There's no words that's adequate enough to tell you how sorry i am. I know i said it repeatedly already, but it's not enou

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Hello. I'm sorry for not contacting you earlier, but i'm truly sorry. I don't know how to ever make this up to you

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I have to confess something, but please, don't think of this as creepy. It's just that i never meant that kiss, but somehow i can't get it out of my mind and i feel even more guilty by it. Truth is, i've never felt so connected to anyone before and i think i actually

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Will you be mad at me if i say maybe i'm not actually sorry about the kiss because it was wonderful, you're wonderful

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I missed you, this is all my fault, i know, but i just missed you, i missed talking to you, i missed seeing you, i missed

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Hey

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I can't get that kiss out of my mind, i can't get you out of my mind

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Funny story, but you know that album you gave me? Yeah i played it on loop since i got it and last night my brother literally screamed when the intro to Playing With Fire plays he said he's moving out if i don't stop and will you be mad if i use you to chase him out so i have the place to myself

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If i type your own lyrics to you to say how much i missed you or how sorry i am because they're probably millions times better than whatever i can come up with, will that be stupid or

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I've been thinking about it but your dad's moustache is actually real cool, it's kind of like Pops, wanna meet up and compare them

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Hi, so sorry for not contacting you in a while, i've been really busy. Do you think you'll be free anytime oh god i suck so bad, i'm so sorry, why am i so bad at this

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Hi Ace

"2 weeks," a soft, exasperated voice suddenly spoke out of nowhere, not even stopping when Marco's phone slipped out of his grip and fell clattering on the floor, "You've been trying to text for 2 weeks, and all you've managed to say was 2 words and 5 letters,"

The aforementioned 2 words and 5 letters stared up mockingly from the screen inside of the message's text bar, while the cursor next to the letter 'E' seems to blink impatiently, as if tired with being overworked typing and deleting. It occurred to Marco then that if he's starting to think several dots of pixel on is screen is irritated at him, then he definitely got problems.

More than usual, at least.

With a sigh, he picked his phone up, closed the messaging app and turned to the deadpan expression aimed at him, "Robin," the blond started, swallowing another sigh, "Is break time over already?"

On a hindsight, it's a pretty dumb question; the time on top of his phone can already tell him that the answer is no, a quick peek to the set a few feet away from his hiding spot can show that barely anyone as came back from lunch, and even if it is close to finish, there is no way they can go back to schedule just yet because even from this distance, the continued sound of Bartolomeo and Cavendish arguing can still be heard. And if they're being that rowdy, usually it'll take at least a 10 minutes delay for things to settle down before they can start proper.

Probably because she realized this, Robin doesn't even deign his question with an answer. Instead she crossed her arms, elegantly twirling the strands of hair that falls down on to her chest, "Marco, can i be honest with you? As a friend, and as someone who knows you for quiet a while?"

Well, this can't be good, "…Yes?"

"Thank you. This is the most pathetic thing i've ever seen in my life," the dark haired woman continued, with a smile that doesn't fit the barb in her words, "Including that time Franky proposed,"

The memory of a melted 4 tier cake with illegible writing, a curly-browed waiter screaming bloody murder after a misfired firework burned the seat of his pants, and a very large, muscular man sobbing like a child while clutching a ring box which content was accidentally flung on to the beach under the balcony by said burning waiter re-entered Marco's brain after so many years of being stored away, pushing away the burgeoning idea of even objecting over being called 'pathetic', "He was wailing for 3 hours straight even after you said yes and used your 900,000 belli dress as a tissue for his snot. I'm definitely not that bad,"

"No, you're sitting curled on a dark corner of a supply closet, banging your forehead on the wall while typing the 'Oh god i suck so bad' text, and i'm pretty sure today marked the 24th time you wrote the same 'Will you be mad at me for saying i'm not actually sorry about the kiss' one. This is just 2 example in the 2 weeks you've been sulking to your phone screen,"

In his own defense, this corner isn't that dark and for a cramped space, the supply closet is surprisingly comfortable enough for a 203 cm man to be distressed in, "Still not that bad,"

"Also, there's a red mark on your forehead now. Don't forget to tell the makeup department to conceal that while i deal with that concave crack mark you left on the wall,"

Oh so that's why he's been feeling so dizzy. He thought he's just stressed out.

