longitudinal: (2062910_900)
Ç« | quentin toma ([personal profile] longitudinal) wrote2022-09-14 11:52 pm

𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑖'𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢
please don't forget me and all the things we did
please don't be in love with someone else
kobes: ([:(] internal conflict n shit)

[personal profile] kobes 2024-09-15 05:24 am (UTC)(link)
[In the end, it happens the way Koby had feared it would: in the middle of the night, when he's the safest he's ever been, tucked up warm against Quentin's side, nuzzled into that place where his neck and shoulder meet, breathing him in. In the end, he hasn't had enough time, he doesn't know what to do, he clutches at Quentin's hand and tries -- tries with all the strength in his body, his heart, his soul, but he slips away and Koby calls for him, screams his name that one last agonized time, feeling the distance like a lance through his chest.

He wakes up screaming, knowing immediately that it hadn't worked, all his research, all his late nights, all the fervent, adoring might of his love for Quentin had done nothing. Because he's back, he's home, smaller and slighter than he'd been -- and god, the nightmare of that, the change of his body back to the young, wide-eyed, oblivious cadet, a body that Quentin had never touched, never held, never brought to life with his hands and his kisses and his adoration, that aches, later, in a way Koby hadn't anticipated. But in those first days, the only thing Koby can feel is shattered from within, heartbroken in a way he hadn't known was possible. He's home, he's safe in a Marine base with Garp listening to his story with a solemn, serious expression, baffled, but stunned by the things Koby knows, the things he's learned -- things he could only have learned if he'd truly spent months and months in another world.

And Quentin is back in Solastra, back within the Regent's clutches, and the horror of that wrenches it's way through Koby's nightmares for years. He tells Garp, that first day -- I need Marine resources, otherwise I'd join up with Luffy tomorrow. I'm asking for his help too, wherever he goes. He knew Quentin too, he'll help me look. I'll give you every ounce of energy, everything in me, I'll devote myself wholly to the Marines, for the rest of my life. And in return, you give me every contact you have in every sea and you help me find him. He'd agreed -- he knew the investment would pay off, he knew that Koby's potential was invaluable to the Marines, and it was worth it to devote the resources to try finding this one man.

And it is. Koby climbs the ranks at a blistering pace, unbothered by the false modesty he might've felt in another world, another time. The higher rank he was, the better access to resources, to messengers and spies and agents in every corner of every sea. He lives a life like he might have -- the Straw Hats remember the manor, but an alliance with one Marine doesn't shield them from much of the events over the next several years. The things Koby had learned from Shanks, the haki skills help him access those abilities in a less traumatic way, and Luffy keeps in regular contact, sending letters from all across the world: no sign of him. we'll keep looking. we won't give up, koby.

It doesn't stop hurting. Koby still reaches out across the bed every morning for someone who isn't there, still dreams of that house, that room, that bed with that man, still wakes up with the taste of Quentin on his lips. He's still earnest and honest and courageous, he still cries too easily and loves with all his might, but there's an absence, a void, like a part of him has been carved out and left aching and raw. Koby doesn't breathe without thinking of what he's lost, of the wild injustice of how it had ended. He moves forward, and he grows, he becomes Captain Koby, he stands taller and broader and he aches for Quentin every. Single. Day.

Five years on, Koby still patrols the East Blue, still seeks out the pockets of corruption and violence left from decades upon decades of the Marines as the flawed, broken machine it had been. Things are different now, with the perpetual war over, the World Government overthrown, the alliance between the Pirate King and the Marines creating a new world, but there's still plenty of work to do. The smaller islands live much the same as they had when Koby was a terrified cabin boy on Alvida's ship, and he knows there are other innocent, helpless people being exploited and abused, by the people wearing the same uniform that fits him like a glove, now.

He thinks this is the case on Delta Island, where he's stationed for the next several weeks, as he hears the commotion on the deck of the ship -- his ship, for all intents and purposes, having dishonorably discharged the previous captain. The crew is overall a solid group of young men and women, if a bit...overexcited. Still, arresting someone on the deck of Koby's ship is never acceptable, especially a civilian, and he sweeps through the crowd with a stern, booming:
] Enough of that, no need to get overexcited, is there?

