Trafalgar Law liked to believe he had a reasonably organized life. It wasn't a statement his hospital colleagues would necessarily support, considering the amount of coffee he consumed and how often he forgot to eat lunch, but under the circumstances, he judged he was doing very well.
At twenty-seven, he divided his time between his surgical residency, books piling up on the living room table, and an apartment on the third floor of a relatively quiet, old building, with one of those elevators that kept breaking down at the most inopportune moments. His routine was tiring, predictable, and above all, silent. The building was mostly made up of elderly people, and Law had chosen that place precisely because he didn't know anyone in the building and didn't intend to change that.
Then Monkey D. Luffy moved into apartment 304.
The first encounter happened on a Tuesday, shortly after eleven at night. Law had just come off a fourteen-hour shift and only wanted to take a shower when he found a young man sitting in the hallway, surrounded by cardboard boxes that blocked the entrance to Law's apartment. He wore a red t-shirt, denim shorts, and a straw hat hanging on his back, as if he were about to leave for vacation instead of finishing a move.
— Do you live here? — the stranger asked as soon as Law approached.
Law looked at the door of 303, in front of which he was standing.
— Unfortunately.
The young man laughed, apparently immune to sarcasm.
— I'm Luffy. I moved in today. Do you know where the trash room is?
Law pointed to the end of the hallway and explained how to get to the ground floor. Luffy thanked him and picked up two empty boxes, clearing the way to Law's door. Before the neighbor could go inside, however, he asked his name.
— Trafalgar Law.
Luffy repeated the words, testing the pronunciation.
— Trafalgar... Torao!
— No.
— No what?
— Don't call me that.
— Why? It suits you.
Law didn't have the energy to argue about the logic of that statement. All he could think about was the hot shower waiting for him. He went into the apartment and closed the door, convinced the matter was over.
The next morning, he found a note stuck to the doorknob: Thanks for the help, Torao! Below it was a drawing of a straw hat so bad it could have represented anything.
Law threw the note away.
Three days later, a package of Luffy's was delivered by mistake to apartment 303. Law could have left the box at the front desk, but he decided to take it to his neighbor personally. Luffy opened the door wearing an apron with the phrase Kiss the cook and an expression of enthusiasm that seemed disproportionate to the arrival of an air fryer.
— TORAO! You found it!
— The front desk found it. I just brought it.
— Come in! I made lunch.
Law looked over his shoulder. There was smoke coming from a pot on the stove, and the counter was covered with ingredients that seemed to have been used in an entirely random order. The need for an air fryer began to make more sense.
— I prefer to stay alive.
Luffy burst out laughing.
— Are you scared of my food?
— I have respect for my digestive system.
— So you know how to cook?
Law should have lied.
Instead, twenty minutes later he was explaining why you don't put oil in an already overheated pan while Luffy watched him with surprising attention.
— You talk just like Sanji — the young man remarked.
— Who's Sanji?
— My friend. I work at his restaurant. He also gets mad when I try to cook.
— I imagine he has his reasons.
Law couldn't imagine that man working in a restaurant in any role whatsoever.
Luffy laughed and sat on a kitchen stool, resting his elbows on the counter.
— Do you always get home late?
— Almost always.
— Must be tiring.
Law looked up. There was no pity in his neighbor's voice, just a sincere observation.
— It's the job.
— Even so, you need to eat.
Law considered replying that he already knew that, but preferred to keep stirring the sauce. It was a strange conversation to have with someone he'd known for less than a week, especially because Luffy seemed perfectly comfortable in his kitchen, as if that situation were a natural continuation of the encounter in the hallway.
When he finished preparing the pasta, Luffy tried a forkful and broke into a smile so satisfied that Law caught himself watching his reaction.
— It turned out really good!
— It's pasta with tomato sauce.
— So what? It's good.
Law let out a short laugh.
That night, Luffy showed up at his door with a dessert sent by Sanji. The following week, he came back to retrieve his friend's tupperware. Then he appeared with a question about how the washing machine worked, another about a lost piece of mail, and finally, with the excuse that Law's television was better.
After three months, Luffy knew where the glasses were kept in apartment 303, had learned to recognize the days when Law came home especially tired, and had managed the feat of getting the doctor to accept company without needing to invent a justification.
Law, in turn, knew that Luffy worked at Sanji's restaurant, had two older brothers named Ace and Sabo, a friend named Nami who managed his finances with almost military severity, and an appetite that defied any scientific explanation. He also knew that Luffy liked adventure movies, hated being alone for too long, and showed affection so spontaneously that sometimes he seemed not to notice the effect he caused.
The last point, he would discover later, was a mistaken assessment.
On the Friday when everything started to spiral out of control, Law got home from the hospital shortly after ten. He found Luffy sitting in the hallway, with a blackened frying pan on his knees.
— Before you say anything, I followed the recipe.
Law examined the object.
— Was the recipe for making charcoal?
— I think I used too much oil.
— How much?
— I don't know. A lot.
Law sighed, but opened the door.
— Come in. And tell me you turned off the stove.
— I did. I opened the window too.
— Impressive. Survival instinct.
Luffy followed him to the kitchen, laughing. While Law prepared something simple for the two of them, he told him about an argument he'd had with Sanji over some portions of meat that had disappeared from the restaurant. Luffy's version involved a misunderstanding; Sanji's, according to the young man himself, was much less generous.
— He asked about you today — Luffy remarked while Law cut tomatoes.
— Why?
— Because I said I was coming here for dinner.
— You knew you would?
— I hoped so.
Law shot him a look. Luffy responded with a calm smile, as if there were nothing strange about admitting he had counted on his neighbor's hospitality before even asking him.
— Sanji asked if you were my boyfriend — he added.
Law paused for an instant. That was unfamiliar territory until then. Neither of them, during those three months of living side by side, had mentioned a boyfriend or a girlfriend, much less spoken openly about their own sexuality. Law didn't know about Luffy's preferences, and the reverse was true.
— And what did you answer?
— That no. Then I said you're handsome.
Law went back to cutting the tomatoes.
Luffy appeared to have the calmness of someone who hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.
As if he had just remarked that the weather was nice for a walk in the park.
— Do you usually say that to people?
Law couldn't stop himself from asking.
— When I think they're handsome.
— A rather broad policy.
Luffy tilted his head, amused.
— Are you trying to find out if I think you're special?
Law looked up.
— I'm trying to finish dinner.
— Sure, Torao.
The reply came accompanied by a deliberately provoking smile. Law began to suspect that the young man enjoyed those conversations more than he let on. Even so, he finished what he was doing instead of chasing the young man out of his house with a broom.
In the process, Law began to wonder if that was a subject they should address at some point.
After all, was Luffy just being ridiculously sincere as always, or had that been flirting?
Later, they ended up on the couch watching a romantic comedy that Luffy had chosen because the synopsis mentioned a restaurant. On the television, two characters were pretending to date in order to attend a family gathering.
— That never works — Law remarked.
— Why?
— Because someone always ends up falling in love.
Luffy considered the observation.
— And is that bad?
— If the other person doesn't feel the same, it can be.
— It can — Luffy agreed. — But liking someone doesn't mean you have to demand something from that person.
Law turned his face. Luffy was still looking at the television.
— You talk as if you have experience.
— I've liked people who didn't like me