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cheswirls · 3 years

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you won't remember / i won't forget [ 1/2 ]

[this ended up being my creative project october, wholly inspired by dakumes' old art. its 10k each half so be careful if you have a 'read more' extension. rip mobile users ig. thanks again @hoo-kie for letting me ramble abt this one !]

he brings daisies, today.

sabo takes them warily as they’re pushed into his arms, careful of the iv in his right hand. the bouquet is lovely, the white petals fresh, like they had just been picked, and the yellow centers seeming to stare up at him, warm color nice and inviting, bringing a hesitant smile to his face.

after a moment he bends down to sniff them, and closes his eyes at the smell, his mouth falling open to breathe it in. “they’re lovely,” he murmurs, just loud enough for the room’s other occupant to hear.

“they’re your favorite,” is his reply, and sabo’s shoulders tense at the information release.

“o-oh,” he stammers, holding the bouquet at a distance. he works to keep his face neutral, but it’s hard, his former wary smile quickly wanting to morph into a full-blown frown. it’s not that he doesn’t doubt that it’s true -they smell amazing, so it must be to some extent- but more that it was being handed to him as fact, presented as evidence of something he wasn’t ready to believe.

“here, let me take them,” his visitor says, reaching out to grab the flowers. his callused fingers brush against the backs of sabo’s hands and the blond bites down on his lower lip at the contact. “i should’ve brought a vase or somethin’, that was my bad.” he either doesn’t notice sabo’s obvious discomfort or is blatantly ignoring it -both options are equally possible- and he moves to set the bouquet on the windowsill, open now that the blinds had been drawn.

sabo folds his hands in his lap, having nothing better to do with them. he stares at the scars, at the bandaids covering fresh marks, and runs his thumb over one until the motion begins to irritate where his iv was stuck.

his visitor -ugh, he really should stop calling him that. he had a name, it’s just that sabo never bothered to remember it. but when he turns back to take a seat on the edge of sabo’s hospital bed, the early morning light reflects off his visitor nametag, and sabo reads the name again: ace.

“are you feeling any better today?” he asks, and sabo moves his gaze away once again.

“i guess,” he mutters. ace’s face falls at the dismissive attitude, but he doesn’t leave. it bothers sabo, but another, very small part of him feels warm. he does his best to tune it out.

he looks up again to find ace watching him, and lowers his eyes, examining his clothes instead. his window didn’t provide a great view, so this was his only real way to gauge the weather.

if he had to guess, it was cold. ace was in a red coat, scuffed up here and there but otherwise looking rather nice. his boots were honey-tanned, the laces done up loosely so that the tops flopped open. they had more signs of wear than the coat, so if sabo had to guess, he’d probably had them for some time.

sabo reaches a hand up and pushes his fringe out of his face, sighing. the movement causes ace to lean forward.

“have the nurses said anything new?”

what’s it to you? sabo wants to bite out, but he withholds his tongue. “they haven’t been by,” he mutters instead, which was partially true. they hadn’t been by, since ace was last here, that he could tell. but his bandages weren’t frayed anymore, from his constant picking, and his iv was near full. it was odd-colored, too, which would probably explain why he couldn’t feel anything apart from a low thrum from his head. his ankles felt freer, too, brushing against the low-grade cotton of the sheets, which probably meant the wrapping around them had been removed.

he hasn’t looked yet. he’s not sure he wants to.

a low knock on the open door gets his attention, and sabo looks up as one of the nurses wanders in, lowering her hand and raising a clipboard.

“mr. portgas? i’m here to take your vitals, if you’re ready.”

ace blinks, then stands. “do i need to-?”

the nurse glances to him as she takes a seat on a stool at sabo’s bedside. “you can stay,” she tells him, smiling. “as long as it’s okay with sabo.”

they both turn to stare and sabo drops his eyes to the mint green of his hospital shirt. “sure.”

this nurse looks familiar, but they had been rotating his room, so if he was told anything important about her, he’d already forgotten. she’s gentle as she takes his left arm to push on a bp cuff, but with a sort of carelessness that leaves her nails scraping on the bandages. he hardly notices, though, and that’s when he knows for sure he’s on some kind of morphine.

she finishes after a few minutes and sabo leans his head back against the pillows as she scribbles down a set of numbers. he doesn’t care, but she tells him he was normal anyways. the news seems to satisfy ace, if anything.

he glances to the window as she leaves and accidentally meets his eyes. they’re dark when he’s turned away from the light like this, but sabo can still tell they’re grey. he turns away quickly. it really was too early for this.

as if agreeing with him, ace’s stomach grumbles and he places his arms over it in a hurry, cheeks colored. “uh, guess i forgot to eat before coming in,” he mumbles. he straightens after a moment, nodding to the door. “‘m gonna grab something real quick. you want anything?”

by ‘something’, he means whatever he can find from the vending machine at the end of the hall. at most it’ll give sabo a few minutes of respite. he purses his lips. “they have me on a regulated diet,” he reminds ace, like he didn’t already know.

ace grins, moving around the bed and throwing his hands into his coat. it spreads at the edges as he draws his arms taut, resting just below his hip. “you could sneak it. a little wouldn’t do you any harm.” but he shrugs, giving up before sabo could protest. “i’ll be right back.”

sabo grips the sheets hard as ace slides the door shut. a part of him never wants the other to come back; another part of him knows he always does.

sabo takes a risk and curls his legs under the thin sheets. he holds his breath as he slides the blanket down, removing them one by one. the pants he was given were the same bland mint as his shirt, and they cut off at the top of his calves, leaving most of his lower leg exposed. now that the bandages are gone, he can see the obvious rope marks at his ankles, skin still badly discolored but no longer open. he breathes deep at the sight, gasping before he remembers he’d been withheld air, and then closes his eyes and works to steady his breathing.

he folds his legs up more and reaches a hand down to brush against the gnarled skin. even as light as he is, it’s still very sensitive, and he ends up pulling away quicker than he’d like. he frowns at the sight, curving his legs the opposite way to view the other side. it’s the first injury he’s seen, the others always wrapped up. he’d been too anxious to remove the simple bandaids after their presence lingered for a few days, nervous of what he’d find. when he picks at the wrapping on his arms, it’s fixed before he can get anywhere, smoothed down like he hadn’t bothered in the first place.

a quick inhale gains his attention, and sabo looks up to see ace just inside the room, hand still on the doorknob. he pulls a long face and reaches out to drag the blanket over his feet, hiding the marks. then he moves his legs until they’re pressed against his chest. but the pressure ends up causing discomfort, and sabo wonders not for the first time just what his shirt was concealing. he huffs and ends up sliding his legs straight again. they catch the edge of the sheet and push it back, revealing the marks again as his legs lay bare.

ace comes closer, sliding into the chair at sabo’s left, and his eyes swivel from the injury to sabo’s face, watching him closely. “do they hurt?” he asks after a minute.

“no,” sabo answers, letting the air settle before replying. he wants to divulge more, say something about his light touch irritating them, but another part of him vehemently doesn’t, and he chooses to trust the logic of the latter.

ace sits quietly for a while, and sabo realizes it’s the first time he’s seen any of his injuries either.

“how?” he speaks up, loud in the silence. he swallows, because that had been impulsive, but ace is looking at him, and he can’t take it back now. “how did i get them?”

ace’s expression becomes pained, and he turns away, looking to the wall. his hands, resting calmly on his thighs, move to entangle, and sabo watches as they restlessly fumble. his eyes narrow.

“do you . . really want to know?”

sabo blinks, caught off-guard by the question, by the hesitance in ace’s tone. after all this time, after revealing little random nothings about the blond, now he was stalling on something he actually-

“tell me,” sabo demands, teeth gritted.

ace’s grey eyes catch in the light as he turns back to look at sabo, alarmed. they grow lax after a moment, and he nods, sullenly glancing to the door before giving sabo his full attention. “restraints.”

sabo blinks at the concise reply, furrowing his brow in irritation. he’s quick to smooth it out, bringing a hand up as the pain hits. he doesn’t know what to think. it was vague, but ace spoke like it was supposed to be significant. “restraints,” he echoes, voice bland.

ace’s hand is reached out, but he drops it as sabo glances back up. “yeah.”

sabo suppresses the shiver in his body. him being succinct suddenly scared sabo more than anything. if he was hesitant to disclose what all had happened, well . .

just how bad was it?

“mr portgas?”

sabo moves his book further down his face to see a nurse at the door. he lets it fall face-down into his lap, giving her his attention as she moves into the room. she looks familiar, with her straight black hair, but sabo can't place her.

“i’m here to take your vitals,” she says. sabo nods and she takes a seat at his bedside, setting a clipboard down on a small table she rolls closer. she picks up a pulse monitor first and places it on sabo’s index finger.

when she's all done she tells him he was normal today, then leaves him to his reading. sabo picks the book back up but his gaze is caught on the stack of progress sheets on his door, and he finds himself wondering what all they said, if they disclosed anything he wasn’t already aware of.

the book is good. he’d acquired it the other day, and after removing the bookmark someone had left in it, he’d worked on it for a long while. he was almost halfway through now.

his mind wanders as he flips the page, wondering if he could ask the staff for another one. he’s not sure who this one belongs to, but he’ll have to return it. he wants to do that much.

“do you like it?”

sabo is startled as his visitor walks into the room. ace, he reads off the nametag. he frowns, realizing he hadn’t processed anything, and flips back a page. “it’s fine,” he mumbles, though he knows his progress spoke for itself.

ace moves to occupy the rolling chair the nurse had just been in. “do you want me to get you another one?”

sabo frowns deeper at this, but doesn’t look up from the pages. “no, that’s okay.” he didn’t want ace to give him anything. though, he thinks, glancing to his right, the flowers were nice. they were in a real vase now, getting light from the open window. they made the room smell good. less like ointment and antiseptic, something that didn’t make his nose burn.

ace doesn’t say anything else. he’s content to sit beside sabo as he reads, as the sun tracks higher and then lower into the sky, and the daisies begin to wilt from lack of light.

ace is lounging on a chair near the window, hands steepled, eyes turned toward the skyline. his legs are extended on the floor, only the backs of his heels touching the tile. he’s wearing the boots again, and the color is faded today, like frost had covered the top and had yet to melt off.

sabo observes him when he’s finished his book, last page still open to give the illusion he was reading. he drops the act when a nurse wanders in, holding up two cups of yogurt. sabo closes the book so it lies backwards on his thighs, then swings the overbed tabletop so it rested at an angle, closer but not exactly over him.

her hair dips over her shoulder when she reaches forward to hand sabo his lunch. he deposits both cups onto the table, then reaches back to take the plastic spoon from her grip. her nails clip one of the bandaids along his finger, and sabo blinks, a stern sense of deja-vu washing over him.

“if you can’t finish both, you can put one in the fridge over there,” she says, pointing to a mini fridge in the corner of the room, squished between the wall and a table of basic medical supplies.

sabo nods, wondering how he’s never noticed it before. she moves from the room after that, her long, dark hair fanning out over the back of her scrubs. the door shuts before sabo moves to open one of the tabs on the yogurt.

“you’re done with the book?” ace asks quietly, while sabo’s mouth is full. it’d been easier to ignore the eyes on his back when he wasn’t talking, but at least now, sabo doesn’t have to verbally respond, nodding instead.

sabo doesn’t trust ace, not yet, but the staff clearly seem to, so when he’s halfway through with the cup he puts it down in favor of the book, holding it out to him. “will you give this back?” he requests.

he doesn’t miss the way ace’s face drops as he reaches out to take it. he’s not sure how to interpret it, so he chooses not to, moving to finish his yogurt. he starts feeling funny at the end, so he sets it aside with a couple bites left, rolling his tongue in his mouth to try and work the feeling away.

ace is still sitting there, neck almost level with the back of the chair. his legs are bent, now, and both feet are firmly on the ground to hold himself in place. sabo doesn’t feel bad. he tells himself this. but, ace had been there all day, refusing to leave for anything. his mood was starting to wear on the blond.