[Koby looks down at the intruder, the civilian who'd barged onto a Marine ship, Helmeppo is saying beside him, and -- and the entire world shudders to a halt, and everything inside him is alight with soaring, dizzying, desperate hope, because he knows the tangle of that dark hair, and he knows those eyes and he knows that face. He's seen it a thousand times in a crowd, lurching forward after a stranger, sometimes grasping their arms before realizing he's wrong again, it isn't the one he's looking for. But this time -- not this time, Koby knows, he knows and his breath catches and his knees buckle and the words come out immediately, hoarsely:] Let him go. Let go of him.

[Sir, I-- one of the Marines starts to protest, and there's a shudder in the air, a shift of energy sudden and sharp enough that the deck itself creaks and the sails quiver. Koby's expression is suddenly stormy, dark, dangerous, a carefully-honed power that had been in it's infancy in the manor. It's the same power that confirms for him that the man pinned to the deck is who he's searched for every day since they were torn apart. He knows that presence, that aura, golden-warm and bright and seared into the shape of his soul. From it, he feels desperation, exhaustion, pain, and his eyes harden, darken, pinning the man with his foot pressed to Quentin's spine.] That is an order, Corporal. Take. Your hands off him. [The words snap in the air like lightning, and the foot is removed immediately, the cadets shuffling away from their would-be prisoner.

Koby knows Helmeppo is bewildered, but ceaselessly loyal, ushering the Marines away, barking commands like a good second-in-command, creating some space for Koby to slowly kneel down, reach out one shaky hand to smooth back the tangled, dark curls.
] Quentin. [It comes out soft, and Helmeppo stiffens, breath catching, because he knows. Anyone who knows Koby knows that name.] It's me. It's -- do you...do you remember me? [He knows it's a possibility, it's been years and memory is so strange between worlds, his own recollections going fuzzy in places. To not be remembered by Quentin would be devastating, but Koby can bear it. He can bear anything, if he has Quentin close, safe, with him. He laughs, the sound shaky, trembling, callused palm slowly, gently cradling Quentin's face.] It's Koby. You found me. You found me.
kobes: ([:(] there there)

[personal profile] kobes 2024-09-16 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
[There's murmuring, alarm, the shuffle back of a dozen pairs of boots, men who are frightened of that which they've never seen, they don't understand, even in this world of devil fruits and demons and monsters and gods. But Koby doesn't hesitate, doesn't flinch away, because he knows that bright, brilliant light Quentin contains, knows how it echoes in his words, how it laces through his kisses, how part of Koby could sense it like a softly glowing fire somewhere beneath the ribs of the man he loved. Loves -- still loves, even here, even now, years and worlds and miles apart, different and changed and transformed. Koby is taller and broader, muscular and strong in the way he'd been approaching back in Saltburnt, the potential there, even as he stayed the perfect size to snuggle up under Quentin's chin at night.

And there's an aching, endless grief at the core of him, the loss he carried like an anchor, everywhere he went, every day he woke up in an empty bed, remembering the warmth of someone beside him, someone he adored, someone he aches for with every breath. He knows Quentin is real, is there, is actually kneeling before him, looking up into his face, because he feels the echo of that same grief, that pain, laced through everything brilliant and wonderful and warm that he loves so, so much. He can feel the exhaustion, the bone-deep weariness, the shadowy monsters that haunt every corner of Quentin's mind, and there are tears in Koby's eyes as he lunges forward into that embrace, arms like iron around Quentin, hands clutching at the (smaller, leaner) shape of him, drawing in the smell of his hair, his skin with a shuddering, sobbing breath.
]

It's me, I'm here, I'm right here, I'm here, Quentin, it's me... [He repeats it again and again, breath hitching at the blissful, ached-for feeling of having Quentin's arms around him again, the way his whole body seems to sing with relief at being close once more. Like he's been missing a part of himself, feeling it's absence like a wound, finally closed up, finally healed.

