Chapter Text
He was buried under corpses, the lifeless eyes of the man he’d see at the grocery store staring at him, his body heavy; too still, too cold, and Law couldn’t move him. He couldn’t do anything but try to breathe, paralyzed with fear, listening to his lungs wheeze. The back of his throat tickled, dry and sore from smoke inhalation and his mouth tasted of ash and all he could smell was death so strong it was almost sweet.
He wanted to scream for help, for anyone to take him away, make the distant gunshots disappear, soothe him to sleep like his mother would, as she tucked him into bed. He wished she was here to hold him, run her fingers through his hair and talk to him with that voice that made him feel loved. Or his father, who he thought was invincible; never afraid of the monsters under his bed, always stood strong and tall and made him feel safe. He’d resisted those childish notions lately, being ten years old and passed the age for bedtime stories and fearing the dark.
But the sound of voices nearby made him swallow around a thick tongue, stifling a cough - he would give anything for his parents to be here now; ten years old was too young, he couldn’t do it alone and the monsters were real. They weren’t under his bed or closet but here, close enough that he feared they would see him. They were soldiers in hazard suits with machine guns and torches and everyone he ever trusted or loved were dead and nobody would protect him now.
A sudden addition of weight on top of him almost made him cry out, the grocer that he recognized, Mr Lou, was now completely surrounding him in a weird embrace, Law had to turn his head to avoid being smothered by his chest. Blood from the man’s fatal wounds smeared along his cheek and a whimper left him; he’d been holding in his terror, the sobs stuck in his throat, knowing that if he was found he’d be joining the dead. However, as another body was thrown across the pile, he felt like he already had.
The grocer who would make funny faces at him to get him to laugh, the lady who lived a few houses down who had a son Law’s age - who he saw dying in front of the church, crying for her before he stopped breathing - a teacher who taught him geography and world history last year, people he knew, they seem to crowd him. Their empty eyes begged him to stay, their stiff limbs wrapping around him, they were so heavy and he was still being buried and maybe he’d be crushed, he couldn’t breathe but he didn’t want to die -
And then he woke up.
He realized he was in a dark room; popcorn ceiling and a fan above him, sheets around him, and he was holding his breath.
His diaphragm refused to work, paralyzed with terror, still caught in the nightmare until he forced himself to roll over. He had only meant to stand up or change positions but he was closer to the end of the bed than he thought and he sent himself right over the edge. Able to catch himself with his palm, he only just managed not to hit the carpeted floors face-first, but his right side from hip to knee took the worst of it. The good news was that the pain was jarring enough to get his lungs to work and he gasped in much needed oxygen.
Remaining where he fell, twisted on his side he could distantly hear muffled whimpers and gasping wet breaths in quick succession. They were from him, he knew, and if he was able to think logically at this time he would be able to list all these observations under medical diagnosis.
A night terror that took effect in REM sleep, obstructive sleep apnea that caused him to stop breathing, hyperventilating and shaking from the panic attack. It was likely that he was also in a state of confusional arousal that usually occurs after such an episode as the patient slowly differentiates between dream and reality. They were generally unresponsive to stimuli and not fully aware.
Coming back little by little he noticed things. He was sweating excessively, crying also, and the floor was cold, the fan was on and clicking softly, the sheet was still wrapped around his legs and he had dragged his pillow to the floor with him. He tried to focus on his senses, a tactic he learned from a stupid self-help booklet, and picked apart the sensations.
The wetness on his cheek were tears, not blood. The constriction of his chest was because of the twisting of his sleep-shirt. The fibers of the carpet in his fist were not gravel and dirt. The dryness of his throat was not due to smoke and he didn’t feel any pain other than his right hip from the fall.
Slowly, he raised himself to sit up, steadying his inhales and exhales to control them and his hands came together in his lap, fingers finding a pulse point to count the BPM. He didn’t know how long it took, but he let himself take all the time he needed to pull himself together, used to the routine by now.
Only after he was calm did he try to stand up, bracing himself with the bed frame and helping his shaking legs take more of his weight. He rearranged the sheets and pillow into a pile on the mattress and picked up his phone from the wireless charger to check the time.
Saturday, October 6th, 2018
4:45am
He got maybe four hours. That was good in his experience. He’s had years to get accustomed to his issues and the complicated relationship he had with sleep. Still, he thought, as his eyes weighed down heavily and his vision blurred, it was never enough.
