Unseekers (Portgas D. Ace X OC)

Chapter 8| Days of Promised Tomorrows

1065 days ago:

They say you are not promised tomorrow. But for Isabelle...
She had exactly one thousand and sixty-four tomorrows left.

Counting today, she had painted three hundred and sixty sun rises, all hung and stacked away in the abandoned Watchtower. She realized somewhere along the away that living like you're going to die tomorrow didn't always feel exciting. You missed out on the little things like the sound of rain against the windowpane or the bustling noise of a crowded dining hall or the incessant music of a bird's wings.

So she closed her eyes when she was in the middle of a crowd when no one was looking when no one noticed the girl that just loved the taste of being alive.

Isabelle hoped if someday when she was gone, someone somewhere would find her paintings they would pick off her soul from those pages and think I would have loved her.

1064 Days:

Oh, he saw.

Ace had realized it was pretty hard to unsee what you see. Like just yesterday. he walked on to Teach taking a piss or that time he walked on to two of his spade pirates-- getting very comfortable with each other.
Not pretty. Not pretty at all.

But this time.

He just kept on looking. The girl with flames for her hair, the girl with a smile like a loaded gun.

The girl who closed her eyes right in the middle of a crowd, when she thought no one was looking.

Ace remembered looking away for a second with a feeling like he had no right to look at someone like that. Someone who looked like they were soaking up the colors of the day.

It was just--She was just. Just.

He blinked when his gaze wandered back to her and realized she was looking straight at him, cloudy eyes reaching into him, reaching and reaching until she looked away.

1063 days ago:

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?"

"Yeah,"

"Stop it. You look stupid,"

"Oliva..." Isabelle stared at the woman, who had saved her life. "You look like shit,"

Oliva almost threw the table lamp at her.

"Why did you do it? I'm not someone worth saving," Isabelle murmured.

Oliva grunted and sat up on her pillows, wincing and shifting her blankets. Even hooked up to IV tubes, Oliva still looked beautiful. "Sit," she ordered.

Isabelle quietly sat.
Until Oliva leaned over to flick her forehead with a force that made her head snap back. Isabelle swore, leaning away from the woman. "You crazy cow. What was that for?"

"Why do you do that?" Oliva hissed.

"I don't see anything wrong with swearing--"

"Stop it, Iz," Oliva said, coffee eyes fixed on her greys. "Just stop it."

Isabelle stared blankly. "Stop what?"

"Stop acting like nothing will ever hurt you. This isn't the first time. Again and again and again!" Oliva gripped the white sheets.