Chapter Text
A relentless, sober decision comes to her on a regular Tuesday after another nearly sleepless night – for the exact same well-worn reasons. Nothing even happens that working morning: no mistakes, no documents forgotten somewhere, no breakdowns over the coffee machine. She just arrives at work, just makes her coffee a bit stronger, just sits on her work chair, turns on her computer, and realizes one simple and genuine thing: she doesn't want this anymore.
This thought doesn't hit her in the gut, doesn't pour icy water down her back, and doesn't make her body tremble. On the contrary, it feels like she can finally breathe. Isuka stares at her monitor, ignoring the agency logo on the screen, and gives herself a firm nod. As if making sure that this is the only right thought, and it needs to be executed before she changes her mind. No one has canceled the mind's tricks. Slowly, with a strange, frightening calmness, she stands up from her seat. She carefully moves her cup of hot drink to the edge of the desk and rushes to her boss’s office to ask for a day or two off. “Due to family circumstances,” that’s what she says officially. “Because I finally made up my mind,” that's what she tells herself truthfully. And she prays to every god she knows that her resolve won't melt away until she sees this thing through to the bitter end.
Back at the apartment, Isuka packs everything methodically, running on pure autopilot and heavy thoughts. She thinks about many things: about herself, their shared past, unfulfilled plans, and the foggy, terrifying future. From time to time, panic hits her hard, making her want to slam the brakes on the whole thing, but a cold, heavy logic keeps her moving. It beats one thought into her head: this is for the best. For both of them. There is no backing out now. Surprisingly, that finality helps. It’s no cure-all, but it anchors her, telling her she’s doing what has to be done.
Though the hardest part is still ahead.
You live with someone for years, and the stuff just piles up. Half of these clothes haven't even been touched for seasons; they should be in a trash bag, but it will be taken care of later. Besides, Isuka is packing only the essentials; everything that can be carried away in suitcases. In the very ones that never saw their honeymoon, and that is sad. She finds all of this painful and scary. She is literally vacuum-sealing and packing away the happy years of her relationship to move them somewhere else forever. She did not want it to be like this. She never thought they would have an ending like this. However, life is an unpredictable thing, and its gifts are cruel. And Isuka cannot go against this truth.
She can only decide what to do with the consequences and how to fit them into her existence. Today, she has decided that it is time for them to move on, but in different directions. Tomorrow, most likely, she will regret it and want to bring everything back. But it will be too late. It must become too late. Even if it means a torn-out, broken heart and losing one of the best people in her life. Isuka will survive; she will try. And she will do whatever it takes to make sure there are no bridges left standing for either of them.
Packing up [most of] the stuff kills nearly the entire day. And when she is almost done with her task, she sends Ace a message. Short, cryptic, and, she can bet, terrifying:
“Don't pick me up from work. I'm at home. Come back when you're done.”
Ace reacts the moment he reads it. He bombards Isuka with texts and calls, panicking that something bad has happened. Isuka does not just skip work for no reason, so the conclusion is obvious. She does not answer the calls, responding to the anxious messages only with short assurances that she is fine. Alive, breathing, unhurt. That last one is highly debatable. Isuka even cracks a bitter smile, but she doesn't type it out. He will understand everything when he gets back anyway.
And until he appears, she must keep herself together and forbid herself from being soft and weak. Ace can no longer see her like this. Today, they will become nothing to each other.
Ace appears at the house within forty minutes, hurriedly scratching the door lock with his key. Hearing the nervous fumbling, Isuka walks out into the hallway just as Ace flings the door open and calls her name. His voice is thick with anxiety. He takes a few steps deeper into the apartment, notices her alive and well, lets out a breath of near relief, and almost trips over the suitcases and boxes Isuka prepared earlier. He freezes mid-step, staring at them in confusion, and, quickly catching the hint, snaps his head up to look at his former fiancée.
Isuka remains silent, reading the shock, panic, and fear in Ace's eyes. She bites the inside of her cheek as she hears his trembling, uncertain voice:
“What does this mean? Did I do something wrong?”
