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Ace didn’t really feel anything in particular, the first time he saw him.
Some mild degree of disgust, maybe, at the sight of his snotty, blotchy face and tearful, reddened eyes. Annoyance, that they had to make a detour, now that the boy was in their way, alongside a gang of older goons who apparently deemed him a suitable bullying target.
Yamato tugged at the straps of his backpack impatiently, urging him to move.
Last thing they needed right now was to get drawn into another fight, after they had just served their detention hours at school.
It was already late into the afternoon. Ace knew both of them were on thin ice already, anyway. His father would be furious if he wasn’t home in the next half an hour like he was expected to.
Yamato was in an even worse situation, as he didn’t even have a mom to smuggle dinner in for him, after his own father would almost definitely ground him for being late too, like he had done so frequently in the past for lesser offences.
Both of their fathers seemed obsessed with discipline. Which was what brought them together, in the first place, even before Ace had been told he was a bad influence.
Sure, they could call him whatever. It wasn’t like he cared much. He was told he was a difficult kid from the early age, so at some point it was just easier to accept it and fit into people’s expectations, instead of trying to prove them wrong.
He knew by now that the only person he could count on was himself. If someone was weak enough to let themselves be taken advantage of, then it was their own problem to deal with.
But despite all of that, while the boy still didn’t make him feel anything he could explicitly name, there was still something in him that prevented Ace from walking away then, despite the threat of his father’s wrath looming over him.
It was less of a feeling, and more like… a compulsion, something stirring deep inside him that he had no explanation for. But it was there, growing stronger with every second he watched the boy getting pushed onto the ground, over and over again.
The straw hat he was so desperately clutching to his chest got ripped away from him at some point, then thrown recklessly somewhere to the side, all to the sounds of mean laughter and jeers. He desperately tried to crawl towards the discarded hat, tears welling behind his eyelids and trickling down his dirty cheeks the entire time, and Ace wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, yell at him to get the fuck up and run, you idiot, why is a hat more important than your life?!
Someone grabbed the boy by his collar, preventing him from reaching for the straw hat once more. It looked ruined at this point – dirty with mud, squished flat to the point it no longer appeared to be wearable. The boy hiccuped, bare knees sliding on the dirty, melted snow as he tried to scramble back onto his feet, and Ace abruptly realized how underdressed he actually was: only wearing sandals and knee-length, denim shorts, with just a thin red coat thrown over his shoulders.
There was also that god-damned straw hat…
It was mid-winter, for fucks sake.
Ace shrugged off his backpack, ignoring the way it landed at his feet in a puddle of partially thawed mud, with a loud, wet thump.
“Don’t do this, Ace,” Yamato tried to reason with him, anxiety clearly audible in his voice, “you don’t know any of them, you’ll only get hurt. It’s not worth it. Let’s just go home, yeah?”
Ace grit his teeth.
He didn’t even know the boy’s name. Furthermore, he was certain he had never even seen the boy around.
And yet he seemed familiar, like some kind of a close friend who moved away when they both had been too young to remember each other’s faces properly, leaving a a faded, blurry memory in their wake, like an old scar that only hurt if you picked at it.
His heart hammered in his chest.
He wanted to turn away. He wanted to leave, wanted to go home, wanted to be the good, well-behaved boy everyone expected him to be.
But somehow, it felt… It felt like if he walked away now, he’d lose something incredibly precious. Something he had lost once before.
It felt like a second chance, somehow.
Ace clenched his palms, hard enough for his nails to dig painfully into his palms.
He didn’t even try to warn them.
Before his consciousness caught up with his instincts, his fist was already stuffed into the mouth of one the bastards closest to him. His mouth was half-open before, lips twisted in a mocking smile, and the edge of his teeth cut through the skin of Ace’s knuckles with the amount of brute force he had thrown into the punch.
Ace barely registered the pain.
He kicked another between his legs swiftly, and with him out of the way too, he lounged for the one still holding the boy up by the hood of his coat, like he was some kind of a stray runt, and once the boy was dropped back onto the ground, Ace stepped in front of him, shielding him with his own body.
His opponent looked surprised for a moment with Ace’s appearance. The confusion quickly turned into fury though, the moment he recognized that someone else had decided to take away their plaything.
