Summary : Shanks was feeling heavy tonight. He didnāt want to be alone.
Warning : Spoiler Manga Chapter 1171, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Suppression, Silent Crying, Emotional Vulnerability, Guilt, Self-Hatred, Unspoken Feelings, Mentions of Past Death, Canon-Typical Violence.
Note : Okay everyone, thats my first time writing. Sorry for any mistakes, english isn't my first language, feel free to correct me in the comments. So I was literally crying in my bed and then for some unknown reason I thought about the last chapter of One Piece and this One Shot idea just popped into my head. š¤£ Anyways, enjoy reading. š«¶
One evening on the Red Force, Shanks was lying on his bed. His cabin seemed more uninhabitable than usual, and his heart felt strangely heavy in his chest.
With his hand behind his head and his gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling of his cabin, nothing stirred but the sound of water striking the hull.
At this late hour, Yassop was probably up in the crowās nest, keeping watch. Knowing him, heād likely dozed off by now. Shanks hesitated, wondering if he should take his place. He sighed, got up, and stepped out of his cabin, forgetting his cloak, deciding to walk the deck instead, hoping the night air might ease the weight pressing on his chest.
As he walked down the corridor, the wooden floor creaked softly beneath his steps. He paused, eyes lingering on [Y/n]ās cabin door. She was probably asleep by now,and still, he wanted to try.
He stepped up to the door and knocked softly. After a few seconds, he cracked it open and peeked inside.
He cursed himself silently, feeling ridiculous, and started to pull the door shut.
A sleepy voice echoed through the dim room.
Shanks pushed the door open a little wider, whispering again.
He heard her shift under the covers, saw her shadowy silhouette lift her head slightly.
ā Why are you up so late? What do you want?
She asked, her voice low and groggy.
Shanks hesitated for a moment before answering.
There was a hint of irritation in her voice, still heavy with sleep.
ā I couldnāt sleep... not alone...
The words hung in the air for a moment.
ā Oh... fine. Just donāt wake me up again.
Her voice was calmer this time, softer, more understanding.
A low, breathy laugh escaped Shanks as he stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him.
And just like that, he was lying on one side of the bed. Flat on his back, eyes on the ceiling, faintly lit by the moonlight spilling through the porthole.
Beside him, [Y/n] had her back turned, perfectly still, probably already drifting off again.
Shanks let out a quiet sigh, silently cursing himself for waking [Y/n] up and for climbing into her bed on top of that. The whole thing felt ridiculous. All thisā¦ just because he didnāt want to be alone? Or maybe he was looking for comfort.
His gaze drifted into the dark, unfocused, until he heard [Y/n] shift beside him. The soft rustle of sheets made him turn his head.
She rolled over to face him. They couldnāt see each other clearly in the dim light, but Shanks could tell, her eyes were open.
ā Sorry... this is kinda weird.
Shanks said, with that usual tone of his.
ā Whatās going on with you, huh?
Her voice was calm, almost concerned.
[Y/n] lifted a hand toward his face. Her fingers bumped into his chin by accident, misjudging the distance in the dark. Then slowly, her hand moved up, brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw, then to his cheek, her thumb gently stroking it.
Shanks let himself be carried away, the atmosphere around them had shifted, grown quieter, closer.
ā Nothing... nothing at all...
He murmured, his voice tired.
But deep down, guilt tugged at him. Sadness, too. Memories of when he was younger, back when he still had his left arm, back when Harald was still alive.
Fourteen years ago, and it still weighed on him. That time in his life when he used to curse his birth. Or maybe... he still does.
His heart felt heavy, but he couldnāt show it. The moment [Y/n]ās hand touched his cheek, his body relaxed. His features softened, no furrowed brow, no clenched jaw.
A single tear slipped down, tracing the bridge of his nose before soaking into the pillow. [Y/n] caught the glint of it in the moonlight, just for a second.
And when she realized Shanks had let that first tear fall, she raised her hand a little higher, gently wiping the scarred corner of his eye.
ā Shanks... talk to me...
This time, the tears came more freely. His eyes welled up, and he couldnāt stop it.
He felt heavy, yes, but strangely, he also felt... safe. Confortable.
His crying was quiet, almost soundless. When he sniffled, [Y/n] didnāt hesitate. She sat up against the headboard and gently pulled his head into her arms. One hand wiped at his tears, the other threaded softly through his red hair.
Shanks reached up with his one hand and held her forearm, not to push her away, just to hold on.
Bit by bit, Shanksās sobs began to quiet. The tears didnāt stop, but they no longer came in waves. One of [Y/n]ās hands slipped from his cheek, reaching toward the nightstand.
Shanksās voice came almost immediately, rough and a little shaky.
ā Donāt light the candle.
[Y/n] froze mid-motion, then let out a soft sigh and brought her hand back to his face, gently wiping away the last of his tears.
ā Are you sure you donāt want to talk about it?
ā I just want to sleep...
He answered, voice steadier now.
After a while, still lying in the same position, [Y/n] reached out and pulled the blanket up to cover them both. And as Shanks slowly began to drift off, his head resting in [Y/n]ās arms, she pressed a soft kiss on the top of his head and whispered :
ā Donāt keep it all to yourself, captain...
The next day, Shanks was the same as always. Drinking from morning till night, laughing too loud, carrying himself with that same easy swagger, the image of a strong, unshakable captain.
But [Y/n] still hoped that one day, heād let her in.
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