i see death in the brown of your eyes

by curlyxmossy

Summary:

“The evil, it spread like a fever ahead. It was night when you died, my firefly.” — Sufjan Stevens, “Fourth of July”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Sanji took a job he didn't want after losing everything he held dear to him.
Zoro was sharp and distant, already slipping through the cracks of something neither of them named.
But Sanji stayed anyway.
Through silence, through anger, through broken glass.
He learned Zoro piece by piece, until it became too much, until the pain devoured him.
And he stayed, until the very end.

Notes:

Hii!
This fic is based on Me Before You the movie version. It broke me so I though... why not put Zosan through this?

Accompanying playlist! I tried to make it as cohesive and orderly as possible!

“The evil, it spread like a fever ahead. It was night when you died, my firefly.” — Sufjan Stevens, “Fourth of July”

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

He stood in front of the wrought iron gates, head tilting up to take in the view. It was haunting, befitting of a place that asked for such requests. Sanji’s mind, as exhausted as it was, whirled around the idea of death since he got the job. Hospice nurse, and Sanji had a sinking feeling that it was more like a death vigil. But if there were any other options, Sanji wouldn’t be standing there, under the pouring rain ruining his one good jacket, watching the red light blink at him from the speaker post. 

He had agonized over this, over the idea of watching a man rot and die in front of him, over being the person who was supposed to care for him. He didn’t know if he had it in him. He didn’t know if he was even welcome. The weight of it all crashed onto Sanji as he stared at the blinking light.

It was the sister that answered when he called. She was the one that arranged the meeting, and deemed Sanji capable of handling the job. 

He honestly didn’t know what prompted her to accept him. He was completely out of his depth, with a past that didn’t match his present, and a history in kitchens that didn’t have anything to do with being a caretaker. His hands, he thought, were made for cooking.

And then he lost it all in one fell swoop. Everything he worked for, everything he had dreamed of, slipped out of his hands in one moonless night.

He took in a short breath and pressed on the button before him. A hauntingly melodic sound came out of the speaker post, and he waited for the answer, his hand dropping to his side.

There was a buzz, then a voice.

“If you’re the press, we have nothing to say. If you’re the delivery man, leave the package in front of the gate. If you’re the nurse, well, you’re late.”

Sanji looked at his clock. “I’m not late, I’m three minutes early.”

There was a sigh on the opposite end. “Three minutes early is late.” She buzzed him in.

Sanji took another short breath before he stepped into their grounds. 

He walked like a man who had a goal, and at that moment, it was to get out of the pouring rain. He didn’t have time to take in the scenery around him, the perfectly trimmed bushes, or the beautiful orchids littering the garden. He just walked and walked until he reached the front door.

He went to press on the buzzer, but before he could, the door opened.

Perona, she had introduced herself the day of the interview, ushered him in with a curt welcome and a step to the side.

Sanji stepped inside. The warmth hit him first, then the silence someone would expect from a place this big.

The stairwell in front of him was huge, towering several stories. His eyes took the view in, tracing the art crowding the walls. He recognized a few of them from auction catalogues he used to sift through, and he fought a shudder away. 

Sanji looked at Perona, who was studying him carefully. She had long, pink hair that curled in the middle, resting in two ponytails. Her big eyes were black and careful, rimmed red as if she were crying. But he saw no tears. Her eyes were the kind of tired that he knew far too well, but would die before admitting he had had them.

An awkward silence stretched between them as they looked at each other, Sanji’s heart picking up speed ever so slightly.

She broke eye contact and shut the door behind him. 

“You can take off your jacket and hang it up there.” Her voice, too, was tired. 

Sanji took his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack, a ridiculously big coat rack, next to the door. 

The clicking of her heels had him turn to where she was standing, only to see her already on the move.

“Follow me. We’ll meet with the physical therapist first, then I’ll take you to his room,” she said, not turning around to see if he followed or not.

Sanji’s feet felt heavy to move all of a sudden, but he forced himself to follow her throughout the big mansion.

Perona took them to the dining area first, where a big binder rested open on the table. Sanji reached her side and tentatively looked down.

