#forgot bp scar on last drawing

[craftartz67]

If Prime Rick used Birdperson to get to c-137

When c-137 Rick fines out prime took bp, he going to end up on a raging quest/hunt to get him back. And would also try to kill prime because he abducted his lover.

[cheswirls]

you won't remember / i won't forget  [ 1/2 ]

[this ended up being my creative project october, wholly inspired by dakumes' old art. its 10k each half so be careful if you have a 'read more' extension. rip mobile users ig. thanks again @hoo-kie for letting me ramble abt this one !]

he brings daisies, today.

sabo takes them warily as they’re pushed into his arms, careful of the iv in his right hand. the bouquet is lovely, the white petals fresh, like they had just been picked, and the yellow centers seeming to stare up at him, warm color nice and inviting, bringing a hesitant smile to his face.

after a moment he bends down to sniff them, and closes his eyes at the smell, his mouth falling open to breathe it in. “they’re lovely,” he murmurs, just loud enough for the room’s other occupant to hear.

“they’re your favorite,” is his reply, and sabo’s shoulders tense at the information release.

“o-oh,” he stammers, holding the bouquet at a distance. he works to keep his face neutral, but it’s hard, his former wary smile quickly wanting to morph into a full-blown frown. it’s not that he doesn’t doubt that it’s true -they smell amazing, so it must be to some extent- but more that it was being handed to him as fact, presented as evidence of something he wasn’t ready to believe.

“here, let me take them,” his visitor says, reaching out to grab the flowers. his callused fingers brush against the backs of sabo’s hands and the blond bites down on his lower lip at the contact. “i should’ve brought a vase or somethin’, that was my bad.” he either doesn’t notice sabo’s obvious discomfort or is blatantly ignoring it -both options are equally possible- and he moves to set the bouquet on the windowsill, open now that the blinds had been drawn.

sabo folds his hands in his lap, having nothing better to do with them. he stares at the scars, at the bandaids covering fresh marks, and runs his thumb over one until the motion begins to irritate where his iv was stuck.

his visitor -ugh, he really should stop calling him that. he had a name, it’s just that sabo never bothered to remember it. but when he turns back to take a seat on the edge of sabo’s hospital bed, the early morning light reflects off his visitor nametag, and sabo reads the name again: ace.

“are you feeling any better today?” he asks, and sabo moves his gaze away once again.

“i guess,” he mutters. ace’s face falls at the dismissive attitude, but he doesn’t leave. it bothers sabo, but another, very small part of him feels warm. he does his best to tune it out.

he looks up again to find ace watching him, and lowers his eyes, examining his clothes instead. his window didn’t provide a great view, so this was his only real way to gauge the weather. 

if he had to guess, it was cold. ace was in a red coat, scuffed up here and there but otherwise looking rather nice. his boots were honey-tanned, the laces done up loosely so that the tops flopped open. they had more signs of wear than the coat, so if sabo had to guess, he’d probably had them for some time. 

sabo reaches a hand up and pushes his fringe out of his face, sighing. the movement causes ace to lean forward.

“have the nurses said anything new?”

what’s it to you? sabo wants to bite out, but he withholds his tongue. “they haven’t been by,” he mutters instead, which was partially true. they hadn’t been by, since ace was last here, that he could tell. but his bandages weren’t frayed anymore, from his constant picking, and his iv was near full. it was odd-colored, too, which would probably explain why he couldn’t feel anything apart from a low thrum from his head. his ankles felt freer, too, brushing against the low-grade cotton of the sheets, which probably meant the wrapping around them had been removed.

he hasn’t looked yet. he’s not sure he wants to.

a low knock on the open door gets his attention, and sabo looks up as one of the nurses wanders in, lowering her hand and raising a clipboard.

“mr. portgas? i’m here to take your vitals, if you’re ready.”

ace blinks, then stands. “do i need to-?”

the nurse glances to him as she takes a seat on a stool at sabo’s bedside. “you can stay,” she tells him, smiling. “as long as it’s okay with sabo.”

they both turn to stare and sabo drops his eyes to the mint green of his hospital shirt. “sure.”

this nurse looks familiar, but they had been rotating his room, so if he was told anything important about her, he’d already forgotten. she’s gentle as she takes his left arm to push on a bp cuff, but with a sort of carelessness that leaves her nails scraping on the bandages. he hardly notices, though, and that’s when he knows for sure he’s on some kind of morphine. 

she finishes after a few minutes and sabo leans his head back against the pillows as she scribbles down a set of numbers. he doesn’t care, but she tells him he was normal anyways. the news seems to satisfy ace, if anything.

he glances to the window as she leaves and accidentally meets his eyes. they’re dark when he’s turned away from the light like this, but sabo can still tell they’re grey. he turns away quickly. it really was too early for this.

as if agreeing with him, ace’s stomach grumbles and he places his arms over it in a hurry, cheeks colored. “uh, guess i forgot to eat before coming in,” he mumbles. he straightens after a moment, nodding to the door. “‘m gonna grab something real quick. you want anything?”

by ‘something’, he means whatever he can find from the vending machine at the end of the hall. at most it’ll give sabo a few minutes of respite. he purses his lips. “they have me on a regulated diet,” he reminds ace, like he didn’t already know.

ace grins, moving around the bed and throwing his hands into his coat. it spreads at the edges as he draws his arms taut, resting just below his hip. “you could sneak it. a little wouldn’t do you any harm.” but he shrugs, giving up before sabo could protest. “i’ll be right back.”

sabo grips the sheets hard as ace slides the door shut. a part of him never wants the other to come back; another part of him knows he always does.

-

sabo takes a risk and curls his legs under the thin sheets. he holds his breath as he slides the blanket down, removing them one by one. the pants he was given were the same bland mint as his shirt, and they cut off at the top of his calves, leaving most of his lower leg exposed. now that the bandages are gone, he can see the obvious rope marks at his ankles, skin still badly discolored but no longer open. he breathes deep at the sight, gasping before he remembers he’d been withheld air, and then closes his eyes and works to steady his breathing.

he folds his legs up more and reaches a hand down to brush against the gnarled skin. even as light as he is, it’s still very sensitive, and he ends up pulling away quicker than he’d like. he frowns at the sight, curving his legs the opposite way to view the other side. it’s the first injury he’s seen, the others always wrapped up. he’d been too anxious to remove the simple bandaids after their presence lingered for a few days, nervous of what he’d find. when he picks at the wrapping on his arms, it’s fixed before he can get anywhere, smoothed down like he hadn’t bothered in the first place.

a quick inhale gains his attention, and sabo looks up to see ace just inside the room, hand still on the doorknob. he pulls a long face and reaches out to drag the blanket over his feet, hiding the marks. then he moves his legs until they’re pressed against his chest. but the pressure ends up causing discomfort, and sabo wonders not for the first time just what his shirt was concealing. he huffs and ends up sliding his legs straight again. they catch the edge of the sheet and push it back, revealing the marks again as his legs lay bare.

ace comes closer, sliding into the chair at sabo’s left, and his eyes swivel from the injury to sabo’s face, watching him closely. “do they hurt?” he asks after a minute.

