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Ace had only been with the Whitebeard Pirates for a short time, but he was already beginning to find his place among them.
It came easily to him, like breathing.
He knew little about his soon-to-be brothers, but that didn't stop him from wanting to spend time with them, the sound of their laughter echoing through the corridors, the warmth of their presence filling the ship. It became a mission to connect with each and everyone— a task as natural as feeling the sun’s warmth on his face during their midday gatherings.
Instead of racing off at the mention of a mission to escape the crew that had kidnapped him, he spent time on the ship, in the messy hall with its faint smell of spilled ale and food, on the deck where the wooden planks creaked underfoot, and anywhere his brothers were, their voices a comforting hum in the background.
The sense of belonging seeped deep into him, something he had chased for so long. The brotherhood they shared was tangible— the warmth of a hand on his shoulder during a joke, the sound of raucous laughter during late-night parties, the smell of salt and sweat mixed with the scent of fire-roasted meat as they formed circles to share stories. In those moments, he felt like he belonged; everyone accepted him without hesitation. Each moment stitched together the image of family he’d always yearned for, mind and heart, watching it come to life.
When the time came to take the mark, the decision felt natural, as certain as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It wasn’t just a symbol he’d put on his back; it was proof etched into his skin, the sting of the needle a reminder that he had found his place, a place where he was wanted, needed, and loved.
The weight he’d carried for so long seemed lighter, and the mark filled him with newfound pride, a sense of purpose that had eluded him for years.
Over the next few days, Ace couldn’t help but show off the mark to anyone who would look. He basked in the compliments, the approving nods, and the warm smiles that greeted him. Each word of praise was like a gentle breeze, making his heart swell, deepening the feeling that he was finally home.
And then came Marco’s compliment.
Ace didn’t know much about Marco, only that he was the first mate and the commander of the first division—someone the crew looked up to, a figure of authority who carried himself with a calm, almost distant demeanor. Ace had watched him from afar, noticing how the crew gravitated toward him, how they relied on him. Despite his curiosity, Ace hadn’t found the chance to learn more about Marco or engage in many conversations, aside from a handful of times, and the few stories he’d heard from Thatch were silly and fleeting—not nearly enough to satisfy his curiosity.
So when Marco approached him, Ace expected just another casual nod of approval, the kind that felt like a pat on the back, seeing as that’s how his interactions with the crew usually went. But he hadn't anticipated the way Marco’s eyes lingered, nor the way his lips curled into a smile that seemed to carry immense warmth. Something inside Ace stirred, like the gentle rocking of the ship beneath his feet suddenly becoming unsteady.
“Looks good on you.” Marco’s voice was relaxed, as always, a smooth baritone that rolled over Ace like a calming wave. The words carried a weight that lodged itself in Ace’s chest, heavy and unmoving, like an anchor dragging him down.
The remark was simple, one he’d heard before, yet the clenching in Ace’s chest was anything but. The warmth he usually felt from compliments turned into something else— something unfamiliar. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. A flush crept up his neck, warming his cheeks as he struggled to maintain his composure.
He couldn’t understand why Marco’s words affected him so— so differently, why they left him feeling so off-balance.
Ace forced a smile in return, but the knot in his stomach tightened, sending waves of unease through his body. The heat prickled up his neck, spreading like wildfire across his skin, impossible to hide. Marco’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a brief flash of emotion that left Ace’s skin tingling, but he said nothing. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, light and teasing, the sound echoing in Ace’s ears like a taunting, knowing whisper. He walked away, footsteps barely audible against the wooden deck, his hand moving in a small wave.
That simple, almost casual gesture left him flustered, thoughts spiraling.
Days passed, and he couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind, trying to make sense of the strange feeling that clung to him. It wasn’t like anything he’d experienced before, and no matter how much he tried to brush it off, the clenching in his chest refused to go away. Usually so confident and brash, Ace found himself wide-eyed and jittery whenever Marco was nearby, the air around him growing thick and suffocating. His heart tightened with a sharp, uncomfortable squeeze, leaving him feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he ever wanted to admit.
Worst of all, it started happening more frequently. Whenever Ace noticed Marco in the same area, his body would seize, his mind starting to blank. And if they were walking toward each other on the same path, Ace's instinct was to turn on his heel and rush away, desperate to avoid that unsettling feeling.
"Oi, Ace! Where are you goin'?" Thatch called out one day as Ace abruptly slipped from his slung arm, turning away from the corridor leading to the kitchen.