With a groan, Marco dropped his phone back on the floor, using his now empty hand to wipe his face, "What am i supposed to do?" he gestured to the phone weakly, "I wanted to apologize, i wanted to make it up to him, i just want to talk to him again, but i don't know how. I can't figure out the right words to say,"

The door's hinges squeaks when Robin leaned on to it, arms still crossed, "Well, knowing you, i'm sure that poor boy's tired of hearing the word 'sorry' and its synonyms by now," As her talent let out a despairing groan, the dark haired woman made a contemplative humming noise from the back of her throat, "You do realize that sitting around, overthinking about what to say will accomplish absolutely nothing, right?"

"I know, but," despite the million words that formed - what he thought are - reasonable excuses swimming in his mind, no words came from Marco aside from a strangled bits of incoherent words. In the end, he gave up trying to justify himself and let his head slammed against the wall one more time none too gently.

The thing is, maybe if the kiss had been the only problem, maybe it wouldn't have been this difficult. He felt bad, yes; Ace had been nice enough to come along with only a short notice, had spent the night taking is mind off his usual problems when it comes to social functions, and Marco repaid that by getting drunk out of his mind and forcing an unwanted kiss on him in front of national television. Who knows what else he had done in his intoxicated state. He certainly hadn't dare ask why they ended up in bed together the next day, only taking comfort in knowing for sure that he hasn't done worse things to Ace.

But days of trying to compose words that basically boils down to 'he's sorry for the kiss' made him realize something. Marco hadn't really regretted it. He regretted the way it happened, but not the fact that it happened itself.

When the realization finally dawns on him, after 3 days of typing and deleting paragraphs worth of text, it scared him to no end. He had liked it. That kiss, with the sensation stored in the deep crevices of his brain and which sight he could see every time he goes on the internet, had been something he enjoyed. Every time he look at the videos replays or tries to fish out what he could remember of that very moment, he'll find that even with the overwhelming sense of regret that filled him, he could never deny enjoying every moment of it, even longing for it at times.

At that's what makes things infinitely difficult.

Ace had been nothing but good to him, and he repay him by possibly developing feelings to this bright and amazing kid, who is half his age and wanted nothing more than friendship.

He's such a horrible human being.

"Stop overthinking," looking up, Marco found he missed the moment Robin decided to come inside of the closet and sat down on the floor as well, patting down her skirt while smiling at him. Her smile held that familiar edge of both sympathy and exasperation, "More importantly, stop blaming yourself for everything. What done is done, you'll gain nothing from beating yourself up. You need to move forward from this,"

"I know," Marco could only murmur, "I just don't know how to move forward from this," At that, he gestured at his phone again.

Said phone was picked up before he could stop it. Robin gave the screen a contemplative look, and without looking up, suddenly said, "So, you just want to talk to him again, right?"

Biting back a sigh, the blond actor nodded, leaning back against the wall, "I just don't know what to say. I can't act like things didn't happen, i don't want to make things worse by talking about it either. Ace was so mad at me the next morning, i mean, he said he wasn't anymore after i took him home, but i get this feeling like something's still wrong, you know? Like he's still upset at me for something, but i can't tell what i did—"

"Okay," that nonchalant word was all the warning he got. His manager's fingers suddenly began tapping rapidly, and a split second later, a familiar, echoing buzz sounded from his phone. Still smiling, Robin deftly turned the phone around for the screen to face Marco, and the sight of the word 'Calling: Ace Gol-Portgas' almost made him scream hysterically.

Actually, scratch the 'almost'.

"Why did you call him?!"

"Hello? Marco?"

Marco slammed both of his hands in front of his mouth, and before he could even get over the stinging pain, his own swallowed choking noise went back inside the wrong pipe and came back out as violent coughs and even more chokes. Somewhere beyond his torment, the blond could register the static noise of Ace's increasingly worried calling of his name, overshadowing the sound of Robin's clothes shifting around as she began to stand up.

The blond took a deep breath, ignoring the extreme itch in his throat to mouth 'Why?' while his manager was still facing him. Not that Robin seems to care, when all she did was toss the phone to Marco, causing it to almost land on the floor if he hadn't been quick enough to catch him. Why narrowed eyes, she pointed to his phone, where Ace's voice was still calling out from, mouthing back 'Say something'.