“no,” sabo answers, letting the air settle before replying. he wants to divulge more, say something about his light touch irritating them, but another part of him vehemently doesn’t, and he chooses to trust the logic of the latter.

ace sits quietly for a while, and sabo realizes it’s the first time he’s seen any of his injuries either. 

“how?” he speaks up, loud in the silence. he swallows, because that had been impulsive, but ace is looking at him, and he can’t take it back now. “how did i get them?”

ace’s expression becomes pained, and he turns away, looking to the wall. his hands, resting calmly on his thighs, move to entangle, and sabo watches as they restlessly fumble. his eyes narrow.

“do you . . really want to know?”

sabo blinks, caught off-guard by the question, by the hesitance in ace’s tone. after all this time, after revealing little random nothings about the blond, now he was stalling on something he actually-

“tell me,” sabo demands, teeth gritted.

ace’s grey eyes catch in the light as he turns back to look at sabo, alarmed. they grow lax after a moment, and he nods, sullenly glancing to the door before giving sabo his full attention. “restraints.”

sabo blinks at the concise reply, furrowing his brow in irritation. he’s quick to smooth it out, bringing a hand up as the pain hits. he doesn’t know what to think. it was vague, but ace spoke like it was supposed to be significant. “restraints,” he echoes, voice bland. 

ace’s hand is reached out, but he drops it as sabo glances back up. “yeah.”

sabo suppresses the shiver in his body. him being succinct suddenly scared sabo more than anything. if he was hesitant to disclose what all had happened, well . .

just how bad was it?

-

“mr portgas?”

sabo moves his book further down his face to see a nurse at the door. he lets it fall face-down into his lap, giving her his attention as she moves into the room. she looks familiar, with her straight black hair, but sabo can't place her.

“i’m here to take your vitals,” she says. sabo nods and she takes a seat at his bedside, setting a clipboard down on a small table she rolls closer. she picks up a pulse monitor first and places it on sabo’s index finger.

when she's all done she tells him he was normal today, then leaves him to his reading. sabo picks the book back up but his gaze is caught on the stack of progress sheets on his door, and he finds himself wondering what all they said, if they disclosed anything he wasn’t already aware of.

the book is good. he’d acquired it the other day, and after removing the bookmark someone had left in it, he’d worked on it for a long while. he was almost halfway through now. 

his mind wanders as he flips the page, wondering if he could ask the staff for another one. he’s not sure who this one belongs to, but he’ll have to return it. he wants to do that much.

“do you like it?”

sabo is startled as his visitor walks into the room. ace, he reads off the nametag. he frowns, realizing he hadn’t processed anything, and flips back a page. “it’s fine,” he mumbles, though he knows his progress spoke for itself. 

ace moves to occupy the rolling chair the nurse had just been in. “do you want me to get you another one?”

sabo frowns deeper at this, but doesn’t look up from the pages. “no, that’s okay.” he didn’t want ace to give him anything. though, he thinks, glancing to his right, the flowers were nice. they were in a real vase now, getting light from the open window. they made the room smell good. less like ointment and antiseptic, something that didn’t make his nose burn.

ace doesn’t say anything else. he’s content to sit beside sabo as he reads, as the sun tracks higher and then lower into the sky, and the daisies begin to wilt from lack of light.

-

ace is lounging on a chair near the window, hands steepled, eyes turned toward the skyline. his legs are extended on the floor, only the backs of his heels touching the tile. he’s wearing the boots again, and the color is faded today, like frost had covered the top and had yet to melt off. 

sabo observes him when he’s finished his book, last page still open to give the illusion he was reading. he drops the act when a nurse wanders in, holding up two cups of yogurt. sabo closes the book so it lies backwards on his thighs, then swings the overbed tabletop so it rested at an angle, closer but not exactly over him. 

her hair dips over her shoulder when she reaches forward to hand sabo his lunch. he deposits both cups onto the table, then reaches back to take the plastic spoon from her grip. her nails clip one of the bandaids along his finger, and sabo blinks, a stern sense of deja-vu washing over him.

“if you can’t finish both, you can put one in the fridge over there,” she says, pointing to a mini fridge in the corner of the room, squished between the wall and a table of basic medical supplies. 

sabo nods, wondering how he’s never noticed it before. she moves from the room after that, her long, dark hair fanning out over the back of her scrubs. the door shuts before sabo moves to open one of the tabs on the yogurt.

“you’re done with the book?” ace asks quietly, while sabo’s mouth is full. it’d been easier to ignore the eyes on his back when he wasn’t talking, but at least now, sabo doesn’t have to verbally respond, nodding instead.

sabo doesn’t trust ace, not yet, but the staff clearly seem to, so when he’s halfway through with the cup he puts it down in favor of the book, holding it out to him. “will you give this back?” he requests. 

he doesn’t miss the way ace’s face drops as he reaches out to take it. he’s not sure how to interpret it, so he chooses not to, moving to finish his yogurt. he starts feeling funny at the end, so he sets it aside with a couple bites left, rolling his tongue in his mouth to try and work the feeling away.

ace is still sitting there, neck almost level with the back of the chair. his legs are bent, now, and both feet are firmly on the ground to hold himself in place. sabo doesn’t feel bad. he tells himself this. but, ace had been there all day, refusing to leave for anything. his mood was starting to wear on the blond.

“here,” sabo says, holding the second yogurt cup towards him. “you can have this.”

ace blinks, but stretches out an arm. it lingers there, both of their hands on the cup. “you’re sure?”

sabo shrugs, withdrawing. “i don’t want it.”

ace must know something he doesn’t, because he smiles as he brings the yogurt close. “thanks,” he says, but his smile crooks as he pulls the tab. his eyes wander to sabo’s spoon and the blond follows his gaze there, jerking a hand out to shield it from view.