Of course you did. But Isuka does not say it out loud. She shrugs slightly, as if unsure of what is happening, and crosses her arms over her chest. It is more like she is hugging herself to find an internal anchor, to keep from giving up at the most crucial moment. She needs this; she needs it to survive because there’s nobody else in her corner anymore. And there is no going back – she drew the line in stone.
“I’ll explain,” Isuka says calmly, surprising herself. Inside her, everything is frozen and aching from the anxiety and the unbearable torment she is condemning them both to. In truth, they have been doomed since Luffy’s party. It’s just time to turn off the engine. “Let's go into the living room.”
Isuka does not wait for an answer; she turns around and walks toward the couch. Behind her back, Ace nervously kicks off his shoes and follows her without a word.
She sits on the edge of the couch, tracking Ace with her eyes. He is in his casual clothes, but his hands are poorly washed, stained with engine oil and grease. He rushed. He was terrified for her. And that melts her heart just a little. But not enough for her to internally allow herself to stop. She must rip this band-aid off, and no tenderness or deep attachment should stand in her way. She has no right to betray herself anymore. Even if it is unbearably hard to open her mouth and continue.
“Isuka, I don't understand,” Ace helps her himself, sitting opposite her and looking toward the hallway where the things she packed are standing. He looks at them with denial and horror, then turns to her. The same questions he voices are beating in his eyes: “What happened? Whose things are these? Is this why you left work early? I… Why…? I don't understand.”
She knows that deep down he gets it completely; he just refuses to say it out loud. But he’ll have to face it now, just like he'll have to live with it. Without the right to an excuse or an attempt to win himself another chance.
Isuka hesitates for a few moments, giving herself time to gather her thoughts and strength, then takes a deep breath, straightens her back, and, looking at the beloved face, reaches out with her clean palms to his hands: stained, imperfect, but incredibly warm. She squeezes them tightly, like a spasm, as if trying to comfort him, and smiles timidly. Just a little, a half-smile that is more like a tired and sad curve of her lips.
It’s terrifying. It hurts like hell. But she’s done running. She’s burning down the bridges.
“Just don't interrupt, okay?” she begins in a trembling tone. She clears her throat, frowning slightly. And, receiving his uncertain, frightened nod, she continues, ignoring the hellish pain beneath her ribs: “I've thought about this for a long time, reflected on it. And I'm sure, Ace… We don't work anymore. This relationship has no future, no matter how desperately we tried to prolong its existence. It’s doomed. And I think… we need to call it right here, before we completely ruin whatever good things we still have left between us.”
Ace’s eyes snap wide open. He starts shaking his head, a desperate, silent no, his fingers twitching hard against hers, smearing the black engine grease all over her clean skin. He opens his mouth to let out a wall of arguments, but Isuka leans in closer, tightening her grip on his hands, shutting him down before he can say something:
“Please, just let me finish. I know it’s heavy, but… Ace, please.”
Pleading notes slip into her voice; she looks into his very soul. Her eyes sting terribly from oncoming tears, but she forces herself to keep her face. Having received his strained, silent agreement, Isuka confesses further:
“You’re trying, I know you are. You’re doing everything in your power to make me happy, to make sure I have everything. And I do. I’m grateful to fate that I met you, because you’re incredible: the best person I’ve ever known. And I still love you so much, so deeply. I wanted a lifetime with you, but… Ace, I am not the only one in your heart now. And no matter how hard you try, you can't forget him. I know, love. I see it.”
Ace's fingers squeeze her palms in response when he hears the mention of that person. He shakes his head again, as if trying to deny it, but his eyes unconsciously drop down, and his shoulder line tenses as if the sky is falling on it. Everything is clear without unnecessary confessions.
Isuka feels almost no pain. Only breathing is still just as hard, with a strain.
“To this day, I don't get what’s so special about him, but I guess I'm not supposed to,” she continues softly, almost tenderly, keeping that tragic half-smile locked on her face. “You get it, you feel it. And I’ll never be able to see him the way you do. You are drawn there, no matter how much you resist. And I am sure it is mutual. And I cannot live next to this, settling for only half of your heart and endlessly competing with him. A lifelong relationship shouldn't be this complicated and cause so much… pain, you know? It shouldn't be an endless fight, mutual torment, and violence against yourself. Because you… you are breaking yourself right now. Breaking me. And I am doing the same to you. We try our hardest, we fight, but we are unhappy in this war. And it shouldn't be this way. You and I… we must live our lives happy. Even if it's apart. It’s the only fair way out for both of us, don't you see?”
