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"I uh, look, I know you hate me."
Buggy clenches his fists like if he just holds on tight enough, his nerve won't blow away in the breeze.
"And hey, the feelings mutual! I- That didn't come out- I don't mean that I hate you , just that I- Well- You know- Fuck!"
This is going so much worse than Buggy could have imagined.
"Okay, okay, let me start over." He takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean to eat the devil fruit. Honest! And I barely use those stupid powers anyway! So, so maybe, you don't have to hate me? And uhh, maybe, I don't know, maybe you could let me swim again?"
The sea's response is the same as its silence: Simple unending waves.
It’s stupid to try and bargain with the ocean, Buggy knows this. It’s literal water for fucks sake. But hey, he’s seen plenty of insane things while on the Oro Jackson. Who’s to say there’s no chance that the sea will forgive him, will allow him back into its embrace.
He doesn’t have many memories of his life before the Roger Pirates. However, there are faint, faded impressions of diving under the waves looking for sand dollars. When he surfaces, he’s holding one up in his hand, like he’s showing off his treasure to someone on shore. If there was anyone though, Buggy can never remember. Sometimes he likes to imagine that there was. A father or a mother or a sibling or a friend, just someone waiting on the shore for him. Other days, he tells himself there was never anyone there. Buggy can get on by himself, thank you very much. He didn’t need anyone then and he doesn’t need anyone now and he doesn’t need the ocean to forgive him because he didn’t even do anything wrong in the first place!
The remnants of a wave rush over his toes and all Buggy wants to do is grasp the water on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness.
Buggy doesn’t though. As secluded as this spot on the beach is, he can’t be positive that another one of the crew won’t stumble across him. So instead, Buggy hikes up his pants and tentatively takes a step into the water. The feeling of the wet sand slipping between his toes is odd and welcome, the water warmed by the high sun almost decadent. Another step brings the waves to his ankles. The one after that touching his calves. He should stop. Quit while he's ahead. If he turns back now and never goes in the water again, then he won't know if the sea really did forgive him or not. And if he doesn’t know, Buggy can just say it did forgive him because he has no evidence to the contrary! Perfect! Perfection! Genius!
But then the sun glitters off the waves like thousands of jewels, a treasure more valuable than all that have come before or will come after.
Really, how could Buggy resist?
The sea caresses his skin like it missed him just as much as he missed it. How kind it is to even give him an excuse for the wet tracks making their way down his face, as if anyone saw him at that moment, they would surely think it was just the spray of salt water. Closing his eyes, Buggy stands there in the sea with his head thrown back, simply basking in the sunlight.
Maybe the sea really has forgiven him-
The wave that pummels into Buggy takes him completely off guard and he can barely get out a gasp before he’s tumbling through the surf. Salt water shoots up his nose. Sand scratches his skin. The ocean screams in his ears. What way is up? Where’s the surface? Is there even a surface? His limbs. He can’t move his limbs.
The sea has not forgiven him.
It hates him.
And then Buggy is lying on the beach, coughing up water and sand. The sea had spit him out like a gamey piece of chicken not good enough to swallow. Not good enough to even waste time killing him. Buggy truly is a fool to think he could be forgiven.
Scratching deep grooves in the sand, Buggy heaves himself off his knees. “Fine!” He whips around to face the sea. “Hate me all you want! I don’t need you! I don’t need your forgiveness!” He kicks a spray of sand into the sea. “I can be a great pirate without swimming! Boats exist, you know! I’ll just float over you! How about that? And and-” For a moment Buggy flounders. “You’re mostly fish piss! Yeah! Fish piss and shit! So really, I’m better off without you!”
The sea takes his insults with a cool stoicism and this is more infuriating than anything.
Almost of their own accord, his hands pop off him to grab at every rock and branch he can get a hold of before throwing them at the ocean while he continues kicking sand. Buggy can’t even manage words. Instead he just screams and screams as he assaults the sea.
