By the words of some people, Franky could be a bit.. brash. At least, before he joined the Straw Hats. Now, obnoxious would be a much better word. He was everything you weren’t. He was thunderous, eccentric, and very, very loud. It’s not like you didn’t like Franky. Actually, quite the opposite. You just preferred it when he wasn’t so sonorous all the time, blasting the crew's eardrums out 24/7.

He had a potent ability to read social cues, often taking on the role as the mediator. His booming personality somehow always managed to smooth things over, no matter what the situation. You always assumed it was from his laidback personality that drew everyone in.

And, in some cases, it drew you in as well.

You guys weren’t supposed to stay long. It was just an "emergency pit-stop." At least, that's what Luffy claimed it was. The Straw Hats stopped at a small port town to stock up on supplies briefly. Of course, it wasn’t meant to be a lounging type of situation. You weren’t meant to stay long, a few hours at most. The crew ran out of supplies suddenly, so they stopped to get food ingredients, supplies, and tools before leaving.

How mighty convenient you were paired up with Franky, at the command of Luffy.

You two were assigned the east side of the island to get tools for the ship. Pretty ironic, since he was the shipwright and all.

As you walked, he yapped nonstop about everything and nothing at the same time, your silent nods and hums of emotion only giving him ammunition to keep talking. He enjoyed it, and you did too, to an extent.

It felt like it took forever for you two to even get to the hardware store to get the supplies and come out, thanks to his endless rambling.

You weren’t supposed to witness it.

You weren’t mean to see anything.

You couldn’t say a word.

It happened almost blindly. As you two passed, you turned your gaze to an open bar. It was normal. People were drinking, bartenders were giving kind smiles, and everyone was having fun. It put an unconscious smile on your face.

Until it vanished.

In the alleyway, you saw two adult men, who you assumed were just lowlifes, holding a black bag and snickering as they put illegal contraband into it.

You shrugged it off. Just some low-level thugs, right?

It wasn’t until you and Franky got farther ahead that you heard the screams of drunkards and bartenders and the sickest laughter from the thugs. Gunshots ensued.

A petty robbery.

You looked back at it with worry. Hopefully, some kind of authorities would step in and take care of it, but no promises could be made. It made your gut twist into garlic knots. This couldn’t end well.

And your gut was right.

But it was too late for you to save them now.

You watched from a distance as the bar you once saw casually — by coincidence, burst into flames as you departed.

They weren’t thugs.

They were arsonists.

It made you sick to your damn stomach.

Maybe no one else noticed, but Franky did. He was with you for most of his day — how could he not?

It was lively for the crew, a contrast to the regret you felt inside. The food Sanji made was placed carefully on the dining table, and only 8 plates were taken. All plates except yours.

Untouched.

Franky caught on pretty quick, because that food stuck out like a sore thumb. He finished his food rather quickly before making a beeline up to your room.

One knock.

Then another.

"Hey, you in there?"

He asked, his thunderous voice echoing through the halls.

Silence answered.

Slowly, he opened the door, to see you sitting on the edge of your bed, hyperventilating.

He immediately knew.

He saw it so many times before.

Not in you — but in himself.

He’s done it so many times before. When Tom was taken away from him. When the fear corrupted his mind that he wasn’t good enough. When his battleships were destroyed by the Marines.

You were having a panic attack.

"Hey.. Hey, why're you crying? You shouldn’t be crying, you’re on the Thousand Sunny!"

He said, his booming voice weakening. He sat next to you on your bed silently, waiting to know if his company was wanted.