[Luffy's arms worm their way around Ace, and around and around -- as do his legs, as though he can physically hold Ace back from leaving him a second time, as though he's the only anchor to keep his brother here again.
He's sobbing, and Ace is sobbing, but he's not sad (but he kind of is sad) and the part that matters is that Ace is here and Luffy can hear him, can listen. Soft and choked as his voice is, it's a far cry from the last time he heard it (and his mind shies away from that memory, which is fine, it isn't needed here) -- it's whole, it's alive, he's alive, he's whole, Luffy's arms closing over a solid back and his face pressed into an equally solid chest, and it feels like waking up after a potent nightmare. This is real.
(That was real, too -- no nightmare. But this is real, and this is now and now is always more real than then)
He doesn't try to pull back, doesn't try to look up, but his wailing manages to transmute itself into syllables, into words -- muffled because his face is buried against Ace's chest, and he doesn't think about trying to be intelligible, doesn't think about anything but Ace, here and now and whole and here.]
You're here -- you're alive -- Ace -- I'm sorry -- I didn't -- I couldn't -- but you're --
[They don't make sense, none of it makes sense, he can't make sense but making sense is overrated, and Ace surely understand him, because it's Ace and they're brothers and when have they ever needed words to really get each other?
He's here. Luffy's here. They're together again. And Luffy is stronger than ever and he will never let Ace be taken from the world again.]
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He's sobbing, and Ace is sobbing, but he's not sad (but he kind of is sad) and the part that matters is that Ace is here and Luffy can hear him, can listen. Soft and choked as his voice is, it's a far cry from the last time he heard it (and his mind shies away from that memory, which is fine, it isn't needed here) -- it's whole, it's alive, he's alive, he's whole, Luffy's arms closing over a solid back and his face pressed into an equally solid chest, and it feels like waking up after a potent nightmare. This is real.
(That was real, too -- no nightmare. But this is real, and this is now and now is always more real than then)
He doesn't try to pull back, doesn't try to look up, but his wailing manages to transmute itself into syllables, into words -- muffled because his face is buried against Ace's chest, and he doesn't think about trying to be intelligible, doesn't think about anything but Ace, here and now and whole and here.]
You're here -- you're alive -- Ace -- I'm sorry -- I didn't -- I couldn't -- but you're --
[They don't make sense, none of it makes sense, he can't make sense but making sense is overrated, and Ace surely understand him, because it's Ace and they're brothers and when have they ever needed words to really get each other?
He's here. Luffy's here. They're together again. And Luffy is stronger than ever and he will never let Ace be taken from the world again.]