Marco curled up around Thatch's shoulders as protectively as possible. He understood really. It took him a long time to trust Thatch as much as he did. And truly, Thatch was the only person in the universe Marco trusted that much. He couldn't explain why either. It was because Thatch was Thatch, and Marco was Marco. A phoenix. And Thatch sometimes seemed to be the only one who understood every single layer of that or unspoken or impossible to express aspect of it. The desire to run away from people, the curiosity to get closer and risk being burned. And now Thatch had been burned, no worse, stabbed. Marco wished again and again he could heal others, but his devil fruit was too selfish for that. Selfish?
It was excruciating. He absorbed other's pain and damage, but he couldn't save them. It was a strange sort of thing all told. "I love you," Marco whistled comfortably from his position around Thatch's neck and getting into the bed. "Missed you too. A lot." More than he could ever tell anyone. He'd told both Espio and Grell about Thatch, but he could never explain the depths of how much Thatch had meant to him. Marco wouldn't be Marco without Thatch. He'd be as different as was alien. Thatch made him a person. If Whitebeard gave Marco life, a reason to live, a drive, a purpose, and a meaning, Thatch still was the one to make Marco human. A person, not just the phoenix lost in time and observing from afar. It was excruciating, but it was better.
All the time spent perched in trees in the garden, yes, he'd thought a lot about Ace, but just as much about Thatch. Both of them he hadn't been able to save. But Thatch could have saved Ace. Thatch would have known how to talk to Ace. Thatch had known how to talk to Ace once upon a time. "I will protect your dreams," Marco chirped quietly. It was a silly claim. Absurd really. As if Marco had control over such a thing in Thatch's head, but in a strange way, he was sure that he could and would. If Thatch let him. He'd have to trust him enough, but it'd be a start. Less nightmares and then Marco could start repairing the bridge that Teach had tried to chop down. He could try to rebuild something new, something better perhaps. He would protect Thatch's dreams if Thatch let him, because he was Marco, and Thatch was Thatch, and Marco couldn't explain it if he tried.
It was okay though, he was certain that Thatch would understand anyway. Thatch usually did. And even when he didn't, he accepted it and that was enough.
Marco happily nuzzled Thatch's neck and rubbed the top of his head to the underside of Thatch's chin and scruffy goatee. He missed this. He missed Thatch. He was still terrified he'd wake up again and that it would all be some fever dream. Or that he'd lose Thatch again. No, he would eventually lose Thatch again, period. That was the price of being the phoenix, but he didn't want to lose him in such a painful way again. He wanted to do better, to protect him better, to make it last more, to make Thatch a little happier first. For now, it was enough to just hold onto him.
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It was excruciating. He absorbed other's pain and damage, but he couldn't save them. It was a strange sort of thing all told. "I love you," Marco whistled comfortably from his position around Thatch's neck and getting into the bed. "Missed you too. A lot." More than he could ever tell anyone. He'd told both Espio and Grell about Thatch, but he could never explain the depths of how much Thatch had meant to him. Marco wouldn't be Marco without Thatch. He'd be as different as was alien. Thatch made him a person. If Whitebeard gave Marco life, a reason to live, a drive, a purpose, and a meaning, Thatch still was the one to make Marco human. A person, not just the phoenix lost in time and observing from afar. It was excruciating, but it was better.
All the time spent perched in trees in the garden, yes, he'd thought a lot about Ace, but just as much about Thatch. Both of them he hadn't been able to save. But Thatch could have saved Ace. Thatch would have known how to talk to Ace. Thatch had known how to talk to Ace once upon a time. "I will protect your dreams," Marco chirped quietly. It was a silly claim. Absurd really. As if Marco had control over such a thing in Thatch's head, but in a strange way, he was sure that he could and would. If Thatch let him. He'd have to trust him enough, but it'd be a start. Less nightmares and then Marco could start repairing the bridge that Teach had tried to chop down. He could try to rebuild something new, something better perhaps. He would protect Thatch's dreams if Thatch let him, because he was Marco, and Thatch was Thatch, and Marco couldn't explain it if he tried.
It was okay though, he was certain that Thatch would understand anyway. Thatch usually did. And even when he didn't, he accepted it and that was enough.
Marco happily nuzzled Thatch's neck and rubbed the top of his head to the underside of Thatch's chin and scruffy goatee. He missed this. He missed Thatch. He was still terrified he'd wake up again and that it would all be some fever dream. Or that he'd lose Thatch again. No, he would eventually lose Thatch again, period. That was the price of being the phoenix, but he didn't want to lose him in such a painful way again. He wanted to do better, to protect him better, to make it last more, to make Thatch a little happier first. For now, it was enough to just hold onto him.