rum for one

It was a warm night ashore the small island where Shanks and the Red Hair Pirates had docked. The crew were all lounging about outside of the local tavern; they had been thrown out half an hour earlier, when the barkeep had decided he’d had enough and closed up for the morning. In the distance, there was the slightest hint of sun, marking a new day upon them.

Shanks shook the empty rum flask, relishing the last few drops that came out. He sighed, dropping his head back, and gazed up at the sky. The warm weather was comforting but also draining and reminded him of the events that had just unfolded. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to talk about the war they had just stopped. That was a conversation he wasn’t yet ready for; he didn’t think he’d ever be ready, in all honesty. He needed more to drink.

Something cool was pressed to the side of his head. He turned his head to find Benn standing there, offering his rum flask. Shanks grinned and accepted the offering. He took a swig and then handed it back. Benn dropped down onto the ground next to him.

Shanks threw an arm around Benn’s shoulders and faced the rest of his crew, who sat in a poorly formed circle. “Did I ever tell you guys about how I met Benn?” he said, slightly slurred and louder than necessary.

Heads turned, flushed faces and pairs of glassy eyes looked to Shanks. Yasopp grinned. “Probably? Tell us again anyway,” he said.

“It all started when I accidentally bumped into him on the street.” Shanks looked out at his crew and smirked. “You know what he did? Threatened me with his rifle — but not to shoot me with it, no. He was going to hit me with it.” He looked over at Benn, who was slouched back, his arms crossed and eyes closed. Shanks smiled. “That’s when I knew I wanted him in my crew.”

Lucky Roo took a bite of his meat. “How did you convince him to join then?” he said with his mouth full.

“Well, I like to think my charm and good looks were responsible for that.”

Laughter filled the morning air; it was a welcome distraction.

“As if!” Yasopp said. “What’s the truth?”

Shanks stroked his chin. “The truth? It’s pretty boring.” He grinned and leaned forward. The crew watched intently. “I bribed him.”

Groans of disappointment could be heard all around. “Boring,” Lucky Roo said.

Benn opened one eye. “It’s not a complete lie,” he said. He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to sleep.”

Shanks watched as Benn walked off and then turned to his crew. “I’m done, too. Make sure you get some shut-eye,” he said and slowly got to his feet. He stumbled the first few steps but managed to regain his footing and followed in the direction Benn had gone.

By the time Shanks made it back to the ship, the night sky had completely lifted; the sun made for a slightly sobering experience, a reminder that he would have to face reality sooner or later. He put that to the back of his mind, though, and instead searched for his first mate. He stepped on board the Red Force. “Benn?” he called out. There was no response so he ventured into the men’s quarters; he didn’t bother knocking.

“Benn?”

“Here,” came Benn’s familiar voice. Benn was lying in a hammock at the back of the quarters, his back to Shanks.

Shanks walked over to him and as smoothly as a drunk could — which wasn’t very smooth at all — climbed into the hammock. After a lot of wriggling, he finally got comfortable behind Benn and threw his arm over him.

“Comfy?” Benn asked.

“Yep!”

“Well that makes one of us.”

Shanks laughed loudly but it was quick to die down. “Want me to get out?”

“You’re fine,” Benn said.

There was silence between them. Birds could be heard chirping outside while the wind whistled, carrying faint sounds of laughter with it — most likely from the crew. Shanks gently tapped his fingers along Benn’s shoulder. Benn didn’t respond.

After a good five minutes of silence, Shanks assumed the other man was asleep, and stopped his tapping.

“Why?” Benn said. His voice startled Shanks, contrasting with the silence of the men’s quarters.

Shanks frowned. “Why? Why what?”

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”

Shanks hummed and twisted so he was lying on his back. “I did, though.”

Benn sighed and rolled onto his back too. He looked up at the ceiling. “The full story.”

Shanks stared at Benn’s profile. “It’s not my story to tell,” he said. Benn cracked a smile.

“Sometimes I think about it, you know? What would’ve happened if you weren’t there,” Benn said.

Benn closed his eyes. Silhouettes of men surrounded him and he was trapped in the middle, bruised and bleeding, nearly lifeless on the ground. A fist flew toward him and, before he could react, connected with his jaw. Laughter rang out and a foot came soaring toward his head, but it stopped short at the last moment. A man with red hair and a straw hat interfered and threw the silhouettes into chaos. He knocked out two men at once with his sword and did the same when more went charging to him. Benn watched on in confusion. Wasn’t this the man he had threatened hours earlier? Why was he here? His vision started to blur, teetering on unconsciousness, but he couldn’t look away. The red-haired man fought with ease; his hair shining like a beacon of hope. Benn was moments away from passing out when a hand reached out to him. “Join my crew and I’ll give you all the rum in the world. Sounds good, right?” the red-haired man said with a grin. Benn took the hand.

“It’s in the past now,” Shanks said.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them. Benn looked at Shanks. “You know… you’re going to have to talk about the war eventually.”

“Eventually,” Shanks echoed. He yawned and closed his eyes. “But today is not that day.”

Benn didn’t respond. He watched the sunlight filter through the small window. It illuminated half of Shanks’ face while shadows veiled the other half. It was the perfect metaphor. Benn rubbed his eyes; he couldn’t decide whether he had drunk too much or not enough. But he would wait; he always did.