Hello Gay Man, I'm Gay Too (MarcoxAce)

Prideful Piano

Warning: Mentions of character death (this is becoming a freaking theme, wth is wrong with me?), mentions of grief.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or its characters.

Notes: I've realized that I'm a drama queen. How or why I didn't notice this before is a mystery, but I'm going to chalk it down to unmedicated adhd. Also, I hope you guys are safe and healthy! Corona Virus has left a lot of fear and pain in its wake, but I have faith that we can pull through this :)

_____

 His fingers dance across the keys with little pops and spurts of fire. Every light touch of skin against fake ivory and every hopeful burst of melody hit the keys like firecrackers gone on steroids, but it still sent immediate chills down Marco's spine with every crescendo into deeper waters, and a subtler madness that he hadn't noticed until he'd already sunk down into depths of hell.

 It's a terrible feeling, but it's a liberating feeling. And he can't help but question if this is how Ace feels. This horrible, yet freeing feeling that set Marco's heart on fire with each literal tremble of Ace's hands.

 The song is slow, and it drags Marco through earth and sky in chains made of sea-stone. What sort of chains held Ace back from expressing himself the way he did through the subtle rise and fall of keys made from fake ivory? Would Marco ever know what it feels like for those calloused hands to play Marco's own keys?

 He tastes salt on his tongue, and Ace stares at him with the same surprise Marco suspects is palpable on his own face. For just a moment, he can see water shimmering in warm summer storms. He can feel the warm glow of a fire, safe and secure against his chest. Two heartbeats, two pianos, singing in almost-perfect tandem.

 Then Ace turns away, and the song in Marco's heart abruptly shutters to a gradual stop. For the first time, Marco sees the broken and sick looking wings that droop from Ace's back like a funeral gown. And Marco understands. Marco understands, and he hates it. 

 "Why," he whispers, and it's not a question, it was never a question.

 Ace says nothing. He doesn't turn around, doesn't unlock the metal cage of his heart to Marco, even after baring his literal soul for Marco.

 Feathers of death and a haunting melody trail in the wake of a briefly lit candle.

 And Marco cradles a broken piano with no key to unlock it.