While his phone was still open he navigated to an app where he kept his recorded medical history. He logged the time and watched as the application updated and ran calculations to determine his average sleep cycle. Four hours seemed right about average, but this was his second episode of parasomnia in the form of night terrors in the last week, which was higher than normal. His phone warned him about notifying his psychiatrist, who he was negligent in going to for his monthly check up… it had been four months since he’s seen her.
He closed the app, continued to ignore the notification, and decided on getting ready for the day. He’d only have an hour before his morning alarm would sound, he could go on a quick run, take a shower, and grab a coffee on his way to work.
He kept the lights off as he got dressed, the single window he had on the other side of the bedroom didn’t have curtains so the moon’s light was bright enough to see by. While there was nobody living here but him he was used to staying quiet, and as it was before five the world seemed so still that making too much noise would disturb the peace. So he creeped down the stairs and passed the living room where a brand new couch occupied the space, facing towards a fireplace and wall mounted television that he rarely used.
A few boxes littered the area, waiting to be unpacked, but it was an organized mess. He’d only been living here a week and was still settling in; most of the furniture was new and delivered in place, and he had groceries now. The master bedroom upstairs had plush tan carpet but the living area below had real wood flooring and the kitchen he went through was finished with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a large island facing the living room.
The whole condominium was luxurious; located in a nice part of town, in a well groomed community. It was a little two story townhouse with a garage and an open layout which was popular nowadays. The only negative was the sides of the townhome, while not sharing a singular wall between them, were still too close to the neighbors for any windows, so they used skylights to bring natural lighting in, along with a large wall of windows to the back that overlooked the community lake.
While being a drawback for others, Law felt comforted by the lack of windows that people could use to look in on. He felt submerged, in a place distinctly his, blocked off from the rest of the world. For when the world became too much for him. He also was desperate to find a place to buy at all, he was short on time, and this was far removed enough that he purchased it the same day he toured it. He paid in full, a hearty sum that Law did not even hesitate on and was moving things in a week later.
While he didn’t prioritize the community amenities when he was looking for a place, he quickly found that the grounds were a very nice perk. When he walked out the back door, he was faced with a glimpse of the lake peeking out from a dense crop of trees. The sky was lightening behind the scene and the air was brisk as fall turned the colors of the trees.
There was a concrete path he followed, setting off at a slow pace that would get his blood going, passing homes that looked just like his in various colors. The breeze and the exercise removed the last of the fog from his mind and by the time he got to the bank of the man-made lake he felt normal again. The flashes of his nightmares receding with the rise of the sun. Unlike many, he never took headphones with him when he jogged, preferring to hear the rhythmic sounds of his shoes hitting the pavement and the nature around him. He started to see other joggers on the path as he rounded the lake and looped back to his house but he hadn’t met any neighbors yet and wasn’t keen on making friends with any of them.
It was pushing five-thirty when he returned to his house, breathing hard with exertion but feeling much better. His muscles appreciated the hot shower and he felt clean and focused, enough that he gathered a razor and cream up to scrape the stubble off his cheeks and lips.
Leaving a small bit of beard on his chin and a bit of sideburns on either side, he looked at his reflection and remembered another face, so clear after his dream. Despite the many years it had been since his father’s death, he still remembered the man’s features, and knew he looked very similar as he aged.
Dark black hair, olive skin, narrow eyes that had a bit of a middle eastern shape to them, bright amber eyes irises that were lighter than his father’s but so different from the dark brown of his mother’s or younger sister’s. There wasn’t much he carried from his mother, actually. Maybe the nose and lips, and his frame was more lithe than his father’s was but he thinks he’d surely be taller than his mother by now, were she alive to compare.
He wished it was easier to remember her features, but he didn’t have enough of a resemblance to her like his sister had. She was lighter skinned, had blonde - or maybe caramel colored - hair, brown eyes, short, delicate. He remembered how soft her hands were and that he liked playing with her hair when she carried him around.
Keeping his beard and sideburns reminded him of them, but it also helped hide how young he was. He was just about to turn 25 years old - in a couple of days actually - but that was still thought of as incredibly young in his career as a surgeon. In his field of medical practice, that was prodigious, and the other doctors treated him differently when they realized this. So from the moment in college that he could grow decent facial hair, he kept it.
