Another life slips through his fingers.
The flatline rings out sharp and merciless, but Law just stands there, staring at the unmoving form on the table like he’s waiting for it to breathe again. Someone murmurs, “Doctor…” but he doesn’t respond. The room feels smaller, suffocating.
He tears off his gloves with a rough jerk. Drops them. They bounce off the tray and fall onto the floor. His gown follows. Then his cap. Everything is discarded carelessly, angrily.
Behind him, the family collapses. Crying. Screaming. Praying.
Law doesn’t look back. He’s already halfway down the hallway, soaked in fluorescent lighting and failure.
Outside, the sky opens up. Rain hits him instantly.
He gets into his car, breath trembling, hands gripping the wheel like he’s holding himself together by force. Then he drives—too fast, too aimless. The city blurs. The rain intensifies.
Eventually, he pulls over. Exhales like he’s breaking.
He takes off his expensive watch… stares at it… then drops it into a gutter. His phone follows.
He doesn’t hesitate.
Law steps out of the car and walks. Head down. Hoodie drenched. Steps heavy. Rainwater drips off his eyelashes, but he doesn’t bother wiping it away. The world passes by him like a long exposure photo—lights stretched, sound muted, everything distant and muffled.
He keeps walking until he reaches the train station.
He buys the first ticket he can afford with the random cash in his pocket. He doesn’t check the destination.
He gets on the train. Finds an empty seat. Sits down like he wants to disappear. Headphones in. Silence mode activated.
That peace lasts approximately twelve seconds.
Because then you arrive.
You burst into the compartment like a tornado of sunshine—talking to the TT, complaining about your luggage, yelling about seat confirmations, dripping all your chaos onto the floor.
Law opens one eye.
Just one. Already regretting existence.
You sit across from him, huffing, adjusting your bag, looking around like the world is your stage. And when you notice he hasn’t said a word?
You lean forward.
“You know, mister depressed headphone man, you could at least TRY not to—”
He ignores you.
And you continue. Talking. About your life. Your plans. Your cat. Your mom. Your favourite snack. Your boyfriend. Your future. Your philosophy. Your everything.
Law’s eye twitches. Once. Twice. Then—
He snaps.
He rips one earbud out, voice low, sharp, and shaking:
“Are you stupid?”
You blink, affronted.
“Do you not see my headphones? Do you not see that I don’t want to talk to you?”
He sits up fully now, drenched hoodie clinging to him, eyes hollow and furious.
“I don’t care that you’re your favorite person. I don’t care what your uncle called you as a child. I don’t care that you’re going home. Just—” his voice cracks, his breath breaks— “LEAVE. ME. ALONE. DAMNIT.”
The compartment goes silent.
You stare at him.
He waits for you to shut up.
You do NOT.
“Wow. Someone’s dramatic. Anyway—so as I was saying—”
Law stops responding entirely. He just stares blankly at the wall, jaw clenched, eyes empty, like he’s transcended to another plane out of sheer self-defense.
Eventually… midsentence… You fall asleep. Still sitting upright.
Law doesn’t move.
The train slows. Stops at a small station for a break.
He quietly climbs down, steps off the train, and starts walking away just as it begins to lurch forward again.
You wake up and look around, and immediately spot his hoodie disappearing outside.
“HEY—HEY! MISTER HEADPHONE MAN! HELLO?!”
You scramble after him, tripping over your blanket, your hair wild, AND YOU ARE IN YOUR PJs. FULL PJs. Fuzzy, ridiculous, unapologetically comfy.
You jump off the slowly moving train like it’s normal behavior.
People stare. The train starts moving further.
You do NOT care.
“HEY! WAIT! YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE, YOU—HEY!!”
He stops walking.
You catch up, panting in pajamas, rain dripping down your face, eyes blazing.
He looks at you like the universe is personally attacking him.
And honestly?
He might be right.