“This.” She pointed at the binder. “This is your bible for the next six months. Medications, routines, schedules, doctor’s appointments, everything is in here.” She paused to look at him with that same careful glare.

“You’re expected to memorize it. Do whatever it takes, touch it, read it, recite it, lick it. Just memorize it. What’s in here is essential for his comfort, and you’re here to provide said comfort.” She took a deep breath in, her eyes fluttering to look at a distant point, somewhere Sanji couldn’t follow.

“He’s… difficult. You’re the fifth caretaker we’ve had to hire.” She was looking at him again, hand on heart as if it were hurting. “He has given me six months to prove to him why he should stay.” 

She fell silent for a moment, looking at Sanji and him looking back.

“You’re my last hope.”

Dread filled Sanji’s lungs as he took a sharp inhale at her words. 

This was far more than what Sanji thought he was signing up for. He was out of his element. Yet, frankly, what was his element anyway? He didn’t have an answer, not anymore. 

Sanji looked at the binder, the eye contact too heavy to hold anymore, and his fingers brushed against the page. 

There was a photo of a rash, something medical he didn’t understand, jargon he knew he had to research before fully being able to carry out. He felt Perona’s eyes on him as he looked, as he flipped the pages, as he landed on a photograph of a green-haired man smiling and holding up a medal. 

An MMA fighter. First place medal. This man was not a joke. 

He swallowed. This man in the picture lost everything he had worked for, just like Sanji did. He knew just as much from what he got searching him up before arriving. Wanting to get an idea of who else he'd be working with. 

The green-haired man was a famous fighter, on his way to the title fight. The UFC championship. Then it happened, the accident. 

Perona snapped him out of his search, bringing him back to the room they were standing in.

“You’ll get a chance to look through the binder later. Zoro should be done with his physical therapy by now, let’s go meet the therapist before I introduce you to my brother.”

“What…” Sanji hesitated. “What am I walking into?” He asked weakly, looking at Perona and regretting his words.

She looked at him, her eyes glimmering slightly. “A man’s final days. That’s what you’re walking into. And I need you to be ready to handle that.”

Sanji nodded despite himself, despite the growing fear, despite his hesitation. 

He needed the money, after all, and they offered a lot of it. He couldn’t rely on his sister to sneak him any more lest she got caught by his father. 

There was no other choice. No other establishment would hire a cook as dirtied as he was, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one to put the dirt there in the first place.

Sanji followed Perona as she led them through the door, into a big hallway and through an open living room that had no reason being the size it was. Sanji noticed the smell of cleanliness, as if someone had just finished wiping away the dust. He noticed the meticulous way every object was placed, the silk woven into fabrics, and he noticed the photographs.

They were almost hidden, as if shy, as if they told a story the listener didn’t want to hear anymore. 

He noticed green hair in most of them. He wondered how hard it must have been to look back on something long gone.

Sanji’s own apartment was bare and simple, nothing like the complex space he grew up in, or the kitchens he learnt how to cook in. He didn’t have any photographs that dated more than a year, he didn’t have the luxury of time to go through his belongings back at that house and pick pictures.

He left with the clothes on his back and nothing to his name.

He shoved away the thoughts lingering in his mind as they exited the living room into another, smaller space. 

There was a kitchen, a door to what Sanji assumed was the bathroom, and another, wider, closed door.

Next to the counter stood a man with curly locks of black hair and a bag slung across his shoulder.

“Oh, hello Perona. I was just heading out.”

“Usopp, how did the session go?” Perona asked. Sanji stood behind her awkwardly.

“As good as you can expect. He’s in a relatively bad mood today.” The man, Usopp, sighed, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“I see. He’s been having more of those recently,” she paused, then turned to Sanji who almost jolted at the sudden attention.

“This is Sanji, the new caretaker. Sanji, this is Usopp, the physical therapist.”

Sanji shook Usopp’s hand with a small smile on his face.

“You two will meet a lot. If you have any questions, I’m sure Usopp is more than capable of answering. He’s been here for the past two years.”

