlike voice filling the room. “It’s okay, mí querida. Close your eyes.” His lips closed up on yours, slightly parted before they touched your dry ones. No words were flowing with your voice, no scream to make with your closing throat. There was no other breath of air to flow inside of your lungs. The bodily balloons were screaming for the release of their torment, a release with air. Your hands clawed at your throat, holding it closely, as your lips moved to part and close, like a fish out of its waters. Your eyes looked at him as his closed.

“…” Wanting to whisper his name, it didn’t come out. No air to flow by your vocal cords. Fear escaped from your mind and your body started to relax. Slowly, but surely, your lids started to droop. A white, translucent form of mist raised from your lips into the awaiting mouth of the ravenette hovering above you. Finally, your eyes closed and the last bit of the mist left your body.

Mihawk sighed and opened his eyes once again, smacking his lips. “Your soul tastes delicious, my love.” His fingers caressed the white flesh of your cheekbones. “I would love to meet you again in your next life.” His lips were pressed against yours for a last time, giving your form a final goodbye, before Mihawk got up, picked up his fedora and walked out of the room, not even looking back once.

Description
Warning: a small word is said about suicide. If this triggers something by you, please refrain yourself from reading this. Thank you, dear.

Fifteen years ago, people would call you young and too innocent to comprehend what was happening and was dealing it at your own special way. Now, they would call you crazy for still believing it as if it was real. The person you had taken as your friend and could call upon whenever you needed it. Someone you could turn to when things in the outside world would get too much and the words reaching out to you hurt. That someone helped you to get through the worst of your middle and high school. He saved you when you couldn’t take it anymore and wanted to end it for once and for all.

He was your friend, named Dracule Mihawk

“Stop it!” You hissed, more to yourself than to anyone else as you held your knees to your chest.

“Are the voices pestering you again, mi amor?” A voice rang through the silent night like a soft whisper, caressing your form with its calming words. The sigh that followed made you look up, sight blurred by the large droplets of salty water that would fall down any second now. A sob escaped your lips and a large hand weighed down on your shoulder as Mihawk squatted down to lift your face with his other hand. “Oh dear. What did they do this time?” He whispered, wiping away the remainder of the silent waterfall on your rosy cheeks.

You closed your eyes tightly, bit your lip and shook your head left and right. His warm breath fanned over your face as a calm summer breeze, hinting the smell of the red wine he would always drink. Whether with you or without you, he still drank his wine regularly. “I’m useless.” You whispered as low as possible, fearing for the only person left to turn you down if they heard you. “Mihawk.. Please, why can’t I end this? It hurts so, so much.”

Mihawk furrowed his brows at your words and sighed before taking away the blade from the ground and throw it as far away as possible. “Because I need you to live, mi querida.” He told you, rubbing the shell of your ear softly with his nose as he sat down next to you. His arms wrapped around your shivering form like a warm blanket and you leaned into his touch with a heavy sigh.

He did the talking, like he always did. He was the reason you were still alive after all. His words were leading you to reason as he told you how amazing you were. How fearless, at which you snorted, and how loveable.

Your eyelids drooped a little as you thought of feeling his touch through your clothes, secretly loving how he held you in his arms. His breath warmed your neck rhythmically with every exhale he made. “Thank you, Mihawk.” You muttered tiredly. Mihawk’s hand stroke your head without even thinking about it. His perfect face twisted in a frown.

He couldn’t let you sleep on this tiled floor. It was too cold for a human like you. “You need to get back to your bed, (y/n).” He said. His words, aiming for you to stand and walk away, contradicted with his actions. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Your soft and smaller hands grabbed his arms tightly, fearing for him to leave you on your own. A whine left your lips as you pushed your lids apart with all your might.

“Kay.” You murmered and left the safe haven of the person you could trust with almost everything. “Thank you, Mihawk.” You yawned as he walked up next to you, gently leading you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. His yellow eyes fixed on your face, he couldn’t miss the sad look coming from your (e/c) orbs. “Sleep well.”

“Sleep well.” He whispered, watching you fall down on the matrass, hitting it off to your dreams immediately. His hand held yours. Mihawk watched your face shift from sadness to serene as hour followed hour. His knowing eyes never left your paling face as coldness invaded your curled fingers. He pushed away the few strand of hair from your face and kissed your temple lovingly. “Mi querida, you should live.” Your lips parted slowly, soft breathing flowing in and out.

“It hurts.” Your voice whispered in the dark, a silent tear leaking from your closed eyelids.

“I know.” His finger traced over the skin of the palm of your hand towards your shoulder. (e/c) eyes met the golden ones of the older male. They looked sad, yet a flicker of happiness would come through as your tired eyes looked up at them.

“But I didn’t cut.” Your brain was giving static the longer you looked at your friend, feeling energy seeping out of your form.

“Indeed, you didn’t.” A songlike voice filling the room. “It’s okay, mí querida. Close your eyes.” His lips closed up on yours, slightly parted before they touched your dry ones. No words were flowing with your voice, no scream to make with your closing throat. There was no other breath of air to flow inside of your lungs. The bodily balloons were screaming for the release of their torment, a release with air. Your hands clawed at your throat, holding it closely, as your lips moved to part and close, like a fish out of its waters. Your eyes looked at him as his closed.

“…” Wanting to whisper his name, it didn’t come out. No air to flow by your vocal cords. Fear escaped from your mind and your body started to relax. Slowly, but surely, your lids started to droop. A white, translucent form of mist raised from your lips into the awaiting mouth of the ravenette hovering above you. Finally, your eyes closed and the last bit of the mist left your body.

Mihawk sighed and opened his eyes once again, smacking his lips. “Your soul tastes delicious, my love.” His fingers caressed the white flesh of your cheekbones. “I would love to meet you again in your next life.” His lips were pressed against yours for a last time, giving your form a final goodbye, before Mihawk got up, picked up his fedora and walked out of the room, not even looking back once.