“Don’t fucking touch him,” Ace growled, barely even recognizing his own voice. He bristled, squaring his shoulders and flexing his arms in front of himself, trying to appear bigger than he was, but it hardly mattered. He was outnumbered anyway.
Ace slowly realized he might’ve really overdone it this time.
He swallowed tightly. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for the boy behind him.
The kid had managed to finally grab his precious hat, and was now staring back at Ace with eyes as big as a pair of saucers, filled with so much awe and amazement – like it didn’t bother him in the slightest that he was covered head to toe in cold, wet mud, or like he didn’t have a heavy, wet bootprint stamped in the middle of his back.
He looked at Ace like Ace was the mortal embodiment of some kind of a merciful god.
Suddenly it was hard for him to breathe.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Ace barked out the command through clenched throat, with just a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
To his growing frustration, the boy didn’t even budge.
His dirty, small fingers clutched the hat with enough force for the straw to wrinkle. He continued to stare at Ace, with his eyes opened wide, like he was terrified that if he blinked or turned away for even a second, Ace was just going to disappear.
What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Ace thought bitterly.
All because of a stupid impulse to help some stupid, random kid. Someone that he didn’t even know.
He turned back around, assessing quickly how big of a beating he was going to get. Yamato was right, he was gonna get his ass handed to him, and then a second time, once his father came back from work to witness the sorry state he would surely be in.
Ace narrowed his eyes, trying to predict who would be the one to throw the first blow. Now that he’d gotten himself into the fight, he desperately needed a way to get them to focus on him fully and leave the younger boy alone.
There was sudden, sharp movement beside him, and his eyes snapped to the side just in time to see Yamato let out a a guttural, almost animalistic battle roar, then swing his backpack over his shoulder and slap one of the goons across the head with it.
All hell broke loose after that.
They didn’t die, miraculously.
The fight that broke out caused enough of a commotion to attract passer-bys that had been strolling through the park, and the growing attention caused the goons to scatter quickly, leaving the three of them to their own devices.
It didn’t mean they came out unscathed, but Ace’s pride wouldn’t allow him to say they lost this one, either.
The kid, much to Ace’s annoyance, simply refused to leave. The moment he found the opportunity, he ran up to Ace’s side and all but attached himself to him, clambering into Ace’s lap and throwing his arms around Ace’s neck tightly. He seemed entirely unbothered by the fact that they were sitting in the middle of a god-damned park alleyway, with their clothes drenched in mud and melted snow, and the way he clung onto Ace with all his might, to the point Ace thought he was going to suffocate.
“I really need to go,” Yamato told him then, wiping the blood from his split eyebrow. He briefly attempted to fix his hair, but it was beyond ruined, the usually well-tended, thick strands hanging down his back all mated and limp, saturated with dirt and mud.
He eyed the boy in Ace’s lap, then gave Ace a crooked smile.
“Take care, Ace. I’ll see you on Monday – if my dad doesn’t kill me first.”
Traitor, Ace thought, and watched from above the boy’s scrawny shoulder as Yamato limped hurriedly towards the bus stop across the park. His head throbbed, and his face felt achy and raw in places where a few of the bastards had managed to reach him with their fists. He half-heartedly ran his tongue across his upper teeth to see if any of them were loose.
They weren't. His cheek was still going to swell, probably.
It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he would go out in public anytime soon, as he would most definitely get grounded anyway.
Ace grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him away from himself.
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he asked tiredly, looking up and down the boy’s scrawny, underdressed body, “why are you dressed like that? Who even let you out of the house?”
“I let myself out,” the boy announced proudly, like it was something to gloat about, “dressed myself, too.”
Ace’s eyes narrowed. His body ached all over, and he was just– tired. He simply wanted the day to be over, so he could just face-plant into his bed and wake up… preferably never.
Except he couldn’t, because now he had this stupid ass kid he needed to help get back to his parents, or otherwise he’d surely freeze to death, parading around in his stupid ass flip-flops…
Something caught Ace’s attention then.
There was a scar under the boy’s left eye, thick and uneven, looking like an old wound that had healed badly. The odd feeling of familiarity struck him again, and he shook his head rapidly, trying to clear his thoughts.
There was no way he had met the boy before. And yet… he didn’t really feel like a stranger.
Ace had never really enjoyed being touched that much. He didn’t like people getting into his personal space, period. Maybe with the small exception of his mother.