"Marco?"

'What do i say?' a small sound escaped Marco's throat by the end of his lips pantomime, almost like a whimper.

The noirette rolled her eyes. 'Hello, maybe? Hurry up'

'Then what?'

With a rather loud, irked sigh, Robin shook her head in disbelief. 'What are you, 12? Figure it out yourself!'

This time it was Marco's turn to look incredulous, gesturing madly to the phone as his lips formed the wordless, insistent sentence 'That's my whole problem!'

"Hey, um, are you really calling me or is this…," static noise echoed between then narrow walls, stopping the two of them from another bout of wordless pantomime when Ace's voice came back to the phone, "Is this another 'mistake'?"

Sometime in between all of this, Robin had walked away, obviously trying to give him some privacy but Marco didn't even notice. He's too busy having the wind knocked out of him, his chest clenching with unimaginable guilt just from a couple of words and the bitterness in Ace's tone that seeped clearly even through the filter of modern communication means. His throat felt dry, mind already wracking its content for a single word in his list of vocabulary when the voice in the phone continued after another static sigh, "I shouldn't have said that. With my luck, this is probably an accident. Accident's a thing. Drunk kisses and morning afters are also a thing, i guess. Ugh, I should really stop being so bitter about it,"

"W-wait," the words escaped the actor before he could register the words himself. He clicked his tongue, buying time to figure out any one word to say, "Sorry, it's me, it's me, i… i dropped, dropped my phone,"

Oh good, now he's just straight up lying. Before Marco can berate himself for the knee-jerk reaction, Ace's voice came back to the phone, sounding much more chipper, "Oh! Uh, sorry, didn't mean anything— uh, um, how are you?"

"Look, Ace, i'm so sorry for not calling, " After he said he will no less, but that was the start of a spiralling hole of indecisive not-texting, "I've just, it's been so hard to—"

"Oh, no, no, you don't have to explain, you're probably busy. You know, you just won an award and has a movie to shoot, you, you don't really do interviews but you probably has at least a couple lined up, because hey, award winning actor! And i saw the leaked pics on Coo for next month's issue for Momoiro Magazine - you look amazing, by the way, blue is so your colour - and, and, seriously, you don't need to explain but," Ace paused his long monologue, sounding like he was gasping for breath. Marco waited for him to continue, raising his phone closer to his ears in the meantime to be able to hear the sounds from over the speaker clearer.

Sounds like a shaky huff that was followed by a quiet voice, "I thought i wasn't going to hear from you again. It's stupid, but it's all i've been thinking about for the last couple of days, and the last thing you would've remembered about me was talking about punching my dad for being an idiot and my dad shouting at you, not really the kind of last impression i want to give to anyone,"

"Ace…,"

"I don't even want to give you a last impression. I mean, this isn't— not that i'm going to demand anything, like, if this is a phone call saying 'Hey, can you delete my number, cause i definitely don't want anything to do with you anymore', then i'll do it, i'm not really the kind to beg or anything—

"Ace, i'm not going to say that,"

"—Oh, well, hah, yeah, you're not that mean. Actually, fuck, you're calling me probably expecting a normal conversation, and what did i do? I fucked it up by saying the weirdest stuff ever. Been waiting for this opportunity for 2 weeks and i fucked it up on 0,001 nanosecond. I amaze myself sometimes,"

Marco realized that at this point he should probably say something, anything that didn't just consist of Ace's name and come up with something coherent, but he wasn't allowed. His brain hadn't allowed it by leaving is mind completely blank of any legible thoughts and reasonable reply. Ace didn't let him, when he made it clear that the sob from earlier wasn't just the blond's imagination because he made the same wounded noise again before he gave a breathy laugh, "You know what, i don't really care. I'm just so… so glad to hear from you again,"

In just that one sentence, one sentence said in relief, happiness and sincerity that made Marco felt the dumbest he had been in his entire life. That he truly had wasted his time, 2 weeks worth of it even, drowning himself in indecisiveness and giving himself unnecessary anxiety when really, it was as simple as a phone call. His throat tightened in realization, making it hard for him to utter his reply, "Me too. I… i missed you,"

(It didn't really occur to him then what he had said, and it was only after their phone call ended that it dawned on Marco he may have let slipped the one word he had so dreaded saying. But it came out as naturally as any other word might, it felt right then, and most importantly, it had made Ace laugh so happily, made him coo teasingly, and as their conversation continues on, it was never mentioned again. The only reminder that he had even said it in the first place, was how light he had felt even after the disconnect click signalled the end of their conversation.

