You hated parties. It was fun at first, watching your drunk boyfriend start to murmur cheesy pick up lines in your ear before wandering off to try (and fail) to do a backflip. And you always tried to stick it out for Ace and stand by the ship’s railings, since you knew he was always down for one of the Whitebeard Pirates’ parties, but it got old fast when you were too focused on the overstimulation.

The music was always piercing through your ears unpleasantly, and it always felt hot and sticky. It reeked of alcohol to the point where you could almost gag, and it was just far too much for your senses.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but the music was zoned out, replaced by the rapid beating in your chest and sharp breaths as you realized how thick the air felt on your skin, how your clothes stuck to your body, how people’s cheers and whoops made you want nothing but silence.

You needed to leave, but you couldn’t move, eyes glued to the floor.

Not until you felt a hand come around your waist.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, yeah?” Ace asked softly into your ear, his eyes searching for an answer on your face; he had gone through this enough times to know how you acted in this state.