Were it any other person throwing himself at Ace like that, they’d already be lying face down in the mud, after getting closely acquainted with Ace’s right fist. It was more of an instinct, than anything else, so the fact that the boy was still, despite the overall circumstances, seated comfortably in his lap, seemed weirdly and awfully meaningful.
Ace gave him a quick once-over.
There wasn’t really anything more beyond what he had noticed so far. He was dressed too lightly for the weather, but his clothes, despite being wet and dirty, didn’t look overly worn or damaged. The strands of his messy, dark hair looked like they missed a scheduled haircut or two, but the boy didn’t look particularly unkempt. He didn’t look homeless, or like he had escaped from some kind of medical facility, and definitely seemed like he had a home he could return to.
There still was something… off about him.
Something that made Ace get a second look.
The boy’s lips were dry and chapped, and his cheeks looked slightly sunken in. There was a faint, green-ish sheen to his right cheekbone, like a faded bruise – too faded to be a recent thing.
An uneasy, chilling feeling permeated him to the very bone.
His eyes quickly searched for whatever uncovered skin he was able to spot: bare, knobby knees caked in mud, with patches of discolored skin showing through, remnants of healed scrapes. Thin, almost stick-like shins, and equally thin arms that had slid from around Ace’s neck to now rest against his chest, his small hands wormed in under his coat in search for warmth.
Ace’s fingers circled the kid’s wrists, bringing them up for inspection. Bony, narrow, almost bird-like. Smooth, slightly tanned skin mottled with the same green and purple hues as his face.
The boy allowed all of it without a trace of resistance, watching Ace with his wide, unblinking eyes.
Part of Ace desperately wanted to blame it on him just being that easy to bully. But there was also the way he was dressed, how slight and lightweight his body was, the scars and bruises that littered his skin, or how he seemed too young to be out this late without adult supervision.
Ace was certain he had never seen the boy before, except at the same time, he was just as certain that he simply looked wrong.
Actually, everything just felt so fucking wrong it made him nauseous.
Anger simmered deep inside him, even though he didn’t even know what or who he was angry at.
“Where are your parents?” Ace demanded, getting himself up from the muddy ground and pulling the boy up with him.
He scanned the perimeter for his abandoned backpack, and found it quickly enough under one of the nearby benches, placed on the concrete blocks that anchored it to the ground. At least Yamato had half the brain not to leave it in the mud, where Ace had impulsively dropped it before.
The boy went willingly after him, his small hands latching onto Ace’s, thin fingers snaking between his like they were always meant to fit there.
“Dunno,” he shrugged, not looking particularly bothered by it.
Ace frowned. He picked up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, then briefly considered his options. There weren’t a lot of them.
The boy didn’t look like he could be left alone, especially not with the way he seemed to cling to him like a lifeline.
Ace should have a spare bus ticket to take the boy with him.
His mom would figure something out.
Ace had learned the boy’s name was Luffy, which the boy told him right away without being asked.
He lived with his grandpa at the moment, but he had lived with all sorts of people in the past. He had only recently moved into the town though, and hadn’t really made a lot of friends yet. His grandpa spent a lot of time at work and wasn’t at home most of the time and since Luffy didn’t like being alone, he had decided to go for a walk and take a look around.
He might’ve gotten sort of lost… but he was almost thirteen, so it wasn’t like like he couldn’t handle himself. Right?
The more Luffy talked about himself, Ace’s worry only grew in size.
It felt surreal, in a way. It felt like Ace had heard it all, once before.
Luffy.
The name rolled effortlessly off his tongue, like he had said it a thousand times before, even though he didn’t know a single person named in such a bizarre way.
Luffy.
Luff.
Lu.
He was two years younger then Ace.
He didn’t look thirteen, with his small and slight posture, and frankly, it didn’t look like he could handle himself at all. But Ace believed him. It felt right to believe him.
It also felt right to introduce himself to him, then – but as Ace told him his own name, all Luffy did was to smile brilliantly at him in return.
“I know, duh,” Luffy said easily. Like Ace was the one acting like a clueless fool.
A ridiculous thought crossed Ace’s mind then, that if Luffy’s cheeks were fuller, he would’ve have dimples in them. He was supposed to have dimples.