“here,” sabo says, holding the second yogurt cup towards him. “you can have this.”

ace blinks, but stretches out an arm. it lingers there, both of their hands on the cup. “you’re sure?”

sabo shrugs, withdrawing. “i don’t want it.”

ace must know something he doesn’t, because he smiles as he brings the yogurt close. “thanks,” he says, but his smile crooks as he pulls the tab. his eyes wander to sabo’s spoon and the blond follows his gaze there, jerking a hand out to shield it from view.

“no,” he stresses. “get your own.” he jerks his hand to the table against the wall. “use one of those.”

ace’s shoulders are shaking with contained laughter, and he gets up with a jerky bow, too-long arm folding behind his back. “as you wish,” he purrs, and sabo doesn’t know how to feel about that. ace moves over to the table, humming as he looks everything over. his smile hasn’t left his face, but his brows grow pinched as he wonders what to use.

sabo regrets giving him the book, if only because he misses having something to do with his hands. it was good, too. he’d read it again if it was his own, especially because he wasn’t able to pick up on the lead’s motives, for some reason.

ace wanders back over to his chair with a tongue depressor, moving the seat close so that he can rest an elbow on sabo’s table. sabo glances at him again and then leans back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“i don’t even know you,” he mutters, one hand wandering up to clench his shirt, right where his heart is.

ace stills, food forgotten. “sabo . .” he tries.

“i don’t even know you!” his voice raises, but it’s not a yell, not yet. it’s enough to make ace go quiet, though, and he turns to face him. “why are you even here? why don’t you go somewhere else? i-” he cuts himself off as he feels his eyes water.

“my name is ace.” he sets the yogurt on the table, then pushes it aside to move closer to the bed. “i’ve been coming here every day for-”

“i know,” sabo interrupts. “i remember when you’re here.”

ace’s eyes widen. “that’s . . good. i’m glad.”

sabo fists the blanket tightly in both hands. “i’m not.” his eyes narrow. “you should go.”

ace looks pained, but he stands without argument. “if that’s what you want.”

sabo’s heart hurts as the door closes. he thinks it might hurt more than all his physical injuries, but he just can’t figure out why.

he’s propped up when he first wakes, not nearly as lucid as he should be. his eyes adjust to the room easily enough. it’s partially dark, the blinds half-open to let in the setting sun’s light. he puffs out a breath, face screwing up at the weight on his chest.

when he glances down, he finds himself bound in a blanket. stringy blond hair moves into the edge of his vision. he thinks, for how long it appears, it was weird how short it felt on the back. if he reached behind, he’d find a bald strip barely covered by the longer strands. but before he can, there’s a loud noise to his left, his earlier motion not going unnoticed.

“sabo!” a voice says, and he looks up to see someone in a hospital gown moving quickly to his bedside. “thank god you’re awake,” he says, looking close to tears, and he climbs up on the edge of the bed, one knee buried into the mattress. rough hands move up to cup his face, and he blinks, stunned by the emotion he’s greeted with. he inhales sharp, vision swimming, and leans out of the hold, bringing a hand to his forehead. his fingers bunch around tight bandages.

“sabo?” the voice comes again. “does it hurt? i can get the nurses. here, there should be a button-”

he reaches out and grips the other’s hand before he could press anything, one eye still screwed up. “i’m . . . overwhelmed,” he manages to say, slowly voicing his thoughts, sure he would be able to process them this way. the other settles down, nodding in understanding.

“you had surgery. they said you would-”

“no,” he grounds out. he drops the hand and gestures between them. “this.”

“what do you mean?”

“you know me,” he says, opening both eyes now to see the puzzlement cross the other’s face. “i can see that. but you aren’t-” he breaks off. “i mean i . . .” he trails off, shaking his head, eyes downcast.

“. . don’t.”

they tell him his name is sabo portgas. sabo doesn’t have anything to go off, so he takes what he’s given. he has a visitor, they say, from the room next door. his name is ace. he wanted to see sabo before he was discharged.

“it’s okay,” he hears ace tell the doctor, before he comes in. “i’m not worried. i’ll help him remember.”

“i admire you attitude, but it won’t be that easy,” the doctor warns. ace says something in a voice too low for sabo to hear. the doctor sighs. “remember to take care of yourself, too.”

“gotcha!” ace says, and then he’s pushing the door open. sabo watches him warily.

ace smiles until he shows his teeth and moves until he’s sitting at sabo’s bedside. “hey! feel any better?”

sabo gestures to the morphine drip. “i don’t feel anything, i assure you.”

ace laughs, his lips barely parted. “sorry for scaring you last time. i-”

“last time?” sabo mumbles, face screwing up in concentration.

ace’s morphs into one of disbelief. “you don’t . . remember?”

“i was told ace was coming but.” he shakes his head. “i’ve never met you before.”

ace’s eyes dim. then they glimmer, and he moves closer, setting both hands gently on each of sabo’s shoulders. he thought he could take this slow, but if he was regressing, if would be better to go all out from the beginning. “hey, sabo,” he says, voice so assertive it has blue eyes locked onto his in an instant. “i love you.”

sabo sits there for a while, until the air stings at his wide eyes. he thinks he’s forgotten to breathe in his shock. “you -what?!” his lips purse, affronted by the casual intimacy.

“i love you,” ace says again, leaning back. sabo is even more confused as he says it again. “i have for a long time, and i always will.” his grip tightens, crumpling the thin material of his hospital gown. “if you remember anything from today: remember that.”

and sabo does.

he remembers well into the night, long after ace has left, shooed out once visitor hours had ended. he falls asleep for a bit, and when he wakes, body sore, room dark, he still remembers ace’s determined look as he said that phrase sabo felt was misplaced.

he slams a hand on the call button before he can be sick. it’s a long night.

he shows up again first thing in the morning. sabo has to read the visitor tag for the name, but he remembers the face, and it makes him nervous, wary. ace is being far too assertive for someone in sabo’s position, and he’s unsure if he can trust him. he doesn’t know anything about him, so it’s hard to place his intentions.

sabo supposes he could try and learn, but it’s far easier to close himself off instead, to put some distance between the two of them. he wanted to know more about himself before he got to know the person claiming to be in love with him.

“hey, this green doesn’t look bad on you!” ace says one day, making a frame with his fingers to capture sabo in. he blinks up, distracted, and ace’s grin morphs. “dark blue would look better, though,” he admits. “too bad they don’t have it.” he leans back. “i’d bring you some, but uh, i just can’t afford it right now.” he perks up. “one day, though! before you leave, i swear it.”

“right,” sabo says, frowning. ace catches on, sitting back up straight.

“you okay? head hurt?”

“i like blue?” sabo mumbles, ace straining to hear the words.

he blinks when he does, nodding. “yeah. it matches your eyes,” he admits.

sabo lifts a hand to his face, wincing at the strain it puts on the iv. “my eyes are blue?”

ace jumps to his feet, and sabo shifts, eyeing him oddly. he holds a finger up. “wait here.”

he’s gone before sabo can reply that he’s got nowhere to go.

one of the nurses comes in, ace trailing her. they’re both smiling. “i hadn’t realized you never saw,” she admits, words directed to sabo, though he doesn’t know what she means. she takes out a small pocket mirror and places it in front of sabo, until he’s reached out to hold it in his own hands.

his reflection stares back at him. when he blinks, cerulean eyes blink back. his face is pale, too pale. there’s a bandaid on his cheek. he moves the mirror higher and cards a hand through his hair. it’s definitely seen better days.

he hands the mirror back. “thank you.”

she shakes her head. “thank ace. he’s the one who brought it up.” she waves. “let me know if you need anything else.”

ace waves back, settling again on the edge of the bed as she leaves. “they’re pretty,” he voices, and sabo looks up again.

“my eyes?”

“your eyes,” ace clarifies. “they’ve always been pretty.”

sabo blinks, feeling drawn away from the conversation. he could’ve handled it, but the last part got him, the insinuation that he didn’t know if he could trust.

“you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” he blurts out, because ace is still staring at him but he doesn’t want that conversation drawn out.

ace looks down at himself, then lets out a meek laugh. “it’s all i have right now,” he reveals. “but i’m working on it.”

sabo has no idea what he means, but he doesn’t move to question it. he doesn’t care enough yet.

the next time ace comes in, sabo’s bandages are unraveled from his arms. the edges are bloody, and there are red partial fingerprints staining his right arm. he’s still dragging his fingers down his left, unbothered as the stitches come open, blood seeping from the long cut running down his inner arm.

ace drops his package, and it lands on the tile with a loud thunk. “sabo!” he frets, instantly by the blond’s side, forcing him to stop. “you can’t do that! you’re opening them! doesn’t it hurt?”

“i wanted to see,” he murmurs, focused on the feeling of ace’s hand wrapped around his bloody one. “they would never let me see. i’ve been trying, i think.” he shakes his head. “it doesn’t hurt.”

“that doesn’t matter!” ace snaps, and sabo blinks, ripped from his daze. “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” he tells sabo, using his free hand to hit the call button. “it won’t get better if you keep messing with it.”

“what’s-? oh. oh no, sabo.” a nurse comes in and hurries over, turning sabo’s left arm gently in her grasp. “you shouldn’t mess with these. you’ll only make them worse.”

sabo frowns, offended. “i only wanted to see what they looked like.”

“you can do that once they’re all better,” the nurse assures him. she looks across to his other arm, and her gaze softens. “let me get some water and i’ll help you clean up.” she glances to ace. “stay here?” watch him? she doesn’t say, but she doesn’t have to. ace nods, hand clasped tight around sabo’s.

“it doesn’t hurt,” sabo mumbles, after she’s cleaned the blood off and prepped the needle with anesthetic.

“just in case,” she tells him, inserting the needle. ace watches her work as she sews up sabo’s left arm, holding onto his right. they switch as she preps another needle with local anesthetic, and sabo looks very bored as the same process is repeated on his other arm.

ace doesn’t relax until both of sabo’s arms are bandaged back up. sabo is the opposite, growing more taut as his wounds are hidden from him. again.

“where did i get these?” he holds out his arms for emphasis. ace purses his lips, and that drives sabo up the wall. “you know!” he accuses. “you know and you’re not saying anything! you have to know how frustrating that is. do-” he pauses, a thought dawning on him. “was it you?”

ace’s expression changes immediately. “no,” he breathes, and sabo almost feels bad for accusing him, but it makes sense, too.

“you were involved, then,” sabo surmises. “that’s why you’re here -you feel guilty.”

“sabo, listen to me.” ace moves closer, and sabo flinches, forcing him to stop short. “you have the wrong idea.” he leans back again, and his hands go to the hem of his shirt.

sabo watches as he raises it, revealing the bandages wrapped around his ribs. he can see the bruising peeking out from the edges of the white. or, grey, more like. sabo imagined it’s what his own would look like, if the hospital staff wasn’t so vigorous in changing them out. he mellows out, just a bit.

“i was there, but i didn’t -i would never hurt you,” ace stresses. “i was with you. you just ended up with more damage than me.” he bites his lip, hard, his eyes no longer on sabo. “i’m sorry, for that. if i could switch our places, i would, i’d do it in a heartbeat.”

sabo is silent for a long time, mulling this over.

“maybe it’s a trauma bond,” he suggests, and ace blinks rapidly.

“sorry, what?”

“we went through the same experience, and now you’re attached to me.” sabo shrugs. “it happens.”

“wh- no.” ace shakes his head. “sabo, no, that’s not it. i’ve been with you long before that. what happened was unfortunate, but it-”

“then what is it?!” sabo yells. “what are we?” his lower lip trembles, and he forces himself to hold the tears back, even as he feels his eyes burn. “just tell me already,” he says hoarsely, barely containing himself.

ace comes close again, sitting on the bed, grasping for sabo’s hand. he nods, several times, like he’s working himself up. “my name is ace portgas,” he says slowly, voice breaking.

sabo’s world shatters.

ace is out getting food when sabo decides he’s had enough of this small room. he pulls the iv out and presses down on his bandaged wrist until the bleeding has stopped. then he swings both legs over the edge of the bed, back turned from the window. he plucks the handful of electrodes from his skin and gathers himself in the new quiet of the room. he could do this. he could stand-

the door bursts open right as sabo as settled his hands on the mattress to hoist himself up. he looks up, alarmed, as several people rush in and stop short.