Unfortunately, the water is a mighty foe and his attack ends up with Buggy on his back, panting heavily as the sea continues on, unbothered. As he lays there, an arm thrown over his eyes to solely block the sun and not because he’s crying because pirates don’t cry, Buggy knows he should start heading back to the crew soon. However, he can’t force his body to move and he doesn’t even have the water to excuse it this time. With his clothes and hair soaked, there’s no way the others won’t ask questions. Captain will look at him with that all knowing gaze and Buggy is sure he’ll simply crack in two if he hears him ask, all too softly, if he’s okay. Really, Buggy should try to avoid everyone until he can get changed. That way, no one has to know. Not Captain nor Rayleigh, and especially not-
“Hey Buggy!”
No longer having any problem moving his limbs, Buggy is on his feet in a second as he watches Shanks step onto the beach from the dense jungle of the island’s interior. Quickly wiping his face under the guise of wiping off any sand, Buggy shouts back “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Shanks says so easily, a phantom ‘of course’ tacked on to the end of the sentence that makes Buggy’s heart beat painfully.
“Well, go look for me somewhere else,” Buggy is quick to snap. “I’m busy!”
Undeterred, Shanks makes it the rest of the way to him all while having that easy-going grin on his face. “You’re soaking wet.”
“Ooh what an insight! You use Haki to figure that one out?” Buggy huffs, crossing his arms. “I’ll have you know that I’m only wet because . . . Well because I was walking down the beach and a huge fish jumped in the water and splashed me. That’s it. Nothing else.”
And the way Shanks smiles at him, the way he says “A fish. Right,” instead of calling him out on the obvious lie, well Buggy both loves and hates him for it. However, what is far worse is how Shanks looks past him to the sea and says, “You know if you ever want to go in the water, all you have to do is ask.”
His torso comes apart to help Buggy gain height on the other apprentice as he yells, “You think I’d ask the ocean to let me go in the water? Like some fucking idiot? Thinking the ocean can respond? Ha! Give me some credit! I’m not some- some fool like you are!
Shanks rolls his eyes. “I meant you could ask me, dumbass.”
His shoulders physically drop back down onto the rest of his chest. “W-what?”
“Well,” Shanks begins, leaning down to start unlacing his boots. “You can’t move if you’re submerged. But if you had someone holding you, they could just pull you back up for air. We wouldn’t be able to get too deep, but as long as I held on to you, being in the water would be fine.”
There are too many thoughts tumbling through Buggy’s head to fully articulate. Shank’s offer, its- It makes him ache for things besides the ocean. Does he even know what his proposal means to Buggy? He can’t. No. No way. Otherwise he wouldn’t just be taking off his boots so casually, like this was easy. Everything is easy to Shanks. Fighting and Haki and talking, it’s all natural to him. And this, this too is easy. Meanwhile for Buggy, the idea of saying yes to this seems just as impossible as swimming.
Eventually, he manages to say, “All you’d have to do is let go and I’d be dead in the water.” This doesn’t have the snarky edge he meant it to have. It was supposed to come off more as ‘I’m not that gullible, good try though!’. Instead, it’s a quiet thing. A statement more than an accusation. Like he’s admitting how vulnerable he would be.
Whichever way Shanks takes it, all he does is grin and say “Don’t worry, I’ll hold you tight.”
Maybe the seawater got to his brain, because instead of some quip back, Buggy finds himself quietly replying, “I know.”
And so with no more words, the two of them walk to the water's edge. All too easily, Buggy's arms wrap around Shanks’ shoulders, just like how Shank’s hand comes down to support his lower back. When he crouches to place the other arm under Buggy’s knees, the movements are all smooth, not a hint of hesitation betraying any nervousness he might feel. Buggy hopes his own feelings are just as hidden. Maybe Shanks will even attribute the red on his cheeks to the high sun, nothing more. Then, Shanks stands up and Buggy is completely lifted off the ground. How is it that he can literally float, and yet here in the other boy’s arms, does Buggy feel truly weightless.