"Uh, just forgot something,” he muttered, the words tumbling out awkwardly as he barely met Thatch's questioning gaze before practically bolting in the opposite direction, his footsteps pounding against the deck like his rapid heartbeat.
He could feel the heat rising to his shoulders, the telltale sign of his flames threatening to ignite. This had happened many times already, and it was becoming impossible to keep under wraps. The first few times, Ace managed to brush it off, but now, the crew was beginning to notice—and so was Marco, who, ever so kind, didn’t comment about it but couldn’t help but be aware.
It was impossible to control— Ace’s shoulders would flare up with scorching flames every time Marco came near, the heat licking at his skin.
And when he couldn't escape, when Marco's presence was unavoidable, Ace's go-to response became something entirely out of character.
One afternoon, while Ace was cleaning the deck, Marco approached him with a casual smile. A smile that started to do many things to him.
"Ace, you missed a spot,” he joked, pointing to a corner of the deck.
Ace's heart skipped a beat, and before he knew it, his shoulders flared up. "I didn't miss anything!" he snapped, his voice harsher than intended. "Why don't you mind your own business?”
Marco raised both arms in mock surrender, an eyebrow arching as his eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. “Was just trying to help," he replied, a hint of a chuckle bubbling just beneath the surface, as if he was barely holding back his laughter.
The embarrassment was unbearable.
“Well, I don’t need your help!” Ace shot back, turning away and trying to focus on his task, but his hands trembled as much as his heart did.
Marco chuckled softly, a sound that only made Ace's frustration grow, making him unable to focus, unable to do anything for that matter. "Alright, alright. No need to get so worked up." He waved off the tension with a lighthearted grin, as if Ace's outburst was nothing more than a joke.
His cheeks burned with humiliation. "I'm not worked up!" he insisted, though the fire on his shoulders said otherwise. "Just leave me alone, some of us want to finish their duties.”
"Sure thing, Ace," Marco said with a small smile, turning away. "But you might want to watch those flames, they’re getting a little out of control.”
Ace cursed under his breath, his voice a low growl, as he watched Marco walk away. That damn smile lingered on Marco’s face, a curve of lips that felt like a brand searing into Ace’s memory. Every time Marco got close, these blasted flames ignited, and Ace felt like he was losing control—not just of his powers, but of his emotions.
And it was all confusing, consuming him like a relentless storm, waves of emotion crashing over him, leaving him breathless and unsteady.
"Man, Ace, what's up with you and Marco?" Rakuyo started, his voice laced with teasing glee. "It's like he's got some kind of fire-starter switch on you.” The crew's laughter echoed around him, each chuckle feeling like a match striking against Ace’s already heated skin, deepening the flush on his face.
"Shut up!" Ace barked back, the flames beginning to die down. “He... he does not.” The words didn't sound convincing, not to anyone— not even to himself.
It was a rather new thing, Marco having the ability to make Ace quite unsure about many things— things that had to do with himself.
But even as he tried to brush it off, the truth gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. He couldn't fathom why this was happening— why Marco's mere presence sent his heart into a wild, erratic rhythm, why the air around him seemed to thicken, and why his flames flared uncontrollably whenever the blond was near.
Cursing Marco out became his defense mechanism, a way to cope with the unfamiliar emotions that he couldn't quite grasp.
And Marco? He never reacted differently and never took Ace’s words seriously. Instead, he met each outburst with that same smile— the smile that sent Ace’s heart into cardiac arrest. The soft chuckle Marco would let out, too— it made Ace shake with profound new feelings he had never experienced, only heightening his frustration. It was as if Marco saw right through his anger, understanding it wasn’t real, just a shield he put up to protect himself.
That nonchalant attitude, his refusal to be rattled, only deepened the turmoil inside Ace. It felt like Marco was playing a game Ace didn’t know the rules to, a game where every smile and every glance sent Ace’s nerves spiraling, leaving him tangled in confusion and on edge. The more Marco remained unfazed, the more Ace found himself in doubt, torn between the instinct to push him away and an unfamiliar, growing desire to be closer, to feel the warmth of his presence.
Being promoted to second division commander—a position that placed him nearly on equal footing with Marco—brought no relief from the strange feelings he had since that fateful compliment. His new rank earned him respect and authority among the men, but it did nothing to soothe the tension that tightened his senses whenever Marco was near. If anything, it only made things more complicated, forcing him into Marco’s proximity more often than he could handle.