“no,” he stresses. “get your own.” he jerks his hand to the table against the wall. “use one of those.”

ace’s shoulders are shaking with contained laughter, and he gets up with a jerky bow, too-long arm folding behind his back. “as you wish,” he purrs, and sabo doesn’t know how to feel about that. ace moves over to the table, humming as he looks everything over. his smile hasn’t left his face, but his brows grow pinched as he wonders what to use.

sabo regrets giving him the book, if only because he misses having something to do with his hands. it was good, too. he’d read it again if it was his own, especially because he wasn’t able to pick up on the lead’s motives, for some reason. 

ace wanders back over to his chair with a tongue depressor, moving the seat close so that he can rest an elbow on sabo’s table. sabo glances at him again and then leans back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“i don’t even know you,” he mutters, one hand wandering up to clench his shirt, right where his heart is.

ace stills, food forgotten. “sabo . .” he tries.

“i don’t even know you!” his voice raises, but it’s not a yell, not yet. it’s enough to make ace go quiet, though, and he turns to face him. “why are you even here? why don’t you go somewhere else? i-” he cuts himself off as he feels his eyes water.

“my name is ace.” he sets the yogurt on the table, then pushes it aside to move closer to the bed. “i’ve been coming here every day for-”

“i know,” sabo interrupts. “i remember when you’re here.”

ace’s eyes widen. “that’s . . good. i’m glad.”

sabo fists the blanket tightly in both hands. “i’m not.” his eyes narrow. “you should go.”

ace looks pained, but he stands without argument. “if that’s what you want.”

sabo’s heart hurts as the door closes. he thinks it might hurt more than all his physical injuries, but he just can’t figure out why.

-

he’s propped up when he first wakes, not nearly as lucid as he should be. his eyes adjust to the room easily enough. it’s partially dark, the blinds half-open to let in the setting sun’s light. he puffs out a breath, face screwing up at the weight on his chest.

when he glances down, he finds himself bound in a blanket. stringy blond hair moves into the edge of his vision. he thinks, for how long it appears, it was weird how short it felt on the back. if he reached behind, he’d find a bald strip barely covered by the longer strands. but before he can, there’s a loud noise to his left, his earlier motion not going unnoticed.

“sabo!” a voice says, and he looks up to see someone in a hospital gown moving quickly to his bedside. “thank god you’re awake,” he says, looking close to tears, and he climbs up on the edge of the bed, one knee buried into the mattress. rough hands move up to cup his face, and he blinks, stunned by the emotion he’s greeted with. he inhales sharp, vision swimming, and leans out of the hold, bringing a hand to his forehead. his fingers bunch around tight bandages.

“sabo?” the voice comes again. “does it hurt? i can get the nurses. here, there should be a button-”

he reaches out and grips the other’s hand before he could press anything, one eye still screwed up. “i’m . . . overwhelmed,” he manages to say, slowly voicing his thoughts, sure he would be able to process them this way. the other settles down, nodding in understanding.

“you had surgery. they said you would-”

“no,” he grounds out. he drops the hand and gestures between them. “this.”

“what do you mean?”

“you know me,” he says, opening both eyes now to see the puzzlement cross the other’s face. “i can see that. but you aren’t-” he breaks off. “i mean i . . .” he trails off, shaking his head, eyes downcast.

“. . don’t.”

-

they tell him his name is sabo portgas. sabo doesn’t have anything to go off, so he takes what he’s given. he has a visitor, they say, from the room next door. his name is ace. he wanted to see sabo before he was discharged.

“it’s okay,” he hears ace tell the doctor, before he comes in. “i’m not worried. i’ll help him remember.”

“i admire you attitude, but it won’t be that easy,” the doctor warns. ace says something in a voice too low for sabo to hear. the doctor sighs. “remember to take care of yourself, too.”

“gotcha!” ace says, and then he’s pushing the door open. sabo watches him warily. 

ace smiles until he shows his teeth and moves until he’s sitting at sabo’s bedside. “hey! feel any better?”

sabo gestures to the morphine drip. “i don’t feel anything, i assure you.”

ace laughs, his lips barely parted. “sorry for scaring you last time. i-”

“last time?” sabo mumbles, face screwing up in concentration.

ace’s morphs into one of disbelief. “you don’t . . remember?”

“i was told ace was coming but.” he shakes his head. “i’ve never met you before.”

ace’s eyes dim. then they glimmer, and he moves closer, setting both hands gently on each of sabo’s shoulders. he thought he could take this slow, but if he was regressing, if would be better to go all out from the beginning. “hey, sabo,” he says, voice so assertive it has blue eyes locked onto his in an instant. “i love you.”

sabo sits there for a while, until the air stings at his wide eyes. he thinks he’s forgotten to breathe in his shock. “you -what?!” his lips purse, affronted by the casual intimacy. 

“i love you,” ace says again, leaning back. sabo is even more confused as he says it again. “i have for a long time, and i always will.” his grip tightens, crumpling the thin material of his hospital gown. “if you remember anything from today: remember that.”

and sabo does.

he remembers well into the night, long after ace has left, shooed out once visitor hours had ended. he falls asleep for a bit, and when he wakes, body sore, room dark, he still remembers ace’s determined look as he said that phrase sabo felt was misplaced.

he slams a hand on the call button before he can be sick. it’s a long night.

-

he shows up again first thing in the morning. sabo has to read the visitor tag for the name, but he remembers the face, and it makes him nervous, wary. ace is being far too assertive for someone in sabo’s position, and he’s unsure if he can trust him. he doesn’t know anything about him, so it’s hard to place his intentions. 

sabo supposes he could try and learn, but it’s far easier to close himself off instead, to put some distance between the two of them. he wanted to know more about himself before he got to know the person claiming to be in love with him.

-

“hey, this green doesn’t look bad on you!” ace says one day, making a frame with his fingers to capture sabo in. he blinks up, distracted, and ace’s grin morphs. “dark blue would look better, though,” he admits. “too bad they don’t have it.” he leans back. “i’d bring you some, but uh, i just can’t afford it right now.” he perks up. “one day, though! before you leave, i swear it.”

“right,” sabo says, frowning. ace catches on, sitting back up straight.

“you okay? head hurt?”