“Noted,” Sanji breathed out. “Thank you in advance, Usopp.”

The man brushed him off with a soft chuckle. “Don’t thank me. It’s only my job. Hope you last longer than the last one.” 

If that was an attempt at a joke, it was poorly phrased. Sanji laughed half-heardedly anyway.

“Zoro’s in  there,” Usopp said, trying to recover. “If he throws words at you… Don’t take it personally. He’ll try to make you leave, also don’t take it personally. And don’t flinch.” 

His warning unsettled something in Sanji’s chest. He looked at Perona for confirmation, just to see the resigned look on her face. 

“Also noted. I’m sure this won’t be bad.” 

They both look at Sanji with more words said in silence than aloud. 

He looked away at the door, having an inkling feeling it hid a brooding man behind it. Perona looked at him.

“Let’s go introduce you. There’s no point in hiding here anymore.” She said and walked towards the door. Sanji watched as she slid it open, revealing a big room with glass for walls and a view of the garden outside. The rain splattered across the windows, echoing Sanji’s heartbeat. Fast. Hard. 

His eyes scanned the room and settled on green hair on a wheelchair and a back turned towards him. 

Perona stood next to the door. “Zoro.” Her voice was warmer than before, but only slightly. “Your caretaker is here.”

Zoro didn’t turn around as Sanji stepped forward, as he crossed the threshold, as he found himself in Zoro’s space. His room. 

The silence stretched, elastic. Perona lingered by the door. Sanji stood still waiting.

Finally, Zoro turned around in his wheelchair, deliberately slow, and his eyes found Sanji’s.

They were a warm, light brown. Sanji looked at him. The green hair was long, shoulder length. The beard was long, too, unlike the clean face he had seen in pictures around the house and online. 

His jaw was the same, sharp. Same nose, same features.

But there was a tiredness that Sanji noticed first. The circles around his eyes, the paleness of his tanned skin. And he was thinner, much thinner than the pictures.

Zoro looked at him, and Sanji looked back unyieldingly.

He finally snapped the silence in half.

“How much did they promise to pay you?” Zoro’s voice was hoarse. 

“Excuse me?” Did he hear that right?

“Zoro, this is not app–”

“The money. How much did they promise for you to say yes?” Zoro cut Perona off.

“That’s not–” Sanji was cut off.

“Everyone has a price. How much does your dignity cost?”

Sanji’s jaw tightened as he stared at the man. “More than you can ever dream of offering.”

Zoro laughed. It wasn’t pleasant. “Then why are you here?”

Sanji let the question hang in the air for a moment. “Because I need the money.”

He hummed mockingly. “Honesty. That’s new.” 

Zoro’s eyes turned to Perona as he spoke to her. “Close the door behind you.”

“Zoro,” she began. “Behave. You can’t go around scaring everyone.”

He grinned devilishly at her. “Watch me do it anyway.”

Perona sighed and, with one last glance towards Sanji, left and slid the door shut behind her.

They were alone. Sanji turned to look at Zoro who was now studying him.

“Sanji,” He said to Zoro. 

“What?”

“My name. It’s Sanji.”

Zoro scoffed and turned his wheelchair around facing the garden. 

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t stay long enough for me to memorize it.”

Sanji searched his mind for words to string together, a reply or a retort that would stick. He found none. The silence creeped back in until Zoro cut it.

“Here are the rules,” Zoro said flatly. “Don’t touch me without asking. Don’t ask me about my feelings. Don’t say it’s gonna be okay. Don’t be cheerful before ten in the morning. Don’t be cheerful after ten at night. Don’t expect me to talk. Don’t expect me to be grateful.”

He listed them off as if they were a script he had rehearsed a thousand times before.

Sanji ran a trembling hand through his hair, his body still on edge.

“Anything else I should know?”

Zoro didn’t reply right away, and Sanji thought he was done talking.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” He added.

Sanji scoffed despite himself.

“Don’t you worry. That won’t be a problem,” Sanji said as his eyes went back to wandering, taking everything in.

Zoro’s voice rang through the room, low and barren. “We’ll see.”