“i- uh.” he blanks, caught off guard. “i just . . want to walk around. if that’s okay.” he mumbles the last part, right as he spies ace just inside the door, expression fading to something unreadable.

“oh, sabo,” one of the staff says, voice hushed. they move forward to gather the disconnected electrodes from the ground. “you should ask about things like that. it should be fine . . ?” they turn to the others for confirmation.

another one steps up, nodding. “let me go get the doctor.”

they all slowly disperse until only ace is left, wandering in. ace portgas.

“they’ll get worried if you’re unhooked from the machines,” he says, bending down in front of sabo. sabo searches his face, but he can’t find any resemblance to his own. they weren’t family. they weren’t blood, which meant . .

he tsks, turning his head away. “i wasn’t going to leave,” he mutters. “not like i have anywhere to go.”

ace’s eyes widen, and then relax, as he does his best to put on a brave face. “you will,” he promises. “i’m working on it.”

sabo isn’t sure what he means, but the doctor comes in before he can question.

“portgas!” he says, and the greeting is a sting in the already-burning cut. “heard you wanted to walk around. that should be fine, you’ll just have to take your iv with you. hm? ah, let me hook it back up.”

he’s very patient, not mentioning the earlier incident, or growing disgruntled at the fact his iv was leaking. sabo sits there silently as he places the needle back under his skin, nods in satisfaction, and leans back.

“don’t push yourself. you can use the iv stand as balance, but if you need a wheelchair, i’ll issue that, too.” his lips quirk up. “walking around will be good for you, though. it’s a little early, but i suppose you’ve been here long enough.” he stands back up. “i’ll get someone to bring in slippers. just sit tight until then.” he winks, and sabo nods, trying not to feel guilty.

the slippers are the same mint green as the rest of his hospital garb. sabo feels a stab of disappointment, but he’s not sure what color he wishes they were instead. they slide on easily enough, and after wheeling the iv stand around -and under surveillance- he grabs onto it to slowly come to a stand.

his legs shake. it’s not too bad, the nurse tells him. he takes a step forward, and another, the iv stand rolling along with him. she tells him he’s good enough to go, and sabo nods, concentrating, gaze trained on his feet.

“ace can take you around, make sure you’re doing okay,” she says, and sabo’s stomach drops. he suddenly doesn’t feel like going, but he forces himself to move anyway.

“fine,” he grunts, already at the door.

“if he can’t make it back, please don’t try to carry him,” the nurse tells ace quietly. “we don’t want to upset your ribs, and we have plenty of wheelchairs.”

ace frowns. “but that’s more romantic!”

“it’s not if you both end up collapsed,” she chides, and ace relents.

sabo’s not very far away from the room when ace catches up, hovering on his free side. “anywhere specific you wanna go?”

“take me to the vending machine you like so much,” is sabo’s reply.

ace looks taken aback. “well i’m not in love with it or anything.”

no, just me, he thinks, then slams down on that thought and stuffs it somewhere he doesn’t have to think about it.

it’s at the end of the hall, illuminated in a dark corner. sabo looks at the rows, but nothing catches his eye.

“you want anything?” ace asks, leaning back against the wall.

sabo shrugs. “i don’t know what i would like.”

ace grins, fishing a dollar bill from his pocket. “i gotcha,” he says, head thrown over his shoulder as he steps forward to insert the money into the machine. he presses a couple buttons and sabo watches as a red package falls.

ace pops it out and rips it open, gesturing for sabo to follow. they move until they’re sat on a bench, a large window covering most of the wall next to it. sabo sighs in relief as he releases his hands from their deathgrip on the cold steel. he would never admit it, but he was getting tired.

when he turns to glance at ace, smiling cheekily, he finds he doesn’t need to, which irritates him. ace resists laughing and nudges his shoulder, getting him to hold his hand out. he pours some of the candy into his palm, and sabo frowns down at it as the fruity smell assaults his nose.

“i probably can’t have this.”

“no one has to know,” ace says, shrugging. he pours some straight from the bag down into his mouth, and sabo shrugs, copying him, while he presses a purple one to his lips.

his eyes pop. it was startlingly good. he immediately throws another in, this time green. “these are good,” he voices, and ace laughs from beside him.

“too bad they don’t have the blue skittles.” ace grins when sabo stares up at him, questioning. “they’d match your eyes.”

sabo strangely feels like he’s heard something similar. he can’t place the conversation, though, and his interest dies. “these are good enough,” he insists, lifting his hand to pour them all into his mouth. he chews slowly, the fruit combination strange but not unpleasant. “thanks,” he mumbles, almost too low to hear, when he’s done.

unfortunately, ace’s hearing is extremely good, almost unreasonably so. “no problem,” he says, shoulders relaxing.

they stay there until the sun starts sinking. ace has to ward sabo off from climbing the stairs to a new floor, convincing him to leave that for another day. they make it back to the room with little issue, though sabo is loath to admit he’s a little out of breath.

“your blood pressure is a little high,” one of the nurses notes later on that night. “must’ve been a good walk.”

sabo bites down on his tongue, just hard enough to keep from saying anything. his mind wanders back to the candy he’d indulged in, and he resists rolling his eyes. he knew there would be consequences.

he strangely finds himself not caring as much as he should.

sabo’s attention, much to ace’s despair, is stolen by another book. he’d gotten this one from ace himself. reading it is good -it puts him at ease. even better now that he can read it over time, no longer forced to finish it in one sitting. it had been a shocking discovery, but a good one, when the nurse had wandered in to see sabo starting from where he’d placed the bookmark. he was beginning to retain things better, the doctor said. it was a sign of progress.

it was a welcome one.

ace is fiddling with his phone by the window. he’d started to come in with it more lately, no longer worried about having the blond’s sole attention. sabo could admit he was growing more comfortable in ace’s presence, though it had more to do with the way ace was acting around him, and less so with what he was supposed to be with sabo in the past.

ace’s phone rings and sabo glances up. ace frowns down at it, meets his eyes briefly, and then looks to the door. he sighs after a moment, accepting the call, and moves over to the far corner of the room, not quite leaving, but close. he talks low, and sabo turns his attention back to his book instead of struggling to overhear.

“i don’t sell anymore,” ace says, a little louder, and sabo blinks, finding he hadn’t processed any of what he’d read. he gives up, staring blankly at the pages, and drops the book entirely when ace ends the call.

“what was that about?”

ace has the decency to look contrite, slumping over as he takes a seat in the chair. he waves sabo off, though, not wanting to divulge this -especially with their location.

“you’ll remember eventually,” he mutters.

sabo crosses his arms. “i’d like to remember now.”

ace turns to look up at him, expression pleading. “sabo, you really don’t need to know right now,” he insists. “i’ll tell you some other time, okay?”

sabo huffs. he picks his book back up, and he doesn’t speak to ace for the rest of the night.

ace doesn’t come in one morning.

sabo waits, then chides himself for thinking like that and spends the morning reading.

“no ace yet?” his nurse questions, as she takes his vitals. he shakes his head.

it’s not until sunlight is flooding into his room that sabo realizes he was still expecting the raven to waltz in. he was on the edge of his seat, literally, and he finds himself unable to concentrate on anything the longer he’s left alone.

he goes on a walk instead, pacing one side of the hall several times. he pauses near the middle as he catches wind of a conversation, pressing himself into the shadow of a doorway.

“it’s a shame, really. he’s getting better, it’s obvious to see.”

“i know, right? even though he’s been here a while, it’s not like he’s fully recovered. such a shame they won’t cover the bills anymore.”

“gotta had some for other patients, i guess. the year’s not over yet. and accidents happen all the time in the snow.”

“did you hear what was happening next?”

“i think social services will pick it up, though i’m not sure. it’s complicated, since he’s not alone.”

“it’s not like he has a place to go, either. those two are so young. they’re not even twenty!”

“it really is awful. i just hope something changes for the better. they don’t deserve to end up back on the streets.”

sabo moves further down the hall, no longer willing to listen. he had a pretty good idea of who they were talking about. it stung, but he got it. he’d gathered enough hints over time, he just hadn’t wanted to form that particular conclusion.

he stands in front of the tall window at the end of the hall until his legs ache. then he trudges back to his room, not stopping for anything, even when one of the nurses calls out to him.

“oh, sabo, there you are! you have a visitor.”

he braces himself before entering the room. no doubt it was the social worker coming to take over his case.

he’s only pleasantly surprised to find ace waiting for him. just ace.

“you came,” he says, slightly elated.

ace turns on his rolling chair, smiling wide. “sabo! i was wondering where you were.”

“where i was?” sabo scoffs, though it’s mostly in jest. ace’s attitude is infectious, he finds, moving closer.

ace laughs. “right, sorry. i had some things to take care of today. but you’ll never believe it!” sabo’s close enough now that ace rolling to meet him catches him off-guard, which makes it easier to get knocked off his feet, landing on ace’s legs instead. he grips the pole of the iv stand tight.

his breath is caught as ace wraps his arms around his middle, pulling him closer. “the most amazing thing happened today,” he insists, either unaware of sabo’s growing flustered state or choosing to ignore it. “and i got us a place to stay after you get out!”

the words ground sabo, more than anything. he calms down enough to process it, but instead of being overjoyed, he grows somber. “so it’s true. w-” he bites his lip, unable to continue to speak, and switches words. “i was homeless.” he frowns. “am homeless.”

ace’s arms tense, then loosen, around him. he breathes soft, tickling sabo’s neck. “not exactly,” he murmurs.

“tell me,” sabo pleas.

and he does.

he tells sabo how they spent nights with friends, and then at shelters, when they moved. how ace picked up money here and there, and sabo found odd jobs he could get without a permanent address. how they moved around, until their car broke down here and they’d abandoned it. how things had been tough, but after a bit, they always managed to have a little cash to spare. how they had a place, a really small one, until they got caught up in the accident. and then after that, there hadn’t been anywhere to go back to.

“until now,” ace finishes, pulling sabo closer. “if you want to,” he adds, and this close sabo can detect the waver.

“i have to get better first.”

“i know that. i meant, like . . after.” ace finishes in a mumble. sabo snorts, shoulders shaking from laughter, and he releases his hand from the pole to grab at ace.

“yeah. i would like that,” he admits.

ace looks up, stars in his eyes. “really?”

“you didn’t think i��d say yes?”

“i was worried you wouldn’t,” ace confesses. “i mean, you still don’t . . . remember everything. anything,” he amends.

sabo thinks on that for a long time before answering. “i missed you, today,” he starts. “i tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but it did. you’re right: i don’t remember anything. but i can tell i meant a lot to you. and, uh.” he ducks his head. “you mean a lot to me, now. and not because i knew you before. it’s because . . . well. because of all the things you’ve done for me, since i woke up.”

ace’s lips are clamped, his eyes glassy. it takes him a minute to regain the composure to speak. “even if you don’t remember-” he looks away, unable to hold sabo’s gaze, but he finds it again, before finishing. “it’ll be okay. promise.”

sabo blinks, finding he knew exactly how much that took ace to admit. he starts nodding his head, but finds he doesn’t like the mood, anymore. he smirks down at ace instead. “you sure? what if i end up-”

“nah.” ace shakes his head, laughing again. “you’re stuck with me, now.”

sabo finds, just a little bit unsurprisingly, that he’s okay with that.

“ace?”

sabo covers his mouth as he turns to see the nurse in the doorway. ace looks up with an easy grin, laughter dying down. “yeah?”

“the doctor is ready for you, if you’d like your checkup now.”

ace nods. “that would be great. just give me a minute and i’ll be right out.”

the nurse hums in response, sliding the door shut.

ace comes to a stand in a hurry, snaking a hand under sabo’s blanket to leave the half-empty skittles bag hidden there, top twisted shut. sabo snorts, dropping the hand from his mouth, and finally swallows the last of the blue ones.

“i’ll come back when i’m done!” ace promises, moving to the door. sabo rolls his eyes.

“visitor hours will be over by then.”

“it’ll be quick! or i’ll sneak back in.” he winks. “but you didn’t hear the last part.”