The longer he looked at Luffy, the longer he listened to him talk in that excited, chirpy way of his – the more his chest began to feel weirdly tingly and warm on the inside. He had probably caught a cold. Or some other type of flu, that now brewed inside him, after all that had happened earlier.
The entire ride home Luffy refused to let go of his hand, and Ace eventually gave up trying to get himself free either. His eyes kept glancing towards the faded, circular bruises on his narrow wrists. The scar under Luffy’s eye felt like it embedded itself into his memory by now.
The strange, constant feeling of familiarity was so strong it almost seemed uncanny.
“You shouldn’t trust strangers so easily,” Ace told Luffy at some point.
Luffy just shook his head lightly. The wide, overjoyed smile never left his face even for a moment. “You’re not a stranger,” he replied, with full conviction.
A few moments passed, before recognition flared in Ace’s brain, bright and warm like a flame. “You feel this too,” he said, almost like an after-thought, “it’s like we’ve met, once before.”
Luffy’s eyes blinked keenly at him. His smile turned less radiant, more soft instead.
More intimate.
Ace exhaled out shakily.
For second, it felt like there was nothing and no one else besides them: no muddy roads, no buses, no conflicting thoughts and no aches in his body. He lifted his hand slowly, giving the boy enough time to flinch away if he wanted to. Luffy didn’t move even an inch, and with his unspoken consent, Ace traced the curve of his scar with his fingertips, lightly and tenderly like Luffy was just an illusion, a trick of light that would disappear if he pressed to hard.
It felt like a puzzle piece fitting in the right spot…
Except Ace still didn’t have the full picture yet.
Luffy’s big, dark eyes blinked slowly at him, full of trust and affection.
“Took you long enough.”
It had already gotten dark when Ace finally approached the driveway with Luffy in tow. There had to be some kind of divine deity watching over them – it appeared his father hadn’t come back home, yet.
Rouge ran out to meet them, after having seen them approach from the kitchen window most likely. She swatted at him with a dish rag, then swept him into her arms and hugged him tightly… Before exclaiming in surprise at the feel of his wet and dirty clothes.
She leaned away to take a proper look at him, and Ace’s heart broke a little at the worried, slightly resigned frown that appeared on her face.
“Ace,” she sighed, reaching out to gently touch his split, swollen lip.
She glanced to the side then, taking notice of Luffy, who stood patiently by Ace’s side, still clutching his hand like a lifeline, and the equally sorry state he was in.
“Oh.”
“This is Luffy,” Ace said hastily, as if it explained anything. “He’s… A friend.”
A series of conflicting emotions crossed his mother’s face.
You didn’t mention you were inviting anyone over.
Your father won’t agree to this.
This household isn’t a charity, we don’t have enough food to feed the entire neighborhood on a whim.
She sighed again, her expression relaxing into something more soft, then stepped back to hold the door open wide.
“Come on now, don’t just stand out here,” she chastised, ushering them both in. “Ace, show your friend the bathroom, lend him some of your spare clothes – goodness gracious, you’re both going to catch a cold like this. I’ll reheat the dinner.”
Ace showed Luffy the bathroom, how their shower worked and where to leave his sodden clothes. Though Ace had a weird feeling he’d be met with refusal after offering Luffy a hot shower, Luffy went in without a fuss, to the point he even started to undress right beside him without a trace of shame.
Ace had to yell at him to wait until he had at least closed the door, but before he managed to get himself out, he still caught a glimpse of the boy’s bare torso – and didn’t miss the way his ribs peeked through the thin skin, or how there were even more of the same bruising across his upper arms back, in all states of healing.
Nausea rolled through his stomach once more, as he shut the bathroom door after himself in haste.
Eventually Luffy emerged from the bathroom in a much cleaner and warmer state than before. It wasn’t particularly surprising that nothing of Ace’s would even remotely match Luffy’s scrawny frame, but Luffy didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. Quite the contrary, in fact – he seemed quite overjoyed that Ace’s agreed to lend him his clothes, and looked thoroughly comfortable in them despite the vastly oversized fit.
Once he spotted Ace waiting for him in the corridor, he wasted no time running up to him and climbing up onto his tippy toes to hug him tightly in obvious gratitude, and Ace realized abruptly how much Luffy actually smelled like him now — like his clothes, his shampoo, the citrusy laundry detergent.
It felt… right.
Like Luffy was always meant to smell like that.