Behind him, Koby's conscious of Helmeppo barking order, ushering the crew away, no doubt to receive a very stern lecture about the classified nature of what they'd just witnessed. Five years scaling the ranks of the Marines, his connection to Luffy, to Shanks -- it's power Koby is very, very mindful about using, saving it for when he absolutely needs to. He's kept his tireless search for Quentin under careful classification, just in case -- it was a weakness of a very, very powerful Marine, and if they found Quentin, they might also find the Regent, and Koby wasn't about to tip him off about the search.

There's a touch on his shoulder, and Koby glances up sideways at his second-in-command, his knowing gaze, the compassion in his eyes. Helmeppo's been there all this time, seen the nightmares, the pits of despair that came periodically, even now, days when Koby was so caught up in the sunkissed remembrance of the manor that he could barely function. He knows. "I'll keep the bridge clear and call out a patrol to sweep the area. Hibari and Garp will want the update, and I'll let the Straw Hats know as well." A pause, a squeeze to Koby's shoulder, a silent completion -- We'll talk later.

Then he's gone, and Koby is alone on the deck with Quentin, stroking back his hair, turning to murmur against his ear:
] It's all right, you're safe. I'm here, and you're safe. Are you hurt? Can you stand? We'll go to my cabin, where it's quieter, okay? [A slow, shaky breath in, Koby's hands finding Quentin's face, cradling it, seeking his bright, beautiful eyes.] I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not -- letting you out of my sight ever again, probably.
kobes: ([:)] gonna achieve some dreams)

[personal profile] kobes 2024-09-18 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
[There’s that first shuddering sob, and Koby’s entire chest seizes up, aching with that (youthful, childish) desire to find exactly what has caused Quentin’s suffering and stop it somehow. He’s taller, broader, arms coming around the shivering, beloved, longed-for shape of the man kneeling on the deck, but deep down he’s still that wide-eyed boy outside the arena, seeing the wounds, the blood and trying to make them stop hurting.

Instinctively, he finds that spot, just shy of Quentin’s temple, presses his lips there and waits, waits for the storm of tears to come and go – about this, at least, Koby’s a little less judgemental nowadays. He used to hate his hair trigger tendency to cry, how his eyes would well up at the slightest provocation, happy or sad or angry or just overwhelmed, used to rail against that tendency in himself, but now…now it feels like a cleansing, like a baptism, like something holy to cling onto Quentin and close his eyes and feel his breath hitch and his eyes burn and his throat go tight. He’s cried so, so many tears over the last five years – these ones, at least, are joyous, relieved, triumphant.

But there’s darkness too, in the new shadows under Quentin’s teary eyes, the hollowness of his face, the way he’s trembling all over and radiating exhaustion. Koby is hale and hearty and well-fed in contrast, carefully-honed power contained in a form he was only just beginning to settle into, before they were torn apart. The difference staggers him, Quentin always larger than life in his memory, bright as the sun, strong as the sea. Koby thinks of the nightmares at Saltburnt, the stories Quentin would whisper into the hollow of his neck once awake, the horrors he’d endured, and he thinks – that’s where he was. That’s where he went, when we left. And there’s a taste like blood, like salt and iron and metal, and for a moment he hates himself for not finding Quentin sooner, for the years and years between them.

Oh, but then – but then there’s those hands on him, those eyes, that mouth pressed to his own, and Koby is taller and stronger and older, but he becomes that boy again, tangled in soft sheets, kissed and kissing and touched and touching and losing himself again and again in the glorious mystery of someone who loved him, against all odds, against all rules of this universe or any other. And he loses himself in that, like fog burned away by the sun, surging into Quentin’s lips on his own, fingers sliding into his hair, finding the loops of his curls, the silky thickness of each lock and kissing and kissing and kissing him.
]