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“I can’t stop you, neither can you. For once in my life, I’m bound to see it through. If you want spotless, I’ll always lose. You gave me a love, lover, you gave me the truth.” — Zach Bryan, The Lumineers, “Spotless”

 

— Month One —

 

Silence came in different forms with Zoro. The first week, Sanji learnt how it came in the form of angry words thrown haphazardly his way. It took the shape of furrowed eyebrows and lips sewn shut in pain that refused to make itself seen.

The second week, Sanji learnt that silence came in soft sobs that echoed past the shut door when Zoro thought no one could hear him. It came in little knocks and wordless care as Sanji placed plates of food on the table and waited for Zoro to look at him. Silence came during the moments Zoro would let Sanji feed him, slowly and painfully, as if this act marked his further defeat.

The third week, Sanji learnt that silence came heavy, weighed down by dreams too far fetched to grasp. Sanji saw Zoro try anyway, watched him watch his legs, willing them to move, frustrated that they wouldn’t listen. Zoro would then lay down and stare at a ceiling Sanji was sure he had memorized by now. 

For three weeks, Zoro didn’t talk to Sanji, and Sanji didn’t bother talking to him either. For three weeks, Sanji got there at six and stayed by Zoro’s side in silence. He watched, every day, as Zoro woke up, as he wrapped his mind around the fact that he was still alive, as he fell into a devastating silence. He never greeted Sanji, he never acknowledged him before mealtimes. And Sanji was content with sitting on the chair on the opposite end of the room, pretending to read a book he had no interest in. 

And for three weeks, the world around them moved ceaselessly. Sanji watched Zoro watch the light pattern change on the walls of the bedroom. His ears caught the drum of the rain pouring outside. The days blurred together so much that Sanji wouldn’t have known when one ended and the other began had it not been for Zoro. He woke up at nine, slept at eleven, his meals were sent at specific times. Zoro had become Sanji’s clock in what felt like endless hours morphed together. 

It wasn’t until the fourth week that something in the routine cracked. 

It was nearly the end of Sanji’s shift. He was packing his bag when he heard a soft mumble coming from Zoro, who was laying on the bed staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come.

“You’re still here.” It wasn’t a question, and his voice wasn’t heavy with the venom he usually addressed Sanji with. It was a whisper, and Sanji almost thought he had imagined it.

“I’m still here.” Sanji replied. “Where else would I be?”

“Home. Why’re you still here anyway?” Zoro asked, and Sanji could tell that his eyes were heavy with sleep.

“I told you before. I need the money.” 

“Go home. You can find work less demanding than looking over me, can’t you?” Zoro’s voice was dismissive, but it was also laced with something Sanji couldn’t name. Something vulnerable he didn’t dare name lest he saw Zoro in a different light.

Sanji’s shoulders dropped. “I don’t have a home to go back to. Not really. And this job is my last resort.”

“Then where do you go back to every night? Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping on the street.” Zoro scoffed, but it was weak.

Sanji let the silence stretch between them for a moment. “I go to an apartment I’ve rented.”

“So a home.”

“No.”

Zoro looked at him from his place on the bed, as if he were studying him. Sanji swallowed hard at the sudden attention.

“What do you call it then?”

“An apartment. Four walls, a ceiling, some food. Shelter, if you may.”

Zoro looked away. Silence settled between them.

Sanji waited for a reply. He didn’t admit it to himself, but he did. He waited until Zoro’s breathing slowed, until it evened out, until his eyes shut. 

Sanji sat back on the chair and stayed past his curfew. Stayed until he could barely open his eyes anymore. 

He got to his apartment at half past one. He took a look around for the first time since he got the place.

It was barren. No photographs, no plants, nothing but the essentials. It was devoid of life bar Sanji, who was now standing in the middle of the tiny living room of his. 

He looked at the kitchen, at the stove, at the pans and pots. His hand itched slightly, a phantom pain echoing from a life he had given up on, one he wasn’t sure he would get back. 

His eyes wandered to the couch, to the dent in it from all the times he had not cared enough to go to bed. He sat there, his eyes burning, feeling like a stranger in the place he was supposed to call home but never could. 

