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Ace tries not to think about the couple of years right after Sabo’s death. Back when his first instinct was still to bare his teeth and growl like the wild thing he was. Punch first, ask questions later. When it was still easier to hurt than do anything else.
But he remembers roughly two years after Sabo, during a summer heat wave hot enough to put the sun's surface to shame, Luffy got sick. And Ace didn’t know a lot of things at thirteen but he knew his brother didn’t get sick.
None of them ever really did. It was a stroke of luck for two barely supervised kids running around in a jungle. He didn’t think much of it.
And Ace remembers how miserable that week was. How the humidity clung to his skin. How even the animals they hunted that day were slower than usual. How he was irritated and hot and sticky and Luffy wouldn’t shut up.
“Ace,” his brother whined at him, grabbing with grummy hands. “It’s hot.”
He said it like stating the obvious would miraculously cool him down faster. Like he expected Ace to somehow do something about it. Sure, let me just go fight the sun. He thought bitterly. Idiot.
He shoved his first and second response down until something kinder bubbled to the top. “I know, Luffy.” He slapped a stupid mosquito on his neck. Gross. “If you can’t handle it then go to the river. You need a bath anyway.”
“I don’t want a bath,” Luffy said, “S’just hot.”
Ace rolled his eyes. “Then shut up and deal with it.”
Afterward, Luffy complained and moaned and dug his heels into the mud but refused to go to the river. He stayed next to Ace like it didn’t occur to him in that rubber brain of his to go anywhere else. Stubborn and sticky. Ace’s own heat wave.
And he remembers how that night the air was still sweltering. But the day he had, chasing after animals and annoying little brothers, was so damn exhausting that he passed out the moment his head hit his pillow.
And he remembers being jostled awake hours later by a press of heat burrowing into his side. “Luffy,” He mumbled, barely awake. “Get off. S’too hot for this.”
There wasn’t a response. Breathing deeply through his nose to bite back his frustration, Ace blearily opened his eyes.
Their treehouse was washed out from the sliver of moonlight peaking through open cracks. Their broken lantern sat in the corner, the flame long gone out. It was hard to see anything clearly, but Ace will never forget the way his heart stopped when his eyes finally focused on Luffy’s face.
Luffy’s eyes were pinched shut and his mouth was pressed into a pained grimace. His chubby face was wet with tears and his whole body was soaked from sweat. With how red Ace could see he was, it looked like someone threw him in a pot and boiled him. And Luffy was trembling from head to toe. Shivering.
Ace felt all his drowsiness and irritation slip from his body like smoke. He sat up quickly, careful not to dislodge his brother, and pressed his hand to Luffy’s cheek. He had to keep himself from flinching back at how hot it was.
“Luffy,” He whispered, sharper than he meant. He shook Luffy’s shoulder, more desperate the longer he wasn’t answered. “Luffy.”
Even back then, Ace knew what a fever looked like. He’d been sick before himself when he still lived full-time with the bandits. But he’d never seen Luffy like that. Still and quiet and crying. It made something burn in the back of his throat. It pooled in the bottom of his stomach like the stagnant water he accidentally drank years ago.
“Ace,” Luffy whined. But it was different. High pitched and more like the animals Ace learned to avoid and less like the boy Ace knew he was. “Cold.”
It was obvious from the way Luffy’s teeth chattered violently and Ace- he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make it better. There was that persistent anger he always felt when he and his brothers were backed into a corner, but he couldn’t punch Luffy’s fever. He couldn’t scare it away or intimidate it, claws out and teeth sharp enough to bite.
It had been years at that point, but Ace still remembers looking to his right to try and spot familiar splashes of blue and blond. Sabo would know. Sabo could fix it. Sabo was smart and kind and able to sheathe his claws into something gentle to swing Luffy’s hand back and forth until both of them were breathless from laughing.
But there wasn’t anything there but a dead lantern and the empty space his twin should’ve filled.
He tore his eyes away and settled them back on Luffy. Still there. Still shaking like a gust of wind could carry him off.
Ace wanted to scream. He wanted to scoop up his baby brother and tear his own chest open to nestle him behind his ribcage. Next to his heart and lungs and keep him there. Maybe then Luffy'd finally be warm enough to stop shivering out of his skin. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I’m sorry I’m not him. I’m sorry I’m all that’s left. I’m sorry.
Instead, he just pressed Luffy closer. Bundled his rubber limbs and shifted until their worn blanket lay over both of them. Instead, he tucked Luffy’s head into his neck and murmured, “It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re okay.”
Luffy’s tiny fists clenched onto Ace’s shirt. Like he was drifting at sea and Ace was the only thing keeping him anchored. Like if he stayed close enough, his big brother could make it better. Ace bit his lip until he could taste copper.
“Ace, Ace- hurts.” Luffy cried, quiet enough Ace barely heard him. His tears dripped onto Ace’s neck. Deliriously, Ace wondered if it would burn him too. “Please don’t leave me.”
Ace doesn’t remember much after that. He doesn’t remember how hot it was under that blanket. He doesn’t remember how he got no sleep, worried out of his mind, or how Luffy woke up the next morning right as rain and already asking for breakfast.
But he does remember whispering into Luffy’s hair, sweaty and angry and scared, “Stupid. I’m not going anywhere.”