“go,” sabo hums. ace waves on his way out, and sabo rolls his eyes again, but ends up doing the same.

he takes the skittles bag out and begins to unwrap the top, then decides against it and stuffs it under his pillows, instead. the sun is pretty low in the sky, now.

he hadn’t asked ace, he realizes. what the checkup was about. he could garner the basics, but it would be nice to know more.

he puts a hand to his chest, where he can feel the bandages through his shirt. they’d let him see it, the other day, while they were changing it out. even after all this time, it was still mottled with bruises, all in varying shades of colors. some had recurred, from what he’d gathered, but most of them were well on their way to healing.

he wonders if his injury is reflected on ace, or if it would be worse.

before he can vow to ask, he ends up falling asleep. he wakes up and the sun isn’t out, anymore. the light is dim, but it’s artificial. the lamp in the corner, he realizes.

there’s a hand carding through his hair. sabo makes a noise, turns his face up, and it stops.

“hey,” ace says, softly. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you’re back,” sabo murmurs.

“i told you i would be.”

“you did.” sabo blinks, trying to shake off sleep as he works to sit up, eventually settling on his elbows. “how did it go?”

“pretty good.” ace waves him off. “no issues.”

“what is it?”

ace wants to clam up, but he feigns ignorance instead, knowing sabo would catch it. “what’s what?”

sabo sits up further. “your injury. you said it was better than mine, but . .”

“oh. uh.” ace turns away, tilts his head back. “are you sure-”

“i’m sure,” sabo says, sat up all the way, now. he crosses his legs, leans closer. “if i can’t know about mine . . i’d like to know about yours.”

“yeah,” ace breathes. “okay.”

he shrugs his coat off, then tugs his shirt up, off, and over his shoulders. he no longer has the wrap on, so the damage is laid clear before sabo’s eyes. ace moves a hand over everything, explaining.

“i was stabbed in the lung.” he shrugs off sabo’s incredulous expression, pointing to a thick scar. “it wasn’t serious or anything. sounds a whole lot worse than it was. most of the damage came from a few ribs i cracked -that certainly made breathing a bitch. the rest is just bruising, though it’s mostly lower on my ribcage.”

sabo’s lips downturn. “how were you literally stabbed and i had it worse?”

ace reaches up to tap the side of his own head. sabo blinks.

“oh.”

“really, sab, i’m fine. i’m just glad you’re fine. i’m glad you’re alive.” he shrugs, working his shirt back on. “at least those guys aren’t.”

“they’re dead?” sabo utters, expression open.

“yeah. some gang managed to break in, wanted revenge for something, i didn’t catch it all. anyway, we obviously weren’t with them, so we were left alone.” ace huffs out a hollow laugh. “though, that also meant they didn’t call for medical help. had to do that myself.” he drapes the coat over his back and tugs his arms through the sleeves. “anyway, it’s all over now. you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

sabo wonders, not for the first time, how ace manages to imply so much without actually revealing anything. he’s ripped from that thought as ace stands back up, eyeing the height of the moon through the window before moving to close the blinds.

“gotta go,” he says, waving to the door. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yeah.” sabo leans back, only now aware of how tired he is. “see you.”

a man comes in with ace one day. he introduces himself, but sabo doesn’t bother to commit the name to memory. he’s a social worker, says he’s helping ace find a job. a real job, he specifies, and sabo isn’t sure if there’s an implication he’s supposed to get. ace looks disgruntled by the jab, but he doesn’t argue it.

“well, sabo, it appears you’ve entered a peculiar period in your recovery.” he folds his hands in his lap. “in short, the hospital is no longer willing to pay your expenses. they’ve passed the bill over to us.” he gestures to himself only as he says this, but sabo is still nervous. until his next words, that is. “you don’t need to worry about paying anything back. we’ll take it from here until you’ve recovered. all i ask is that you give your very best effort to the things i tell you to try. that sound good?”

“yeah. sounds good.” sabo hesitates for a moment, then adds on “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” he smiles. “there’s no need to thank me, though. this is my job.”

sabo shrugs. “still.”

“well, i appreciate the sentiment. ace has told me about your amnesia. the surgery you underwent was a tricky one, it seems. according to the staff, you seem to have almost healed up, physically. you haven’t appeared to regress any, on that account. and your anterograde amnesia is pretty much nonexistent. if you’re willing to progress, there are some options for you.”

sabo isn’t sure how to reply. he must sense that, because he offers something else.

“on that note, have you thought about undergoing any exercises to help recall your memory?”

“i guess i hadn’t thought that was an option.”

“it most certainly is on the table, if you would like to try it,” he offers.

sabo doesn’t even have to think about it. “that sounds great.”

“glad to hear it.”

sabo gets the bandages around both arms removed early one week. it’s weird at first, having the skin so exposed to the air. the scars aren’t pretty, either, despite how well the tissue had healed in light of his constant picking at them. he grows self-conscious about it before too long, and takes to draping the loose blanket over his shoulders whenever he’s in the room, pulling it down so it hung over both arms and left his hands free to do tasks.

the first day ace writes it off, but the second he chalks it up to temperature and shrugs off his jacket to throw it around sabo’s shoulders instead, pulling the blanket down to his lap.

sabo blinks a few times, startled into silence by the gesture. it’s not until ace moves back to his chair that he reaches up to pull the jacket closer, basking in the comfort it offered.

“thank you,” he says, pulling his arms through the soft sleeves. the cuffs came down to his fingers, but they were stretchy, so he didn’t mind.

ace shrugs, glancing out the window. “it’s getting colder, now that the new year has passed,” he notes. “snowing more, too. if you get cold, you should tell someone. they’ll do something about it.”

“oh.” sabo bites down on his lip to keep from huffing out a laugh. “yeah, sure. i’ll remember that.” he tugs the cuffs further over his hands, then fusses with the blanket thrown over his legs. even if ace did misunderstand, the intention was nice.

he takes the jacket back before he leaves, ushered out by the staff after visitor hours had ended for the night. sabo wraps himself in the blanket and pulls the sheets over his legs. his fingers dig into his arms, press against the raised scar tissue.

ace comes back early the next morning and throws his jacket around sabo before doing anything else. he leans close to adjust it, and for once, sabo sits calmly and lets him do it. it’s not until he’s pulling on sabo’s arm, skin pressed into the space around his scar, that sabo reacts. it’s entirely unintentional, but his heart stutters and his chest stops moving and ace notices, of course he does, pausing to loosen his grip.

and then, as if it clicks, he slides his hand around until his thumb traces the scar line. sabo sucks in a breath and ace puts one leg on the bed to slide closer, grabbing both of sabo’s arms, now.

“you’re okay,” he murmurs, face close but eyes on sabo’s injuries. sabo lifts his own from where ace is smoothing his skin to gaze into clear grey. the nearness doesn’t escape him.

ace glances up, just an instant, just enough to catch sabo staring. he sucks in a deep breath, stills his hands to grip just a little harder, and leans forward to press his forehead to sabo’s. his eyes are trained on the blond’s mint gown. “you don’t like seeing them,” he voices.

“no,” sabo replies, after a moment. his pitch is unsteady.

“i’m sorry i-”

“it’s okay,” sabo tells him, barely above a whisper. “you helped. thank you.”

ace pulls back, and then he’s slowly pulling sabo’s arms through the sleeves of his jacket, until the whole thing hung loose on his thin frame. ace bites on his lip, tries not to think about how much weight sabo had lost here, tries not to think about how he can’t solve the problem, because there’s no clear solution to scars, and no right answer to give to reminders of pain.

it’s snowing when ace has to leave. sabo tugs the jacket off and gives it back, unwilling to let him go without it on underneath his coat. he pulls the blanket around him and tries not to think about how nice it would be to hold onto it.

ace doesn’t know what to think. sabo hadn’t shied away from the rope burns on his ankles, or the thick cuts on his hands, or the gash on his cheek from the last bandaid to have come off. he’d seen the bruising on his chest without giving rise to panic, and made peace with the welt above his collarbone. so what is it about this one that had him so worked up?

ace stops short as the elevator dings and doesn’t move to exit when the doors open. was it that he was associating subconscious feelings with the scars? maybe he couldn’t recall the event, but were the emotions from that day slowly starting to come back?

the doors close and ace jerks a hand out to catch them, digging his phone out as he passes through.

“here!”

sabo’s face scrunches as he inspects the simple package thrust at him. his forehead creases, and it’s visible, for once. it no longer hurts, either, which is why his headwrap was finally removed.

“okay,” he mutters, letting the package fall into his hands. he flexes his fingers to push the jacket cuffs to his wrists, then pushes the box open. inside is a mass of dark blue fabric.

sabo blinks, the creases leaving his face, and looks up at ace. “what’s this for?” he reaches in to bury his fingers into the plush knit, pulling it out and unfurling it as ace replies.

“well, your head is better. at least, the front part is, so i thought we could celebrate.” ace chews on his lip as sabo lifts the scarf. “here, let me.” he climbs onto the edge of the bed and takes the scarf from sabo’s hands, not sure why he’s nervous but feeling this incredible need to do the task himself. he loops the scarf and moves it over sabo’s head, careful to avoid the back of his skull as he pulls it down, loops it again, and ties it at the back. he’d been half right: the front part of sabo’s skull, where his brain had impacted, was completely healed. but he’d suffered a major injury on the back, and it was still sensitive there, from what he’d gathered. ace is very careful as he ties the scarf off, then sinks back on his knees, stomach settling when he takes the view in.

sabo is looking down at the scarf, one hand reached up to rub the knit between his fingerpads. “that was quick notice,” he mutters.

“i told you i would bring you something blue before you left the hospital.”

“i’m not leaving toda-” sabo pauses, mouth open. “you did?”

“you probably don’t remember,” ace offers with a sigh.

sabo’s lips tremble. “i’m so-”

“no, please don’t!” ace insists. “it was- i mean, i told you while you still had short-term memory. it was my fault.” he shrugs. “it was more like a vow to myself, if anything.”

“okay,” sabo says, moving over the syllables slowly. “it’s nice.” he drops his hand. “thank you.”

“is the color okay? i tried to get one dark enough-”

“it’s fine,” sabo interrupts, eyes lidding. “seriously. thank you.”

ace opens his mouth again, but no words come out as he walks himself through the facts. sabo waits patiently, setting the empty box aside. he leans back against the pillows, tugging the knot to the side so that it didn’t rest right on his neck. ace works through everything and comes to a slow realization.

“your favorite color was navy,” he says. “before . .” he doesn’t finish. “it’s not anymore.”

sabo turns his eyes away, down to his lap, where he’s unconsciously brushing a thumb over the jacket cuff. he moves away from the dark red to the bright, saturated ruddy of ace’s coat. “no, it’s not.”

ace really doesn’t know how to feel, and sabo interrupts his inner turmoil with a question before he can get sucked too far into it.

“is that okay?” he does his best to smile when ace’s eyes turn on him. “if i change . . will that be okay?”

ace snaps himself out of it the instant he realizes how fragile sabo’s expression has become. he doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but he’s suddenly leaning close to sabo, both hands gentle on the sides of his face. sabo’s eyes are wide, and then ace is kissing him.

he makes a noise and ace jerks back, hands falling away. “sorry!” he apologizes. “i- sorry, god, i’m sorry, i don’t know what-”

“it’s okay.” sabo’s voice is quiet. ace drops his arms from when he’d been scrubbing his face, hair now a mess. sabo isn’t looking at him. “it’s okay, really,” he says again, but the tension hasn’t left his shoulders, and ace needs a distraction before he screws up more.

he raises his fingers to form a frame, sabo’s head in the middle. “you still look the best in blue,” he says, willing to ignore the waver in his voice. “way better than the green they stuck you in.”

sabo snorts, and slowly, the earlier mood begins to unravel. he forces himself to relax. “i’ll take your word for it.”

“do. it’s fact.”