“i like blue?” sabo mumbles, ace straining to hear the words.

he blinks when he does, nodding. “yeah. it matches your eyes,” he admits.

sabo lifts a hand to his face, wincing at the strain it puts on the iv. “my eyes are blue?”

ace jumps to his feet, and sabo shifts, eyeing him oddly. he holds a finger up. “wait here.”

he’s gone before sabo can reply that he’s got nowhere to go.

one of the nurses comes in, ace trailing her. they’re both smiling. “i hadn’t realized you never saw,” she admits, words directed to sabo, though he doesn’t know what she means. she takes out a small pocket mirror and places it in front of sabo, until he’s reached out to hold it in his own hands.

his reflection stares back at him. when he blinks, cerulean eyes blink back. his face is pale, too pale. there’s a bandaid on his cheek. he moves the mirror higher and cards a hand through his hair. it’s definitely seen better days. 

he hands the mirror back. “thank you.”

she shakes her head. “thank ace. he’s the one who brought it up.” she waves. “let me know if you need anything else.”

ace waves back, settling again on the edge of the bed as she leaves. “they’re pretty,” he voices, and sabo looks up again. 

“my eyes?”

“your eyes,” ace clarifies. “they’ve always been pretty.”

sabo blinks, feeling drawn away from the conversation. he could’ve handled it, but the last part got him, the insinuation that he didn’t know if he could trust.

“you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” he blurts out, because ace is still staring at him but he doesn’t want that conversation drawn out.

ace looks down at himself, then lets out a meek laugh. “it’s all i have right now,” he reveals. “but i’m working on it.”

sabo has no idea what he means, but he doesn’t move to question it. he doesn’t care enough yet.

-

the next time ace comes in, sabo’s bandages are unraveled from his arms. the edges are bloody, and there are red partial fingerprints staining his right arm. he’s still dragging his fingers down his left, unbothered as the stitches come open, blood seeping from the long cut running down his inner arm. 

ace drops his package, and it lands on the tile with a loud thunk. “sabo!” he frets, instantly by the blond’s side, forcing him to stop. “you can’t do that! you’re opening them! doesn’t it hurt?”

“i wanted to see,” he murmurs, focused on the feeling of ace’s hand wrapped around his bloody one. “they would never let me see. i’ve been trying, i think.” he shakes his head. “it doesn’t hurt.”

“that doesn’t matter!” ace snaps, and sabo blinks, ripped from his daze. “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” he tells sabo, using his free hand to hit the call button. “it won’t get better if you keep messing with it.”

“what’s-? oh. oh no, sabo.” a nurse comes in and hurries over, turning sabo’s left arm gently in her grasp. “you shouldn’t mess with these. you’ll only make them worse.”

sabo frowns, offended. “i only wanted to see what they looked like.”

“you can do that once they’re all better,” the nurse assures him. she looks across to his other arm, and her gaze softens. “let me get some water and i’ll help you clean up.” she glances to ace. “stay here?” watch him? she doesn’t say, but she doesn’t have to. ace nods, hand clasped tight around sabo’s. 

“it doesn’t hurt,” sabo mumbles, after she’s cleaned the blood off and prepped the needle with anesthetic. 

“just in case,” she tells him, inserting the needle. ace watches her work as she sews up sabo’s left arm, holding onto his right. they switch as she preps another needle with local anesthetic, and sabo looks very bored as the same process is repeated on his other arm.

ace doesn’t relax until both of sabo’s arms are bandaged back up. sabo is the opposite, growing more taut as his wounds are hidden from him. again. 

“where did i get these?” he holds out his arms for emphasis. ace purses his lips, and that drives sabo up the wall. “you know!” he accuses. “you know and you’re not saying anything! you have to know how frustrating that is. do-” he pauses, a thought dawning on him. “was it you?”

ace’s expression changes immediately. “no,” he breathes, and sabo almost feels bad for accusing him, but it makes sense, too.

“you were involved, then,” sabo surmises. “that’s why you’re here -you feel guilty.”

“sabo, listen to me.” ace moves closer, and sabo flinches, forcing him to stop short. “you have the wrong idea.” he leans back again, and his hands go to the hem of his shirt.

sabo watches as he raises it, revealing the bandages wrapped around his ribs. he can see the bruising peeking out from the edges of the white. or, grey, more like. sabo imagined it’s what his own would look like, if the hospital staff wasn’t so vigorous in changing them out. he mellows out, just a bit.

“i was there, but i didn’t -i would never hurt you,” ace stresses. “i was with you. you just ended up with more damage than me.” he bites his lip, hard, his eyes no longer on sabo. “i’m sorry, for that. if i could switch our places, i would, i’d do it in a heartbeat.”

sabo is silent for a long time, mulling this over. 

“maybe it’s a trauma bond,” he suggests, and ace blinks rapidly.

“sorry, what?”

“we went through the same experience, and now you’re attached to me.” sabo shrugs. “it happens.”

“wh- no.” ace shakes his head. “sabo, no, that’s not it. i’ve been with you long before that. what happened was unfortunate, but it-”

“then what is it?!” sabo yells. “what are we?” his lower lip trembles, and he forces himself to hold the tears back, even as he feels his eyes burn. “just tell me already,” he says hoarsely, barely containing himself.

ace comes close again, sitting on the bed, grasping for sabo’s hand. he nods, several times, like he’s working himself up. “my name is ace portgas,” he says slowly, voice breaking.

sabo’s world shatters.

-

ace is out getting food when sabo decides he’s had enough of this small room. he pulls the iv out and presses down on his bandaged wrist until the bleeding has stopped. then he swings both legs over the edge of the bed, back turned from the window. he plucks the handful of electrodes from his skin and gathers himself in the new quiet of the room. he could do this. he could stand-

the door bursts open right as sabo as settled his hands on the mattress to hoist himself up. he looks up, alarmed, as several people rush in and stop short.

“i- uh.” he blanks, caught off guard. “i just . . want to walk around. if that’s okay.” he mumbles the last part, right as he spies ace just inside the door, expression fading to something unreadable. 

“oh, sabo,” one of the staff says, voice hushed. they move forward to gather the disconnected electrodes from the ground. “you should ask about things like that. it should be fine . . ?” they turn to the others for confirmation.

another one steps up, nodding. “let me go get the doctor.”

they all slowly disperse until only ace is left, wandering in. ace portgas. 

“they’ll get worried if you’re unhooked from the machines,” he says, bending down in front of sabo. sabo searches his face, but he can’t find any resemblance to his own. they weren’t family. they weren’t blood, which meant . .

he tsks, turning his head away. “i wasn’t going to leave,” he mutters. “not like i have anywhere to go.”

ace’s eyes widen, and then relax, as he does his best to put on a brave face. “you will,” he promises. “i’m working on it.”

sabo isn’t sure what he means, but the doctor comes in before he can question.

