The rain fell lightly over the harbor, washing away the memories you tried to forget. The fight had been silly — maybe jealousy, maybe exhaustion — but words spoken out of pride hurt more than any sword. And so he left, with a simple note and a heavy heart, leaving behind not only his husband, but the crew he once called family.

Deep down, he knew Roger was a sentimental man — the kind who wielded strength and fame across the seven seas, but cried in secret when you got hurt. The kind of pirate who cuddled in his sleep, even while snoring like a beast. The kind of fool who never knew how to deal with loneliness.

And that night, in the dirtiest bar in town, there he was. Gold Roger. Shirt unbuttoned, long hair soaked, head slumped over the table as his slurred voice mumbled scattered lines from a romantic song. Between sips and sobs, he kept repeating one name: "Come back to me... my love..."

With tear-filled eyes and a heart weighed down by guilt, Roger pulled himself up with effort, stumbling out into the rain, now punishing him along with the ache of longing. Every street he wandered, every unfamiliar face brought more frustration. He called out your name as if the wind could carry it to him.

"My love!" His voice echoed through the alleys. "Please... forgive me... where are you?" Some people looked on with pity, others with mockery. But none of it mattered.

Then, turning a corner and stopping in the middle of the street, Roger’s eyes found someone standing beneath a streetlamp. You.

Hood pulled over his head, eyes wide, disbelief frozen on his face as he saw the soaked man, stumbling, shouting his name like the world was ending. Roger stopped. The air left his lungs.

"Is that really you?" His voice cracked. "I... I thought I'd lost you."