“because everything you say is always true.”

ace sobers at this. “it is.” he waits until sabo is focused on him. “with you. ever since you woke up.”

sabo has to swallow before he can answer. there’s still a bob in his throat, just like there’s still a phantom feeling of chapped lips on his own. he manages to speak through them. “i know. it’s why i decided to start trusting you.” he reaches forward and ace reads his intention, catches his hands in his own. “you’ve been here,” he almost breathes, voice very quiet. “even when i didn’t want you to be.” he pauses when his voice cracks, taking a moment to collect himself. “you never left, and you never lied, and you never let me forget you were supporting me.” he squeezes, and ace squeezes back. “and i’m sorry, that my memory went away. but i’m here, right here, and i care about you now. and i won’t let anything change that.” he smiles, his next inhale shaky. “and i know you won’t, either.”

ace can’t help when the tears run down his cheeks. he doesn’t move to stop them, only sniffling, and bringing their joined hands to his chest, and then bending forward again, gathering courage.

sabo moves his head off the pillows to meet him.

sabo’s assigned social worker interrupts ace’s excited rambling to politely ask him to leave the room. sabo’s smile falls when it becomes just the two of them. he’d never been able to read this one, though that might have more to do with him being the first outsider sabo had met. his social circle had been restricted to the hospital staff that attended to him, and ace. even if sabo had been proficient at reading people in the past, his limited interaction had taken some sort of toll.

“sorry, he didn’t do anything wrong,” his caseworker assures him, sensing the animosity. “he’s been very assertive, though, and i haven’t had the chance to ask your opinion.” he leans forward in his seat. “do you want to go with ace? there are other options, if you decide you’d be better off apart.”

sabo takes a minute to process this. he knows it’s only being asked out of concern, but his first intention is to take it the wrong way. he works to settle himself, and then figure out a rational response.

“i think,” he begins, “that. even if i can’t be sure ace isn’t fabricating the whole thing, it feels wrong to assume that, now. and it feels right to be with him. i only have his word to go off of, yes. but i can tell we’re meant to be together.” he shrugs. “i- i know that doesn’t sound very convincing, and maybe i’m not fully convinced myself, but i’ve been having these feelings, and the doctor said that even if the memory associated with it doesn’t return, the emotions that surface are still real.” sabo stops before he can ramble too much in that direction, looking back up. “i do want to go with him.”

“you’ve convinced me,” he hums. “even if you haven’t fully convinced yourself.” he leans back. “one more question.”

“okay?”

“are you sure you still want to remember?”

again, sabo takes some time to organize his thoughts. he comes to a conclusion that is startlingly succinct. “whatever happened before, i promised i wouldn’t stop caring about him. i’m not willing to hold myself back on that regard.”

his caseworker smiles. “works for me. how about we start psychotherapy monday?”

part 2 | notes

#writing #ywr/iwf #op #saboace #amnesia au but Not Like That

20 notes · View notes

cheswirls · 3 years

Text

you won't remember / i won't forget [ 2/2 ]

sabo shivers where he stands as ace digs for his house key. he’s in a long-sleeve shirt and ace’s red coat, but it’s snowing, and they had walked slow to get here after sabo nearly tripped on a patch of ice.

a ting greets sabo’s ears, and ace finally slots the key into the lock, pulling him and the door in. it’s not near as cold inside as it is out, and sabo stands there a moment to bask in the warmth, his breaths no longer visible in the air.

their place is very small. there’s one door that sabo suspects leads to a bathroom, and a nook that breaks the squareness of the space to house a kitchenette. ace is quick to sit sabo down on the futon and replace the damp coat with a soft blanket. he pulls his jacket off and sighs as he drapes it over a hanger. “do you want anything to eat?” he asks, wandering back over.

“everything,” sabo answers.

ace looks more amused with this response than anything, stopping short. “you’re that hungry?”

“no.” sabo shakes his head. “i want to try everything. i haven’t had anything but hospital food for months. i want to know what real food tastes like.”

ace snorts. “right,” he says, but he’s already moving to the cabinets.

sabo takes a small paper plate and samples everything he’s given. corn chips, pickles, jerky. “salty,” he keeps repeating, like he can’t believe it. ace has a hard time not laughing at the sight. he does laugh when sabo tries a red pepper and makes a face as he crunches on it.

“not that one,” he says between breaths.

“not that one,” sabo echoes in a mutter.

ace walks him to cognitive therapy. it’s warmer out, without the snow on the ground, though still cold enough for them both to be bundled up the best they could be. ace ties sabo’s blue scarf for him, then throws his own coat over the blond’s shoulders. he tugs it off before sabo heads inside, though, and this is how he knows to say ace walked him there, and not, oh, ace dropped me off, but he’ll be back later.

sabo comes out two hours later tired and exhausted and tired again with nothing to show for it. ace is waiting for him on the steps. sabo thinks about berating him for staying so long in the cold, but he walks into ace’s arms instead, held in his embrace while he tries to calm his aching heart.

“it’s going to take some time,” ace murmurs, right by his ear. “if it even works at all.”

sabo doesn’t want to hear that. he presses himself further into ace. “give me the coat,” he mumbles, and ace complies.

sabo learns how to organize his thoughts and retain information and seek out the feelings, but he makes no progress recovering his memories. he feels drained every time he leaves a session, having spent hours tracking movements and listening to sounds and even letting his mind be hypnotized, at one point. nothing is working.

he tells his caseworker this, one day, when asked how he felt about his progress.

“do you want to quit?” he had asked.

sabo has yet to give him an answer.

sabo showers late one night and throws back on the same shirt he’d worn before. the floor is cold, so he puts the same socks on his feet. it’s dark in their room, so after closing the bathroom door, he wanders over to flick on the small light above the stove, give the space a little ambiance.

he sits on the futon and gathers a blanket around his form, folding his legs up and leaning against the wall. he could go to sleep. he should go to sleep. he knows this, but it’s so quiet, and he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. he wants ace to come home.

he wants ace.

sabo waits for a long time. he’s hardly awake when the door opens, head slumped against his arms, and he doesn’t rise when it closes again.

“hey,” ace says, voice quiet.

sabo shifts his face up and attempts to blow the hair from his eyes. it falls right back into place. “how was work?”

“work is fine. how are you?”

“tired.”

“i didn’t think you’d be awake,” ace admits, sitting in front of sabo.

sabo glances down. “yet you bought flowers,” he mumbles.

ace glances down, too, smiling at the bouquet. “well, maybe i had a suspicion. mostly i had an idea.”

sabo raises a brow. “i’m listening,” he says, moving his legs down. ace sets the daisies in his lap and reaches to push one of sabo’s sleeves up, turning his arm forward. sabo blinks rapidly but lets him do it, only growing more curious as he pulls a stem from the bunch and holds one of the daisies near the scar tissue.

“pretty, right?” ace murmurs, pressing the white petals to his skin. “what about a tattoo?”

“of flowers?” sabo says blandly.

ace shrugs. “why not? you could get a whole line of them, right up your arm. i’m not saying it has to be now, it definitely can’t be right now, but i know someone i’d trust to do it in the future, if you want.”

sabo takes the daisy in one hand and slips his other hand into ace’s. he holds the flower to his face and sniffs, and his expression softens as he clings to ace’s cold fingers. “i’ll think about it,” he promises.

ace rubs his thumb over the back of sabo’s hand and gives him the rest of the flowers. sabo sets them all to the side in favor of pulling ace close, until he’s knelt before him, and his knees are on either side of ace’s waist. he reaches up to grab ace’s face and bring him close, all while his mind repeats the same question, do you want to quit, over and over and over again.

nothing was guaranteed to work. he knew this. but he owed it to ace to keep trying. that’s what he kept telling himself, and yet here he was, falling apart for something that was only a chance. at some point he had to start being selfish, put himself first.

he doesn’t even notice he’s crying until ace pulls back and reaches up to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. sabo blinks, and his face is wet, and ace leans back further, his gaze questioning.

“are you okay?” he asks.

“no,” sabo answers, and he can feel all his hopelessness put into the word.

ace frowns. he looks unsure, and his next question is hesitant. “did you . . remember something?”

“no,” sabo says again, and this time his voice breaks. and then ace understands, and he bends in close, wiping sabo’s face as the tears start falling again.

“shhh, sabo, it’s okay,” he whispers. “no one is forcing you to rush. did your therapist say something?”

“no.”

“do you want to talk about it?”

“no.”

do you want to quit?

“no. no. no,” sabo repeats, lifting his hands to shield his face. ace takes them and gently pries them away, refusing to let him be alone. he leans his forehead to sabo’s hairline, closes his eyes.

“hey, sabo. i love you. i know it’s been a while since i’ve said it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. i’ve loved you for a long time, and i’ll keep loving you for even longer. no matter what. i mean that. no matter what happens, no matter what you decide to do, i want you to know my love for you won’t go away. so you do whatever you have to do, and i’ll support your decision. i’m here for you. i’ve always been here, and i always will be here. nothing is going to change that.”

“i’m sorry,” sabo gasps, hands still trapped between ace’s. “i’m sorry,” he says, because he can’t say it back. because the feelings are there but it doesn’t feel right to parrot back words he’s unsure of, even after all this time.

“shhh,” ace whispers, releasing his hands to pull his body closer. he feels sabo’s arms go to wrap around his back. “you don’t need to feel sorry,” he breathes. “you just need to be sabo. the current sabo. and everything will sort itself out from there.”

sabo is asleep before ace gets out from his shower. he gathers the flowers, hooks them through the doorjamb, and makes his way across the room in the dark.

sabo uses ace’s phone to call and cancel his psych appointment. ace is still asleep, and he really needs some air, so he grabs the house key and slips on his shoes.

the bouquet greets him at the door. sabo takes it in his arms and slides the door shut, careful not to make any noise.

the daisies don’t take long to start wilting from the cold. sabo empathizes with them.

ace starts coming home later and sabo decidedly feels useless. he’s not contributing to anything. he’s not doing anything. at least he had things to look forward to, when he was at the hospital. now, nothing is new, and nothing is exciting. at least at the hospital, ace was there, right until he fell asleep, and then back again when he woke up.

he doesn’t mean to bring it up one night. it just happens, the “you’re hardly ever here” spilling from his lips before he can stop it.

ace pauses stirring, holding the spoon steady. “i know. it’ll get better. i promise.”

“you’ve been saying that for months now.”

he reaches out to turn the burner to low. “and hasn’t it? gotten better? you’re not in the hospital anymore. you’re alive. that’s more than i ever could have imagined, back then. we have this place, and food, and i’m here right now, and you’re here right now. i’m not lying to you, sabo. things aren’t perfect, no, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t gotten better.”

“you’re not lying to me. but i think you’re lying to yourself, ace.”

ace turns the stove off and puts a lid over the pot to seal the warmth. “how?”

a rustling lets him know sabo is standing. “when are you going to admit that i’m not the person you fell in love with?”

ace pauses, as he sets the spoon in the sink. “i fell in love with sabo,” he says, turning.

“i gave him my name. i gave him a cherry ring pop, and we ran away from home. we chased the high in a car, and mapped an adventure across the country. we sold the car to a scrapyard and he insisted we drag the tires all the way to a secondhand store. most damn money he ever made, in a day. then he found us this little hovel, and we started camping out there.”

sabo feels his heart sink, as ace proves him right.

“i gave him my time, my patience, my outstanding humor. my outlandish remarks. so much grief he should’ve gotten rid of me long ago. another cherry ring pop, and a goodbye kiss. and then a promise, behind the curtains of an icu room.” ace takes a deep breath, and sabo looks up, stuck on his last sentence until it fades into more.

“i gave him my name, again. to anyone who would listen. told them the blond kid? the one who was unconscious in a coma after surgery? his name was sabo portgas.

“i gave him skittles in a hospital room. i gave him all my time, all my patience. i told him his name and my name every time he woke up, then watched as the nurse came back in and he treated her like it was the first instance they’d met. he was brash and abrasive and distrustful, it was like i had stepped back in time, like i was wooing nine-year-old sabo all over again. like the essence of him was still there, even if he forgot again when he woke up.

“i gave him information, but he changed it, morphed it. suddenly his favorite color wasn’t blue, it was red. suddenly he had battle scars he wasn’t proud of. suddenly he was letting his hair grow out, even after years and years of complaining that it would get in the way.” ace pauses, moving closer, until he can lift sabo’s head up in his hands.

