A little bit of hope...

Growing Up With Roger
Year 9

Ace found himself wandering from his home more and more often. He was a bright boy and didn't stray too far, but one wrong turn on a particularly dark night found the little boy lost in the city with no money and no idea what to do. He walked for what seemed like hours only confusing himself more as he strayed through the maze like city that looked nothing at night like it did in the day.

Finally, when his legs felt too tired and his heart too heavy, he plopped down into the curb of a moderately busy road and pulled his knees to his chest. After the tears he'd spilt for his mother, he didn't think he's ever have enough to cry again, but as the familiar sting grew in the back of his eyes, he bit his lip and swallowed in an attempt to hold them back.

"Oi..."

Ace's head shot up at the close proximity of the voice and he saw a man not a mater from him. He was dressed in thick leather with multiple piercings in his face and ears. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses despite the lack of sunlight and he was perched on a mean looking motorbike. Ace gaped at the stranger and wondered how the hell he'd been so lost in thought that he'd let a dangerous looking man like this get so close to him.

"You lost, kid?"

"N...No!" Ace stammered and shot to his feet, stumbling back a few steps. "I'm... I'm with... my Daddy... he's... in there!"

The man followed Ace's finger to his randomly selected shop and raised an eyebrow. "In there, huh?"

Ace nodded mutely and hesitantly crept another step back.

"So... your old man... is in a lesbian bar?"

Ace nodded again, having no idea what a "lesbian bar" was, and the man smirked. "You're too well dressed to be a regular street brat. Where do you live, kid? I'll give you a ride home."

Ace's eyes widened slightly at the tempting offer. This guy didn't seem mean or scary... maybe he was a nice scary looking guy?

"My Mama told me never to talk to strangers... especially scary looking ones like you." Ace stated blandly. The man barked out a laugh before he offered a leather gloved hand.

"Well then, the name's Marco. And your name?" he asked, smirking. "Or should I just call you 'brat'?"

Ace's temper flared at the name and he threw caution to the wind as he clasped Marco's hand in his own and shook it firmly. "You can call me Ace. If you call me 'brat' I'll kill you."

"Ho-ho!" Marco noised as he tightened his grip on Ace's hand and in one fluid motion, swept the small boy onto the bike in front of him. "Got a bit of an attitude there, Ace. Where are we going?"

"Grandline Road. Raftel House."

The engine suddenly revved to life and Ace yelped and grabbed a hold of the metal bars in front of him. The bike jerked into motion and he heard Marco chuckle as he tensed up. Pretty soon though, Ace's reservations washed away and the rumble of the bike and steady motion of the cityscape around them calmed him. The warm chest behind him felt almost comfortable despite the cooled leather and Ace stole a glance up at his saviour.

"Why is all your face pierced?"

"Because it's cool."

"Oh..."

Ace's gaze returned to the road but was startled slightly by his companions own question.

"Why are you so far from home?"

"Because I don't want to be there."

Ace's answer was blunt and final. Marco didn't question it and they fell into their peaceful silence once more. It didn't take long to get back to Ace's home and as they pulled up, Marco lifted him easily from the bike and back down to the pavement. Ace lingered for a moment and Marco raised an eyebrow. "What now, kid?"

"I... I have some money inside... for petrol!"

"No thanks."

Ace fidgeted nervously.

"C... can you walk me in...?"

Marco sighed and after a moment's hesitation, dismounted his bike. "If my bike gets stolen or trashed, I'm gonna kick your ass, kid."

"Okay!" Ace replied, happily and grabbed Marco's hand in his own.

Marco snorted at the boy's enthusiastic response to his threat. They walked inside together and Ace led him to his apartment and invited him inside as his mother had taught him to do. Marco's eyes narrowed at the reek of beer in the air and caught a glimpse of Roger's crashed out form on the sofa.

"That your old man?"

"Yeah, that's my Da—" Ace cut off and licked his lips before continuing. "That my... old man."

"He always like that?"

"When he's not working..."

"Where's your Ma, kid?"

"Dead." Ace bit out the response, fast and cold and Marco picked up on the hurt in the reply.

The blonde man stole a lengthy look around the apartment, lips pulling into a grimace at the mess of the place. Ace watched him silently, his cheeks burning in shame. Marco pulled his hand from Ace's and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a card and after a brief search grabbed a pen from the kitchen worktop and scribbled onto the card.

"Here," he said, as he offered the card to Ace. "If you get lost, or hungry, or... whatever. Call me."

Ace scanned the numbers scrawled onto the card intently, trying to commit them to memory in case he should lose it and nodded. "Does this make us friends?"

"...yeah, sure."

"Can I call you to come play?"

"I don't play, kid."

"Can... I call you to go for another ride some time...?"

The hope in Ace's voice ate away at Marco's resolve and the 'no' that have been on the tip of his tongue dissolved into a curt nod. He grunted as Ace tackled him in a hug and wondered what the hell he was doing.

"Look... I gotta go."

"'kay. See ya soon?" Ace said as he stepped back and smiled up at his new friend.

"Sure."

The leathered man strode from the door and back out to his unharmed bike. He looked up at the floor Ace's apartment was on and after a quick scan of the windows, spotted the small face he had expected to see. Ace waved enthusiastically as their eyes met and Marco lifted his hand in response. He really wondered what the hell he was doing, but one more look at the kids face and he felt it was right. The engine revved and in the next moment he was gone, the rumbling of his motorbike fading and blending with the distant traffic.

Ace rushed to the phone and plucked it from the wall, punching in the numbers already burned into his mind. Marco's voice, slightly agitated, sounded from the other end as he picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Marco, what's a lesbian?"

Marco didn't know what he'd gotten himself into.