Three [Eustass Kid × Reader]

Twenty-three

Eustass Kid is watching the ceiling silently in his cabin, only the sea's soft rumbling sounds.

The amber eyes are open and burning, his thoughts chasing each other at a fast pace.

They are loud.

The redhead groans and sits up, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

Without the securing goggles, the locks fall back a second later, and the man scoffs annoyedly but lets them be.

He stands up and takes on his trousers before leaving the room, heading to the door opposite his.

He was never a man of manners, but for Killer, he always knocks.

"Kid?"

"Can I come in?" he asks, standing from one leg to another.

"It's open, fafafa."

Kid sighs and catches the handle, then steps inside.

Killer is sitting by the side of his bed, the vivid blue eyes glowing in the semidarkness, without the mask shadowing them.

His friend walks closer and takes place on the chair by the desk, pulling up one of his legs.

The blonde looks at the necklace over his bare chest.

"You never take it down?"

"It's all I have left," shrugs the redhead, touching the green crystal.

It takes some heat from his skin but is still cold. Kid absent-mindedly moves the pendant between two fingertips.

"The nights keep passing, Killer. I thought she'll find me in the dreams, but she's never there. The few times I saw her, it's only from my memories. And not the good ones."

"Maybe you met her, just forgot it after you woke up," laughs Killer harshly. "It's not your fault."

"That's even worse," answers Kid silently.

The blonde's features relax, they turn kind and caring. It hurts him to see his friend like this.

"You said she's alive, so don't give me this face."

"Just because she's alive, I have no idea what they're doing to her!" shouts Kid, then lowers his voice not to wake up the others. "And what if I was wrong? If it-"

"Overthinking is my job to do on this ship," states Killer. "Don't try it. We'll find Three again. Everything you saw in that dream will come true."

The redhead takes a deep breath and leans back to look at the ceiling.

"That's the only thing that keeps me from going crazy," he says with a hoarse voice. "I'm tired of waiting."

"The war is coming, fafafa. It's not long. We will find her once the battle is over."

"The others don't even know how she looks," sighs the redhead. "It won't go that easy."

Killer shakes his head a little, and reaches for his mask, then takes on his shirt which was folded perfectly on the nightstand.

The direct opposite of Kid's coat and vest, thrown down at random places in his cabin.

His philosophy is that if he'll take it on in the morning anyway, folding is just a waste of energy.

The blue fabric hides the scars that Roronoa Zoro's blade left behind.

"What are you doing?" tilts Kid his head. Killer's heart warms at the sight of his silky hair flowing in the air.

As a child, the redhead asked the same question at least ten times a day, with the same movement.

Sometimes it's hard to believe who he has become, from that thin little boy who dreamed about the sea on a small island of the South Blue.