“i fell in love with sabo,” he confesses. “there’s no end, and there’s no beginning. he’s one person, accident or no, memories or no. things will change, but nothing is going to change that.” ace huffs out a breathy laugh, and swipes his thumbs under sabo’s eyes to collect the tears before they fall.

sabo squeezes his eyes shut, sniffs. “i don’t deserve you.”

“i think we make a perfect match,” ace counters.

later, when they’re both curled up on the futon, sabo will surprise them both.

“blue raspberry,” he mumbles, head pillowed on ace’s chest.

“for what?” ace hums.

“the ring pop,” sabo slurs. “i wanted cherry, but they were out. the only thing close was strawberry, but you got blue raspberry, because-” he breaks off, suddenly.

ace, who had been wide awake from the second sentence, slowly tightens his arms around sabo’s middle. “because what?” he asks softly.

“because it matched my eyes,” sabo finishes. “so i took it.”

“and then?” ace prompts.

“it was really sour, and i couldn’t stand it. so i gave it to you instead.”

“and then?”

“you broke off the plastic ring from the bottom and gave it back. said you would get cherry next time. made it a promise, on the ring.”

“and then?”

“i became sabo portgas, right there in the parking lot.”

sabo grows quiet after that. ace waits a little, then leans closer. “what’s next?” he whispers, right in sabo’s ear.

sabo picks his head up to rest his chin on ace’s chest, facing him. “i don’t know,” he admits. “that’s all i got.�� he bites down on his lip, as the gleam in ace’s eyes refuses to die out. “don’t get too excited, okay? that’s the only thing. if this-” he said not to, but he’s the one biting on his cheeks to keep from grinning like a madman. “if this is happening, then taking it slow would be better.”

“i got cherry, the second time,” ace tells him.

“yeah, you told me that.” sabo rolls his eyes. “slowly, okay?”

“whatever you want.”

the vase sabo had been moving to the sink never makes it, slipping from his hands and shattering on the tile instead.

sabo flinches at the noise, takes one step back, and then sighs, dropping his outstretched hand down to his side. “shit.” well, it could have been worse. it could’ve already had the water in it, and then the floor would be soaked too.

sabo frowns as he stares at the mess. the impact echoes in his ears, and he shakes his head to ring it out.

a hand lands on his shoulder. sabo startles, bad, and jumps forward, crunching glass underneath his shoes. he breathes out and whips around, sending more of the glass sliding around the tile. ace stands with his hand still raised, mirroring sabo’s surprised expression. sabo closes his eyes, presses a hand to his forehead.

“sorry, i thought you heard me come in.” ace walks forward and nudges sabo out of the glass, careful when he grips his arms to pull him to the edge of the kitchen.

“no,” sabo admits. he’s still trying to process. why the glass sounded familiar, and why it was almost muscle memory that had him moving from any sort of contact after. he can’t come up with anything, which is an ever continuous cycle of annoying and bemusing.

they don’t have a broom, sabo realizes, and he steps forward again. “here, let me-” he starts, bending down to gather the bigger shards. ace catches his wrist and shakes his head until he’s standing again.

“don’t. you’ll cut yourself. i got it.”

sabo bites down on his lip and resigns himself to watching as ace folds a paper towel and sweeps all the glass onto a plate. he moves around the tile with a wet one next, collecting the pieces that had crumbled so small they were only noticeable by the shine in the cracks between tiles.

“are you okay?” ace asks, once he’s disposed of it all. “you were holding your head earlier.”

“yeah, i’m fine.” sabo shrugs. “i don’t know -i think it reminded me of something? but i can’t figure out what,” he confesses.

“beats me,” ace says. sabo can’t help the sting, hoping that if he was honest, ace would tell him. he still hadn’t remembered anything past that one day, and it was starting to wear on him again.

“have-” he cuts himself off before he can start. if ace didn’t know, he didn’t know. there was no point asking. “nevermind.”

ace lets it go in favor of retrieving an envelope from his coat. “food stamps came in. wanna go shopping?”

“yeah.” sabo puts on a smile and lets it go. it wouldn’t be best to dwell. “that sounds great.”

they meet up late in the evening by the car. sabo is rounding the side when he catches sight of ace’s messy hair. he’s waiting for him on the bumper, looking up at the sky. sabo stops short and smiles. he must shuffle some gravel, because ace turns his head, and then he’s smiling too.

“hey. kept me waiting. what did you do?”

“i painted a house today.” his smile turns lopsided. ace notices.

“are you okay?”

“i feel kinda woozy,” sabo admits. he takes a step and drags his hand along the rim of the truck for balance, and ace jumps up.

“here, c’mon, you should lay down before we do anything.” he helps situate sabo in the truckbed and sighs as he squats next to him.

“here,” sabo mumbles, digging out a wad of cash. ace takes it and flips through it.

“hm, pretty good.” he pulls out a bigger roll from his shorts and fans it in front of sabo’s face. “not as good as me though!”

“aww!” sabo whines. “how come you always win?”

“guess i just find better things to do.”

“cheater,” sabo grumbles.

ace doesn’t comment on that. “you still smell paint?” he asks instead.

“a little. my head just . . ugh, feels weird,” he mumbles.

“want to-”

a buzzing rouses sabo from sleep. he peels his eyes open as ace extracts himself enough to reach out and silence his phone. he moves back to bury his face in sabo’s hair, and sabo allows it for a moment before turning around to push him away. ace groans, his arms tightening around sabo’s middle.

“no,” sabo insists. “if you don’t get up now you won’t at all.”

ace, knowing this, sighs and finally pulls back. “i hate it when you’re right.”

sabo doesn’t go back to sleep in favor of watching ace move around the room. he sits up after a minute, leaning against the wall, blanket draped over his form. “hey, can we talk for a minute?”

ace glances over, then resumes his task. “yeah,” he answers, voice still raspy from sleep. he comes back over eventually and settles himself in front of sabo.

“i dreamed something,” sabo reveals. “i’m not sure what to make of it, or if it’s even real, so . .”

“tell me,” ace insists, suddenly more awake. sabo recounts the dream and watches his expression morph.

“what did we do with the money?”

“at first i thought we would eat good, but it took a long time for you to start feeling better.” ace shrugs. “spent most of it on medicine and gas, then headed somewhere new.”

“how long did we stay somewhere?” sabo asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“depends. if there was work and we didn’t run into trouble, a few weeks at most. some places we’d stop for some food and make the decision to try somewhere else.”

“trouble,” sabo mutters.

“ah, that was on me.” ace shrugs as sabo looks up. “well, it’s okay if that never comes back.”

“what do you think caused this?” sabo frowns. “it’s not like we were talking about anything before i fell asleep.”

“i’m not a doctor, sab. don’t have that answer.”

“right. uh, sorry.”

“hey, it’s okay. thanks for telling me. was there anything else . . ?”

“go to work,” sabo drones.

“right, okay. see ya.”

ace leaves and sabo unfolds himself until he can stand. he sets his resolve as he pulls on his shoes.

“you got a job?!”

“yeah, i think so,” sabo mutters around his food. he reaches out and rips off another piece of bread, munching on it.

“where at?”

“the library on the corne- what? what is it?”

“nothin’.” ace shrugs, still smiling. “just suits you, is all.”

“thanks, i guess.”

“when do you start?”

“they have to call me back.”

“but you got it?”

“i think so.”

ace frowns. “wait, call you back?”

“aha. about that.”

ace is already sliding out his phone. “i guess you could keep it for a few days,” he mutters. “and don’t apologize! if that was your only option, it’s fine.”

sabo wisely closes his mouth and goes back to eating.

“would i have done this?” he asks later. “before?”

ace hums. “dunno. does it matter? you’re doing it now.”

“that’s not what i meant. i just . . sometimes i get curious, about what i was like.”

“the only thing that matters is who you are right now,” ace reminds him gently. “nothing should influence that. the past sabo has no right to the current sabo.”

sabo thinks on this for a long time before deciding he didn’t quite agree. if wasn’t like the two were separate. as slow as it was, he was regaining memories. what happened when he reached the point where his old self felt just as much him as his current self?

what happened when he regained enough sense to merge the two?

sabo is clearing books from an abandoned table when he spots ace in the corner. he gathers the stack in his arms and walks over, stopping right before his seat.

“what are you doing?” he asks, as ace looks up.

“can i not sit here?” ace says drily. sabo gives him a look and he relents. “okay, okay. i thought i would wait for you. better than being at home alone.”

“i’m not off for another few hours.”

“that’s fine!” ace beams up at him as sabo turns suspicious. “just being around you is enough,” he admits.

sabo looks away, the heat bubbling to his face. “sap,” he mutters.

“go do your job. i’ll be fine! promise.”

sabo nods one more time before moving into the stacks. he takes a moment to cool off and then heads to the back with the books.

when he’s done for the night, he moves back to ace’s spot only to find him asleep, head nestled in his arms piled on the table. sabo rolls his eyes and bends by the chair legs. he runs a hand through ace’s hair until he makes a soft sound.

“ace,” he tries. “it’s time to wake up.”

“mm- wha-?” ace shifts his head as his eyes open. sabo lets his hand fall away.

“hey. let’s go.”

“sa-” ace interrupts himself with a yawn. he lifts his head from the table, glances around. “where are we?” he mumbles.

“library.”

“why?”

“you tell me,” he hums, pulling the chair back. ace grabs hold of the arms to steady himself, glaring up at sabo.

“how’s it going?” ace asks, once they’re out the door. he waits until they’re in the parking lot to swing his coat from his arms to sabo’s shoulders, pulling it around.

“it’s good.” he catches one of ace’s hands before he can pull away, and tugs his scarf off with the other.

“do you need more clothes?”

“i think-” sabo pauses to loop the scarf around ace’s head. “that if i keep this jacket zipped, no one will notice for a while.”

“yeah, that’s fair.” ace takes their joined hands and pulls sabo forward.

“i like having something to do.”

“i don’t!” ace whines, swinging their arms. “i mean- that came out wrong.” he shrivels a little at sabo’s look. “i like knowing where you are,” he rephrases. “and i like coming home to you. it’s going to be different, not seeing you as much.”

“i got used to it,” sabo says quietly. ace squeezes his hand.

“i know it’s been hard to adjust. after i saw you so much in the hospital, anything less was bound to be rough to handle. but you’ve been amazingly considerate, for the most part, and i should learn to do the same.”

ace looks away when the crosswalk changes, though there’s no traffic. he steps forward but doesn’t get far, not when sabo’s not moving. he turns back and blanches when he sees tears running down the blond’s face.

“sabo, hey.” he steps closer again, raising his free hand to wipe sabo’s face. “did i say something wrong? what’s going on?”

“you’ve never said anything wrong.” sabo sniffles, blinks, lets fresh tears fall and blur his vision. “everything you say is so nice. sometimes i don’t know how to handle it. like now.” he sniffs again, lets ace wipe at his cheeks. “thank you. i know i don’t say it often enough, but really, thank you.”

“don’t mention it,” ace mumbles. he steps closer, and cradles sabo’s face in his hands, and lets the lights cast them in red. it shines on sabo’s cheeks, and in his bright hair, and ace knows going for a combo hit wouldn’t be the best idea, but he can’t help it. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, just loud enough for sabo to hear.

sabo laughs, a little shakily. “knocking me while i’m down, huh?”

ace shrugs. “i just told the truth.”

“i need to sit down before you say something else.”

“let’s cross the street first.” ace pulls on sabo’s arm and spins around. the street is still empty, so he moves them across, even under protest.

“but the light-”

“it’s good, sab. don’t worry so much about it. see?” he says, as they hit the sidewalk again. “no problem.”

“okay,” sabo mumbles.

they make it home without incident, and sabo starts thinking again. while ace is asleep, he pushes up his sleeves and looks at all the marks littering his arms in the dim glow of the bathroom. usually, he would have grouped all the injuries he had accumulated and gotten treatment in the hospital for as part of the same incident. but now he wasn’t sure. what if only some of them came from that, and the others from another event that occurred the same day? what if he was hurt, and then got into something like a car crash?

sabo frowns. that didn’t sound right, but he was so lost, at this point. he had some puzzle pieces but no frame to match them to. he didn’t know what to think anymore.