There were bags under his eyes, a dark bruised look that he always carried with him, but he was otherwise very sharp looking; two small golden hoops in each ear and tattoos stood out strikingly against his tan skin. There was a black swirled heart taking up most of his torso with a strange smiling face at the top where the two halves met. It was also on his back just at his shoulder blades; a perfect circle with rounded oval eyes and split in half with teeth in a grin; rays came off the circumference in the shape of “T's” making it look like a sun. Black swirls spanned his biceps to his shoulders and dark empty pits of ink were on his forearms and the back of his hands. They were modeled after the black spot, a mark of death and tragedy to follow no matter where he went, given to the guilty as judgement. Lastly, on his fingers were the letters D.E.A.T.H.
He realized he had a bit of a twisted obsession regarding death, and the irony that he was a surgeon who saved people, was not lost on him. Was actually the point. Although it generally scared the patients he treated if they saw the tattoos on his hands before they went into an operation, so he kept them under gloves most of the time, they were his most distinguished tattoos. It was hard to miss, it garnered a lot of attention and questions, but every time he saw them he was reminded of his entire purpose in life.
It was a dark outlook really, but after all the death he had seen and all the times where he couldn’t do anything - where he wasn’t good enough - he was finally in a place where he could save lives instead.
When he was able to help people cheat death and live another day he felt a little bit better about being alive himself.
Another good thing about working as a doctor was his attire; not many fashion decisions to be made regarding scrubs. He had about a dozen sets in various shades of black, blue, and yellow. He went with a black pair and also put on his work shoes, tying them in a knot that wouldn’t come loose during his hours of running around corridors.
While his new place was technically close enough to walk to the medical district, he usually took his car, especially as he typically had passengers going into work. These passengers lived a few blocks away and loved to make house visits now that he was close enough, so when the doorbell rang he was pretty sure of who it was at his doorstep.
He didn’t need to let them in, he regrettably had given them a key.
“Hey Captain!” He heard from downstairs along with bumps and curses as two morons stumbled into his house in their usual obnoxious way, loud in everything they did. He listened to them make a ruckus in his living room and hurried to join them before they started to make a mess.
Two men, older than he was by a few years were arguing back and forth over the remote to the television while a man younger than him was sitting quietly on the plump couch, mumbling pleasantly and he bounced on the cushions. They didn’t notice him yet as he paused on the stairs and he watched fondly.
Shachi with red hair and glasses, and Peng (nicknamed Penguin) with black hair and a hat modeled after his nickname, were similar in build with Penguin being slightly taller. He was also the eldest of all of them, but you couldn’t tell when he was successfully being baited by his ever present friend Shachi. They were always so lively, but Law knew they forced it sometimes for his sake, and thanks to them Law actually had a social life, even if it just included the three.
Bepo, the meek one on the couch was very different from the other two; quiet and non-confrontational, but so kind and loyal. He was a lot bigger in build; tall with some weight packed on, but strong underneath from the martial arts training he’s been in since he was a teen. He had platinum blond, almost white hair and dark eyes that never quite met anyone else’s when he spoke to them. Bepo had always been extremely shy and soft spoken and Law wondered sometimes how they could be friends for so long, especially when the other two were so aggressive. Whatever the reason, he was thankful, because Bepo was one of the first friends he made and the man tried so hard to follow Law everywhere he could - even to medical school.
In the last few years of them being friends, the nickname captain grew through his department, mostly thanks to them as they started it. The team that he had selected were all chosen for their skills but also for their ability to work with him. It was hard to genuinely get along with someone like Law who demanded so much and had a particular way of doing everything, but these three had several years of practice and for some unfathomable reason, stuck around still.
Leaning on the banister, he put on a smirk. “What are you doing over so early? Don’t you think some people are still sleeping?”
Shachi and Penguin jumped and put down the remote like they were caught but their grins were unashamed. “Hey Cap,” Shachi called. “Of course you’d be up by now!”
Bepo spoke up over them, “Sorry, did we wake you up?”
Penguin chuckled at Bepo’s gullibility. “You look like you’ve been up for a while, how have you been adjusting to the new place?”
Of course they knew about his sleeping disorders, having witnessed them through the years. He didn’t want to lie to them, they’d see through it anyway, but he never got into the details. “Not great, but it’s fine.”
“Does the medicine help?”
Law sighed shaking his head. “Not really. It's the third prescription I've tried." It's one of the reasons he's not been to the doctor in a while. Other than the fact that he hated to talk about the source or cause of these issues.
Truthfully, PTSD was just as difficult to treat today as it was fifty years ago and Law would much rather do his best to forget things than set up monthly appointments to relive his nightmares. All while the therapist pretends to have the experience to do something about it - their typical patients were not immigrants from a war-torn decimated country with survivor's guilt. And he'd been a child. His was a difficult case and he knew it.