And he could handle a lot.
The crew had their own interpretations of Ace’s behavior. Some took his fiery outbursts as a clear sign of disdain, while others had, well, different views.
"Man, Ace really can't stand Marco, can he?" Thatch whispered, watching with an amused grin as Ace’s shoulders flared up again at Marco’s approach.
"No, it’s not like that," Izo chimed in, smirking knowingly. "I think it’s kinda cute, actually. Marco’s the only one who can get a rise out of our firecracker.”
"Cute? More like annoying,” the freckled one muttered under his breath, words barely audible, having overheard their conversation in passing. The flicker of flames around him dimmed as he reached for his loosely hanging hat, pulling it over his head to hide the bright tint on his face. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on whatever he was doing.
And despite the chaos that Marco's presence stirred within him, Ace never allowed it to interfere with his responsibilities. He could be flustered, angry, and on fire around Marco, but when it came to his duties, it was an entirely different matter.
In a meeting with the other division commanders, Ace was determined to keep his emotions in check. They were discussing who to send on the upcoming mission, and he knew he couldn’t afford any distractions.
"Ace, you’ll be leading the charge," Marco said, his tone professional as he reviewed the plan. "Think you’re up for it?”
"Of course I am," he replied. "You can count on me.”
"Good to hear,” Marco responded with a small smile.
As the meeting continued, Ace found himself locking eyes with Marco more often than he was willing. Each time their gazes met, a rush of emotions threatened to break through his carefully constructed walls, but he refused to let it show. He wasn’t about to let his personal feelings interfere with his obligations.
When the meeting finally ended, Ace lingered, pretending to review some notes, fingers fidgeting with the edges of the paper. It was a silly notion, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself— wishing to stay near Marco just a bit longer, to soak in his effortless calm, to steal furtive glances at the man who made his heart race. And Marco noticed, stepping closer with that knowing smile.
“You did well in there, Ace,” the blond began, his tone different from the one he used in the meeting, standing a bit too close for Ace's comfort. “I’m sure Pops, and all of us, are proud of how far you’ve come.”
“Thanks...” Ace managed, his shoulders stiffening, managing a curt nod while the warmth spread through him. Another compliment. “Just doing my job,” he added, gaze fixed on the wooden table in front of him, afraid his eyes might betray him if he looked up and met those lazy ones.
“You don’t have to be so stiff around me.” Marco chuckled, his tone teasing.
“I’m not stiff! Just... focused.”
“Sure, sure,” the older one continued, amusement clear in his voice. “Just don’t burn the meeting room or me. Though, I can handle it if it's your fire.” He added with a playful wink, leaving Ace unsure if he was teasing or genuine.
Ace’s shoulders tingled, a prickling sensation that danced across his skin as the fire within him surged, the warmth radiating from his chest to his face, turning his cheeks a deep crimson that matched the flames licking at his shoulders. The playful confidence in Marco’s voice, that wink— it had caught him completely off guard, leaving him flustered and struggling to regain his composure.
After a few agonizing seconds, Ace managed to stammer out, “Y-yeah, well, I’d never!” His voice wavered, but he knew—deep in the core of his being—that he wouldn’t hurt Marco, couldn’t even if he tried.
“I know,” Marco replied— or was it a confession? His voice was low, almost intimate, and it sent a shiver down Ace’s spine. Marco’s features softened into something more genuine, something tender. Ace’s heart thudded so loudly in his chest that he feared Marco could hear it, each beat like a drum against his ribs. The air between them felt charged, as if the very atmosphere had thickened, making it hard to breathe. Instead of responding, Ace turned away in a rush, his cheeks burning with a blush he couldn’t hide.
As he hurried out of the room, the murmurs of the other commanders reached his ears, muffled and distant, like voices carried on the wind. He caught snippets of their conversation, the words swirling around him, adding to the confusion already churning in his mind.
“Looks like Marco’s got a soft spot for our hothead,” one of them said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, but don’t tell Ace that,” another replied. “He’ll probably set the whole ship on fire.”
Ace clenched his fists as he tried to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart. It echoed in his ears, drowning out the lingering voices of the commanders. His skin prickled with unease. He wasn’t sure what was worse— the fact that he couldn’t control his reactions around Marco or the unsettling realization that everyone seemed to notice the very thing that had him all over the place.
It was blatantly obvious, really, but it irked him still. He couldn't keep the one thing that had him all over the place to himself, couldn't find solace, or figure it out before it was aired to everyone.
