Xavier
I could feel the tension radiating off Ace. He was leaning back in his chair, staring at the pile of newspapers and documents in front of him with a look that screamed frustration. Knowing him, he was probably beating himself up for not figuring it out fast enough. Typical Ace—always thinking he has to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
I didn't say anything at first, just quietly moved closer and sat down beside him. Kuro seemed to sense the mood too, curling up on the table near Ace's hand. He absentmindedly stroked Kuro's fur, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.
"You know," I started, keeping my tone casual, "you're not doing anyone any favors by bottling it up."
Ace didn't respond, just kept his gaze fixed on the scattered papers. I didn't expect him to open up right away—he was way too stubborn for that. So, I just leaned back in my chair and watched him for a moment.
"Ace," I said a bit more firmly, making sure I had his attention. His eyes flickered to mine, a hint of irritation there, but mostly exhaustion. "You're stressed as hell. Talk to me."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're imagining things."
I raised a brow. "Am I? You're practically drilling a hole into that table with your glare. You're overthinking."
He let out a rough exhale, his shoulders visibly tensing. "It's just... nothing makes sense. The more we dig, the more twisted it gets. I thought I had it figured out, but now I'm just... stuck."
There it was. Finally. I gave him a small nod. "Yeah, well, no one expects you to have all the answers right away. We're talking about a messed-up crime from a decade ago. It's not your fault it's complicated."
He clenched his jaw, clearly not satisfied with that. "But it's my job to figure it out. Phoenix... he's having nightmares because of this. I'm supposed to protect him. How the hell am I supposed to do that when I don't even know what we're dealing with?"
I could see it now—the guilt, the frustration, the pressure. Ace was always like this, taking on too much without asking for help. I leaned in, making sure he couldn't ignore me.
"You're not alone in this," I reminded him, my voice steady. "You've got me. You've got Atlas. Hell, even Phoenix is more capable than you give him credit for. You're not carrying this alone, Ace."
His eyes softened just a bit, and he let out a breath he'd probably been holding for a while. "I just... I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me. I'm supposed to be stronger than this."
"That's crap, and you know it," I shot back. "Strength doesn't mean doing everything alone. It means trusting the people around you to have your back. You can't save everyone, Ace. You can't carry this burden without cracking."
He went quiet again, and I could see the walls he usually kept up slowly starting to crumble. I didn't push him more than that, just let him sit with it. Eventually, he gave Kuro another absent scratch behind the ears and muttered, "Thanks."
I shrugged, giving him a small smile. "Anytime. Just... don't forget that we're in this together. You don't have to be the lone hero all the time."
He didn't answer, but the way his shoulders relaxed just a bit told me he got the message. He might be stubborn, but I wasn't going to let him drown in his own worries. Not on my watch.
"Besides, remember I'm the oldest here—you can trouble me," I said, giving him a playful nudge with my shoulder.
Ace shot me a half-hearted glare, but there was a faint smirk on his lips. "Yeah, right. You barely act like it."
I snorted. "Says the guy who pretends he's got it all together just so no one worries about him. You're not fooling anyone, Ace."
He rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, he just leaned back in his chair, finally letting himself relax a little. I took that as a small victory. Sometimes, he just needed a reminder that it was okay to lean on someone else.
Kuro let out a soft purr, clearly enjoying the attention, and Ace absentmindedly continued to pet him. The tension in the air seemed to lift just a bit, and I couldn't help but feel relieved.
"You know," I continued, my tone a bit softer, "you don't always have to carry the weight of the world. You're allowed to be human too."
Ace gave me a sidelong glance, and for a moment, I thought he might brush it off with one of his usual sarcastic remarks. But instead, he just sighed, his shoulders finally losing some of that rigid tension.
"Maybe you're right," he admitted, almost reluctantly. "But I'm not used to it. I've been doing this on my own for so long... it's hard to just—"
"Let go?" I finished for him.
He hesitated, then nodded. I gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "You're not alone, Ace. Not anymore. So quit acting like it."
His lips twitched into a smirk, and he huffed a laugh. "You sure are persistent."
I grinned. "Damn right I am. Someone's gotta keep your stubborn ass in check."
He actually let out a soft chuckle, and I knew I'd finally gotten through to him—at least a little. He didn't say anything more, but that small, genuine smile was enough for now.
Sometimes, even the strongest people needed a reminder that they didn't have to bear it all on their own. And as long as I was around, I'd make sure Ace never forgot that.