Chapter Text
Donquixote Rosinante noticed four things in the first few moments of meeting his new student, an eleven-year-old named Trafalgar Law.
The first thing was that he looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were not the ordinary eyebags of a pre-teen that may have stayed up too late playing video games, but a thorough exhaustion that belonged to someone well beyond his years. He stood there between his parents, looking anything but pleased, hands kept firmly in his sweater pockets. He kicked lazily at a mote of dust that happened to cross his path.
“Law, this is Mr. Donquixote. He’s the best piano teacher around according to the Vinsmokes. Say hi.” Law’s mother urged him gently.
The second thing Rosinante noticed about his student was his apathy. He hardly acknowledged his new teacher, even after his mother’s prompting. He kept his hands in his pockets and brushed her off, looking as if he had anywhere else to be. Too bad for him his parents had paid in advance.
“Law, say hello to Mr. Donquixote. Now.” His father chided him more harshly than his mother had, though his voice still erred on the soft side. Rosinante thought how the two doctors must have excellent bedside manner, if not poor parenting skills. Well, maybe ‘poor’ wasn't the right word, but they certainly didn’t seem cut out for a child like this. He watched Law roll tired eyes away from his father.
Mr. Donquixote smiled, wanting to break the tension after watching a vein pop out on the father's forehead. “Please, no need to be so formal. You can call me Rosinante. Or Mr. Rosi, as some of the younger kids do.” Rosinante held out his hand and bent down- his too-tall frame intimidated the students sometimes so he’d learned to get to their level as much as possible. “They find it easier to pronounce.”
The third thing Rosinante noticed was, despite the nonchalant attitude and dark eyebags, his student was sharp . Calculating, intelligent eyes flitted from Rosinante’s hand, to his father’s body language, to his mother’s hopeful expression, settling on Rosinante’s face with an air of mild disgust. Rosinante could see every option and thought he carefully weighed in those clever eyes.
“I can pronounce both Donquixote and Rosinante just fine, thank you.” Law retorted, swatting away Rosi’s hand with his own small, soft one. All the options in the world and little Law had chosen hostility, even in front of his chastising parents.
How… Petulant.
Rosi straightened back up, smiling with one corner of his mouth.
The fourth and final thing he noticed was the way his heart skipped a beat at the inhospitable greeting. He looked over Law’s golden irises, dark clothes, and jet-black hair beneath a fluffy hat in mounting interest. The boy was slender, sharp-featured, and had an air of quiet arrogance to him.
Donquixote Rosinante decided that he had a crush.
“Law! Apologize right now!” Law’s father was quickly losing his gentle demeanor, though his tone still didn't have any bite to it. His mother looked disappointed and almost helpless.
“Whatever, fine. Sorry.” Law acted like this whole thing was beneath him, rolling his eyes again but this time landing them squarely on Rosinante’s gaze, meeting it fiercely. The tutor almost laughed out loud, he had never been so obviously challenged by a kid before. In lieu of letting out the chuckle waiting at the back of his throat, he resigned to just give him a gentle smile, not letting Law’s thorniness prick him. Law scoffed then brushed past him, putting his hands back in his pockets. “I’ll be in the music room,” he called over his shoulder, his tone bored.
Rosi really did chuckle then, mostly at Law’s parents’ horrified looks. He partially understood why Law was prone to disobeying them.
“Mr. Donquixote, I am so sorry about him. As we previously discussed, he’s been having a lot of problems- behavioral problems, that is. He’s sharp as a tack but we think that’s part of the issue-he’s bored. That, and his illness certainly doesn’t help anything.”
Rosinante smiled at them reassuringly, remembering the kid’s autoimmune condition they mentioned. Not fatal, but it does affect his everyday life in the form of low energy levels and some stomach and skin problems. Rosinante had noticed a white patch on one of his cheeks.
Cute.
“No problem at all, Mrs. Trafalgar. I’ve been a private tutor for half a decade, I’ve taught all kinds of kids. I promise he won't scare me away.”