“Alright, you ready?”
Buggy puts on his best scowl. “Yeah c’mon, let's get this over with.”
With that, Shanks begins walking into the sea. Buggy wants to say something to break the silence. However, a heavy thing deep within his core fears that if he speaks, the ocean will notice his presence and knock them both away. Would it hate Shanks too by his association to Buggy alone? Would it take away his ability to swim too? Would Shanks even be able to take up the mantle of King of The Pirates if the ocean hated him? Buggy tenses at the thought alone. He won’t- He can’t drag Shanks down too. Buggy may be selfish, but he won’t be the anchor Shanks is tied against to drag him to the bottom of the sea. Sure it will be lonely down there without his friend, but he’d take that any day over having Shanks down there with him.
Just as Buggy is about to demand Shanks take him back to shore before the ocean’s hatred spreads onto him, the first wave laps at Buggy’s back. They’re far deeper in the water than Buggy got. Quickly, he looks up at Shanks to see if he’s feeling the ocean drain him. However, what greets him instead is a bright smile that makes up for the fact that Shanks’ straw hat is blocking out the sun.
Shanks’ hold on him tightens and any thoughts of turning around squeeze out of Buggy’s brain.
With each step further in the water, Buggy can feel his limbs turn heavy. Really, he should be terrified. And maybe he is. Not terrified that Shanks will drop him though. No. Terrified that he trusts Shanks so much that he knows he won’t.
Finally, they reach a point where only Buggy’s head and arms breach the surface of the water.
“Alright, hold your breath.”
The snarky comeback of ‘I know what to do underwater, dumbass!’ dies before it even reaches Buggy’s throat. Instead, he just nods.
The water covers his head, Shanks’ hold on him steady and sure.
Buggy braces himself to start sinking, like the ocean will pull him out of Shanks’ arms. However, it never comes. Tentatively, he opens his eyes.
The water around them is crystal clear. Beams of sunlight break through the surface to dance in dappled patterns across the white sands. Seashells dot the ocean floor in creamy pinks and soft oranges.
Gods he’s missed this.
While he still feels the water taking his strength from him, no crashing waves come to knock them over. Sure the ocean may hate Buggy, but it's as if it loves Shanks enough that it wouldn’t dare bring him to harm.
It only comes out as a garbled bubble, but Buggy thanks the sea all the same.
All too soon, Shanks lifts him out of the water. It takes a second to adjust, blinking away the salt and sunlight as he takes in a breath he hadn’t realized just how much he needed. But once his gaze is clear, Buggy is just staring up at Shanks as he stares down at him. There’s no teasing. No jabs. It’s just the two of them. Even the sea seems to disappear.
And then Buggy is lifting himself up as Shanks lowers himself down and their lips brush together, all salt and sand, but it's perfect all the same.
As quickly as they came together, they come apart. Shanks looks down at him, gaze soft and lips slightly parted, and in that moment, Buggy feels as see-through as the sea. He’s sure Shanks can see right through him, right to his pounding heart with his own name written all over it. However, he’s kind enough to not say anything, and instead slowly wades back to shore.
When his feet once again touch the sand, Buggy almost wants to cry at the loss of Shanks’ arms around him. Or maybe it’s from the loss of the ocean around him. Or both.
“So . . .” Shanks doesn’t look at him. “Did you like it?”
Buggy pauses for a moment as he stares out at the sea. “Yeah. We should do that again sometime. If you want.”
Whereas Buggy expected Shanks’ smile to be his usual easy-going confident smirk, what he sees instead is a small, shy smile. “I’d love to.”
And as the two of them gather up their boots, Buggy takes the moment to think on how yeah sure, the ocean still hates him and there’s no one standing on the shore waiting for him.
But Shanks loves him.
Shanks is in the water with him.
That’s more than enough.