Way longer than Ace wanted to count had passed since that overheard conversation, yet the words refused to leave him in peace. They echoed in his mind, particularly that one comment of Marco having a soft spot for him.
Ace couldn’t understand. What did they mean by that? Marco having a soft spot for him? It didn’t make any sense. Sure, Marco was kind and understanding, but wasn’t he like that with everyone? Does he really have a soft spot for Ace? Why would he?
The more Ace dwelled on it, the more entangled he became in his thoughts, losing himself. Every time he tried to dismiss the notion, it returned with greater force, leaving him restless and increasingly frustrated night after night.
Unable to shake off the disturbance, Ace found himself alone on the deck. The sea stretched out before him, a vast, dark expanse glittering under the moonlight. The cool breeze tugged at his hair, its salty tang filling his lungs, but it did little to soothe the agitation bubbling inside him. He leaned against the railing, staring out at the endless waves. The rhythmic crashing of the sea against the ship usually brought him comfort, but tonight, it only seemed to amplify the storm raging within his thoughts.
“What does that even mean?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his unruly hair in exasperation. “A soft spot… for me? That’s ridiculous.”
The thought alone freaked Ace out, so what would happen if it were true? Was there really something different about the way Marco treated him?
“Thinking too hard?”
Ace nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Marco’s voice. He turned sharply, his heart doing that troublesome squeeze as he saw Marco standing a few steps away, his usual grin in place.
“Marco… I— what are you doing here?” Ace’s voice trembled, betraying the steady tone he desperately tried to maintain. His heart pounded against his chest, each beat intensifying with every step the older man took. Warmth spread across Ace’s face despite the cool night breeze. The moonlight cast a gentle glow over the deck, but it was Marco who truly stole the scene.
Marco stood there, effortlessly captivating, as if the night itself had woven around him, drawn to his presence. His blond hair, tousled by the wind, danced gracefully as though it had a life of its own. The way it framed his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and the calm intensity of his blue eyes, left Ace breathless. Marco wasn’t just handsome— he was mesmerizing, a vision that scattered Ace’s thoughts like leaves in a storm.
Every time Ace looked at Marco, it felt like the ground beneath him shifted, his solid footing crumbling into dust. The musky scent of Marco's presence made it hard for Ace to focus on anything else when he stood so close.
“Just checking on you,” Marco replied casually, his voice as soothing as the sound of waves gently crashing against the ship's hull. He moved to lean against the railing beside Ace, their shoulders brushing, the brief contact sending a jolt of warmth through Ace. “You’ve been quieter than usual.” He'd noticed.
Ace cursed internally, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. Of course, Marco would notice. “I’m fine,” he lied, his voice strained. The intensity of Marco’s blue eyes seemed to pierce through his defenses. The taste of salt lingered on his lips as he bit them, fighting the urge to spill the truth. “Just thinking.”
Marco tilted his head slightly, the subtle motion sending a few stray strands of his blond hair falling gracefully across his forehead. His gaze, unwavering and gentle, seemed to see right through Ace, leaving no room for pretense. “About what?” he asked, his voice warm and genuinely curious, ready to listen to whatever thoughts weighed on Ace’s mind.
But was Ace ready to talk about it? Could he really voice the silly thoughts that had been worrying him for so long?
Ace hesitated. Could he really tell Marco anything? The cool breeze brushed against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat building in his chest. Despite the countless times Marco had assured him that he was there for him, that he could trust him, Ace still found himself questioning it, doubting whether he could open up. But before the uncertainty could take root, he found his mouth moving on its own, as if the words were pulled from him by the very air around them.
“Why do people say you have a soft spot for me?” Ace blurted out, the words escaping his lips in a rushed, breathless tumble, almost as if they’d been ripped from him. The moment they hung in the air, a heavy weight settled in his stomach. He cursed himself, the embarrassment wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket, making it nearly impossible to meet Marco’s gaze, afraid of the judgment he might find there.
Marco blinked in surprise, the flicker of it passing through his eyes, then let out a soft, melodic chuckle. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
Marco’s laughter carried no judgment, only a soothing warmth that seemed to melt away the knots of anxiety tightening in Ace’s chest. As the sound reached Ace’s ears, a quiet relief washed over him, the tension in his muscles easing slightly as if Marco’s laughter had the power to lift the weight of his worries. It was so effortless, so genuinely amused, that Ace couldn’t help but feel lighter, as though the burden he’d been carrying was slowly dissipating, leaving him with a sense of fragile hope.