“portgas!” he says, and the greeting is a sting in the already-burning cut. “heard you wanted to walk around. that should be fine, you’ll just have to take your iv with you. hm? ah, let me hook it back up.”

he’s very patient, not mentioning the earlier incident, or growing disgruntled at the fact his iv was leaking. sabo sits there silently as he places the needle back under his skin, nods in satisfaction, and leans back.

“don’t push yourself. you can use the iv stand as balance, but if you need a wheelchair, i’ll issue that, too.” his lips quirk up. “walking around will be good for you, though. it’s a little early, but i suppose you’ve been here long enough.” he stands back up. “i’ll get someone to bring in slippers. just sit tight until then.” he winks, and sabo nods, trying not to feel guilty.

the slippers are the same mint green as the rest of his hospital garb. sabo feels a stab of disappointment, but he’s not sure what color he wishes they were instead. they slide on easily enough, and after wheeling the iv stand around -and under surveillance- he grabs onto it to slowly come to a stand.

his legs shake. it’s not too bad, the nurse tells him. he takes a step forward, and another, the iv stand rolling along with him. she tells him he’s good enough to go, and sabo nods, concentrating, gaze trained on his feet.

“ace can take you around, make sure you’re doing okay,” she says, and sabo’s stomach drops. he suddenly doesn’t feel like going, but he forces himself to move anyway.

“fine,” he grunts, already at the door.

“if he can’t make it back, please don’t try to carry him,” the nurse tells ace quietly. “we don’t want to upset your ribs, and we have plenty of wheelchairs.”

ace frowns. “but that’s more romantic!”

“it’s not if you both end up collapsed,” she chides, and ace relents.

sabo’s not very far away from the room when ace catches up, hovering on his free side. “anywhere specific you wanna go?”

“take me to the vending machine you like so much,” is sabo’s reply.

ace looks taken aback. “well i’m not in love with it or anything.”

no, just me, he thinks, then slams down on that thought and stuffs it somewhere he doesn’t have to think about it. 

it’s at the end of the hall, illuminated in a dark corner. sabo looks at the rows, but nothing catches his eye.

“you want anything?” ace asks, leaning back against the wall.

sabo shrugs. “i don’t know what i would like.”

ace grins, fishing a dollar bill from his pocket. “i gotcha,” he says, head thrown over his shoulder as he steps forward to insert the money into the machine. he presses a couple buttons and sabo watches as a red package falls. 

ace pops it out and rips it open, gesturing for sabo to follow. they move until they’re sat on a bench, a large window covering most of the wall next to it. sabo sighs in relief as he releases his hands from their deathgrip on the cold steel. he would never admit it, but he was getting tired.

when he turns to glance at ace, smiling cheekily, he finds he doesn’t need to, which irritates him. ace resists laughing and nudges his shoulder, getting him to hold his hand out. he pours some of the candy into his palm, and sabo frowns down at it as the fruity smell assaults his nose.

“i probably can’t have this.”

“no one has to know,” ace says, shrugging. he pours some straight from the bag down into his mouth, and sabo shrugs, copying him, while he presses a purple one to his lips.

his eyes pop. it was startlingly good. he immediately throws another in, this time green. “these are good,” he voices, and ace laughs from beside him.

“too bad they don’t have the blue skittles.” ace grins when sabo stares up at him, questioning. “they’d match your eyes.”

sabo strangely feels like he’s heard something similar. he can’t place the conversation, though, and his interest dies. “these are good enough,” he insists, lifting his hand to pour them all into his mouth. he chews slowly, the fruit combination strange but not unpleasant. “thanks,” he mumbles, almost too low to hear, when he’s done.

unfortunately, ace’s hearing is extremely good, almost unreasonably so. “no problem,” he says, shoulders relaxing. 

they stay there until the sun starts sinking. ace has to ward sabo off from climbing the stairs to a new floor, convincing him to leave that for another day. they make it back to the room with little issue, though sabo is loath to admit he’s a little out of breath. 

“your blood pressure is a little high,” one of the nurses notes later on that night. “must’ve been a good walk.”

sabo bites down on his tongue, just hard enough to keep from saying anything. his mind wanders back to the candy he’d indulged in, and he resists rolling his eyes. he knew there would be consequences.

he strangely finds himself not caring as much as he should.

-

sabo’s attention, much to ace’s despair, is stolen by another book. he’d gotten this one from ace himself. reading it is good -it puts him at ease. even better now that he can read it over time, no longer forced to finish it in one sitting. it had been a shocking discovery, but a good one, when the nurse had wandered in to see sabo starting from where he’d placed the bookmark. he was beginning to retain things better, the doctor said. it was a sign of progress.

it was a welcome one.

ace is fiddling with his phone by the window. he’d started to come in with it more lately, no longer worried about having the blond’s sole attention. sabo could admit he was growing more comfortable in ace’s presence, though it had more to do with the way ace was acting around him, and less so with what he was supposed to be with sabo in the past.

ace’s phone rings and sabo glances up. ace frowns down at it, meets his eyes briefly, and then looks to the door. he sighs after a moment, accepting the call, and moves over to the far corner of the room, not quite leaving, but close. he talks low, and sabo turns his attention back to his book instead of struggling to overhear.

“i don’t sell anymore,” ace says, a little louder, and sabo blinks, finding he hadn’t processed any of what he’d read. he gives up, staring blankly at the pages, and drops the book entirely when ace ends the call.

“what was that about?”

ace has the decency to look contrite, slumping over as he takes a seat in the chair. he waves sabo off, though, not wanting to divulge this -especially with their location.

“you’ll remember eventually,” he mutters.

sabo crosses his arms. “i’d like to remember now.”

ace turns to look up at him, expression pleading. “sabo, you really don’t need to know right now,” he insists. “i’ll tell you some other time, okay?”

sabo huffs. he picks his book back up, and he doesn’t speak to ace for the rest of the night.

-

ace doesn’t come in one morning. 

sabo waits, then chides himself for thinking like that and spends the morning reading.

“no ace yet?” his nurse questions, as she takes his vitals. he shakes his head.

it’s not until sunlight is flooding into his room that sabo realizes he was still expecting the raven to waltz in. he was on the edge of his seat, literally, and he finds himself unable to concentrate on anything the longer he’s left alone.

he goes on a walk instead, pacing one side of the hall several times. he pauses near the middle as he catches wind of a conversation, pressing himself into the shadow of a doorway. 

“it’s a shame, really. he’s getting better, it’s obvious to see.”

“i know, right? even though he’s been here a while, it’s not like he’s fully recovered. such a shame they won’t cover the bills anymore.”

