Chapter Text
Despite Law’s earlier reassurances, Ichiji can’t help the small part of him that still expects the questions to come. Surely Law would get curious, every one eventually did once they realized who Ichiji was related to. It might start out small with questions like “where did you grow up?” or “is that why you don’t like fast food?”, but it would inevitably escalate to questions that were far more invasive. He’s not sure exactly why, but perhaps since the circumstances of his past had been so public, others now felt entitled to knowing all the gory details.
It’s always gone down this path, no matter how well intentioned the person asking was. Eventually Ichiji had distanced himself from just about everyone just as a self preservation tactic. Most of the time he didn’t mind not having more than a surface level connection with his peers. It was easier that way, safer that way, to keep everyone at arms length and control how much they knew about him.
But it wasn’t always better that way.
While Ichiji had more than a dozen classmates he could ask about course assignments, he had no one to grab drinks with in the evening. There were people he nodded to in the hallway, but none he texted on the weekends. While he’d had a dozen first dates, he’d never had a follow up. He’d told himself for years that he was okay with that.
With Law though, it was the first time he’d wanted something more. He wanted dinners after work, texts in the evenings, dates on the weekends and so much more sappy embarrassing shit that he’d never admit out loud because he knew he’d never live it down. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying to finally have a connection with someone that he was afraid to lose.
‘Does he even know?’ Ichiji thinks bitterly as he lies back on his bed, idly swiping through the same three apps on his phone without absorbing a single thing. ‘Does he know how much he’s thrown me off balance already?’
Probably not. Most people wouldn’t expect this level of attachment from someone they’d only been on one official date with and seen only a handful more times otherwise. He was probably falling too fast, jumping headfirst like a stupid teenager in their first real relationship without any of the caution that experience brought.
But when was the falling supposed to happen? Three dates? Five? More? There wasn’t any guide Ichiji could find on these types of things that weren’t overly soppy to the point it bordered on patronizing. The question of ‘when do we make it official’ felt so incredibly juvenile and cliche that it made ichiji want to drown himself in the ocean.
He checks his messages again. There were no new ones from Law aside from the question of making sure Ichiji had gotten home alright and wishing him a good night. It was polite, and avoided mentioning the incident that had occurred earlier. Ichiji wonders if it’s out of consideration or if Law is still processing the whole thing after seeing how much of a disaster Ichiji is.
“You’re not being fair.” Ichiji can practically hear his mother saying.
He had no reason to doubt that Law’s earlier words and intentions were anything but genuine. Assuming the other was lying to him and waiting for the other shoe to drop was incredibly pessimistic, even by his standards. And yet Ichiji can’t fully erase the doubts that cloud his mind. After all, would anyone really want to be with him after knowing how much baggage he carried with him? He truly hated how much of his life had been affected by that man. Even after that bastard had long since been locked up he was still fucking Ichiji over in ways he never could have foreseen.
Ichiji sets his phone aside on the nightstand before he drives himself insane. The room is instantly doused in darkness with only a thin sliver of moonlight coming through a gap in his curtains providing any light. He should probably be doing what Law said and going to sleep. He flops over in bed and determinedly tries not to think about his phone sitting on the table.
He tries all his usual tactics to fall asleep - rehearsing lines from his performance that he knows like the back of his hand, counting in intervals of five, running through all the mind-numbing business terminology he’s learning in his college classes - but none of it works. Ichiji suppresses a groan as he glares at the blank wall in front of him. He can feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, trying to pull him under, and yet his eyes refuse to remain closed.
Ichiji hopes that being in a relationship isn’t always like this. He’s not sure he’ll survive.
The questions he’s expecting end up never coming. Instead the first text Ichiji gets the next morning is the same ‘good morning’ text that Law always sends, along with him asking if they were still on for their date that weekend. Ichiji stares at his phone for a long few seconds before returning the greeting and confirming the chosen date and time. Law sends back a thumbs up. There are no further messages in the few minutes that followed.
‘Can it really be that easy?’ Ichiji wonders as he goes through his morning routine in a daze. Maybe it’s a little sad that he’s caught so off guard by someone simply respecting his boundaries.
He still feels a bit off kiter as he heads downstairs, greeting his stepfather and mother in the kitchen and sitting down at the breakfast table. Zeff offers to drive him to campus like usual and Ichiji absently agrees. His mother wishes them both a good day as they head out, and Ichiji day commences without a hitch.
Is it strange to be thrown off by normalcy?
He doesn’t have work that evening, which he doesn’t know whether or not to be grateful for since it also means he can’t see Law in person again before their date. That night is another uneventful evening in with his family, though all of them split off to do their own things after dinner. Ichiji considers retreating to his room as his siblings had, but part of him hates the idea. He’s sure he’ll just end up tormenting himself with his thoughts if he does, any attempts at distracting himself with course work ending in futility.