“It’s just... I don’t get it. You’re the same with everyone, aren’t you? Why would they say that?”
The blond tilted his head, considering his words carefully. “Maybe because I see something special in you.”
“Special? What do you mean?” Ace’s breath caught in his throat, a sharp intake of air that felt like it might choke him. The word echoed in his mind, reverberating through the crevices of his thoughts.
He was special to Marco?
His pulse quickened, the rapid thrum of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out the soft rustle of the sails above. The world seemed to shrink around him, the edges of his vision fading until all that remained was Marco—Marco’s words lingering in the air between them, heavy with a meaning Ace couldn’t quite grasp. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, attuned to Marco’s every move—the way his voice softened, the gentle curve of his lips, and the warmth in his eyes that seemed to pierce through every defense Ace had tried to build, exposing the confusion and longing he barely understood himself.
'Special'. The word felt foreign, heavy in a way that seared through Ace’s defenses—too intimate, too close to the truth he had been trying so hard to avoid. His mind spun in frantic circles, searching for what Marco could possibly mean, but all he could feel was uncertainty, hope, and fear. They collided like storm clouds, leaving Ace raw and exposed, torn between the yearning to hear more and the dread of where those words might lead.
His smile softened, expression morphing into something almost tender. “You’re not like anyone else, Ace. You’ve got this fire in you— not just your powers, but in the way you are, the way you protect the crew, the way you care about everyone. It’s hard not to notice.”
As Marco spoke, he reached out, his hand moving with deliberate care, fingers finding the spot between Ace’s shoulder and neck, the warmth of his touch seeping into Ace’s skin. Marco’s hand rested there gently, his palm radiating a soothing heat that mingled with the flickering embers of Ace’s own flame, casting an alluring purple between them.
Ace stared at him, completely disarmed by the sincerity lacing his words, by the tenderness of his touch. The world seemed to tilt, his mind struggling to keep pace with the weight of Marco’s honesty. The touch felt like a silent promise, a reassurance that transcended words.
And he began to wonder if that’s what Marco had been to Ace all along— special.
“Plus,” Marco continued in a teasing tone, “you’re a bit of a handful, keeps things interesting around here.”
Despite himself, Ace felt a small smile tug at his lips. “A handful, huh? That’s one way to put it.”
“But in a good way. You’ve brought a lot of life to this crew, Ace. And well, maybe I do have a bit of a soft spot for you. But that’s not a bad thing, is it?” And just like that, Marco withdrew his hand, leaving Ace with a sense of loss. His eyes silently pleaded for the warmth to return, a quiet, desperate yearning for the touch that had so briefly connected them.
“I don’t know,” Ace admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is all so confusing.”
“It’s okay to feel that way.”
“But if having a soft spot means favoritism, then I hate it.” His arms moved restlessly, gesturing between them as if trying to grasp the right words. “I don’t want anyone treating me differently just because of... whatever this is.”
Marco’s smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “It’s not about favoritism, it’s about recognizing what’s special about someone.”
Ace turned away, the weight of Marco’s words pressing heavily on his chest. The gentle sound of the sea against the ship was the only thing that filled the silence. He clenched his fists, struggling to keep his emotions in check, but it was no use, the flames dancing along his shoulders showing no sign of retreating.
He hated this feeling—hated how one kind word, one compliment, could throw him into such a spiral. The more Marco tried to reassure him, the more conflicted he became. It wasn’t just the emotional chaos—it was the vulnerability that came with it. Ace had always prided himself on being strong, on handling whatever life threw his way, but this? This was different.
He hated feeling like a puzzle that he couldn't solve.
Marco’s footsteps receded, and Ace was left alone with his thoughts, grappling with the vortex of feelings that refused to settle. It wasn't until late that he sacked out.
He couldn't do anything with the questions and doubts within him but hoped that, in time, he would find the answers he was searching for.
The next morning brought little respite for Ace. Despite his attempts to shake off the lingering confusion, the thought of Marco and the strange emotions he stirred up continued to plague him. He couldn’t seem to escape the clenching in his chest or the flurry of thoughts that accompanied it.
As Ace went about his duties, he struggled to maintain focus. His movements felt mechanical, and his interactions with the crew were noticeably strained. Marco’s constant presence only heightened his unease, constantly reminding him of the previous night.