Coupled with the experimental medications used for sleeping disorders, depression, and anxiety, Law felt more like a case study than anything else. So, using his professional doctor's opinion, he stopped going. He could deal with the symptoms and he knew the signs of depression, if nothing else he had something for that and anxiety.
"We're stopping for coffee on the way in," He stated as he snatched his jacket from the couch and made sure he had everything. Phone, wallet, keys, and pens - scrub pockets could hold it all.
Nobody had any protests as they followed him to the garage. Shachi the only one to laugh and murmur about the caffeine addiction before changing his tune when he remembered the cute barista he'd get to see.
One of the only reasons he got a sedan was because of these three; a sleek four-door in a bright yellow. It turned heads because of its price tag as well as it's blinding color, but he argued that he could have had an even better two-door coup had he not been playing soccer-mom.
"You know, we could have also pooled together money to get ourselves a car too, but we decided to be nice and let you chofer us around," Shachi would say haughtily. The little brat.
Bepo took the shotgun seat since he had longer legs and Law liked him better. He didn't try to mess with the radio but instead stared out the window as they drove by the lake on their way out of the neighborhood.
There was a busy highway just down the road that seemed to mark the line between rural and urban and on the other side of it was the medical district; a four block gathering of buildings dedicated to the hospital and research center. Some buildings were so tall that Law could see them over the trees when he jogged, especially since they never went to sleep. The lights would always shine and push back a bit of that natural darkness at night.
"It sucks that we're going to work on a Saturday," Penguin whined. "Other people get to go swimming and sailing."
"Don't complain, we'll go to the lake eventually."
"Like, after work?"
Bepo made a small noise. "No, we have the donation banquet tonight."
Everyone groaned at the reminder, even Law. “Bepo,” he began, voice deep with rejection. “I’m not-“
“You said you’d come with me to see Cheryl, the neuroblastoma patient, remember?"
Law remembered. She was a seven year old child with a particularly aggressive form of cancer. Their facility was one of the few in the country that had a program to treat it but it was not an easy process. She was given a very high dosage of radiation and had to be isolated as a result, both for her and other's protection. Law had been very close to the case and spoke with the girl and her mother regularly. She reminded him so much of his little sister Lami. It was difficult not to be moved by her suffering and remain at a professional distance.
"And you can donate money to the cause, I know that’s important to you. You donate to it every year."
"And I could do that without going to a stupid banquet."
Shachi agreed loudly from the back seat. "Come on, Bepo, we could go swimming, you love swimming."
"I'm sorry," Bepo apologized. "I just thought it would be interesting to see her perform. And they are supposed to have really good food - some famous chef or something who volunteered to cater it."
"Well," The red hummed. "Guess we could -"
"Oh, come on, Shachi," Penguin groaned.
"Hey, if there's food then that changes everything!"
"Captain, it's your vote."
Bepo leaned forward like his wide pleading eyes would convince Law and behind him, the other two went silent, waiting for his decision. Since they made an even group it was sometimes hard to come to decisions when there was a split and for that reason they made Law's vote count as two.
He didn't care for social gatherings, he hated the stuffy small talk, and seeing the girl who looked like Lami would hurt, but he did care about its cause and wanted to help her and everyone else like her. And he had to stop avoiding things just because he was afraid of bringing back bad memories. If anything, the fact that he was uncomfortable with it made him want to go more, he was stubborn even against himself in that way.
"I'll go." Though he couldn't make himself sound happy about it. Even Penguin sounded completely fine with the answer though which he rolled his eyes at; why his presence was so important for them to go to this event was beyond him, but he felt warm all the same that they cared so much.
The Polar Tang Hospital in Goa city was a large building with three floors consisting of an emergency department, surgical suites, and imaging services. Cancer treatment was done along the basement level but there was an infusion area with an atrium above. It was adjacent to the larger public atrium, four stories tall leading to the roof garden and connecting the cafeteria, cafe, gift shop, and quiet areas.
Directly to either side of the facility was a parking garage and a research center/ laboratory with clinical space. Above these basic support floors were two rectangular six-story units of patient rooms, the architecture broken up by outdoor areas with gardens. In the middle of it all was a tower rising like a mast of steel and glass; part of the atrium and central elevator. Law thought of it as a ship, especially as the exterior glass curved in a way that reminded him of a hull.
