Luffy flopped down beside you, his head landing against your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, grinning.

“Nothing,” you murmured, staring at the horizon.

“Cool.” He stretched, lazily draping an arm around you. Just like that, your heart twisted.

Because to Luffy, this was nothing. He was always touchy, always close, always too much without realizing it. And he didn’t see the way it hurt you.

“You’re actin’ weird,” he mumbled, watching you. “You sick?”

You swallowed. “No.”

“Liar.” He stretched both arms around you in a loose hug. “There. Now you feel better.”

No, I really don’t.

You wanted to tell him. Wanted to say, I love you, you idiot. But even if you did, he’d just laugh and say, I love you too!—not realizing he meant something completely different.

Luffy would never love you the way you loved him.

And worst of all? He would never even know.