At breakfast, Ace sat at the far end of the table, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Marco. He attempted to engage with the other crew members, but his responses were lackluster.
“Everything alright, Ace?” Thatch asked, his voice tinged with concern as he noticed Ace’s distracted demeanor.
“Yeah, just a rough morning.” His eating was slow, a stark contrast to his usual pace.
Thatch raised an eyebrow but chose not to push further. “If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”
Thatch had always been like this— sometimes he'd push, but other times he knew when to hold back. He had an uncanny knack for reading the room, knowing when a joke would lift spirits and when silence was better. His attempts to help were never forced, just gentle nudges to lighten the mood, whether through a well-timed quip or simply being there. It was as if he could sense the weight of what wasn’t being said, what Ace wasn't voicing.
Ace nodded, appreciating the offer but too consumed by his own thoughts to accept it.
His gaze repeatedly flicked towards Marco, who was chatting with the other crew members. Marco’s easy smile and relaxed posture seemed to deepen Ace’s internal conflict, making the feelings he’d been trying to sort out even more overwhelming. He was the only one being eaten away, haunted by everything.
As the day went on, Ace’s frustration grew. It was as if the universe was conspiring to throw him and Marco together at every turn. Whether it was during training, in the mess hall, or even while on deck, Marco seemed to be everywhere Ace looked. And with each encounter, Ace’s emotions became harder to control— emotions that were bound to explode.
He found himself paired with Marco for a sparring match. The clash of their armament haki attacks was loud and, to onlookers, intense; each strike reverberated with the chaos in Ace’s mind. His movements were erratic, fueled by the swirling emotions he couldn’t quite understand, which was quite unlike him.
“Careful there, Ace,” Marco said, his voice steady as he effortlessly deflected one of Ace’s strikes that had nearly leaped to the wall, dangerously close to starting a fire. His flamed wing flared as if it were feeding on Ace's fire that was slowly disappearing within. “You’re getting a bit reckless.”
Ace's jaw clenched, frustration boiling over. “I’m not reckless! I just… I can’t concentrate when you’re around.”
Marco’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh? I didn’t realize I had that effect on you. Maybe you’re just not used to being up against someone who actually challenges you.” His voice was light, almost teasing, but there was a depth to it that sent a shiver down Ace’s spine.
Ace’s face flushed with annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not about you being a challenge— i-it’s you being everywhere!”
Marco’s smile grew as he continued to sidestep Ace’s attacks. “Well, maybe if you could focus a bit more, you wouldn’t be so easily distracted. Or is it that you’re trying to impress me with your fiery moves?”
“Impress you? That’s not what this is about! I just—”
With a blink, Marco took off, his teasing tone growing gentler but still edged with playfulness. “You know, Ace, you’re rather cute like this,” he whispered, his blazing wing extended, creating a protective barrier around them. The soft glow of the flames bathed them in a warm light as Marco gently caressed Ace’s hot cheek, his touch like a cool balm against heated skin.
The touch was unexpected, and its intimacy threw Ace off balance. His heart raced, and he could feel his cheeks heating up in response. The warmth of Marco’s hand against his skin was something he had thought of regularly since that night; the sensation had seared itself into his memory.
“Why do you always have to be so, so—” Ace struggled to find the words, his frustration bubbling to the surface, choking him. The softness of Marco’s touch and the calm, almost teasing smile were the last straws. “You’re everywhere, Marco! You’re always so… understanding and… and…” His voice wavered, the words coming out in a rush as if he was desperate to get them out before he lost his nerve.
Marco’s smile remained, but his lazy eyes narrowed. “Understanding? Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asked, concerned about where the issue lay. He took a step back, creating more space between them as he relaxed his stance, his limbs transforming back. To Ace, the space felt like a chasm; the sudden absence of Marco’s warmth was almost painful, the loss of that reassuring touch leaving him cold.
Ace’s shoulders tensed, and before he could stop himself, his flames erupted in a sudden burst of heat, the intensity making the air ripple and distort around them. Several crew members watching from the sidelines took a cautious step away, their eyes wide with concern at the outburst, the sudden blaze pushing them back as if they could feel the raw emotions in it.
“Dammit, Marco!” Ace shouted, his voice cracking with frustration, the sound rough and raw. “Why are you like this?” His throat felt tight, as if the words were being dragged out of him, each one coated in the bitterness of his own confusion and anger.
Marco’s teasing smile faded as he watched. “If you’d rather I stay out of your way, just say so.” It was said so quietly, his voice still calm but tinged with an earnest note.