“gotta had some for other patients, i guess. the year’s not over yet. and accidents happen all the time in the snow.”

“did you hear what was happening next?”

“i think social services will pick it up, though i’m not sure. it’s complicated, since he’s not alone.”

“it’s not like he has a place to go, either. those two are so young. they’re not even twenty!”

“it really is awful. i just hope something changes for the better. they don’t deserve to end up back on the streets.”

sabo moves further down the hall, no longer willing to listen. he had a pretty good idea of who they were talking about. it stung, but he got it. he’d gathered enough hints over time, he just hadn’t wanted to form that particular conclusion.

he stands in front of the tall window at the end of the hall until his legs ache. then he trudges back to his room, not stopping for anything, even when one of the nurses calls out to him.

“oh, sabo, there you are! you have a visitor.”

he braces himself before entering the room. no doubt it was the social worker coming to take over his case. 

he’s only pleasantly surprised to find ace waiting for him. just ace.

“you came,” he says, slightly elated. 

ace turns on his rolling chair, smiling wide. “sabo! i was wondering where you were.”

“where i was?” sabo scoffs, though it’s mostly in jest. ace’s attitude is infectious, he finds, moving closer.

ace laughs. “right, sorry. i had some things to take care of today. but you’ll never believe it!” sabo’s close enough now that ace rolling to meet him catches him off-guard, which makes it easier to get knocked off his feet, landing on ace’s legs instead. he grips the pole of the iv stand tight.

his breath is caught as ace wraps his arms around his middle, pulling him closer. “the most amazing thing happened today,” he insists, either unaware of sabo’s growing flustered state or choosing to ignore it. “and i got us a place to stay after you get out!”

the words ground sabo, more than anything. he calms down enough to process it, but instead of being overjoyed, he grows somber. “so it’s true. w-” he bites his lip, unable to continue to speak, and switches words. “i was homeless.” he frowns. “am homeless.”

ace’s arms tense, then loosen, around him. he breathes soft, tickling sabo’s neck. “not exactly,” he murmurs.

“tell me,” sabo pleas.

and he does.

he tells sabo how they spent nights with friends, and then at shelters, when they moved. how ace picked up money here and there, and sabo found odd jobs he could get without a permanent address. how they moved around, until their car broke down here and they’d abandoned it. how things had been tough, but after a bit, they always managed to have a little cash to spare. how they had a place, a really small one, until they got caught up in the accident. and then after that, there hadn’t been anywhere to go back to.

“until now,” ace finishes, pulling sabo closer. “if you want to,” he adds, and this close sabo can detect the waver. 

“i have to get better first.”

“i know that. i meant, like . . after.” ace finishes in a mumble. sabo snorts, shoulders shaking from laughter, and he releases his hand from the pole to grab at ace.

“yeah. i would like that,” he admits.

ace looks up, stars in his eyes. “really?”

“you didn’t think i’d say yes?”

“i was worried you wouldn’t,” ace confesses. “i mean, you still don’t . . . remember everything. anything,” he amends. 

sabo thinks on that for a long time before answering. “i missed you, today,” he starts. “i tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but it did. you’re right: i don’t remember anything. but i can tell i meant a lot to you. and, uh.” he ducks his head. “you mean a lot to me, now. and not because i knew you before. it’s because . . . well. because of all the things you’ve done for me, since i woke up.”

ace’s lips are clamped, his eyes glassy. it takes him a minute to regain the composure to speak. “even if you don’t remember-” he looks away, unable to hold sabo’s gaze, but he finds it again, before finishing. “it’ll be okay. promise.”

sabo blinks, finding he knew exactly how much that took ace to admit. he starts nodding his head, but finds he doesn’t like the mood, anymore. he smirks down at ace instead. “you sure? what if i end up-”

“nah.” ace shakes his head, laughing again. “you’re stuck with me, now.”

sabo finds, just a little bit unsurprisingly, that he’s okay with that.

-

“ace?”

sabo covers his mouth as he turns to see the nurse in the doorway. ace looks up with an easy grin, laughter dying down. “yeah?”

“the doctor is ready for you, if you’d like your checkup now.”

ace nods. “that would be great. just give me a minute and i’ll be right out.”

the nurse hums in response, sliding the door shut.

ace comes to a stand in a hurry, snaking a hand under sabo’s blanket to leave the half-empty skittles bag hidden there, top twisted shut. sabo snorts, dropping the hand from his mouth, and finally swallows the last of the blue ones. 

“i’ll come back when i’m done!” ace promises, moving to the door. sabo rolls his eyes.

“visitor hours will be over by then.”

“it’ll be quick! or i’ll sneak back in.” he winks. “but you didn’t hear the last part.”

“go,” sabo hums. ace waves on his way out, and sabo rolls his eyes again, but ends up doing the same.

he takes the skittles bag out and begins to unwrap the top, then decides against it and stuffs it under his pillows, instead. the sun is pretty low in the sky, now.

he hadn’t asked ace, he realizes. what the checkup was about. he could garner the basics, but it would be nice to know more.

he puts a hand to his chest, where he can feel the bandages through his shirt. they’d let him see it, the other day, while they were changing it out. even after all this time, it was still mottled with bruises, all in varying shades of colors. some had recurred, from what he’d gathered, but most of them were well on their way to healing.

he wonders if his injury is reflected on ace, or if it would be worse.

before he can vow to ask, he ends up falling asleep. he wakes up and the sun isn’t out, anymore. the light is dim, but it’s artificial. the lamp in the corner, he realizes.

there’s a hand carding through his hair. sabo makes a noise, turns his face up, and it stops.

“hey,” ace says, softly. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you’re back,” sabo murmurs. 

“i told you i would be.”

“you did.” sabo blinks, trying to shake off sleep as he works to sit up, eventually settling on his elbows. “how did it go?”

“pretty good.” ace waves him off. “no issues.”

“what is it?”

ace wants to clam up, but he feigns ignorance instead, knowing sabo would catch it. “what’s what?”

sabo sits up further. “your injury. you said it was better than mine, but . .”

“oh. uh.” ace turns away, tilts his head back. “are you sure-”

“i’m sure,” sabo says, sat up all the way, now. he crosses his legs, leans closer. “if i can’t know about mine . . i’d like to know about yours.”

“yeah,” ace breathes. “okay.”

he shrugs his coat off, then tugs his shirt up, off, and over his shoulders. he no longer has the wrap on, so the damage is laid clear before sabo’s eyes. ace moves a hand over everything, explaining.