The couple looked at each other with relieved smiles, then Mr. Trafalgar said, “Good, we’re happy to hear that. We’re hoping-” his cell phone rang, cutting him off. He looked down at it briefly before excusing himself.
Mrs. Trafalgar sighed watching her husband leave the room. “I apologize, he's very busy with work a lot of the time. What he was saying was we’re hoping that distracting him with more lessons outside of school will cure his boredom or, at least, help his general frustration. He flies through homework, aces all his classes with no effort, and could have a bright future ahead of him. We’re just worried by his anti-social behavior. His therapist suggested we challenge him as much as possible so… We’re hoping you can challenge him. I can’t promise teaching him will be easy, but… Thank you for being open to it.”
How Sweet. They truly did care for their terror of a child, though they seemed far too pliant or distant to handle him.
“It's really no trouble at all, I look forward to helping him, hopefully. Now this music room is…?”
Graceful Mrs. Trafalgar floated down the hallway, guiding Rosi through their monstrous and minimally decorated home flooded with natural light. They came to large double doors in a curved archway, sleek bronze handles glowing against the cream painted wood.
“You’ll be doing his lessons here- We have all kinds of instruments- you’re welcome to all of them- but he has a preference towards the piano. I play here and there, but he refuses to let me teach him. He’s…” She trailed off, unsure how to express her obvious frustration with her difficult son.
Rosi smiled again. “Really, Mrs. Trafalgar, I think I’ll be fine. Just leave it to me.”
Her shoulders relaxed, then. “Right, thank you. Go on in and I’ll make you both some refreshments!” and with that she spun and strode away, her powder blue dress billowing behind her.
Rosi turned the handle and stepped into the room, ducking slightly under the door frame.
A large, beautiful parlor splayed out in front of him with instruments in every tastefully decorated corner. Long, cream curtains floated about the edges of the circular room, the windows behind them wide open and letting in a pleasant summer breeze. They could see the Trafalgar's backyard in full view, verdant and meticulously landscaped. Every inch of this enormous house reeked of money. Not that Rosi expected any less from a home with two surgeons at its head, but still, he couldn't help but be impressed.
Law was facing away from him, sprawled lazily on the leather couch in the center of the room, the gorgeous grand piano in sight behind him. Rosi closed the door, readying himself for his student’s sharp tongue.
He dropped his folder full of his teaching materials down on the coffee table, letting it fall with a sharp slap. Law jumped a little, eyes tearing themselves away from his hands which he was picking at, and up at his new piano teacher.
“Hello Law, nice to meet you.” Rosi smiled, taking in the adorably annoyed expression again.
“Hi.” Curt, but not outwardly hostile. Rosinante supposed they were off to a good start.
Law swung his legs down off the couch cushion, sitting up and looking more intensely at his new teacher. Rosinante sat in the chair across from him, sinking into high-quality leather cushions. Law watched him closely, challenging and judgmental. Rosinante paid him no mind, smiling gently at the scrutinizing gaze. Law huffed after a moment, not seeming to be able to break Rosinante’s welcoming facade.
He swung his legs back up, laying across the cushions up against the arm of the couch, a pillow padding his back. His shorts rode up a bit, and Rosi found his eyes flit in the direction of the soft skin exposed, a white patch peeking out on his otherwise tan thigh. Grin unbreaking, he quickly looked back at Law’s face, who was again focused on picking at his nails. Good, Law didn’t notice him looking. Mr. Donquixote would have to be careful with this one.
“So, Mom tells me you’ve been a piano teacher for a long time.”
He initiated conversation, that's good . This is, by all accounts, going swimmingly.
“Somewhat. I have been a private tutor in many subjects for 6 years. Piano-”
“You’ve been teaching half as long as I’ve been alive?! Wow, you’re old.”
