If there was, one way to describe Ace, it was probably best to say that he was as headstrong as a bull.

Ace wasn’t a vindictive man. He never was. It wasn’t his fault the entire world knew his name. Being on a pirate crew as infamous as Whitebeard's, that kind of thing is bound to happen, whether you want it or not.

Protective would be a much better word. With all things considered, being deemed as the "Devil's Child" globally wasn’t good for him. He used to truly live up to that title — being a rebel and all against the only man who was willing to take him in and become his captain.

With his reputation, he made very little to no friends. When he finally decided to join Whitebeard's crew, it was what his new crew members considered a huge step in many.

The amount of memories he made — the times he’s loved and lost — the times he had cried and laughed — it all led to this.

He cared about his crewmates. And he'd be tried into damnation before giving them up.

You joined only a little while before Ace did. The two of you weren’t very close, if not at all. He never said it outright, but damn, were you "easy on the eyes," in his words.

This idiot — this big, powerful sense of a man — turned into a complete fool at the sound of your voice. It’s not like you hated him, but you just never made an effort to really talk to him. And yet, nobody blamed you for it.

After all, why would you wanna talk to the man who tried offing your captain?

You knew all of them before Ace did — Marco, Izou, Vista, Thatch. All of them.

It’s not like it was a secret he loved you. Everyone knew. Except you, of course.

As much as he wanted to make an effort to show you his remorse, to make you see that he was truly sorry, you didn’t budge.

Continuously, over the span of weeks, Ace had confided in them about everything he knew about you. He asked safe questions — Your interests, your distastes, your style. He wanted to know more about you. Even if it wasn’t at his expense, he always loved to see you laugh. He loved watching your eyes light up — when something put a smile on your face.

That definitely wasn’t the case now.

Thatch’s death was unexpected. It hit Whitebeard and his crew with a battle they couldn’t win.

Grief.

It had no expiration date — it had no specific way of going about. Nobody knew the true depths of what Blackbeard would have done — the lengths to which he would go — to get that devil fruit out of the wrong hands.

He was a good man, and the bestest friends you could ever ask for out of a person. His death hit you the hardest.

You could rarely escape the clutches of your room, only doing so when you needed to use the bathroom. You physically couldn’t eat anymore.

All the food tasted like Thatch's.

Just the mention of the word "food" sent you into a spiral. Though, they didn’t press further. Everyone grieved in their own way, after m

He felt something else.

Pure, unbridled rage.

Thatch wasn’t just a cook — he was a loverboy. A man. A friend. How dare someone as mundane as Blackbeard even try to come close to his adversary?

He felt cold — a sick, twisted feeling telling him to give Blackbeard exactly what he deserved.

Be he couldn’t focus on that now.

He had to get to you.

Stars, the moon, and blue and blackish hues cluttered the sky as Whitebeard's ship sailed aimlessly — without the normal liveliness and charm. The crew went to their divisions earlier than usual, the normal atmosphere of the night suddenly feeling hollow and empty.

Ace's footsteps echoed through the halls as he came across your room — devoid of all its glory, now dreary and dark.

He knew you were in there.

Crying. Weeping.

He didn’t want to intrude, but he was worried.

"You didn’t come out to eat," he said softly, closing the door behind him with a soft click as he approached your bed.

He gently slid into your bedsheets, protectively holding you, your back to his chest.

"It hit all of us.." He finally uttered, letting you express yourself in his arms.

At that point, you didn’t care that it was Ace.

You just needed someone there.