One Piece One Shots [x Reader]

Memory Serves (Marco x Reader)

Warning: Angst, brief mention of self-harm (not detailed). Inspired by the song of the same name by Interpol.

One. Two. In. Out.

It was no use.

You opened your eyes. The room was dark, aside from the soft glow of the moonlight.

You're alive. You're safe. In. Out.

You felt too tired to fall asleep. It was hurting again.

It's ok. It'll fade. You're alive.

You dug your fingernails into your forearm, hard enough to draw blood.

But not hard enough to chase away the memories, not this time.

Over two years had gone by and the nightmares still wouldn't go away. It had gotten better momentarily after Marco and you had settled down here. You were no longer out at sea, weren't reminded daily of what Ace, Thatch and Pops would never be able to see themselves again.

But now, each night was getting worse.

The adrenaline rush, the delusion the battle had left in its wake had long since faded, and all that was left now were faint traces of memories and feelings better suppressed than dealt with.

It's okay. You're here. You're safe. It's over.

But was it?

You slowly turned your head to see to see Marco, steadily breathing and asleep, his closed eyelids twitching slightly. His glasses were on the nightstand, right next to the bed.

What was he dreaming of? You knew he had nightmares, just like you, but the two of you had never really talked about what exactly came to haunt each of you at night.

When he cried, he did it alone, afraid he'd unsettle you even further, fragile as you were already. But you knew he did. And yet he still held you, tried to provide a safe space each time the feelings would threaten to overwhelm you.

Marco's here. Marco won't leave.

It was hurting again. That old feeling buried beneath all the delusion, the cognitive dissonance, the lies.

It was strange, how the person you'd seen as a brother for so long, someone to look up to, someone to confide in, was now lying beside you. He was so many things to you, but certainly not a brother. Not anymore.

"There they are, the two lovebirds!"

"Thatch, if you want to keep that moustache in tact, you better shut your mouth!"

The brunette laughed boisterously, playfully elbowing the man stood beside him. "Who knew our little (Y/N)'s such a brute, huh?"

You remembered that day. You remembered laughter, warmth, the feeling of having arrived at a place you'd long been searching for.

You remembered being in love for the first time.

A kiss, so soft and yet so longing, the teasing of your brothers, the blessing of Oyaji, the future the two of you had been looking forward to.

Little (Y/N). So naïve all the time.

You tried to make it go away. To stop the images, the feelings associated with them. You knew it would feel so much worse once the fleeting happiness the nostalgia brought was ripped away and replaced with cold reality.

And yet it was so tempting, to convince yourself, to live in the illusion just a little while longer. It was paradoxical. The memories made you feel better, gave you a faint reminder of what once was.