I know, I know you did, I know. [Koby keeps saying it, when he pulls away to breathe, when he half-sobs out a laugh, forehead pressed to Quentin’s, catching the glow of his eyes, of the power that thrums in his veins, spills from his fingertips – different, brighter, stronger, they’ve both gotten stronger. His hands are shaky, reaching up to trace the line of Quentin’s jaw, the shape of his mouth, the curve of his cheekbones, all seared into his mind, into his heart, but there, there at long last.] I did too, I – never stopped, I’ve been looking for you this whole time, I knew you wouldn’t stop s-so I didn’t either, I –

[A hitching, watery sound, more tears than joy, more joy than agony, all three at once, then Koby cradles Quentin’s face again and says what he’d said every night, every morning, every day a thousand times, on every beat of his heart, on every step he took, promise and vow and reminder:] I love you. I never stopped loving you. I need -- you to know that.
kobes: ([:(] nvm lightbulb broke)

[personal profile] kobes 2024-09-24 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
[The hands on his face – familiar, beloved, calluses he’d learned like his own within days, as familiar as the charts and maps he’s stared at for years now, trying to find where his world and Quentin’s might intersect, where the divide between would be thin enough to find one another again – are the focus, for now, but Koby can feel the wounds (mind, heart, soul, body) all over the man he adores, and it sparks up a ferocious, vengeful savagery he hadn’t quite possessed when they were at the manor. Heartbreak and loss do that to a person – he knows, he knows it runs like a thread of venom through his words as he shakes his head hard and replies:] It’s my ship. And you’re staying.

[Anything else is unthinkable, unacceptable. Koby hasn’t torn the seas apart for five years to let go of Quentin now that he’s here. The air around them snaps, crackles, and there’s a steely sheen to those wide, sweet eyes, a threat to anyone who might disagree. Koby just manages to rein it in on an exhale, on a squaring of his broader, stronger shoulders.] You’re staying. With me. [As long as you’ll have me, he might’ve said, in another world, in another life.

Here, though, it’s a proclamation, accompanied by a glance over his shoulder at Helmeppo, who approaches cautiously, not wanting to interrupt. There’s nobody Koby trusts more, but he still straightens, angles himself between the rest of the world and Quentin, even as the flare of energy around him abates, washes out like foam on the tide. Mindful, Helmeppo stops several paces away, just close enough to be heard when he speaks – ”The area’s secure, nobody unfamiliar lurking about. I got ahold of Garp, and he’s coming to assist in locking down the island as long as you’re here.” A quirked eyebrow, curious over the visor the blond Marine wears, glancing towards Quentin. ”We’ll continue the patrols, but…you should both get out of sight, Captain.”
]

Mmm. [Koby nods, already distracted – locked down, secured, for now, until he can be sure there’s nothing else from Quentin’s world on the approach, no ship that’ll need sinking, no Regent asking for a knife in the ribs. It’s a more savage line of thought than he normally follows, but Quentin’s shoulders are trembling, his eyes haunted, and Koby wants to tear apart something. But for the moment he softens, smooths back the tousled, tangled hair, leans in to kiss Quentin once more, uncaring of the audience.]

Come to my cabin? It’s quiet, there’s a bathroom, you can rest safely there. I’ll be right with you the whole time. [Shifting back to sit on his heels, voluminous coat spreading around them, there’s a flicker of the smile belonging to the boy he’d been.] You found me, and now there’s no getting rid of me, sorry. Are you sure you can walk?
kobes: ([:)] be a good pirate)

[personal profile] kobes 2024-09-30 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
Never. [Koby very nearly means it, too, already trying to think through the possible ways he can make sure he never has to physically let go of Quentin again. He could take a sabbatical, he could retire, he could cash in everything he’s done for the Marines over the years for a ship, a crew, for the freedom on the ocean waves that they used to talk about in the rowboat out on the lake. There’d been rumblings of promotions for years now, whispers of Admiral, and Koby’s thought about it, thought about the potential way he could help people, about the good he could do.

But he’d held back, not wanting to have to divide his attention any further – it was already torn between SWORD and the alliance with the Straw Hats and his search, always his search, always the conscious thought that this wasn’t right, that there was something missing, that his dream had changed a long time ago, between silky sheets in a strange, dangerous, wonderful place. If he was going to be an Admiral, he was going to do it with Quentin at his side, or not at all.