He spent more time here than anywhere else and knew the hallways like the back of his hand - could navigate the place with his eyes closed. Every department knew him from his shifts at one point or another as he'd been in his general residency for over five years. He practiced all manner of operations under an experienced mentor before becoming a fully independent surgeon, the youngest and most talented in the region to have finished all the education and experiential requirements.
Recently though, he'd applied for a fellowship to specialize in cardiothoracic surgery. The heart and lungs were much more interesting and challenging than the everyday gastrointestinal or tumor issues he dealt with, but his colleagues just claimed that he was a masochist or unsatisfied with the already ridiculous amount of money he was paid a year.
In truth, he just needed to feel consumed by his work. It's what he had been striving for all his life, ever since he followed his father into work as a kid, trailing behind a white coat, waiting for the day he'd wear one of his own. He'd been so obsessed with continuing that dream, even when his father died, that it was the only thing he'd known. After he reached the goal of being a doctor, he needed another; a surgeon, and then another; a specialized one. He was afraid of what would happen if he stopped, if he'd feel empty and dull without the challenge.
Sure, the extra money on top of the salary is nice, not that he needed it, but he could donate to charity or whatever. He had already spoken to the board to ensure he wasn’t going anywhere. They didn’t have many specialized services other than a pediatric wing and a few doctors practiced in orthopedic operations. While he wouldn’t be the only cardiovascular expert in the building, his skills as a surgeon would mean a lot to the hospital and was one of the leading practitioners pulling in revenue.
His crew was supportive, which helped tremendously and Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo would still be with him no matter what. They understood his passion and need to push himself to be better and do better, even if they said he was already the best. And as loud and obnoxious as they were, he was proud of how far they'd come too.
Bepo was the best RN he could ask for; he took care of staffing and gave the crew their duties and ensured Law had everything he needed for scheduled operations or appointments. Sometimes he thought the man more busy and stressed out than he was but he handled the responsibilities well. Despite his meek nature that suggested he could be stepped on, people learned really quick that he had a will of steel when it came to it.
Shachi was the best when dealing with children and as a nurse he was one of the first people the patients would see; his bubbly personality was always helping them stay calm. This was especially important when it came to imaging equipment. People usually got freaked out with the big machinery, strange noises, and small spaces but with Shachi there they tended to be more comfortable as he distracted them with jokes. He also took care of any resident lab work or requests that needed to be done across the way in the research department, which was another job all on its own, so he technically had two roles.
Penguin was very different when it came to work; he was calm and serious even in dire situations and had a particular eye for detail that has saved more than one life. They were all trained in resuscitation and emergency interventions but Peng was the best assistant to have in a challenging or dangerous operation. In fact, Law had asked why he didn't go further and become a surgeon himself, since he seemed to have the backbone for it. The man had smiled and shook his head, saying he didn't want the job; he did good, he saved people, and he was needed the most right where he was.
They were early for their shift, but that just meant that they had more time to prepare. A perk of being a surgeon was his reserved parking spot close to the entrance on the first floor, it opened straight to the elevator lobby but they passed it to get to the cafe on the other side. Shachi skipped ahead, smile ready for the barista behind the counter, a girl Law never got the name of but seemed just Shachi's type; blonde, light green eyes, petite figure. She had glasses and spoke with a soft voice and generally seemed nice and intelligent. All Law cared about was how good the coffee was.
Her blush made the freckles on her cheeks stand out more and she always seemed flustered when they came to order. It was no wonder when Shachi laid it on a little thick; he complimented her hair, made a terrible pun when he ordered his coffee, and asked if she had any plans for the weekend. Small talk that continued even after he'd ordered and moved over for the others.
Peng snickered a few times and Bepo knocked against his shoulder softly, murmuring a quiet, "Be nice, it's cute."
Law was the last to order, stepping forward to the counter. "Just a cappuccino. Medium."
She nodded, writing his name on the cup and adding it to the others. "You said there was a party?" She asked softly.
"Yeah! Well, maybe not a fun party but - Bepo, where is it?"
"The museum downtown is hosting. There's a silent auction for children's artwork that will be displayed."
Shachi's expression brightened even more. "The museum! You like museums? They're fun, right?"
At least she's able to converse and make their orders at the same time, Law thought. The hospital was never empty so even at this hour people were wandering around. Visitors and patients waiting, staff on breaks; a few of the tables were taken and a couple customers began to line up at the front again. "Will you all be going?"
"Yeah, I'm sure we could get you in if you wanted to come!"
"Maybe," She smiled, looking down at her hands as she worked the espresso machine, a coworker came up to help and she slowly turned back to the register. "I'll ask if I can get off a little early."
