[koby feels it one after another -- the absence of that soft, mossygreen light in his consciousness, stoic and solemn and steady, and the ripple of agony through tangerineorange when nami finds out. his head aches, his back singed and bandaged up, but some things are more important.
the bleed of blushing pink, reaching out, aching, sorrowful, accompanies the message:]
Nami, I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. Where are you? [he knows, of course he already knows, he means will you let me come see you?]
( she splits the goal post on feeling βΒ half crying because she misses him, half sucking it up because she's not entitled to her feelings. it makes a kind of hurricane in her, hot air and cold, not exactly sobbing but making choking sounds against her bedspread. no roommate she's ever received has stuck around past the month mark, so she's not worried about the sound reaching someone else. she wants nothing so much to stay here and rot for the next foreseeable while, feeling sorry for herself, and then for zoro, especially for zoro. he was the one who had to deal with her, after all. maybe he's better off without.
she's not looking at her phone. the texts go unanswered, and probably will for a long time. but β koby's presence is there, not loud but comforting, and nami leans into it instinctively, without thinking, like pressing into a hug you don't deserve and can't admit that you want. )
[if it were him -- well, if it were koby, he'd be unmoored, aimless, a ship without a rudder, desperately clinging to anything to keep him afloat. he'd find someone to cocoon himself into and sob for hours and hours if it were someone he loved that much (and it is, it's his crew, it's zoro who he's never going to see again but if he thinks about that too much he'll die).
nami's grief is prickly like a wary stray cat, wrapped in self-sufficiency, shielded with armor she's had years and years to build, and yet: there, a chink, a crack, a gap. she doesn't recoil from the soft warmth of his presence, leans into it sideways, and koby makes it small and soft and gentle, a blanket around her shoulders, a breeze ruffling her hair, blushing pink that cradles her teary cheeks and kisses her forehead and murmurs hereherehere. and then it settles, it stays, quiet and unobtrusive and soft, loveyouloveyouloveyou.]
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text; un: koby
the bleed of blushing pink, reaching out, aching, sorrowful, accompanies the message:]
Nami, I'm sorry.
I'm so, so, sorry.
Where are you? [he knows, of course he already knows, he means will you let me come see you?]
no subject
she's not looking at her phone. the texts go unanswered, and probably will for a long time. but β koby's presence is there, not loud but comforting, and nami leans into it instinctively, without thinking, like pressing into a hug you don't deserve and can't admit that you want. )
no subject
nami's grief is prickly like a wary stray cat, wrapped in self-sufficiency, shielded with armor she's had years and years to build, and yet: there, a chink, a crack, a gap. she doesn't recoil from the soft warmth of his presence, leans into it sideways, and koby makes it small and soft and gentle, a blanket around her shoulders, a breeze ruffling her hair, blushing pink that cradles her teary cheeks and kisses her forehead and murmurs hereherehere. and then it settles, it stays, quiet and unobtrusive and soft, loveyouloveyouloveyou.]