Now, though – now he’s back, he’s here, and Koby is suddenly conscious of the horrible fact that they’ve been separated longer than they were together. Even though he immediately falls into step with Quentin, slightly slower, used to him leading the way around the manor, trusting his gift without question, without hesitation. The cabin door closes and Koby steps away long enough to pull off the captain’s coat he wears out on deck, to kick off his shoes, looking a bit closer to his old self, albeit broader, more muscled, longer hair and sharper features.
]

Temporarily – we relieved the acting captain of his duties when we arrived, and it’ll be a little while before we appoint a suitable replacement. [Koby’s not fully aware of the way his tone, his persona shifts slightly when he talks about his Marine duties, the weight of responsibility he carries like a mantle, like an anchor.] Most of the cadets are sensible enough, they’ve just been misguided by a selfish, greedy, power-hungry man.

[Stepping closer, reaching out both hands now for Quentin’s, Koby laces their fingers together, the commanding air fading away, replaced with the open, earnest sweetness he’d had so much of years before. It’s muted, less fiery, overlaid with a world-weariness that’ll never go away again, likely. The fact of Quentin here, here is brilliant and blazing and glorious, but there will always be those five years apart. Later, Koby will let himself be angry about that. Now, though, he smiles and looks up, adoration and bliss radiating from him like sunbeams.] They won’t say anything, Helmeppo's made sure of it. You’re safer here with me than anywhere in the world, I promise.
kobes: ([:|] shots are SO GROSS)

[personal profile] kobes 2024-10-02 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
[The instinct is there to immediately shake his head, refuse the apology, insist it isn’t needed, isn’t necessary – but the words come out soft, hoarse, halting in a way that wrenches at Koby’s chest, speaks of exactly how much Quentin’s endured over the last few years. How many times has he been silenced, forced to submit, to swallow his own voice in order to survive, to escape, to claw his way through time and space to be here, weary and soft-voiced and so, so tired? Koby’s learned to hold his tongue as well, to allow every man on his crew to speak their piece, and it’s served him well – outspoken cadets become strong captains, strong leaders, and there are sworn allies in every corner of the world, willing to bend the rules for his sake.

And they’ll need to – Quentin’s survived in this world for some time, at least, not newly-arrived, and has perhaps promised work to one captain or another. Part of Koby’s mind is already clicking away, thinking of how to dissolve that agreement peacefully, how to pull enough strings to get Quentin both enlisted and stationed to this ship, this crew, paperwork and formalities providing as much security as an armored vessel would. If Quentin’s part of his crew, he’s safe. Koby’s asked for very, very little over the years, and given substantially – it’s time to cash in on all the favors he’s owed.

But that thought slips away at the last words, at the hollow heartbreak in Quentin’s voice, unthinkable, unbearable. Koby’s already shaking his head, stepping closer, reaching up – not as much, he’s taller now, still several inches shorter than the average man, but not the scrawny slip of anxiety and wide eyes he’d been at Saltburnt. His hands are rougher, palms crisscrossed with new calluses, new scars, new strength, but they’re impossibly gentle as they cradle Quentin’s face, tip his gaze upward.
]

Listen to me. No matter what you’ve survived, no matter where you’ve been, you could never become someone I no longer love. Okay? [There’s an inescapable steel in Koby’s voice, but it’s balanced out by the stroke of his thumbs over Quentin’s sunburned cheeks, the way he has to stand on tiptoe, still, to press their foreheads together.] We just – need to relearn each other. Find out what we look like here, now. Together. How we fit. That’s okay. That’s wonderful.

[And here, at last, Koby’s voice breaks, falters, and there are tears welling up in his eyes, no longer hidden behind the owlish lenses, easy to see as they overflow, streak down his face, as he manages in a hoarse whisper:] I missed you. I worried – [That I’d never see you again, that I’d spend my whole life looking and looking, that I’d wake up every morning reaching for you and finding nothing, nobody there.] You’re here. You’re with me again and that’s the only thing that matters.