“Well, you’d better jump into the ocean if you want to stay out of my way,” Ace muttered, his face twisting into a pained expression. The heat of his flames caused the air around them to shimmer, distorting the world beyond. Even Marco's figure looked hazy, like a mirage in the distance.
Ace's breath came in heavy, ragged bursts as the flames flickering around his fists began to die down, leaving a stinging sensation on his skin. He stood there, panting, feeling utterly defeated, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. The intensity of his words left him stunned, a bitter taste in his mouth, disgusted with himself. Anger and confusion still churned inside him, but a cold, sharp awareness told him he had crossed a line.
Marco’s calm demeanor remained unshaken, but his usual playful expression had hardened into something more serious, his blue eyes darkening. The crew members who had been watching exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the air thick enough to cut through.
“You’ve really got to figure out what’s going on with you, Ace,” Marco said quietly, his voice stone-cold. The shift in Marco’s tone was like a physical blow, cutting through Ace’s anger, and leaving him reeling.
Ace was left standing there, the weight of his own childishness settling heavily on his shoulders. The anger that had fueled his outburst dissipated, but the anguish remained, a gnawing ache in his chest. He had let his frustration get the better of him, pushing Marco further away instead of finding a way to communicate his feelings.
As he replayed the confrontation in his mind, a sinking realization gripped his heart and twisted his stomach into knots. His harsh words and actions implied that he wanted Marco out of his life, but in reality, the opposite was true.
The thought of losing Marco— of him not being around, of not seeing him—was unbearable. It hurt more than anything Ace had ever felt, like a vice tightening around his chest, making it hard to breathe as panic began to take over his senses.
The sight of Marco’s expression, his usual calmness turned cold and hurt, stung more than the heat of Ace’s own flames. Marco stepping back, his eyes reflecting worry and sadness, was like a knife twisting in Ace’s gut. He hated that coldness, hated seeing Marco like that, and never wanted to hear that tone in Marco’s voice again. It left Ace's vision blurring with unshed tears.
“No, no, no,” Ace muttered to himself, shaking his head, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He could barely control the tremor in his hands or the rapid pounding of his heart.
Determined to make things right, Ace dashed off to the exit, desperation evident in every frantic step. The usual bustle of the ship seemed muted, and distant, as if the world had shrunk to the space between him and Marco. Each step away from Marco felt like poison coursing through him.
Frustrated, Ace sprinted to the first division commander's room. The hallway felt endless, his steps echoing with mounting anxiety. By the time he reached the door, his limbs were shaking, barely able to steady himself as he threw it open with a loud crash.
“Marco!” Ace shouted, his voice raw and filled with urgency. “Please, please, Marco!”
Marco looked up from his desk, startled, his eyes guarded but weary, reflecting his concern. “Ace?” he asked, his tone one of surprise as if he hadn’t expected Ace to rush after him as if it was just another outburst.
“I’m sorry!” Ace blurted out, closing the distance between them with frantic strides. Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling onto the floor and dampening Marco’s shirt as Ace grabbed his face, forcing him to look up. His palms pressed against Marco's soft, warm cheeks, the sensation grounding him in the chaos of his emotions. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any of it. I was just—”
His words faltered as the tears flowed uncontrollably, blurring his vision. Ace’s palms trembled, chest heaving with every ragged breath as his legs gave in. “I didn’t mean to push you away! Please—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I lashed out. I didn’t mean to, yeah? So please, Marco, I hate seeing you like that, with that cold look in your eyes. I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant that I wanted you out of my life. Please— please don’t hate me. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
Marco’s eyes softened as he immediately cradled Ace's shaking figure, his touch gentle yet firm. “Ace, calm down,” Marco barely whispered, his tone steadying the younger man. “I’m not angry, and I don’t hate you. It’s okay.”
“But I hurt you!” Ace insisted, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “I saw the look on your face, and it was like— no, I did something unforgivable.”
Marco shook his head, his gaze gentle and reassuring. “You didn’t hurt me, Ace. We all have moments where we lash out. What matters is that you’re here now, trying to fix things.”
Ace’s tears began to subside, though the heaviness in his heart remained, a dull ache that refused to fade. “I just... I don’t want things to be like this between us. I want to be able to talk to you, to be around you without this tension, without my shoulders lighting up like a torch.”