Tomorrow is the weekend anyway and-
And the date
Ichiji doesn’t groan out loud, but it’s a near thing. He instead moves to the living room couch and flips the television to some documentary he doesn’t need to focus on. He thinks it might be something about sea creatures, or maybe a maritime accident. There’s a lot of footage of the ocean. Then he sees someone throw a bucket of chum off the back of a small boat into the water. Maybe it’s a fishing documentary?
He gives up watching and drops his head back on the couch. Maybe he just needs to not think for a while.
He’s not sure how long he spends dazedly watching fish onscreen, but he’s jolted out of his stupor at the sound of approaching footsteps. He hopes it’s not one of his siblings. He doesn’t think he could deal with any of them right now. Ichiji glances over the back of the couch, stiffening as he sees his mother nearing the living room. She has a bowl of pretzels in her hand that she places on the low coffee table in front of the couch before she sits on the other side of the couch.
Just one look at her tells him that she knows something’s wrong. Maybe he looked strange earlier at dinner, or maybe she just had some innate maternal sense for when he was down, but she’s always been good at anticipating when he or one of his siblings needed someone to talk to. Despite the confusing storm of emotions currently inside him, his mother just exudes some all-encompassing comfort. Maybe it’s because he knows that his mother won’t judge him or force him to speak about things that make him uncomfortable if he doesn’t want to.
Truly, his mother should probably get some kind of an award for all she’s gone through raising him and his siblings.
“What are you watching?” His mother asks, glancing at the television.
Ichiji gives her a half shrug. “Not sure. It was just the first documentary that was recommended.”
She hums lightly. “Looks like it might be about deep sea fishing. Zeff would probably like it-“ She pauses as they both watch a shark charge a seal at - what the narrator helpfully explains - thirty five miles an hour. “Alright, maybe not.”
“I think it’s a nature documentary,” Ichiji says.
“Ah, then Yonji might like it,” Sora nods. They watch in silence for a few more minutes, only broken up by the documentary’s narrator and the light crunching of pretzels. Ichiji finally relaxes again as time drags on, which might have been his mother’s goal in the first place.
Eventually he can’t take the silence any more and blurts out, “Are you going to ask if I want to talk about it?”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His mother asks. Her tone suggests that she won’t be disappointed either way.
“I…” Ichiji hesitates.
His mother waits patiently, expression open and expectant. Forget an award, his mother deserves a damn all-expenses paid vacation.
“I told Law about… about that man,” Ichiji finally says, the words coming out stilted. Even just remembering what they’d discussed makes his mouth dry and palms sweaty.
“Oh, sweetheart,” his mother says, eyes full of compassion. She doesn’t need to say anything else, both of them knowing the gravity of what Ichiji had confessed to Law. She leans forward and takes Ichiji’s hand in her own. He feels a little bad for how sweaty his palms still are, but she doesn’t comment. “How did he react?”
“Not badly,” Ichiji rushes to say. He knows his mother wouldn’t hesitate to go after anyone who ever made her children feel bad, especially about something like this, and he needs to make sure she doesn’t get the wrong idea.
“That’s good,” she says, relaxing slightly, “But something about it’s still bothering you?”
“It’s… it shouldn’t,” Ichiji says, “He said all the right things. He told me I didn’t have to talk about it until I was ready and didn’t bring it up again.”
“But?” Sora prompts.
“I feel like I’m still waiting for him to ask,” Ichiji says, “Even though he says I can tell him whenever I want-“
“You’re waiting to see if he goes back on his word,” his mother gathers.
Ichiji grimaces. “I shouldn’t be assuming that. He hasn’t given me any indication that he would.”
“It’s understandable,” his mother says, squeezing his hand, “In the past… I wish all of you could’ve avoided what the media put you through.”
And Ichiji knows that really that’s what all of this is stemming from. Back when they’d first reunited with the rest of their family after being rescued from their father’s custody, Ichiji and his brothers had landed in the middle of a media circus. Despite the fact that Sora and Zeff had done their best to shield them from the worst of the public spectacle - and the fact that privacy laws and their young ages had protected them from having their identities revealed in articles - it was inevitable that people found out about them.
They’d been questioned by everyone from law enforcement, to journalists, to even nosy neighbors and fellow students. Each one got more and more invasive, and eventually they’d had to worry about being followed at school or people trying to look in through their windows. His parents had had to buy blackout curtains just to maintain their privacy, and before long they were getting everything delivered to avoid going outside. Eventually it got so bad that Sora and Zeff had made the executive decision to move to the other side of the country and change all their names.
Ichiji knew his siblings all still had anxiety about being in the public eye on the same scale they once were. It had manifested in different ways - Sanji and Reiju’s hatred of being photographed, Niji’s tendency to yell whenever questioned, and Yonji’s fear of being physically surrounded - and Ichiji hadn’t been spared. To this day he still went silent as a defense mechanism whenever he felt cornered, and he still flinched whenever he saw a cellphone pointed in his direction anytime he wasn’t performing.