“i was stabbed in the lung.” he shrugs off sabo’s incredulous expression, pointing to a thick scar. “it wasn’t serious or anything. sounds a whole lot worse than it was. most of the damage came from a few ribs i cracked -that certainly made breathing a bitch. the rest is just bruising, though it’s mostly lower on my ribcage.”

sabo’s lips downturn. “how were you literally stabbed and i had it worse?”

ace reaches up to tap the side of his own head. sabo blinks.

“oh.”

“really, sab, i’m fine. i’m just glad you’re fine. i’m glad you’re alive.” he shrugs, working his shirt back on. “at least those guys aren’t.”

“they’re dead?” sabo utters, expression open. 

“yeah. some gang managed to break in, wanted revenge for something, i didn’t catch it all. anyway, we obviously weren’t with them, so we were left alone.” ace huffs out a hollow laugh. “though, that also meant they didn’t call for medical help. had to do that myself.” he drapes the coat over his back and tugs his arms through the sleeves. “anyway, it’s all over now. you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

sabo wonders, not for the first time, how ace manages to imply so much without actually revealing anything. he’s ripped from that thought as ace stands back up, eyeing the height of the moon through the window before moving to close the blinds.

“gotta go,” he says, waving to the door. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yeah.” sabo leans back, only now aware of how tired he is. “see you.”

-

a man comes in with ace one day. he introduces himself, but sabo doesn’t bother to commit the name to memory. he’s a social worker, says he’s helping ace find a job. a real job, he specifies, and sabo isn’t sure if there’s an implication he’s supposed to get. ace looks disgruntled by the jab, but he doesn’t argue it.

“well, sabo, it appears you’ve entered a peculiar period in your recovery.” he folds his hands in his lap. “in short, the hospital is no longer willing to pay your expenses. they’ve passed the bill over to us.” he gestures to himself only as he says this, but sabo is still nervous. until his next words, that is. “you don’t need to worry about paying anything back. we’ll take it from here until you’ve recovered. all i ask is that you give your very best effort to the things i tell you to try. that sound good?”

“yeah. sounds good.” sabo hesitates for a moment, then adds on “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” he smiles. “there’s no need to thank me, though. this is my job.”

sabo shrugs. “still.”

“well, i appreciate the sentiment. ace has told me about your amnesia. the surgery you underwent was a tricky one, it seems. according to the staff, you seem to have almost healed up, physically. you haven’t appeared to regress any, on that account. and your anterograde amnesia is pretty much nonexistent. if you’re willing to progress, there are some options for you.”

sabo isn’t sure how to reply. he must sense that, because he offers something else.

“on that note, have you thought about undergoing any exercises to help recall your memory?”

“i guess i hadn’t thought that was an option.”

“it most certainly is on the table, if you would like to try it,” he offers.

sabo doesn’t even have to think about it. “that sounds great.”

“glad to hear it.”

-

sabo gets the bandages around both arms removed early one week. it’s weird at first, having the skin so exposed to the air. the scars aren’t pretty, either, despite how well the tissue had healed in light of his constant picking at them. he grows self-conscious about it before too long, and takes to draping the loose blanket over his shoulders whenever he’s in the room, pulling it down so it hung over both arms and left his hands free to do tasks.

the first day ace writes it off, but the second he chalks it up to temperature and shrugs off his jacket to throw it around sabo’s shoulders instead, pulling the blanket down to his lap. 

sabo blinks a few times, startled into silence by the gesture. it’s not until ace moves back to his chair that he reaches up to pull the jacket closer, basking in the comfort it offered. 

“thank you,” he says, pulling his arms through the soft sleeves. the cuffs came down to his fingers, but they were stretchy, so he didn’t mind.

ace shrugs, glancing out the window. “it’s getting colder, now that the new year has passed,” he notes. “snowing more, too. if you get cold, you should tell someone. they’ll do something about it.”

“oh.” sabo bites down on his lip to keep from huffing out a laugh. “yeah, sure. i’ll remember that.” he tugs the cuffs further over his hands, then fusses with the blanket thrown over his legs. even if ace did misunderstand, the intention was nice.

he takes the jacket back before he leaves, ushered out by the staff after visitor hours had ended for the night. sabo wraps himself in the blanket and pulls the sheets over his legs. his fingers dig into his arms, press against the raised scar tissue.

ace comes back early the next morning and throws his jacket around sabo before doing anything else. he leans close to adjust it, and for once, sabo sits calmly and lets him do it. it’s not until he’s pulling on sabo’s arm, skin pressed into the space around his scar, that sabo reacts. it’s entirely unintentional, but his heart stutters and his chest stops moving and ace notices, of course he does, pausing to loosen his grip.

and then, as if it clicks, he slides his hand around until his thumb traces the scar line. sabo sucks in a breath and ace puts one leg on the bed to slide closer, grabbing both of sabo’s arms, now.

“you’re okay,” he murmurs, face close but eyes on sabo’s injuries. sabo lifts his own from where ace is smoothing his skin to gaze into clear grey. the nearness doesn’t escape him.

ace glances up, just an instant, just enough to catch sabo staring. he sucks in a deep breath, stills his hands to grip just a little harder, and leans forward to press his forehead to sabo’s. his eyes are trained on the blond’s mint gown. “you don’t like seeing them,” he voices.

“no,” sabo replies, after a moment. his pitch is unsteady. 

“i’m sorry i-”

“it’s okay,” sabo tells him, barely above a whisper. “you helped. thank you.”

ace pulls back, and then he’s slowly pulling sabo’s arms through the sleeves of his jacket, until the whole thing hung loose on his thin frame. ace bites on his lip, tries not to think about how much weight sabo had lost here, tries not to think about how he can’t solve the problem, because there’s no clear solution to scars, and no right answer to give to reminders of pain.

it’s snowing when ace has to leave. sabo tugs the jacket off and gives it back, unwilling to let him go without it on underneath his coat. he pulls the blanket around him and tries not to think about how nice it would be to hold onto it. 

ace doesn’t know what to think. sabo hadn’t shied away from the rope burns on his ankles, or the thick cuts on his hands, or the gash on his cheek from the last bandaid to have come off. he’d seen the bruising on his chest without giving rise to panic, and made peace with the welt above his collarbone. so what is it about this one that had him so worked up? 

ace stops short as the elevator dings and doesn’t move to exit when the doors open. was it that he was associating subconscious feelings with the scars? maybe he couldn’t recall the event, but were the emotions from that day slowly starting to come back?

the doors close and ace jerks a hand out to catch them, digging his phone out as he passes through. 