Ace reluctantly circled his arms around Luffy’s narrow back, which only made Luffy burrow into him further.
“I’m so happy you found me,” he heard Luffy mumble into his neck.
The words made Ace shiver all over. He blamed it onto the coldness permeating his skin from the dirty, wet clothes he was still wearing.
Once he finished showering himself, he found Luffy downstairs in the kitchen, shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days.
Rouge was standing by the kitchen counter not far away from the table, with an arm wrapped around her middle and a hand lifted up to her mouth, watching Luffy wolf down his portion with equal amounts of worry and mild amusement.
She tore her gaze away to meet Ace’s, when she noticed him enter the kitchen. There were a few more wrinkles visible between her eyebrows, ones that Ace knew only appeared when she thought about something that worried her a lot.
It wasn’t long until Luffy noticed him too, and when he did, the fork stopped abruptly halfway to his mouth. He put it back onto his plate with care, leaving the piece of roasted meat still skewered on it. He slid the half-empty plate across the table in Ace’s direction, even though it was obvious to the both of them that he’d rather eat the entire thing himself.
His big, too-trusting eyes glued themselves onto Ace expectantly.
Ace heard Rouge sigh softly beside him.
“Oh, Luffy,” she said quickly, walking up to him and putting the plate in front of him again, then pushed the fork back into his hand. “Don’t worry, I've got a second portion saved for Ace. This is all for you. If you’re still hungry afterwards, I’ll get you guys some snacks too.”
Luffy blinked at the fork in his hand, then back up at Rouge. She smiled gently at him, smoothing his sill-damp hair back off his face delicately, and Luffy practically beamed, with eyes squinting in pleasure, head tilting into the direction of her hand.
Ace felt his throat squeeze painfully at the sight.
With Luffy occupied with his food once more, he walked up to the counter to stand beside Rouge to help her plate his portion.
“I’m sorry,” he said, after a tense while. “Some assholes ganged up on him. I tried to protect him, Yamato was with me, but I couldn’t just leave him there.”
Ace considered telling Rouge about the bizarre and completely irrational way Luffy had been making him feel since the very beginning. He doubted she’d understand, but if anyone could – he had a feeling it would be his mother.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat.
“The moment I saw him… I didn’t even know his name, but it felt like we’ve known each other for a lifetime. Like I was bound to him, and he to me, like I’d lose him forever if I walked away then.”
His chest felt impossibly tight, and he closed his eyes to fight the way they suddenly began to sting. “I don’t know. He was obviously hurt, and I didn’t… I couldn’t…”
“It’s alright,” Rouge interrupted him softly.
She took his palm, stuffed the food-laden plate into his grip, then lifted a hand to frame his face gently. When Ace opened his eyes again to look at her, her gaze was nothing but reassuring.
“You were upstairs for less than fifteen minutes, and Luffy just wouldn’t stop talking about you.”
Ace managed a weak smile, but Rouge’s expression suddenly turned more somber.
“I’ve… felt something similar, once before. Like I’ve met that person before, like we’ve spent lifetimes together and were only briefly apart.”
Ace breathed out shakily.
“Dad?”
Rouge smiled at him gently. It didn’t reach her eyes.
“We can talk about this later,” she said, dropping her hand to rest it on his forearm instead, “now go – eat, before it gets cold again. Luffy needs you right now, you should spent some time with him after dinner. I’ll bring you snacks to the living room, I think there should still be some of your old cassettes under the coffee table. Maybe you could watch something together?”
Ace nodded, feeling his cheeks burn slightly at the mention of the old cartoons he was so obsessed with a few years past. He used to adore anything related to the sea and pirates, and because of that he had accumulated a significant collection of pirate-themed movies and cartoons that his mom had never bothered to get rid of.
It did sound… comforting. He’d enjoy it very much, and he had a feeling Luffy would too.
There was something that seemed to bother him still.
“Have you seen his arms?” he mumbled quickly then, unable to keep himself from asking, “and his face. His back is all bruised too. It doesn’t look… that recent. Do you think…”
“Ace,” Rouge silenced him sternly, “I’ll talk to your father, once he gets back. Luffy needs your reassurance right now – be there, for him. Now that you’ve found each other.”
She pushed him towards the kitchen table, where Luffy had already finished his portion, and was now trying to scrape the thin remaining layer of sauce off his otherwise empty plate.