And if the parting words of 'I'll see you soon!' made him feel like he's walking on cloud nine, well, he's allowed to feel a bit happy for small steps, isn't he?)

Marco's sure that it's only the hyperbolic part of his brain talking, but it felt like decades since he last stepped foot in front of Ace's home when it's only been half a month or so. Being here again is… daunting.

He tried to psyche himself up, consciously patting down his shirt, running his hand through his hair, and for one final measure, lifted both hands at face level and smacked his cheeks in one speedy movement. Wait, on second thought, maybe he shouldn't have done that last one. His face now stings something fierce, "Ow," they're probably red now. Wonderful. They'll compliment the baseball sized circle on his forehead, no doubt.

"Okay, here goes nothing," the blond huffed, and pressed the doorbell.

Or he would've, if the door hadn't suddenly opened by itself, followed by a loud voice shouting, "It's freaking 7 AM on a weekend, who the hell is on time? Here, i have my freaking head sticking out of the door and if i see anyone at all on our lawn i'd eat— Oh, you're here,"

Similar height, build, wrong hair colour, eyes, skin tone and definitely the wrong person. Sabo stared up at him, blinking silently. Marco cleared his throat, wondering if he's imagining the sound of someone shouting from somewhere inside the house, "Uh, hi. Is Ace inside?" Lame question, of course he is. He's here because to pick him up.

"Yeah," Ace's manager replied curtly, before pushing the door open slightly wider and crossing his arms, "Damn, you're really here,"

"Yes?"

"I mean," his tone now held a hint of vitriol, behind the veil of casual conversation, "I was expecting you to come maybe, 2 weeks from now?"

Well, the only way that jab could be clearer is if it comes in front of Marco and smack him in the face. Probably with one of those giant medieval weapons Rakuyo collects, "I deserve that," the older man could only say, already feeling whatever confidence and bravery he had accumulated on the drive here deflating sadly.

Sabo gave a noncommittal hum, gazing off to somewhere inside of the house. When he spoke again, Marco noticed he lowered his volume considerably, as if he's trying to keep from being heard by anyone aside from the person he's addressing, "The hell is wrong with you? You couldn't just shoot a text, anything to not make him feel like you're just some uncaring asshole? The only reason i'm not beating you up right now is at least you didn't fuck and dump him the next morning,"

Marco would like to say that the first thing that crossed his mind was to deny Sabo's words and defend himself, but of course his traitorous mind couldn't even have the decency to let him do so. No, his brain helpful supply him with images caused by the thought of Ace and the word 'fuck' together, unhelpfully supplied by the images of waking up to Ace lying half on top of him, of naked flesh against his own, breath on his neck…

"L-look," Marco gulped when Sabo raised a brow at his flustered reply, "I get it, i messed up. I swear i didn't mean to but i know i did. That's why i'm here, i'm trying to make up for it,"

The younger blond only scoffed, ugly sneering line appearing across his face, "Oh yeah, you're doing a hell of a job on that. Why don't you just— Owowowowow, ow, ow, ouch!"

A hand attached to a petite woman continues to pinch Sabo's cheek even harder from behind him, pulling and stretching painfully that Marco couldn't help but wince at the blooming redness under the slender fingers, "Sa-bo," she singsonged with an irate tone in her voice, then pulled again, causing the man a head taller than her to yelp in pain and stumbled backward. The woman used this chance to step by the door, and gave the gaping guest a smile, "Hey there, come on in, Ace's is still getting ready, he'll be ready in a minute,"

"Koala, Koala, that hurts, ow! Let go— Ow! When's the last time you trim your nail—Ouch! Okay, i'm moving!"

