have heart my dear
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Sabo burns with hatred. He wants to claw Outlook’s eyes out, snap his neck, drag his body into the jungle and let the big cats have him for a snack. He feels like a wicker creature, nothing but sticks brought to life with love like a magical spell from a storybook. Only it’s the burnt ends of love, the remnants of it after grief has eaten its fill, and heartbreak has turned the spell bitter, has given it teeth.
Luffy’s hand is wrapped tight around his, and his eyes are wide and round and anxious, the way they always look when he thinks Sabo is thinking about going away without him.
“I have a condition,” Sabo says, sounding, to his own ears, disconcertingly like his father when his father is doing business.
It might be that, more than anything, that causes Outlook to consider him thoughtfully.
“I’m listening,” the man says.
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- Part 1 of have heart my dear