Ace squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head in protest, and rubs his fingers against Isuka’s palms. He’s trying to swallow everything she just threw at him, but his body is fighting it; the words are choking him, catching right at the back of his throat and cutting off his air. He shivers, forcing his eyelids open, and stares at her with completely glassy eyes, full of frozen panic and raw disbelief.
Isuka barely believes herself either. She desperately fights with herself not to pull Ace close, not to hide him against her chest just to comfort him. She feels terribly, deeply sorry for him.
But for herself just a little bit more. And she finally accepts that truth without hiding from it.
“Ginger, I… I don't understand why you decided all this for us,” Ace speaks faster than usual, crushing Isuka’s fingers with his own, breathing heavily and raggedly. He resists the cruel decision, tries to buy more time, and clearly hopes that she will make a concession. She truly wants to; everything inside her screams with that desire, but… she can't do it anymore. No matter how much misery it brings her. “I swear I don't see him, I don't talk to him, I try to force him out of my head. I think about him sometimes; it just happens, but I try to forget. And I'm sure that someday it will work, and everything will go back to the way it was… I love you, I want to be only with you. And I don't want… I'm afraid of losing you. Please, just… give me more time, I beg you.”
Ace yanks her hands to his face, burying himself in them, desperately bruising her skin with kisses, his face twisting like he’s about to break. Inside Isuka, her soul tears apart, her heart trembles, and her lungs squeeze to an unbearable, physical pain. His warm lips on her skin feel like burns right now. Isuka can barely endure it, and at the same time, some part of her wants them both to freeze in this moment forever. Doubts still linger inside her. But she understands; she feels it in her skin: if she gives in to them now, someday they will leave each other's lives as enemies.
Isuka crushes the weakness, suffocating the nostalgia with pure, agonizing regret. She slides in close, right against him. With a slow, deliberate effort, she untangles her hands from his burning grip, but she doesn't break the physical contact. She shifts her hands to his cheeks, softly tracing his freckles, lightly staining them with that same barely noticeable trail of oil, and gently squeezes his face. She makes him to look up, staring straight into the panic drowning his eyes. She forces a smile through the tears, using every drop of tenderness she has left:
“I know you're trying to let him go. I believe you. And I love you so much too. You protect me, you care, you’d tear the world apart if I asked. I don't doubt that for a second, and I really appreciate it. Only it's not enough. This love is different now. It no longer belongs to me alone, as it used to, and I won't settle for less. Half-tones are not my story, no matter how much I've tried to convince myself otherwise. I don't want it this way. And waiting while you break yourself inside… I can't do that anymore either. It’s cruel to you. It kills me, it breaks you. And neither of us is sure that in the end, the life we dreamed of is waiting for us.”
She takes a short breath, catching his first tear with her fingers, and draws the final line:
“So I’m letting you go now. And I’m asking you to let me go too. Before we learn to hate each other; while we can still walk away as people who love each other. Please, Ace. Just let it happen. I want to actually be happy. And I want you to be happy too. Please.”
Ace shakes his head and takes a shaky, wet breath, completely giving in to his emotions. Isuka winces in pain, but then she pulls him close anyway, wrapping her arms around his head and burying her nose in his hair. It smells like a mix of gasoline and shampoo. Not her favorite scent on him, but it still makes her chest seize up. She breathes him in fully, feeling hot tears slicking down her own cheeks.
Ace squeezes her in a tight embrace in return, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, and hollowly repeats that he loves her and is not ready to let go. She knows. She feels it with every cell and only gently strokes his head, cradling him, calming him down. And at the same time, she stubbornly refuses to break. She has spoken the whole truth that was on her heart; she has thought about this day and night. There is nowhere left to strip bare; Ace will have to survive this. So will she, even if she has zero clue how to exist tomorrow. She hasn't built that part of her brain yet. Reality still feels like a waking nightmare.