Still dazed by the progression of event, it took Marco a couple of seconds and one hesitant glance at the still whining Sabo to take the woman - Koala - on her offer, and walked inside. He barely passed them when he heard the door bang against the wall as Sabo stumbled against it once he was let go, "What's the big idea? I'm still trying to talk to him—"

"You were doing way more than just talking to him. This is Ace's business, not yours,"

"You saw how Ace was the last couple of days. Just wanna give him a bit of a talking to, is all,"

Whatever exasperated sounding reply Koala gave was drowned away by distance and the echoing sound of television coming from the direction that Marco remembered to be the living room. Trying hard to hide the newly rising pang of guilt from Sabo's words - how was Ace doing the last couple of days? Did he cause that? Of course he did or Sabo wouldn't have been that angry - he walked inside fully expecting to see someone inside only to see no one inside. Huh, maybe Sabo and Koala had been watching TV when he came.

Watching what, after a few seconds and seeing his own face appearing on the screen, is obviously one of his movies. Not even a movie, it took him an admittedly embarrassingly long time to connect the aged quality of the show and the fact that he looked way younger to recognize it's actually the very first project he ever worked on, the decade old TV series that became the stepping stone of his career way back. It honestly caught him off guard.

His younger self popped on the screen again, in the middle of what he only very vaguely remember to be a rather tense scene, and Marco's very tempted to find the remote and turn it off. Ugh, it's always mortifying to see himself on screen, no matter how long ago it was. If anything, it's even worse watching something this old, from way back when he was still unsure of what he's doing.

People still watches it? It's not like it was the most well-known show even then. And considering how pissed off Sabo was when he saw him, he didn't think he would be watching something of his.

Pointedly looking away from the TV, Marco walked towards the sofa and sat down, the same spot where he would sit on whenever he came around, right next to, oddly enough, a giant stack of spicy, meat flavored instant noodles placed on the single seat sofa next to the couch. Why that would be in the living room instead of the kitchen was anyone's guess.

Another set of noises began to approach from the direction of the doorway, a familiar bickering voice that faded as soon as both Koala and Sabo came in sight, Koala with her arms crossed pointedly and Sabo with a reluctant almost-pout on his face, "I'm sorry for being too harsh, sorta," he added the end with a rebellious whisper, one that made Koala narrow her eyes at him.

"No, you have every right to be mad," Marco told him after a while, "For what it's worth, i'm sorry to you too, for upsetting Ace and... causing all of this,"

Like a gloating and indignant child, Sabo flicked his eyes towards Koala with the universal expression that screams a smug 'See?', which just made Koala roll her eyes, "Do you still want that pancake i'm making or not?" she snippily ask, before turning to Marco, "If he started acting up again, just holler to the kitchen, okay?" Then she walked away, presumably to tend to that pancake she mentioned.

Sabo watcher her leave, then with a might sigh, entered the living room to make a beeline to the TV before giving another long suffering sigh, "For the last time, Ace, turn off the TV if you're not even watching anymore," he shouted to aimlessly - presumably to wherever Ace was in this house - then turned the TV off. A wave of relief washed pass Marco when his reflection was all he sees on the TV now.

A short-lived relief, that is, when Sabo turned to him again, this time thankfully with less anger across his visage and looking more mildly vexed. Instead of saying anything, he simply huffed, then made his way over to the sofa as well, carefully sidestepping the mountain of instant noodles to the other side of the sofa. They sat in silence, for an entire 5 seconds before the younger blond spoke, "Look, if you're really sorry about this, this is the last time you do this sort of things. The very last thing you do to Ace is ignore him in any way. His mind wanders, you know? And it's not always to good places. Admittedly useful when you're an artist looking for inspiration, not so good for anything else,"

The worry in Sabo's words was transparent as it can be, adding to the stab of guilt culminating in Marco's chest, "I'm sorry,"

"I'm not the one you need to say that to," the curly haired man slumped down on the back of the sofa, lifting his ruffled shirt slightly from where it's trapped by his back and the plush surface. The silence continues.