You'd think the whole world lit up with the way Shachi beamed. "Sure thing!" Penguin started to drag him away from the bar so she could get back to work. Not all of their orders were finished but Bepo and Law were waiting further away from the bar, politely out of conversation distance, and the other two joined. "Guys," He said breathlessly. "I might have a date!"
"Yeah, yeah," Penguin patted his shoulder. "A chance anyway."
"She totally likes me, you think? Bepo, is she looking this way?"
Bepo humored him. "She has glanced this way a couple times."
The red head was shaking with excitement. "She's so cute."
Law didn't really understand the draw, but he knew Shachi was a romantic at heart. He loved to read all the cheesy books with true love and fantasy and 'saving the damsel in distress' and that often transposed itself into his expectations of reality. People who didn't know him would call him a pervert or a flirt with the way he acted, but Law knew that he was looking for something much more meaningful than a fling. While he hadn't been lonely per say, he'd been wanting company, even going so far as to drag all of them to a speed dating event. Sadly, the few girls he's dated since Law knew him in college were not of the commitment type.
Shachi poured everything he was into a relationship and tended to scare them away - Law had told him that asking to leave a toothbrush at a woman's house after dating for only three weeks was moving way too fast, but he refused to listen!
He was so passionate about things; it was one of the reasons Law liked him so much, but even after knowing him for so long it still got overwhelming sometimes. Nothing was ever like the books or movies where there was love at first sight and they lived happily ever after, but for the sake of Shachi's feelings, he held that in.
His friend was a good person and he would treat anyone with respect and dote on them all he could if they were in a relationship. Law firmly believed that it would make someone very happy - he may yet grow out of the storybook romance idea, but that didn't mean he wouldn't find what he needed, maybe in this barista even.
Law's name was called, the last to get his order, and he went to pick it up. The others waited with their drinks on the outskirts of the tables, Shachi still saying something and the others listening with a look of acceptance and suffering. He could commiserate, as he knew Shachi would be talking about this all day. The girl was holding out his coffee and he finally read her name tag - Senna - as he took it. She blushed again, which he found ridiculous; she must not have much confidence if she was constantly flustered at everything.
He turned around with his coffee, bringing it to his lips when he notices something. The paper cup had one of those cardboard sleeves to protect against the heat but there was something on it. He moved his hand to look and stared at the black lines of script.
See you tonight? ;)
xxx-xxx-xxxx
Surprised, he looked back over his shoulder, wondering - hoping - that maybe this wasn't for him. That she was meaning to give this sleeve to Shachi who had shown interest in her and asked her out in the first place. But her green eyes met his, and he could see that there was no mistake.
He was distantly aware of how nice he looked and that those exotic looks combined with his career choice and success made him a much desired partner. But that was as far as their interests went; even the ones who genuinely wanted to know him ended up not liking him. He didn’t really care, as he didn't seem to have the same needs as most people; relationships weren't worth it and he never found anyone he was particularly attracted to. It’s gotten to the point that he’s not even flattered by their admiration anymore, especially when it was so carelessly thrown out there.
Cold rage began to fill him and he sent a quick glance to the others to see if any of them noticed. Shachi was thankfully distracted with a story still, hands waving animatedly and just the thought of his friend's face if he knew about this hurt Law; witnessing all that happy hope as it's crushed. The redhead didn't deserve that.
He spun around on his heel, marched right back to the bar and slipped the sleeve off the mug, discreetly tossing it over the counter to the floor by her feet and grabbed another from the dispenser. "You shouldn't fucking pretend to be into someone when you're not." His voice was flat and cold, his eyes rose to catch her's and she flinched at his glare.
Her eyes broke away to the floor and she trembled. "I'm sor-"
"Save it," He snapped. "It's too bad you can't get off early. Shachi will be disappointed you couldn't come."
The poor girl looked like she was going to cry, and if he wasn't so angry about what this could do to his friend, he would feel bad about that. It's not like she straight up said she had been interested in Shachi. But she'd given him hope and attention and went along with his flirtation when she had other intentions all along. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was manipulators.
Law tried to wipe the anger off his face as he joined the others. Thankfully, he tended to always look grumpy. "Let's get to work," he said, leading the way.
"I can't wait until six!" Shachi grinned.
Law couldn't look at him. He wondered if he should say something; tell him she wasn't coming or wait until he figures it out but he knew he wouldn't be able to lie. Not to them. Let Shachi be happy for this little while, He decided. And when the time comes, be there to cheer him up.