5 AM.

Just like every morning, his alarm blares at 5 AM. Not that he even needs it anymore, his body wakes up five whole minutes before it even goes off now. Then comes an hour of showering and dressing.

6 AM.

And he’s out the door. Folded cardboard boxes sit across the clearing between his apartment and the one across from it. They’re leant against the wall beside the door. He could’ve sworn it was an empty apartment. Then again, he’s hardly been home the entire week. For all Law knew, it could’ve been moved into while he was away.

6:50 AM.

Arriving at the hospital, Law shrugs his sling bag and walks through the lobby, making his way to the ER. The second he steps foot into the unit, he’s stopped by the M.D..

“Trafalgar.” He states in a low and gruff voice. “How many days this month have you worked?”

“…” Law frowns and looks away, eyes finding the crash cart against the wall. “Twenty-eight…”

“We are anything but short staffed currently. You’re cut for a month, go home, rest.” The M.D. orders. “You’ve been here far too much far too often and it’s showing. It’s not healthy. How can you treat patients when you’ve fallen into a dull and foggy state?”

He was right. Of course he was. And Law knew as much. With a sigh, he finishes his shift for the day before heading home.

3:40 PM

There’s even more boxes in the hallway, now. Most are folded, but some have things still in them. It’s becoming a hazard at this point.

With an aggravated sigh, Law approaches the apartment door of his new neighbor and knocks loudly.