Then Sabo twisted his body around, lips pursed tightly before he spoke, "You really feel bad about everything that had happened, you do one thing: Don't just repeatedly say you're sorry. Make it up to him. When he comes home today from whatever it is you're planning to do today, i want him smiling, like a real one, from ear to ear and no longer sulking. I don't care how. I'd say you'll have an easy time to do that even now, so don't fuck it up. For his sake,"

"I don't plan to," Marco replied sincerely. Probably the easiest answer he had to give today. He wanted that to happen. He hope that would happen too, "I just want things between us to go back to the way it was,"

With an assessing gaze, in the end, Sabo nodded, as if satisfied with his answer. There was an unreadable emotion flickering in his eyes, when Sabo spoke, lower in volume and with hesitation unlike his previous near-hostile attitude, "You, uh, can i ask you something? Don't take it the wrong way, but, do you, do you, maybe, probably, could possibly like A—"

A slam from somewhere in the distance stopped whatever it is the blond man was about to say, "Alright, who's been messing with the stuff in my bathroom again?!" a familiar voice yelled out followed by aggressive and harried foot stomping possibly trying to bring the house down, "First my cologne went missing - And Sabo, i know that's your doing! - I can't find my favorite shirt and now this! Argh, always at times like this! I don't have time for this, Marco's going to be here any minute!"

With the raging energy of a thousand rampaging elephants, Ace appeared on the doorway with a fanfare of foot stomping and angry huffing. He was only clad in a haphazardly tied bathrobe, face drenched, damp and tussled hair held back by a thin black hairband while he frantically wiped what looked - and smelled - to be lotion of sorts on his arms thoroughly. Upon approaching, he looked up, eyes framed by blotchy lotion glaring so deadly one would think he's trying to burn his surrounding through sight alone, "And where's all of those toilet paper i bought 2 days ago? I only got 5 minutes left before Marco's going to be here and i still need to take a shit—"

Which melted comically fast the moment he caught sight of Marco into what seems close to panic. Marco, for his part, tried his best to keep his eyes somewhere away from the slit of skin visible from under the soft blue robe, and could do nothing but say, "Oh, uh, i could wait? We're not really in a hurry,"

Whatever it is that he is expecting Ace to answer with, a banshee-like shriek and hurried running to the other direction - towel and all - from where he came from was definitely not it.

A full 10 seconds passed in deafening silence before Sabo stood up with some mumbling under his breath, and what suspiciously sound like a muffled laugh, "Okay, time to do some damage control. Just wait here, i'll get him ready in no less than 10 minutes," the blond shook his head and made his way over, before he stopped right by the door. He glanced back to the room, and spoke, "I mean it. I'm not expecting you to… look, he looks up to you. A lot. Don't ruin that, don't disappoint him again,"

Marco nodded sombrely. And that's all the answer Sabo seems to need. He gave the older man a tight smile - not quite reaching his eyes, but at least it doesn't seem forced either - before walking away and disappearing from sight, "Ace, come on, Marco's here, don't keep him waiting,"

"Fucking bury me, Sabo!"

"Can i do it later? It's too early and you got a guy waiting for you out here,"

"He saw— I said i was— Just fucking bury me!"

"Don't be dramatic, pretty sure he knows you didn't have sunshine coming out of your ass before this,"

"I'm not going to come out! I'll die here! I'll die here if i want to!"

"Can't you look for some better reason and cause to die for?"

The shoutings soon became too far away to be heard clearly. Marco sighed and leaned back against the sofa's backrest again, head tilted up to his head over the soft, pillowy corner.

Don't ruin it, huh?

"Why do i get the feeling it's going to be way easier said than done?"

"It's.. it's not that bad,"

How many times had he said that since they drove away from Ace's house? 10 times? 12? Pretty sure he hit the 5th mark on the first red light, then he sort of lost count due to shock when Ace didn't even look up from burying his face on his hand when a car narrowly cuts them on a busy intersection. Not even mentioning it cause any sort of reaction.

"Uh, i didn't really hear what you said, honest," Marco tried again, smiling reassuringly, which is sort of a moot point if Ace didn't even look at him, "If that's what you're worried about. And there's nothing to be embarrassed about, i swear. I grew up with Izou. And Vista. I've seen what they look like in the middle of a skin care routine, trust me, compared to them you look way prettier, "

Immediately, Marco wish he bit his tongue hard enough to cut it off. No! What had he done! He can't say that! 'Better'! 'Better' is a neutral word! 'Not quite as terrifying' if he wants to be extra reassuring, maybe. Anything but fucking 'pretty'!

"You mean it?"