Marco’s eyes held a soft warmth as he nodded. “Then let’s talk. I know about the way you’ve been reacting to me; everyone can see it. It’s clear there’s something more going on with you than just frustration or anger. So, what is it? What are you feeling?”
Ace swallowed hard, loving the way Marco's fingers brushed against his skin, the way they wiped his tears with such tenderness. “I... I don’t know how to explain it.” He hesitated, searching for the right words, but they kept escaping him.
“Just be honest.”
Ace took a deep breath, his cheeks burning. “Okay… well, I-I’m feeling all weird around you, like I can’t think straight, and my shoulders keep catching fire whenever you come near. It’s like you’ve got this... this weird effect on me. And I don’t like it, but I also can’t stop it, and I keep screwing things up because of it. And I might be feeling—” He stumbled over his words, the realization dawning on him as he blurted out the truth in a clumsy rush. “I might be feeling like I care about you more than I should! More than the others, and it’s driving me insane, okay? I didn’t mean to push you away. I just didn’t know how to handle... whatever this is!”
Marco’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. A soft chuckle escaped him as he took in Ace’s awkward confession. “Is that so? Well, I suppose you’ve made quite the impression.”
Ace’s arms clung tightly to Marco's body, his fingers bunching up the fabric of Marco’s purple shirt in a desperate grip. He was on his knees, looking up at Marco with wide, pleading eyes. “And I know it sounds stupid, and I’m probably making no sense, but it’s not just the fire or the awkwardness or the way my heart does weird things when you’re around. It’s just that you’re kind of—I don’t know—important to me. I didn’t want to admit that because I thought it would make things worse, damn it, and now I’m really messing this up!”
Ace’s face was burning with shame once no reply came, looking anywhere but at Marco. “Just— can we forget I said anything?”
Marco’s soft chuckle turned into a full-blown smile as he pushed the chair back, the wood creaking. He knelt in front of Ace, his eyes warm with affection, looking at the younger man with such intensity that Ace felt his breath catch.
“Ace,” Marco began, his voice gentle, “you don’t have to apologize for feeling the way you do. Honestly, I’m not going to forget any of it.” He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against Ace’s cheek, the touch as soft as his words. “I rather like your cute confession; it suits you.”
Ace’s heart pounded, the words sinking in deeper than he had expected. He could feel the warmth of Marco’s hand on his skin, a comforting presence that seemed to pull all his worries away. Marco’s gaze never wavered, holding Ace’s with delicate care, as if he were a prized possession.
The silence between them was filled with all the things Ace couldn’t quite put into words. But in that moment, all he could focus on was Marco— Marco, who was kneeling before him, who didn’t shy away from his feelings, who accepted him without hesitation.
But before he could open his mouth, Marco moved. In one swift motion, he pulled Ace into a firm embrace.
Ace’s breath hitched as his body was suddenly pressed against Marco’s chest, the warmth of him enveloping Ace in a way that was both startling and intensely comforting. His cheek was flush against Marco’s solid frame, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of Marco’s breathing, the rhythm soothing yet driving him into sensory overload.
For a moment, Ace froze. He hadn’t been expecting this, hadn’t been prepared for the way Marco’s embrace would completely unravel him. He was overwhelmed by the feel of Marco’s arms wrapped securely around him, by the warmth that seemed to cling to his bare skin.
Marco’s hand slid up to cradle the back of Ace’s head, his fingers threading gently through the dark hair, and that tender touch was the final straw. Ace’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a shaky breath, his body instinctively relaxing into the embrace. The world around him seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting cocoon of Marco’s presence.
Ace’s hands, which had been hovering uncertainly by his sides, finally found their place, grasping the fabric of Marco’s shirt, reaching around his frame.
One thing became undeniably clear: he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Marco’s arms around him felt like the safest place in the world, and the realization hit him so hard that he didn’t want to let go.
“Marco…” Ace whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of all he couldn’t say, all he didn’t need to say, because Marco already knew.
Marco’s embrace tightened just slightly, enough to make Ace feel even more secure, more cherished. “Let’s stay like this,” Marco whispered back, his breath warm against Ace’s temple. The way Marco held him like he was the most important thing in the world— it was all too much, yet exactly what he needed.
In the end, Ace found that loving Marco came as easily to him as breathing. The thought settled deep in his chest, filling him with a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he was searching for. And as he nestled closer to Marco, letting the last of his resistance slip away, Ace knew that this was where he belonged— held in Marco’s arms, loved so completely that it left him breathless.