unknown number (rewrite)

the creeping awareness

It's back.

How would you like this book to end?
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  Ace came back after grabbing Luffy, and when he doesn't see the (h/c)-haired female he looks at the groups of friends around him. Nami turns to him and gives him a smile, she's not sure what to tell him.
  "Where'd (Y/n) go?" he says, putting his watch back on his wrist to hide the scar. If he's completely honest, he forgot he even had that scar. "Did she leave already?"
"I don't know, she got a call from a guy named Ryker," Nami's lips form a thin line, she looks worried. "She left in a rush... but don't worry too much, Robin went after her to make sure she's alright."
"Wait, the pretty girl left?" Sanji snaps back into the conversation, he was fighting Zoro when Ace and Luffy walked up. "I didn't get to talk to her..."
"You got to talk to her longer than I did!" Luffy puts his hands on his hips and pouts. "I want to know what happened in that closet! No one pulled my item..."
"That's for the best, Luffy," Ace takes a deep breath. It's strange, but he completely forgot about the world when he was inside that small space, he can't even imagine what Luffy would be subjected to if he went in with some random girl. "I'm going to go see if she's okay..."
He pats Luffy's back, barely giving Luffy and time to complain before he leaves the area. He doesn't know where she is, and he feels as if he something bad will happen if he doesn't talk to her. He enters the hallway and starts to walk down it in a random direction.
The events from the closet flash through his mind, and he stops suddenly. He covers his face as he starts to blush, he said so much to her. So much he's never told anyone. And then he kissed her. He kissed a girl, who's in a relationship with a different guy.
He made her into a cheater, but as much as he wants to, he doesn't regret it. It just felt right. His heartbeat starts to increase. His head is light, it feels like the world is spinning around him. He closes his eyes, that's what he gets for not feeling any remorse.
  He feels a hand on his shoulder, so he slowly opens his eyes. They land on Robin and she gives him a small smile, "Are you okay, Ace? Do you feel ill?"
  He shakes his head, then pauses to think about her question and how it was worded, "I mean, yeah. I'm fine. I mean... yeah."
  She chuckles, dropping her hand from his shoulder nodding towards the balcony, "She's out there, if you're looking for (Y/n). And I think she's ready to talk to you."
  He doesn't say anything, so the black-haired woman walks off. The only sound in the hallway is her clicking heels. Should he even talk to her? Does he have the right? He did kiss her. The sound of Robin closing the door behind her bounces off all the walls down the entire corridor.
  And suddenly he starts to move again, his body making the decision before his brain. He stands on the other side of the glass for a few moments staring at her. It's not long, but it feels like eternity. The way the wind blows her hair causes his breath to catch. She's so beautiful.
  His hand slides the glass door, and she turns around. Once she sees him, she hurriedly wipes her eyes. She was crying. He made her cry. He always does this to the people who are important to him. She's important to him? He barely knows her.
  When did he suddenly decide that she's important to him? In the closet? When she said they were friends? Then he kissed her? Why is he like this? Didn't he get too easily attached to her? Is it projection? Is he projecting what he wants onto her?
  She shares the same name as the caller all those years ago. Maybe that's what he's doing. He's projecting those emotions onto her and he's getting attached to something she's not. Regardless, even if he's not projecting, he's moving too fast.
"Are you okay?" his words come out of his mouth, and he immediately regrets asking. He shouldn't ask, he cussed enough grief.
She notices his conflict, so she gives him a smile, "I think so. But you shouldn't really worry about it. It's not your fault. I'm just worried about Ryker."
"Do you need to get home?" he walks towards her, standing beside her and staring out at the rest of the town. "I could give you a ride."
She shakes her head, the smile still on her face, "I'm good. He hasn't responded... but I'm sure he's fine. He would've left a voicemail if he wasn't. And I left one for him... so I'm sure he's fine."
"If you ever want to leave," he lets out a sigh, turning to her. The light catching his face, it accents his freckles nicely. "Just tell me and I'll drive you."
"Thanks, Ace," she puts her hands on his shoulders before she pushes up on her feet and kisses his cheek. "You're too kind for this world."
"No," he takes a step away from her, she's too close. His heart is about to burst. "You are. You sat through that awkward conversation in the closet..."
  "Well," she bites the bottom of her lip, trying to think of something to say. "I think you're more pure than you think you are. Honestly."
  "I'm not sure what you mean by that," he folds his arms over his chest and stares at her. "Like I'm very confused."
She takes a deep breath, "You've gone through so much... and yet you're still here... worrying about me. Robin told me that you worry about everyone else before yourself. Despite everything you've gone through, you don't blame anyone else. You're too busy worrying about others, that I don't think you understand..."
"I don't," he drops his arms, staring at her. He's lost. None of what she's saying is making sense to him. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
"You're constantly thinking of others," she gives him a small smile. "That I'm worried that you don't think of yourself enough."
"You're too worried about what they think of you, and not enough about what you think of you. You're more afraid of hurting someone else, that you're not realizing that you're only hurting yourself," she wipes away tears that start to fall. "You're too busy looking at all the people above you, that you're not paying attention to the mirror in front of you. Maybe it's because you don't like what you see, but you have potential. And instead of pushing through, you gave up. And for what?"
"I don't want to come off as rude," she looks away, she feels guilty. "But I just wanted you to know... that it's okay to take some time for yourself. Stop worrying about others so much."
  "That's a little impossible," he gives her a smile, before his hand on her shoulder. He wants her to look at him, he can see that this comes from a place of concern. "When you look like this."
She looks at him, a little taken aback, "What do you mean? Do I look bad?"
"No, you don't, I never once thought that," he feels his heart ram against his chest. "But you're distressed. Sure, I'm constantly worried over nothing, but don't act like this isn't nothing, (Y/n). Don't brush me off when I'm trying to help you... you're acting like me."
Her body tenses when he says the last part. It sounded like he was insulting himself. But she gives him a small smile regardless, "So were cut from the same cloth, then."
And they are, essentially. Two people, fragments of who they used to be. Too afraid to see the reason why. Too in love to see the signs. Too scared to face the truth. Too stubborn to admit that they do, in fact, know how to solve their problem. It's a simple fix actually. All they need to do is to stop holding on. To just let go. Move on.
But they're too desperate to hold onto the one thing that they think will make them happy. The feeling of being loved. They cling onto the idea for dear life, terrified of what might happen if they listen to those around them. Horrified of the consequences of their actions.
More concerned for others well-beings, that they don't realize that they're killing themselves piece by piece. Slowly and painfully.

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