“That boy is always out there waiting for you,” his supervisor calls out to him. sabo doesn’t stop walking toward the checkout, the last stack of spare books in his arms, but he does turn his head to look out one of the windows. it’s not hard to spot ace, a modest distance from the doors, face lit up by his phone. sabo looks back in a hurry, a light laugh bubbling in his throat.

“yeah, i guess,” he replies. his supervisor doesn’t say anything more. not until he’s leaving, anyway.

“you two get home safe,” she tells him, waving him out the door. sabo ducks his head.

“right,” he mutters, stepping outside.

ace pockets his phone as sabo comes through the door. he tips his head at the frown suddenly on sabo’s face. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s too cold to be waiting out here,” he protests, stepping closer to rub ace’s free hands with his warmer ones. ace shrugs.

“it’s been getting warmer, actually.” he uses the grip to pull sabo towards him. “but if you wanna warm me up, i won’t complain.”

“of course you won’t,” sabo mutters. “hey, don’t wait up tomorrow. i’ll be home late.”

ace shrugs, pulling them both down the street. “yeah, i might get off at a weird time anyway, so i doubt i’ll see you until you get home.”

“perfect,” sabo says, a little absently, then freezes up at his mistake.

ace watches him closely. “yeah? got a surprise or somethin’?”

“guess you’ll have to wait and see!” sabo smiles cheekily, throws up a peace sign, then dashes down the street. ace lets out a startled shout before running to catch up.

it’s snowing when sabo wakes up.

guess the good weather couldn’t last forever, he thinks, as he steps outside. he wraps his scarf over his head but it does little to help. when he makes it to work he stops on the doormat to dust himself off, covered in fresh powder. it was already piled high on the ground, too.

it’s still snowing when he gets off, the thick white blanket offsetting the night, still bright enough to see even without the sun. “be careful out there,” his supervisor tells him, before he leaves.

sabo stands under the awning for a minute, debating going straight home while he crunches a few bills in his jacket pocket. the wind wasn’t bad, really, but it was snowing pretty heavily, and it was likely to pick up soon.

but. sabo bites down on his lip.

no. he wasn’t going to be deterred.

he stamps his feet in the entryway once he’s through the door of the gas station, breathing out a sign as his face slowly stops stinging. the cashier glances outside after scanning his item, looking from sabo’s meek winter wear to the worsening weather.

“be careful out there,” he tells sabo, an echo of the woman from the library. he nods, adjusts his scarf, and braces himself as he steps back out into the snow.

the walk home is not great. he’s trudging through the snow at this point. his socks are wet. he can’t see very well, even with all the street lights. this was not a good choice in hindsight, he thinks, and then the sky lights up.

a low rumble of thunder cuts in, and sabo blinks, pausing in his step to process. that was lightning. was it because of the temperature change? because it was snowing so much? sabo didn’t know it could thunder while it was snowing.

hm. well, he was almost home. if he waited around it would only get worse, and he had promised ace he would be late, not not there at all.

with that in mind, he picks up his pace, jogging until he hits a streetlight, tightening his grip on his earlier purchase, safe inside his pocket. he breathes out in annoyance, moving in place to stay warm, then perks up as he remembers something.

a gust of wind cuts past, and sabo brings up an arm to shield his face. he glances back and forth to confirm the street was clear, then breaks off from the sidewalk. at least the roads weren’t piled with snow like the walkways were, having been stamped down by passing traffic. the only thing that was worse was the ice, which-

sabo’s breath catches as his heel hooks onto a smooth patch, unsteadying him. he throws his arms out to regain balance, stepping off from the ice. well. could’ve been worse, he thinks, as he guards himself from another wind gust and steps forwa

sabo comes to with a wince as a light shines in his eye. his eye is closed again and his mouth falls open in a grunt. voices speak in urgent tones above him. he might hear a siren, and oh, that would explain the flashes behind his eyelids.

his hand crumples the plastic packaging in his pocket. it’s the last thing he registers.

sabo yawns into his hand as he makes it up the last of the steps, pushing out with his free one to shove at the door. since it didn’t have a doorknob, he wasn’t overly concerned over the fact it wasn’t already pushed into the frame. it happened often enough.

“ace, i’m home,” he calls out, rubbing at his eyes. he walks several paces into the house, not noticing the wind passing easily through the broken window panes. if anything, their place is already drafty, so when he trips over the glass shards on the ground, he only frowns down at the mess.

“what broke?” he mumbles, finally dropping his arms. actually, they definitely didn’t own anything made of glass, so-

sabo looks up as a hand settles on his shoulder, but he’s thrown into the wall before he can make out a face. someone else comes up, complexion hidden by the shadows, and thrusts a damp rag into sabo’s face, holding it there as a hand tightens around his neck.

he passes out almost instantaneously.

sabo comes to hazily. his head is down so he’s staring at his lap. he has enough awareness to realize he’s sitting up, his legs bound to something hard, but not enough sense of self-preservation to control the harsh exhale through his nose. there’s something tied to his mouth, and the air feels heavy, laced with something that keeps him dizzy. he can’t find the strength to raise his head, and it’s probably the only thing that keeps the others in the room from taking notice of his waking. his hands are bound too, tied tight against something flat out in front of him. sabo takes note of voices, but they’re too low for him to make anything out. he doesn’t pay attention until he recognizes ace’s among them.

“i got it. it’s yours. i’ll- it’s-” ace breaks off with a huff. “nothing is in the house. it’s in the wall in the building behind it. there’s a loose brick, about four down and-” he continues but sabo loses track of the words with the pressure on the back of his neck. he winces sharply, and it must be loud enough to be heard through the rag, because the pinch grows tighter, and someone is lifting his face up. sabo’s eyes blink open, but it’s heavy, and they don’t expand anymore than halfway before the light grows too intense to bear.

“sabo-” ace starts, voice loud and startled, but he’s cut off.

“v, go and check. bring j with you. make sure you count everything. if it’s not all there, call me.”

sabo squints and the hand holding his head releases him. he works hard to keep it raised, leaning right with the effort. movement comes and goes, but he still can’t make out much. he tries to move his eyes left, where he heard ace’s voice, but it’s hard.

“everything is there,” ace promises, sounding on the edge of desperation.

“oh i don’t doubt that. you seem pretty desperate. there’s another matter we have to settle, though.”

the voice moves closer, and sabo tenses as something enters his peripheral. he flexes his fingers, but his wrists are bound so tight that even that hurts.

“you hurt m pretty bad. poor guy won’t be moving easy for a bit. sucks, y’know? one of my best men, gone just like that. you sure aren’t an easy guy to please, portgas, but even that was going too far. so i started thinking to myself . .”

he brandishes something that gleams in the light, and ace sucks in a breath, and sabo blinks, heavy, thinking his eyes must be playing tricks on him.

but then the cold press of metal is on his forearm, edge digging into his skin, and the raspy voice is right by sabo’s head.

“since you hurt one of my boys, i’m going to hurt your boy.”

“wait-” ace says, but the knife rips down sabo’s arm before he can get anything else out, and sabo is screaming long before he can process where the cut stops at the rope binding his hands.

“sabo, listen to me,” ace says, and he tries. it hurts. he doesn’t know how long he’s been here, or when it started, or where the pain begins and where it ends, the damage too extensive. blood covers his forearms from thick cuts, spilling onto his legs, staining the carpet underneath. he’s dizzy, and he feels like throwing up. his breaths come in pants, and he can barely hear ace between them, everything else too loud in his ears.

“if we get out of this, i promise i’ll do better. i’ll stop the dangerous shit. i’ll find something else to do. i’ll change, so please, please, you have to hold on.”

sabo doesn’t know if he nods or tries to or succeeds or fails. footsteps sound loud, echoing off the walls, and his brain short-circuits, pure, unadulterated fear flowing through him. he tenses his arms and blood leaks through the cuts and he chokes on a sob, the effort making his neck ache. there’s a weight on his chest that he can’t make out, and sabo squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation.

ace flinches harsh at the loud noise. when he pries his eyes open, r is on the ground, a hole in his head. he’s slumped, but it doesn’t take long for the rest of him to tumble down, slamming into ace’s chair. he jerks forward but doesn’t tip over, thankfully. still, the motion is enough to jar him, and ace coughs hard, hunched over, blood dribbling from his mouth.

someone comes the rest of the way down the narrow staircase and ace tenses, having enough instincts to spin his head around. a burly man steps down from the last step, eyeing ace through his shades with his gun still raised. he takes stock of the situation pretty quickly, lowering the arm to raise one with a receiver to his mouth.

“there’s only one down here. i already took him out.”

static crackles in the next few, tense moments. “then hurry back up.”

he pockets the gun and the receiver and steps further into the room, grimacing at the blood that makes the carpet squishy underfoot. he moves his eyes away from ace to look down at the bloody bat r had used to bash sabo’s head in, kicking it away with a grunt. he looks to sabo next, still tied to the chair, and presses his lips tight until they turn pale. then he crouches next to r and checks his pulse.

“yep, he’s dead dead,” he mutters to himself. then he sighs. “should probably take the body . .” he turns his head over his shoulder to look at the stairs, sighs again, then hauls the corpse up. he doesn’t spare ace a second glance, leaving the room rapidly, and once he’s out of sight ace doesn’t spend another moment worrying about him, moving his fingers to wrestle with his restraints.

the house is silent when ace frees himself, breaking the chair to slide out the legs from between the rope. he collapses on the ground and gags and flips over onto his back and lies there for a moment, breathing. the action nearly makes him sick, so ace picks himself onto his knees as quick as he can manage, crossing across the soiled carpet to sabo’s chair.

“you’re okay you have to be okay please be okay,” he mutters, leaning on the chair and reaching a hand up to brush the back of sabo’s head. the bleeding hasn’t stopped, and sabo’s unconscious, his head lolled far enough forward for ace to be dizzy with anger when he sees the injury there.

ace coughs again and curses as he spits blood onto sabo. he moves to a stand and sags against the chair, vision blurring, the room spinning. somehow he makes it to the stairs, using the wall to climb up and digging for his phone, thankful they hadn’t seen the need to take it. once he gets a signal he sags onto the railing, talking hurriedly into the speaker. he abandons it on the steps once he gets an affirmative, crawling back down to sabo to cut his restraints. he wants to pull him down but he’s afraid of moving him too much. he passes out before he can make a decision, slumped over one of the armrests, still holding tight to sabo to try and stop the bleeding.

sabo groans before he is fully conscious, the sound coming from closed lips. his eyes are sticky when he finally opens them. the smell of antiseptic is strong, but ace’s head is above his before he can look at his surroundings to gauge his location.

“hey,” sabo mumbles, not liking the way his lips form the words. his face feels weird. his body hurts.

“hey,” ace says lowly. there’s something unreadable to his expression, and sabo wants to pry it out and reveal its intentions.

“what happened?” he asks instead.

ace’s lower lip worries, and he steadies it before answering. “what’s the last thing you remember?”

oh. sabo squints. okay, he can definitely see the distress rolling off ace in waves. so that was it. well, he supposes that was a valid reason.

“waking up to this cute nurse,” he says, because sabo is an asshole first and foremost. ace leans back and sabo looks him up and down. “or maybe you’re an intern,” he amends, eyes moving back to ace’s face.

he looks on the verge of tears, as he moves off the bed. sabo rolls his eyes.

“sit back down, ace. please.”

ace’s breath catches and he glares down at sabo. “you-”

“sorry, i guess i took that too far,” sabo apologizes. “i remember crossing the street. i think i almost slipped on a patch of ice.”

ace huffs and climbs onto the bed to sit even with sabo’s waist. he’s propped up slightly by the pillows, so it brings them close enough for ace to comfortably reach up and carefully cradle sabo’s face in both hands, thumbs gently smoothing over his brows. he relaxes into the hold. “i think you did slip, because a car rammed into you pretty badly. it’s unlike you to be distracted enough not to notice.”