“We’ll figure something out,” she promised him.
He ended up feeding Luffy half of his own portion too, when he thought his mother wasn’t looking. Luffy accepted it eagerly, swallowing it down almost without chewing, and Ace couldn’t help but wonder where the hell he was able to store all of that food in that thin, scrawny body of his.
It felt like there was a permanent smile on Luffy’s face now, wide and brimming with joy, and Ace’s heart seized in affection in his chest at the sight of him.
Ace had never been that much of a sociable person. Sure, he had a few close friends, people he had met at some point and kind of stuck together, with them – like Yamato and Deuce. And while being with them was fun, it wasn’t…
It felt nothing like this.
He had never thought he could feel anything so vibrant, so strong, towards anyone, really. Let alone someone he’d met only hours before – though he was slowly beginning to let go of that thought.
It really felt like they had known each other for years. Maybe even longer than that.
Luffy seemed to be entirely at peace beside him, leaning into his personal space without hesitation, making sure there was at least one point of direct contact between them at all times – like he still couldn’t believe Ace was really there, with him.
And in turn, Ace realized he didn’t mind it in the slightest.
He liked Luffy’s warm weight against him. He liked his laughter, liked the way he talked so much, about everything and nothing in particular.
What he didn’t like was how slight he felt. How he could easily trace the edges of Luffy’s ribs or the pointy knobs of his spine, even through the thick material of one of Ace’s thickest and warmest shirts.
His mom said they’d figure something out. He had no reason not to trust in her.
She had asked about Luffy’s straw hat too, promising to fix it to the best of her ability. Luffy was initially reluctant to part with it, but he did so, in the end – once Ace assured him his mom would take good care of it.
They moved to the living room then, and Luffy couldn’t contain his excitement when Ace sheepishly suggested a pirate-themed movie. For the first time that afternoon there was something else that occupied his attention long enough to get him not to look at Ace constantly. Luffy did glance at him, sometimes, as if to check if Ace was really still there, and each time Ace caught his wide-eyed gaze, he felt his chest grow tight with affection.
Luffy predictably fell asleep sometime half-way through the movie, sprawled against Ace’s side and his head pillowed on Ace’s shoulder.
Ace struggled with feeling out of place throughout most of his childhood.
But with Luffy beside him – it suddenly felt like he belonged somewhere, for the first time in his life. Like his life had an actual purpose and value now.
Ace pulled a blanked over both of them, making sure Luffy was tucked in soundly. The corners of his mouth curled upwards, and he realized he couldn’t stop smiling, despite the dull ache in his bruised jaw.
He woke up sometime later, roused by the sound of his parents’ voices. They argued sometimes, so it wasn’t a new thing to him.
Ace lifted his head slowly, turning towards the kitchen door. The living room was dark, save for the dim glow of the TV screen still being on, with the screensaver playing on the display. He sat up a bit, careful not to disturb Luffy – still sound asleep, cuddled against his side.
“He’s Garp’s grandson,” he heard his father’s rough, booming voice, “he’s had patrols looking all over for him since early afternoon. Kid’s left the door wide open and walked out, or so I’ve heard.”
“Roger, if you could just listen to me for once,” came his mother’s pleading voice.
“Where is he? I need to drive him back to Garp’s, tell him to call off the search. My men can’t work with so many of his subordinates around.”
“Just look at him, Roger! The boy looks emaciated, he’s bruised all over, he wanted to run away from the looks of it, you can’t just–,”
“Garp is a good man,” Roger cut her off, “and a well-respected police officer. It's to be expected his child-rearing methods would be a bit more demanding and stern. I trust he knows what he’s doing, so I’d be careful with the implications, if I were you.”
The floorboards outside the living room creaked under his father’s feet.
“Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Rouge, for god’s sake, children fall all the time!” Roger exclaimed, sounding much closer than before.
Ace felt the cold surge of fear run through him. He instinctively tightened his hold around Luffy’s shoulders, pulling him closer to himself. He felt Luffy stir against him, heard him breathe out softly as he woke.
“They get into all sorts of fights, hurt themselves on accident, especially ill-behaved children like I’ve heard that boy is. He should be thankful Garp has agreed to take him under his roof and feed him in his father’s absence – if running away is his way of showing his gratitude, then you should realize by now what kind of a brat he is.”