He had had lost count of how many times people would say the same things Law had, only to go back on their promises later. It would start with offhanded remarks subtly trying to pry more information out of him, then a few questions here and there and finally full interrogations so intense that Ichiji wondered if they were trying to traumatize him all over again. After a couple failed friendships in this vein Ichiji had completely closed off to anyone, never letting others see those points of vulnerability again.
Perhaps that was what was happening now, an instinctive desire to clam up at the thought of the past being brought up again. Just imagining it makes Ichiji’s blood run cold. The thoughts of whispers following him and his family, of people trying to cut into him deeper than that man’s many surgical tools ever could.
But it also wasn’t fair to Law to judge him by Ichiji’s past negative experiences. He should be giving the other a chance to prove himself, even if it might end up hurting Ichiji in the long run. Wasn’t trust what relationships were supposed to be built on? He can already feel a slight ache beginning to build behind his temples as his thoughts fall begin to spin their wheels once more.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” his mother sighs, bringing Ichiji back to the present.
Ichiji grimaces. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. It’s normal to be worried about these kinds of things. But it also sounds like you’ve stressed yourself out enough.”
Ichiji almost laughs at the understatement. “You could say that.”
“What is it you think you need to hear from him?” His mother asks.
Ichiji pauses. He’s never really thought about whether there was anything Law could say that would reassure Ichiji enough. He’ll probably always have some hangups due to his past traumas, fears based on not only everything that man did, but the way he and his siblings were treated in the years that followed. Even if Law did everything correct, which he was already doing, Ichiji himself would have to be the one to get past his insecurities.
“I don’t know if there’s anything he could say,” Ichiji admits. “It’s something I have to work through myself.”
His mother nods. “But you don’t have to work through it alone.”
“I… yeah,” Ichiji agrees.
“It sounds like Law wants to help you work through it,” his mother continues.
“Maybe,” Ichiji says, “But what if he…?”
“But what if he doesn’t?” His mother says, not unkindly. She sighs and pats Ichiji’s hand. “You know, it was really hard for me to move on with Zeff back when I divorced your father.”
Ichiji jolts. While his mother was always quick to sing Zeff’s praises and never missed an opportunity to compliment him, she also rarely spoke about those tough couple of years that had followed his father’s conviction and imprisonment. While Ichiji had known they were difficult with the chaos they were all entrenched in, she’d always put on a brave face in front of her children to try and keep their lives as normal as possible.
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad about it,” his mother adds, “I just want you to know that I understand how hard it can be to let someone into your heart again after it’s been torn apart.”
Ichiji nods, not sure how to respond. Despite everything though, it’s nice to know that he’s not alone in his uncertainty. To hear that his mother - who had one of the most picture perfect, healthy relationships Ichiji had ever seen - had once struggled in the same way Ichiji currently is… it’s reassuring. It lets that tiny part of Ichiji that craves the connection he’d always been convinced he’d never get finally have some shred of hope.
“How did you let yourself be…?” He searches for the word.
“Vulnerable?” His mother sighs. “It wasn’t easy. It took many years. I’m lucky Zeff is such a patient man,” she laughs lightly, “It’s hard to believe you deserve something good after so much bad has happened. But you have to remember that what happened wasn’t your fault, and you still deserve to be happy.”
“Easier said than done,” Ichiji mutters.
“Trust me, I know,” his mother agrees, “But you do deserve it. You deserve to have someone in your corner. You deserve to have a chance to be vulnerable with someone else. You can’t give up on other people, and I’m sure you’ll find some that surprise you in good way.” She smiles. “You don’t need to come to terms with that all at once, but you need to start on that path.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Ichiji admits.
“Well, perhaps a start would be meeting Law this weekend,” his mother says, “And maybe then you can judge Law’s sincerity a little more yourself.”
Ichiji exhales slowly. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I think I can do that,” Ichiji says.
“Good,” his mother smiles and gives his hand one final squeeze before leaning back against the couch cushion. “Now why don’t we watch something a little more cheerful?” She raises an eyebrow as a fish is messily ripped to pieces on screen.
“Sure, Mama.” Ichiji reaches for the remote, “Cooking?”
“Oh, sure,” his mother says, waving a hand, “I could use a good laugh at someone else’s recipes.”
The atmosphere turns lighter as Ichiji flips to a cooking show, some reality competition with a group of people who are cooking a filet mignon far too seriously. Before long Ichiji is snickering at his mother’s snide remarks about the various chef’s techniques and restaurant management. No one would ever guess his mother - ever kind, patient, and understanding - had such a snarky personality, but she was very particular when it came to cooking and it definitely came out when watching these kinds of shows.
Though his earlier anxieties didn’t completely vanish, they feel considerably lighter than they had before as he relaxes into the casual banter with his mother. He’s not sure how his date with Law will end up going, but at least he knows he has a safe place to return to. His family has always been there to catch him before, and he doesn’t doubt they’ll do it again as many times as he needs it.