Graves were nothing more than a mark of the past — something to honor the dead by.
They weren't warm. They were cold, harsh and unforgiving.
A grave was nothing like Marco, so why was this the only thing left of him?
Ace felt…numb. No matter how many times he visited this spot, it never ceased to feel ethereal, like a never ending nightmare on repeat.
He could spend days, months, years reliving the moment Marco died, but when it came down to it - standing here before the cold, grey, slab of concrete.
He was empty.
No memories came to mind, at least not at first. Those always came after the numbness crumbled away.
And of course, with the memories came the pain. It was still raw, images burned into his mind forever much like his flames. There was no longer a Phoenix to draw in though. Those days were gone.
Like the Phoenix himself.
.
.
.
No one ever joined him on days like this. At first Izou had insisted to tag along, but even he eventually realized that Ace needed this time with him alone.
Ace didn't like others seeing him cry.
"You idiot…"
Knees hit the floor as he knelt before the grave.
Here Lies Marco
The words blurred behind his tears, Ace gripping at the grass before the grave with one fist, the other clutching tightly at the white lilies in his grip. Marco's favorite flowers.
"You're a phoenix, bastard… You weren't supposed to die. You're supposed to be immortal… Why did you—Tch…"
"You were the one to welcome me in!" Ace slouched forward further, tears sliding down his cheeks now.
"You w-were the one to listen to me—" His head was resting against the grass now, one fist beating at the headstone. His knuckles were bleeding but he didn't care anymore. He didn't care about anything anymore.
"YOU GAVE ME A HOME, MARCO!" His head exploded upwards, voice screeching out to the heavens as if to drag him back down through his words alone.
"You let me love again…" Ace stared upwards now, shoulders sagged and eyes fogged over by loss and sorrow.
"Why did you leave me…?" By the end, his words were only a soft whisper. No one was there. No one was there to listen to him anymore. Luffy was who knows where, healing after the Marineford Battle no doubt. His crew was scattered, the loss of both Marco and Pops crushing their moral and driving everyone apart.
Ace wasn't enough.
He was alive but he had never felt more dead. The sun that both Luffy and Marco saw within him was gone — extinguished like the blue fire that he loved so much.
He'd never see that flame again, never feel it's warmth upon him or the fullness of his heart and soul.
For both were withered now, cracking along the edges as he fell to pieces at the foot of the graveyard where Marco lay.
He was alone.
And he was broken.