A pause.
“Ace?”
Ace felt Luffy shiver in his arms.
He squeezed Luffy tightly to his chest, humming something meaningless just to reassure him to the best of his ability.
“I’m still here, okay? It’s alright.”
Roger sighed heavily, just outside the living room.
“Fine, I’ll talk to Garp. I just need to get the kid back to him, first.”
Suddenly the light was flipped on, and Ace blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the overwhelming, invasive brightness. Luffy must’ve startled by the noise, as he burrowed tighter into Ace, pressing his entire face into Ace’s neck.
Roger stormed into the living room, Rouge following close behind him.
“Ace,” his father greeted him, but there was very little fondness in it, “where is he?”
Ace set his jaw, unwilling to let his hold on Luffy lessen even a little.
“Why do you even care,” he asked, defiant.
Roger’s eyebrows drew together, his lips setting into a firm, dismayed line.
“Ace, please don’t make this more difficult than it already is,” his mother begged him, coming to stand by his father’s side. She put her hand on Roger’s shoulder, but Ace didn’t miss the way it was trembling, “your father is going to drive Luffy back home. His grandfather is waiting for him – they’ve been looking for him all afternoon.”
Ace glanced down at Luffy nestled in his arms. The younger one was shivering all over now, body and limbs shaking like he was going down with a fever, and Ace could easily feel the way his heart hammered inside his chest like the heart of a small, frightened mammal.
His eyes were wide, but seemed unseeing for a moment, until Luffy eventually broke out of his trance and pushed himself away from Ace’s chest stiffly.
“You can’t go back,” Ace called out to him, “you’re just gonna get hurt again, you can’t let him–,”
Luffy shook his head lightly. “I don’t really have any other place to go,” he said, his thin shoulders sagging dejectedly, “I told you, gramp’s the only family I have left.”
He slipped from Ace’s arms, then slid off the couch, coming to stand a few steps away from his father. He looked tiny in comparison to Roger’s considerable frame, and all Ace could do was watch in silence how Luffy’s body kept shivering.
There was nothing he wanted more than to run up to him, get him back into his arms where he belonged, hold him close, protect him and never let him go again.
It seemed like he was, once again, too weak to do that.
Good for nothing.
“That’s a good lad,” Roger praised, setting his heavy hand on top of Luffy’s head, “go get dressed. I’ll wait for you outside.”
The voice that came out of Luffy’s mouth barely even sounded like him. It was quiet, plain – devoid of all excitement, all happiness that Ace had already grown to associate with him.
“Thank you, sir. if that’s not too much to ask, sir.”
Luffy glanced back at Ace. His face was blank, the joyous smile that had felt permanently etched into his features not that long before wiped clean off.
“It was nice seeing you again, Ace,” Luffy told him, before turning to face Rouge, “thank you for your hospitality too, ma'am. The food was delicious.”
Roger led him outside, and Ace scrambled off the couch to run after them.
“Luffy, wait–,”
Rouge caught his arm. He turned to look at her, pleading.
“Don’t,” she whispered, “just do as your father says. If he’s pleased enough with you, maybe he’ll let you see him again soon.”
Ace met her gaze. He felt his breath catch in his throat.
His mother looked distraught, like she understood and shared his pain, like it hurt her too to see Luffy being taken away from him so suddenly.
“It’s not him, isn’t it,” Ace breathed, “the person you mentioned before.”
Rouge shook his head, a barely-there motion.
Ace felt his eyes fill with angry tears.
When he ran out to the hall, his father was already on the way to the car with Luffy following not that far behind him.
Ace wanted to run after them, wanted to scream at his father to not let Luffy leave, wanted to fight him like he fought these bastards who ganged up on him earlier.
But his mother was right. He needed to be decent, if he wanted to have at least a minuscule chance of not getting grounded for life and seeing Luffy again at some point. Besides, he didn’t even know where Luffy’s grandfather lived, for fuck’s sake.
Suddenly, he remembered something.
He ran back to the kitchen, where Luffy’s straw hat remained, placed on the table top where Luffy had been sitting before. It was obvious how important it was to him.
Ace needed to fix it. He needed to find Luffy again and get him his hat back.
Ace set his jaw, fists tightening at his sides.
And if Garp hurt him again – Ace swore he’d kill the old bastard himself.