Rosinante chuckled, trying not to be taken aback by Law’s rudeness. He was sure that Law had teachers much older than him at his school, which meant that the kid was just trying to get a rise out of him. Rosinante wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Yes, I suppose that does make me old. I’m surprised I’m not graying and wasting away.” Law breathed sharply through his nose. Rosi continued, “Piano is just one of the many subjects I teach. Though, admittedly, it is one of my favorites.”
“Why?” Law’s tone was flat.
Rosi paused, unprepared for questioning.
“Why do I like piano? Or something else?”
“Why are you a tutor? Don’t you have some fancy degree? Can't you do better than teaching rich kids?”
Rosinante wondered how Law knew he had a degree. His parents must have mentioned it.
“Depends what you mean by ‘better’. I enjoy my job, it keeps me comfortable monetarily and I don’t bring home much stress. Can’t get much better in my opinion.”
Law looked him over slowly, skeptically. “Yeah, I’m sure it does keep you nice and comfortable if you tutor for families like mine.”
Rosi wanted to laugh nervously but stifled it, he couldn't show this prickly boy any sort of weakness. He guessed speaking plainly with him would earn his respect quickest, unlike most kids who needed to be spoken to in carefully chosen white lies.
“Yes, you’re extremely well off and your parents are paying me very well to instruct you. So, on that note, shall we get started? Do what they’re paying me too much to do?”
Law paused his picking, turned towards Rosi, and actually smiled. It was a devilish, wry one, but a smile nonetheless. Rosi was glad he had guessed right. He decided he liked the boy’s sardonic smile almost as much as he liked his petulant scowl.
He really would have to be careful with this one.
“Heh, sure.” He sat up again, looking at Rosi expectantly. “Where do we start?”
“Well, I wanted to leave that up to you. We could-” Just then the door swung open, Mrs. Trafalgar announcing her entrance with a sing-song voice. She floated into the room carrying a bronze tray of tea and snacks. The warm smell perked Rosi up while Law bristled across from him.
“I hope you boys are getting along! I brought some of your favorites, Law. Mr Donquixote, I hope you like green tea and biscuits. There’s also some fresh fruit and macarons!”
“Yeah thanks, Mom. Bye.” Law didn't even look at her. He kicked his dangling legs back and forth and kept his calculating eyes on his new teacher.
Rosinante shrugged his shoulders sheepishly at her dejected frame, and thanked her kindly as she left without another word. Law huffed when the door closed behind her.
Rosi picked up where he left off after taking a drink of some delicious green tea. “We can start with the history of the instrument, or I have worksheets on keys and scales. Or, we could just dive right into playing a little. Get you comfortable with the feel of it. Up to you.”
Law, who had instantly relaxed after his mother left, popped a piece of watermelon in his mouth, some juice running down his chin. Rosi did his best not to focus on it.
“I’ll learn best if we jump right into it.” Law said confidently, standing up and wiping his chin with his sleeve. He took off his fuzzy hat and threw it aside, thick, scruffy hair unveiled from beneath. He scratched his head, making his unkempt hair even spikier, and waltzed to the piano bench. Rosi’s eyes lingered on his backside.
He cleared his throat, taking another gulp of the tea, and stood up to go join him. They fell in easily next to each other on the bench.
As soon as Rosinante started talking about things Law didn’t know, he started to see a different side to him. Law was like a sponge, taking in every word he said and almost able to recite it back verbatim. He almost instantly memorized which keys go where, seemed to be understanding how to read sheet music, and the fingering came naturally to him. Rosinante could see why this kid was so bored with a normal middle-school curriculum.
As he explained piano music theory to him further over the next hour, Rosi found his eyes off the keys and on his student. He could teach these basics without a single critical thought, especially with a pupil as brilliant as Law. And that left his mind free to wander.