A nightmare with a faint, clean hit of relief at the back of it, but still completely tearing her inside out.
“I want so badly for you to tell me this is a joke,” Ace chokes out against her shoulder after a few minutes of heavy, drowning silence, locking her in his arms. “Or that you've changed your mind. I can't imagine what I'm going to do without you. I'm so used to you being by my side and… I'm not ready to let go.”
“I know, babe, I know,” Isuka forces a smile and sniffs, holding Ace tightly in return. She traces the lines of his body in her head, the heat, the skin, storing it all up so she can look back at it as something beautiful later. It’s going to taste like iron; it’s going to burn, but she prays that the good years are the ones that stick to her ribs. “But you have to do this. It will hurt, I believe it, I know it, but everything will pass, it will quiet down, and we will learn to live anew. I promise you, everything will be fine, wherever we end up and whoever we are with. It really will. We earned it.”
Ace lets out a broken chuckle and, squeezing her a little tighter, pulls away from her. Not far, because he wants to look at her, and probably still can't find the strength to lose the warm physical closeness between them. He studies her face with wet, red eyes, knitting his brows slightly. He still doesn't believe in this outcome, but he tries to accept it, to adapt to it in a short time. His hands stroke her shoulders and forearms, and his lips form a sad smile.
It hurts Isuka, yet it feels sweet, and she memorizes everything connected to him.
“I'm sorry I broke my promise. And instead, I made you unhappy,” he confesses, lowering his eyes in shame. But after a moment, he raises them again and looks at her tear-stained face. As if he has gathered the courage to face the consequences he allowed to happen. He continues sadly, looking at Isuka with a genuine tenderness, though it is already a bit different than usual: “You are the most wonderful girl I know, and you didn't deserve the pain I caused you. I'm so damn ashamed, Isuka. I just hope you can forgive me someday.”
She had probably expected Ace to promise to win her back again, or to deny the inevitable longer. But she is glad that this doesn't happen. He is broken by her arguments and their mutual exhaustion. And perhaps, deep down, he knows that Isuka's courage will only be for their common good. In her soul, it might sting a little, like a small bite. But this peaceful parting lightens the weight of the breakup for her.
Isuka admires him, tilting her head slightly to the side, and finally reaches out to his cheek with her palm again. She strokes it, smearing the saltiness across his skin, and pulls Ace closer to her. She rests her forehead against his, trying in vain to find his freckles with her fingers, and pulls her lips into a smile. An answering one, gentle, and surprisingly, deeply honest:
“I said I’d try to forgive you, and I did. Don't carry this around, Ace. Stop being ashamed. You don't have to be; you did everything you could. I know it and appreciate it so much. I don't want you to remember our relationship as something... so complicated. We spent many beautiful days together, grew up with each other, accumulated memories. When you look back at me, look at the good parts. Smile and keep moving. That’s who I want to be in your head, not the girl who made you suffer. Okay? Do you promise me?”
Ace nods slightly and, after hesitating for a moment, pulls back from Isuka by a couple of centimeters. He looks into her eyes, promises the same out loud, and, seeing Isuka's smile grow wider, lets a couple more tears fall from his lashes. Isuka cuts them away with her thumb, leans up, and presses her lips to his forehead. She kisses him for a long time, pressing firmly against his skin, inhales his scent, and then, returning to her initial position, allows herself to be embraced tightly, impulsively, and a little painfully.
Ace shakes in her grip, letting the floodgates open in total silence. She matches him. Goodbyes are a bloodbath, especially when there’s no return ticket. Isuka knew it would be like this, but you are never truly ready for it; you can't calculate it. Everyone's script is different, and they have never had such a painful experience before. Isuka gives them time for weakness, silence, and a superficial acceptance of the harsh reality. Later it will get worse; there will be stages of grief, denial, depression, and anger, but that will come later, when they are left in solitude. But right now... right now they have these precious minutes of permitted tenderness and gentle attachment. And Isuka is glad that, for the first time in a long while, they are on the same wavelength and completely, weaponlessly honest with each other.
