The rage coursed through Marco all over again. He screwed up against Teach so he was going to do the exact same thing all over again? His only screw up was in thinking that they felt he was responsible for Teach. For thinking he was responsible for Teach. For going at it alone instead of staying with his nakama where they needed him.
But it was good, wasn't it? Ace clearly had no regrets.
Marco wrenched himself away from both of them with a growl, his anger still wafting off him in waves.
He didn't fucking get it. He had no fucking clue what it was like to have to live on and face Teach. To not be allowed to seek vengeance for the sake of dead men like him. To watch as Marshall D. Teach took all his knowledge of Pops' islands, of the Whitebeard pirates, of everything Marco had worked decades for alongside Teach, alongside his father, building the crew, the reputation, the protection of the very islands he had to lose, all to watch that crumble as he clung desperately on?
Fuck you Ace. He wanted to say it, but he couldn't even do that much. Couldn't even throw his bitterness in his little brother's face.
To die a hero, to have everyone miss him as they lived on, to die saving them, just like his father, just like Ace.
Marco was incredibly jealous. And he blamed, and hated Ace for it.
Ace got to die a hero, seek his vengeance and do whatever he wanted, so he was the true pirate. Marco couldn't take those kinds of risks, wouldn't let himself risk everything, his nakama were his treasure and he wanted to protect them. He admired Ace's reckless bravery, but he would never be able to match it. And he was insanely jealous of that.
It was one thing to say he'd haunt Teach, it was quite another to have to live the reality of the situation.
"I'm going to get a drink," Marco coldly announced. His face was deadpan, but his tone was still too angry.
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The rage coursed through Marco all over again. He screwed up against Teach so he was going to do the exact same thing all over again? His only screw up was in thinking that they felt he was responsible for Teach. For thinking he was responsible for Teach. For going at it alone instead of staying with his nakama where they needed him.
But it was good, wasn't it? Ace clearly had no regrets.
Marco wrenched himself away from both of them with a growl, his anger still wafting off him in waves.
He didn't fucking get it. He had no fucking clue what it was like to have to live on and face Teach. To not be allowed to seek vengeance for the sake of dead men like him. To watch as Marshall D. Teach took all his knowledge of Pops' islands, of the Whitebeard pirates, of everything Marco had worked decades for alongside Teach, alongside his father, building the crew, the reputation, the protection of the very islands he had to lose, all to watch that crumble as he clung desperately on?
Fuck you Ace. He wanted to say it, but he couldn't even do that much. Couldn't even throw his bitterness in his little brother's face.
To die a hero, to have everyone miss him as they lived on, to die saving them, just like his father, just like Ace.
Marco was incredibly jealous. And he blamed, and hated Ace for it.
Ace got to die a hero, seek his vengeance and do whatever he wanted, so he was the true pirate. Marco couldn't take those kinds of risks, wouldn't let himself risk everything, his nakama were his treasure and he wanted to protect them. He admired Ace's reckless bravery, but he would never be able to match it. And he was insanely jealous of that.
It was one thing to say he'd haunt Teach, it was quite another to have to live the reality of the situation.
"I'm going to get a drink," Marco coldly announced. His face was deadpan, but his tone was still too angry.