His eyes roamed Law’s legs and shoulders as he showed him the C major scale, and he realized just how small he was. Obviously he was much smaller than Rosinante as the blonde had quite the large frame even amongst adults, but even compared to other boys his age Law seemed undersized. His legs were thin and his shoulders were more slender than Rosi’s other middle school students. Rosi figured Law’s illness had affected his growth some. He then focused on Law’s ear, tipped with white and so small, Rosi could just touch it, tug on it, maybe even bite it gently…
No, stop that. Not now.
“Mr. Donquixote?”
“Yes? Sorry. I’m listening.”
Rosi has fallen too far into his delusions. He quickly came back down to earth.
“What are you… Oh.” Law followed Rosinante’s line of sight to his white patches. His face became annoyed, almost dejected. “It's not contagious. Don’t freak out.”
Rosi was surprised by the obvious chink in Law’s hard exterior- he was insecure about his skin condition. Rosinante assumed he heard a lot of shit for it at school. He knew all too well how cruel middle schoolers could be. The thought made him want to reassure and comfort Law.
Stop. Get a grip.
He laughed, dismissive. “Oh, no Law, I’m not scared of your little white ear. In fact…” Rosi took a large hand off the keys and flicked the white shell, hard enough to be felt but not hard enough to hurt for more than a moment.
“Ow! Hey!”
“I’m told you’re a difficult kid. Expect more of those if you ever give me grief while I’m teaching you. Understood?”
Law looked nothing short of shocked. He had grown up privileged; Rosi was sure no one had threatened physical punishment for misbehaving before. Not even something as simple as a flick. Law rubbed his ear, seemingly deep in thought. His cheeks were tinged red.
“Whatever.”
Law’s momentary lapse of anything smart to say was adorable, and the flushed face was a cherry on top. Rosinante wanted to make him blush more. Alas, another time.
“Excellent! Now, our time is almost up so I should be gathering my things and taking my leave. Your parents want me here once a week so I’ll see you again next Thursday at four.” Rosi dug a couple worksheets out of his folder. “Until then, complete these and keep getting yourself familiar with the notes and major scales. Think you can do that for me?”
Law was still touching his ear, lost in thought, but shook his head and willed his consciousness back into being. “Yeah, of course I can do that. Easy.” Rosi smiled, his heart skipping a beat again.
“Oh, and Law, do you have a cell phone?”
“Duh, why?”
Rosi took a pen out of his pocket and leaned down over Law, scribbling his phone number onto the top of one of the worksheets sitting on the desk of the piano. He could feel golden eyes watching him closely. It made his skin itch.
He tapped the sloppily written number and said, “Contact me any time if you have any questions while I’m not here. I’m sure you’re someone who’s going to self-teach along with my lessons, so I’m always available if you hit a wall or need some help.” Rosi slid his pen back in his breast pocket, smiling down at Law.
“Uh, okay. Thanks.” Law looked taken aback.
“Of course, I want to encourage that brilliant mind of yours as much as I can. Have a good evening, and I’ll see you next week.”
Law stayed unmoving on the bench, watching Mr. Donquixote exit out the door. He heard his mother’s high-pitched fussing over the teacher as she walked him to the front entrance, then the click of the lock as his new teacher left. It felt suddenly much more empty in the house without the tinkling of piano keys or the deep voice droning on about music theory.
Law rolled his eyes then began looking over the worksheets, thumbing at the phone number on one corner.
Later that night, Rosinante sat down with the pasta and bolognese sauce he had made for himself. Beneath him, Nagi used her big green eyes and soft purr to beg at his heels.
“Shoo, sweetling, this isn’t good for kittens,” he cooed as he gently nudged her away with his foot. Watching her long white fur sway as she pranced to the couch and settled down there, he heard his phone chime from next to the stove. He grabbed it and his half-drained glass of wine off the counter, pondering over the unknown number that had texted him. His stomach tinged with satisfaction as he read the text, suddenly all too aware of who had reached out at this time of night.
‘Who is your favorite pianist? Like, in history.’ The simple question seemed to glow brighter than the blue abyss of the screen around it.
Mr. Donquixote smiled, almost too happy, and took a long drink of his wine.