They sit like that for a long time, losing track of the minutes. The time for weakness and silence ends closer to nightfall, when Ace decides it is time for him to leave. Isuka doesn't interfere, watching from the side as he methodically, without asking a single question, carries the boxes and suitcases out to the pickup truck. He loves this apartment, just as Isuka does, but he silently gives her the right to stay here herself. He also doesn't say where he will go, and stubbornly refuses to take the rings Isuka tries to return. He even feels a little offended that she thought he would even remember them or demand them back at all. It is all hers, and she can do whatever she wants with them: sell them, drown them, melt them down. Isuka doesn't want to do anything with them, but she doesn't argue with Ace anymore.
Some of his wishes must be fulfilled too.
He says his final goodbye to her in the hallway of the apartment. The moment stretches out because they are staring at each other in silence again, holding hands. Both have red eyes and slightly swollen eyelids, and a foolish thought flashes in Isuka's mind that they are being too dramatic. Then this thought changes to another: that it's better this way than with smashed furniture and broken dishes. Isuka even smiles at this, appreciating the inappropriate, sad inside joke, and catches Ace's mirror reaction in his gaze.
Although he hardly reads her mind.
Ace is gorgeous even when he’s ruined. Isuka catches herself feeling a sharp spark of envy for whoever gets the unedited, honest version of him someday: without the secrets, the guilt, and this tearing, suffocating half-lie. Because despite the hell she just walked through, Ace is an incredible human being, built to love and make people happy. And Isuka is sure that she will never be able to forget him completely.
She hopes he’s trapped the same way. It's selfish, sure, but it’s the only scrap of comfort she’s got left. She’s taking it.
“I'll pick up the rest in a few days, okay?” Ace breaks the silence first, never taking his eyes off Isuka. “Just let me know when it's convenient for you for me to drop by.”
“Any time I'm not home,” she says reluctantly, watching his brows knit. But she adds ruthlessly: “You know my hours. Leave the keys in the mailbox when you're done.”
“You don't want to see me that badly?” Ace purses his lips and lowers his gaze. He is ashamed, and Isuka lets out a heavy sigh. It will be hard for him to handle this.
“It will be hard for me to see you, Ace, you know that,” she comforts him, squeezing his fingers a little tighter with her palms. “I need to get over you, and that takes time. But... despite that, if you ever need me, I will come. As a friend, as someone who was once family. And I hope it's mutual. I'd like it to be that way, okay?”
“Yes, of course, I didn't even think it could be any other way,” Ace’s face lights up with a timid, sad smile. He looks at Isuka again, admiring her, and then, after a brief pause, gives her one last embrace, whispering into her ear in a muffled voice: “I should probably go now. Thank you for everything, Ginger. I'm sorry for everything I did to us. Truly, I'm sorry. And even though it's inappropriate, I want you to know: I love you so much and I'm going to miss you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I'm an idiot for losing you.”
“These things happen, dear, it's okay, everything will pass,” Isuka says into his shoulder, rising slightly on her tiptoes. Her eyes sting with tears again, but she doesn't let them go. She keeps them inside, though her cracking voice betrays her: “I love you too, and I will yearn for you. And don't worry about me, I'll get through this. And you will get through it too. It can't be any other way.”
Isuka even believes her own words, smiling at them, pushing away the thought that this reality doesn't exist. She will have to accept it. Not right away, but someday, because she promised herself and Ace to be happy. And she will fulfill that promise, no matter what.
Before leaving their once cozy, shared nest, Ace kisses her goodbye on the lips. Lightly, just a single touch, and wishing her luck, he disappears behind the door.
The lock snaps shut. Isuka stares at the wood, feeling the warm, sweet ghost of his lips on her own, her smile completely broken. Two seconds later, her legs give out entirely, and she drops hard onto the floorboards. She sits there, totally hollowed out, ruined, surrounded by a heavy, dead silence. Lonely. And then she finally stops holding her breath.
She cries out loud, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching the fabric of her sweatpants with her fingers from the pain of a broken heart; in memory of the best years of her life. Out of pity for herself. Out of fear for a future where Ace won't be there.
And out of relief that she finally found the strength in the depths of her soul to let him go.