-

“here!”

sabo’s face scrunches as he inspects the simple package thrust at him. his forehead creases, and it’s visible, for once. it no longer hurts, either, which is why his headwrap was finally removed. 

“okay,” he mutters, letting the package fall into his hands. he flexes his fingers to push the jacket cuffs to his wrists, then pushes the box open. inside is a mass of dark blue fabric.

sabo blinks, the creases leaving his face, and looks up at ace. “what’s this for?” he reaches in to bury his fingers into the plush knit, pulling it out and unfurling it as ace replies.

“well, your head is better. at least, the front part is, so i thought we could celebrate.” ace chews on his lip as sabo lifts the scarf. “here, let me.” he climbs onto the edge of the bed and takes the scarf from sabo’s hands, not sure why he’s nervous but feeling this incredible need to do the task himself. he loops the scarf and moves it over sabo’s head, careful to avoid the back of his skull as he pulls it down, loops it again, and ties it at the back. he’d been half right: the front part of sabo’s skull, where his brain had impacted, was completely healed. but he’d suffered a major injury on the back, and it was still sensitive there, from what he’d gathered. ace is very careful as he ties the scarf off, then sinks back on his knees, stomach settling when he takes the view in.

sabo is looking down at the scarf, one hand reached up to rub the knit between his fingerpads. “that was quick notice,” he mutters.

“i told you i would bring you something blue before you left the hospital.”

“i’m not leaving toda-” sabo pauses, mouth open. “you did?”

“you probably don’t remember,” ace offers with a sigh.

sabo’s lips tremble. “i’m so-”

“no, please don’t!” ace insists. “it was- i mean, i told you while you still had short-term memory. it was my fault.” he shrugs. “it was more like a vow to myself, if anything.”

“okay,” sabo says, moving over the syllables slowly. “it’s nice.” he drops his hand. “thank you.”

“is the color okay? i tried to get one dark enough-”

“it’s fine,” sabo interrupts, eyes lidding. “seriously. thank you.”

ace opens his mouth again, but no words come out as he walks himself through the facts. sabo waits patiently, setting the empty box aside. he leans back against the pillows, tugging the knot to the side so that it didn’t rest right on his neck. ace works through everything and comes to a slow realization. 

“your favorite color was navy,” he says. “before . .” he doesn’t finish. “it’s not anymore.”

sabo turns his eyes away, down to his lap, where he’s unconsciously brushing a thumb over the jacket cuff. he moves away from the dark red to the bright, saturated ruddy of ace’s coat. “no, it’s not.”

ace really doesn’t know how to feel, and sabo interrupts his inner turmoil with a question before he can get sucked too far into it.

“is that okay?” he does his best to smile when ace’s eyes turn on him. “if i change . . will that be okay?”

ace snaps himself out of it the instant he realizes how fragile sabo’s expression has become. he doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but he’s suddenly leaning close to sabo, both hands gentle on the sides of his face. sabo’s eyes are wide, and then ace is kissing him.

he makes a noise and ace jerks back, hands falling away. “sorry!” he apologizes. “i- sorry, god, i’m sorry, i don’t know what-”

“it’s okay.” sabo’s voice is quiet. ace drops his arms from when he’d been scrubbing his face, hair now a mess. sabo isn’t looking at him. “it’s okay, really,” he says again, but the tension hasn’t left his shoulders, and ace needs a distraction before he screws up more.

he raises his fingers to form a frame, sabo’s head in the middle. “you still look the best in blue,” he says, willing to ignore the waver in his voice. “way better than the green they stuck you in.”

sabo snorts, and slowly, the earlier mood begins to unravel. he forces himself to relax. “i’ll take your word for it.”

“do. it’s fact.”

“because everything you say is always true.”

ace sobers at this. “it is.” he waits until sabo is focused on him. “with you. ever since you woke up.”

sabo has to swallow before he can answer. there’s still a bob in his throat, just like there’s still a phantom feeling of chapped lips on his own. he manages to speak through them. “i know. it’s why i decided to start trusting you.” he reaches forward and ace reads his intention, catches his hands in his own. “you’ve been here,” he almost breathes, voice very quiet. “even when i didn’t want you to be.” he pauses when his voice cracks, taking a moment to collect himself. “you never left, and you never lied, and you never let me forget you were supporting me.” he squeezes, and ace squeezes back. “and i’m sorry, that my memory went away. but i’m here, right here, and i care about you now. and i won’t let anything change that.” he smiles, his next inhale shaky. “and i know you won’t, either.”

ace can’t help when the tears run down his cheeks. he doesn’t move to stop them, only sniffling, and bringing their joined hands to his chest, and then bending forward again, gathering courage.

sabo moves his head off the pillows to meet him.

-

sabo’s assigned social worker interrupts ace’s excited rambling to politely ask him to leave the room. sabo’s smile falls when it becomes just the two of them. he’d never been able to read this one, though that might have more to do with him being the first outsider sabo had met. his social circle had been restricted to the hospital staff that attended to him, and ace. even if sabo had been proficient at reading people in the past, his limited interaction had taken some sort of toll.

“sorry, he didn’t do anything wrong,” his caseworker assures him, sensing the animosity. “he’s been very assertive, though, and i haven’t had the chance to ask your opinion.” he leans forward in his seat. “do you want to go with ace? there are other options, if you decide you’d be better off apart.”

sabo takes a minute to process this. he knows it’s only being asked out of concern, but his first intention is to take it the wrong way. he works to settle himself, and then figure out a rational response.

“i think,” he begins, “that. even if i can’t be sure ace isn’t fabricating the whole thing, it feels wrong to assume that, now. and it feels right to be with him. i only have his word to go off of, yes. but i can tell we’re meant to be together.” he shrugs. “i- i know that doesn’t sound very convincing, and maybe i’m not fully convinced myself, but i’ve been having these feelings, and the doctor said that even if the memory associated with it doesn’t return, the emotions that surface are still real.” sabo stops before he can ramble too much in that direction, looking back up. “i do want to go with him.”

“you’ve convinced me,” he hums. “even if you haven’t fully convinced yourself.” he leans back. “one more question.”

“okay?”

“are you sure you still want to remember?”

again, sabo takes some time to organize his thoughts. he comes to a conclusion that is startlingly succinct. “whatever happened before, i promised i wouldn’t stop caring about him. i’m not willing to hold myself back on that regard.”

his caseworker smiles. “works for me. how about we start psychotherapy monday?”

part 2 | notes