The car behind them let out a ear-shattering honk when Marco's car jerked from accidentally stepped on brake. A shouted apology over his rolled down window later - not that it'll be heard over the roaring machines around the busy road - the blond nodded frantically, beaming when he sees the younger man finally uncurling from the - admittedly adorable - ball of shame posture, "Oh, yeah, trust me. Izou always had these thick of night creams and treatments caked on his face every night we couldn't see what he really looked like underneath. Vista's worse, he put dozens of these gaudy pink curlers in his hair and moustache every night since he was in high school, and every couple of nights, he had on this weird gold gel face mask that makes him look like that horror movie serial killer. There was that one time Thatch saw him like that in the middle of night, and he cried until morning and had to sleep in Pops' bedroom. That wasn't during highschool by the way, that was 2 years ago,"

Ace snickered, then apologetically and guiltily tried to muffle them. At Marco's own laughter, however, he laughed again, "Ohh, i've seen those gold mask, Mom bought home some from one of her and dad's trip. It was so squishy and weird, it's so not worth whatever benefit they're giving,"

"And they cost a fortune, it's so bizarre. I get the whole treatment angle, i just don't get why does it has to make you look like a sentient banana,"

The conversation and laughter becomes easy afterwards, the same sense of familiarity slowly but surely dripping back between them and that elated Marco no end. Ace's story about one the time Luffy almost burned down the house was more concerning than as hilarious as he made it to be, yet Marco laughed just as loud as Ace did as he reached the climax of the story, wheezing and gasping through his own words. This feels right. This is how things should be.

This is how he wished things could always be like, this happy and easy.

"Hey, Marco?" Marco abruptly pause from re-telling the story of the very first family dog, Stefan the First, at the mention of his name, and glanced to his side to see Ace smiling at him. He didn't say anything else, eyes so gentle and relaxed that Marco felt his chest stuttering at the sight of it, before he finally spoke, "Thanks, for spending time with me again,"

And if there were unwanted flutters in his stomach as he gazed upon Ace's beaming expression, when he thought of just how radiant he is, Marco just had to squish it down, look away for a moment, and remind himself that he couldn't ruin this again.

So he smiled, and said as sincerely as he can, "Anything for my good friend,"

He can't be selfish, not if he wanted to keep this friendship between them.

OMAKE:

"So this is the place?"

It was early enough that there's only a handful of people inside of the modest little deli, as seen through the wide store window. Yet in the short moment they passed by the front of the story, more and more people began to walk in, enough that it's obvious the place will soon be jammed pack.

Ace nodded, turning from the store front to the rows of full parking area by the street, "We should look for parking soon before all of the tables are taken, and you don't want to dine out. There's these amazing dip they did for their famous sandwich, but they don't give it out for take outs— Oh! Oh! There! I see an empty spot!"

Marco quickly steered his car over to said empty spot, but not before giving the store one last long look, "Wow, it's really packed even though it's so early,"

"Right? I would wake up at dawn just to queue for those sandwiches. And the mac and cheese, and there's this salad with the crunchiest and cheesiest crouton, and then the sausage platter, the pancake combo, their wraps, and then there's the cookies for dessert, they're just the perfect mix of sweet and chocolate-y. I would never say this in front of my Mom, but they did they best chocolate chip cookies too. I haven't been here for so long, i'm eating all of them,"

The enthusiasm in Ace's voice when it comes to food made his description all the more appetizing, and the way he adoringly spoke about them did unspeakable things to Marco's heart. Having seen the man ate, he had no doubt he'll be ordering all of those as well, and could only chuckle, "Well, good thing you've emptied your stomach before going here then,"

Even without looking, Marco caught the moment Ace froze, and the internal atmosphere in the car began to lower drastically.

Ah, crap.

"U-uh, what i mean is— Ace, no! The car's still moving, don't try to get out! I'm sorry, i swear i didn't hear anything you said earlier in the house— No, no, no, don't hit your head on the window! I'm sorry!"

Apparently, for some people think that when it comes to dating life, the thought/topic of bowel movement is a taboo until about a couple of months into the relationship or even until the living together stage. At least, that's what some of my friends said recently. Idk, i just found that funny for some reason because i'm forever 10 and toilet humour is also the pinnacle of comedy.