“hmmm. no, i think it was snowing, so maybe i didn’t see.” sabo does his best to shrug. it feels weird. “it doesn’t matter, i guess. what happened after?”

ace’s hands still. “they brought you here.” his expression grows pained. “i’m your emergency contact, so they called me when you went into surgery.” he frowns. “i wasn’t even off work.”

sabo blinks, and god, that was right. he moves his hands up to rub at his eyes. “thinking about you with a real job is so weird. i don’t think i’ll ever get used to it.”

“i mean, you have one too.” ace pauses. “wait what?”

sabo pushes himself up off the pillows, dislodging ace’s hands. “my jacket,” he stammers. “you have it? where is it?”

“yeah, sure.” ace moves off the bed to pick up the jacket from the chair he’d been seated in. he passes it to sabo and watches as he roots through the pockets, hand clenching around something that crackles, and then leans over it, until his forehead is against his legs.

“ow,” he says after a moment, raising up again. one hand moves to his ribs. “what did i break?”

“a few ribs,” ace admits. “you have a lot of bruising. they did surgery for internal bleeding. it’s only been a handful of hours since then.” he nods to the window. “the sun’s barely been up an hour.”

“oh.” sabo crinkles the wrapper again. he turns his head to look at ace. “close your eyes, okay?”

ace wants to refute. he wants to talk about this, because sabo is saying some very familiar things, but they’re things he hasn’t heard in a long time. but he indulges him for the moment.

sabo takes the package from his jacket and tears it open. he frowns down at the contents, but he supposes it’s the best he could hope for. “hold out your hands,” he tells ace. his brow furrows, but he complies, cupping them together.

sabo scoots to the edge of the mattress and pours purple candy shards and a distinct plastic shape into ace’s hands. ace frowns and wastes no time in opening his eyes to look at the mess. they catch on the blue ring in the center and blow wide, and he sits there staring at it without a word.

sabo sits back and tosses the wrapper away, unbothered by the candy crumbs it scatters. “they only had grape ring pops, where i went.”

ace frowns deeper. “this is such a mess. you want me to lick these off my hand? you don’t ever think these things through. how am i supposed to pick up the ring?”

“after enjoying the candy i bought you, duh.” sabo reaches forward to grab the ring base, but he must be a little forceful about it, because the motion topples the iv stand from the other side of the bed, sending it crashing against the mattress, and then to the ground, which pulls the iv clear out of his wrist. his “here, let me-” is cut off at the noise, and he holds down against his bleeding wrist with the hand holding the ring. “ow!”

“oh my god.” ace can’t help it when he laughs. “that’s not funny,” he says when sabo glares at him, but he’s still laughing. a nurse comes in to find them like that, takes one look at the iv on the ground, and leaves again.

the doctor comes in with her next, cutting off sabo’s words with his entrance.

“hm. i see you’re already being disruptive.”

he doesn’t appear angry or annoyed at the fact, and sabo thinks it might have been a joke, considering he had the same doctor, but he still looks away guiltily. “sorry,” he mutters.

“how are you feeling?” the doctor asks as he reinserts sabo’s iv.

“like i got hit by a car.”

“oh, good. i’m happy to inform you that’s not an outlier, in your case.”

“you mean, considering i got hit by a car?”

the doctor raises his brows. “you have a lot more sass than i remember.” he moves his gaze to sabo’s other hand, and the ring pop base he has clutched in it. he tracks the rest to ace’s hand, the other slowly picking out bigger pieces to suck on, and scattering smaller bits with every movement. he sighs. “you know, i’ll come back later. it can wait.”

the nurse looks like she doesn’t quite agree with him, but she follows him back out without protest. sabo waits until the door is closed to lean back against the pillows, still sitting up, just with more support. he breathes out deep. “i’m exhausted.”

“you should probably explain this before you pass out.” ace motions to the candy.

“oh, right.” it takes little effort for sabo to break off the ring from the base, even considering how tired he was. he tosses the top half away and holds the plastic ring out to ace. “i’m giving you one back. i know it’s overdue.” he shrugs. “sorry it broke.”

“unavoidable, considering the circumstances.” ace’s eyes narrow as he sticks out a finger to put through the ring. “which were completely unavoidable. you scared me to death.”

sabo’s gaze drops to ace’s no-longer-ringless hand, and he grabs at it with both his own before ace can pull back. “you really have changed,” he murmurs, just loud enough for ace to hear, and his heart startles at the thought.

“you really do remember,” ace counters, voice faint as he tries to recall how to breathe.

sabo’s already shaking his head. “not all the way.” he suddenly looks very tired. “just that night.” he squints. “nights. however long we were there.”

ace winces. “and . . that made you want to do this?” he wiggles his fingers, the only thing he can manage with sabo’s hold.

“oh, no. like i said, it was overdue.” sabo’s lips purse. “i’ve been remembering more and more, but it’s not all back. a lot of it isn’t back. there are still a lot of gaps. but, i guess i remembered enough to figure you really were telling the truth, about being in love with me, and i realized i was in love with you, too.” he reaches out to slowly twist the ring around ace’s finger. his eyes are fixed to it. “and i know it might not all come back. but i don’t care anymore. and you’ve told me enough times that you don’t care, either. so i just thought . . . uhm. that i would, y’know, let myself be happy, and all.” his head is turned to the window, at this point. “and i promised that i would get you a ring, after my second one, so this is just me acting on that! it’s not a new idea or anything. it’s very un-spontaneous, actually.” his face breaks, as he releases ace’s hand and looks into his eyes. “sorry it broke,” he says, his voice wavering.

ace stands up and spills the rest of the crumbs and uses the same hand to tug sabo into a hug, careful of his chest. sabo doesn’t seem to mind, gripping him tight, and his face falls into ace’s neck, just like it always used to, and he doesn’t even care that ace’s sticky hands are all over his hospital gown, or on his face, pulling him back to pull him in again, parting his lips with a gentle force that sabo allows, sighing into it.

ace moves back and sabo is dizzy and his eyes are heavy. “ace portgas, i love you.”

“sabo portgas, i love you more.”

“yeah, you probably do. i don’t doubt that.” he reaches up to trace ace’s jawline. “still.”

ace rolls his eyes. “you should try and sleep. i’ll still be here when you wake up.”

sabo hums. he pulls away to settle down, but he doesn’t release ace, instead shuffling to one side of the bed. ace gets the memo without any words and huffs out a contained laugh, kicking his shoes off proper and climbing under the blankets.

“staff won’t like this,” he muses, letting sabo curl up to him, arm gentle over his back.

“don’t care,” sabo mumbles, burying his nose in ace’s chest, until he can feel his heartbeat.

ace is fire and pain and yet it hurts the most not knowing, so the second he can he sits up out of bed and throws his feet over the edge. he drops heavy on his knees, hands held hard to the iv pole, barely on his feet. one hand comes off to touch at his chest, and curl into the fabric of his gown. his eyes are shut, his teeth gritted. it takes him a long time to relax.

he shoves the curtain aside and is immediately met with a bunch of stares that he ignores, eyes searching. they land on an open curtain not far from his own, sabo in the middle of two nurses in drab scrubs, looking radiant between the dull colors and heavy monitors. they’re hooking him up, so he must have just arrived. ace wastes no time in moving forward, pushing even when his breathing deepens from effort and his chest begins to ache.

“wait, sir-!” someone begins, but ace moves out of the loose hold until he’s at the foot of sabo’s bed. his eyes widen as he takes sabo in, at his wrapped head and arms and legs and what he can see peeking out from under the hem of his shirt. he places one hand at the edge of the bed to steady himself, curling his fingers against the folded sheet that lay there.

the nurses look between each other and one of them stops messing with the machines. “sir, you can’t be here.”

ace looks up, panicked as she comes closer. “wait, but sabo-!” he bites his lip. “i just wanted to see sabo. he’s okay, right?”

“you should go lie back down,” she says, but that doesn’t answer ace’s question. he feels discomfort in his chest, like he has to cough or something, and he squeezes the sheet tighter as he forces the urge down.

“please. i can sit down here if you want, but i just want to see him for a bit. just a minute.”

the other nurse finishes that side and looks past ace, to the nurse that had followed him. he glances back to ace. “you know his name?”

“yeah.” ace bobs his head, realizes his sudden bargaining chip, and immediately puts it to full use. “it’s sabo. i can tell you whatever you need, just let me sit here to do it.”

the one nearest to him sighs and goes back to fiddling with the machines. “go grab a chair,” she mutters, and her coworker runs off to do just that.

ace feels relief that is tough to hide as he sits, grateful to be off his feet. “sabo portgas,” he says, moving closer to be near sabo’s head while being out of the way. he’s sickly pale. ace is glad he’s alive and seems to be stable, but he’s tough to look at. he bites at his lip again. “did he have surgery? is that where he was?”

“portgas.” the nurse frowns, then frowns further as ace comes to attention. “that was the surname you gave us, wasn’t it?”

ace nods.

“you’re family, then?”

ace nods again.

her frown deepens as she looks between the two. “i can’t see much of a resemblance.”

“oh, we’re not blood-related,” ace admits.

“ah. well, i guess you are within your bounds. he did just undergo surgery. it’s his second.”

ace turns back to sabo, but he looks at all the machines instead. he doesn’t ask what the surgeries were for, because he has a pretty good idea of what both of them were for, and the fact that two were needed was already concerning enough to make his stomach roll. “when will he wake up?”

“we don’t know. we put him in a coma to speed recovery, but when he regains consciousness is partly his choice.”

“i hope he chooses soon,” ace mutters.

the nurse chuckles. “not that sort of active choice. it’s more how fast his body heals. regardless, he’ll wake up on his own eventually.” her hand moves across the clipboard she’s holding to scribble in numbers, and ace’s eyes stick on the far machine, a pulse monitor with a slow beep.

“that doesn’t seem right,” he says, nodding to the monitor when she looks up. she glances at it and hums.

“it is a little slow, but it’s steady, which is the important thing.” she scribbles in the count, then pauses, pen hovered over the page. “is that concerningly slow? do you know his normal count?”

ace blinks. “uh, no.” was that bad? was that a usual thing to know? ace thinks on all the times he’s heard sabo’s heartbeat, and they’ve only ever been when it’s racing.

“you get the name?” another nurse asks, stopping while wandering by.

“sabo,” she says over her shoulders, tapping the page.

“sabo portgas,” ace stresses.

“right. portgas,” she amends.

the other nurse narrows his eyes in thought. “and you’re ace, right?”

ace nods as the nurse across from him taps the page with her pen, drawing the attention of her colleague. he scans that section and hums, then looks back up to ace.

“you were brought in together,” he murmurs in thought. he holds up a vial. “is he allergic to anything? we wanted to put this in the iv.”

“no allergies,” ace says, eyes lidding. that he knew of. but if sabo had a spontaneous reaction to something medicine-related, would it be on him?

his face must give something away, because the nurse gives him an odd look before moving to sabo’s other side, where the iv sat.

“he’ll say it, too,” ace says suddenly, drawing both of their gazes. “when he wakes up. he’ll say he’s sabo portgas, and that he’s mi-” he cuts off with a violent cough, hand going up to his face, and the nurse quickly stands to assist him.

“c’mon, that’s enough. you should go lie down now.” ace opens his mouth in protest as she helps him to his feet. “you can always come back, ace. he won’t be in icu forever. focus on self-recovery for now. at least until he wakes up.”

ace sighs and gives up with a small nod, dropping his head down. he looks to the bland, bright floor as he lets her lead him back to his own area, drawing the curtains after helping him settle into bed.

“he won’t deny it,” he says, as she’s moving to leave. “he’ll tell you the same thing. promise.”

when she looks back, her smile is gentle. “i’ll hold you to it.”

“i’ll do better,” he mumbles to the air, later on. “i’ll do better, so please, wake up soon.” he frowns, sniffing, as his emotions overwhelm him. “please wake up and come back to me. as long as you can do that, everything else will be okay.”

part 1 | notes

#writing #op #saboace #ywr/iwf #anyway//this is by far the most romantic thing ive ever written #even then its not rly there i still gotta long way to go #BUT some progress is better than none

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