His home was the kitchen, his home was the life he struggled so hard to build. 

His home was taken away in the blink of an eye, by a monster he used to call a father. 

Sanji lay on the couch, letting his head rest on the pillow, and soon fell into a short, restless sleep.

 

Sanji woke up late. 

He got to the mansion breathless, pressed on the button, got buzzed in and greeted by an annoyed Perona. 

“You’re late,” She said in lieu of a greeting. 

He went to apologize, but she cut him off before he got the first sound out.

“He’s in his room. Breakfast is ready. Go feed him.” She closed the door behind him and walked away.

Sanji stood in the entrance for a minute, catching his breath, then made his way to the conservatory. 

Zoro didn’t greet him. He just looked at him momentarily, just to then turn his gaze away.

“Good morning, Zoro. Sorry I’m late,” Sanji said as he placed his bag on the chair in the corner.

Zoro didn’t reply. 

“I’m gonna go get you your breakfast. Don’t run away.” Sanji turned to walk to the door when he heard Zoro scoff. 

He smiled to himself slightly before pushing the door open and walking towards the kitchen.

He grabbed a plate from the counter made specifically for Zoro, along with a cup of tea, then made his way back in. 

He placed everything on the small table, carried it next to Zoro, and pulled the chair towards the wheelchair. 

Sanji took a moment to look at Zoro, who was staring at the garden outside of the glass. Sanji’s eyes followed his gaze.

It was a beautiful day outside. Sunny and warm enough for a stroll. 

He pursed his lips and gathered what courage he had.

“Let’s finish breakfast and go out. It’s beautiful outside, a stroll will do us both some good.”

Zoro looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Sanji felt wrong for bringing it up. He went to grab the fork to start feeding Zoro when a soft mumble escaped Zoro’s lips.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do that.” 

Sanji wasn’t expecting an agreement, but he smiled softly regardless. 

“Amazing. Now eat your food before it goes cold.”

“Whose fault would that be? You’re the one who was late.”

Sanji opened his mouth to retort, thought about it, then opted for honesty.

“Yeah, it was a rough night. I didn’t wake up when my alarms rang.”

Zoro was silent for a moment, and Sanji thought that was the end of it.

“I hardly slept, too.” 

Sanji put the fork down. “Were you in pain?” 

“No,” he said, turning his gaze back outside.

And that was the end of their impromptu conversation. Sanji started feeding Zoro slowly, waiting until he swallowed his bite, placing another in his mouth. 

Zoro didn’t look at Sanji again, his eyes trained on something far away. But there was a crack and Sanji could feel it. A shift in their dynamic that was almost palpable. Zoro was softening up ever so slightly, and it felt like acceptance to Sanji who, for four weeks, had felt like an intruder in his own job. 

They finished breakfast. Sanji helped Zoro get out of his clothes and into new ones. It was a slow process, one that had Zoro shift his eyes away from Sanji’s. Sanji tried not to linger on the scars on his body every time he changed his clothes, every time he helped him bathe. It was not his place to look. 

So, he didn’t.

Instead, he helped Zoro into his wheelchair, walked next to him as they made their way to the front door that Sanji realized way too late that it was adjusted for a wheelchair. 

For a second, Sanji could swear Zoro hesitated at the door. There was a brief second, fleeting, where Zoro’s lips pursed in silent anticipation, or silent fear. 

“Let’s go,” Sanji prompted, his voice as soft as he could manage without sounding wrong.

And, so, Zoro crossed the threshold, his wheelchair tipping slightly as he went down the rail. 

Sanji didn’t leave his side as they made their way between trimmed bushes and flowers that smelled like heaven. They strolled in silence around the back of the house, where trees towered above them, providing soft shade from the sun. Zoro seemed to always find the spots with sun shining in them, though, and Sanji couldn’t help but think of a cat taking a nap.

At one moment, there was a breeze that tickled Sanji’s nose and brushed Zoro’s hair away from his eyes.

Sanji’s eyes lingered onto Zoro’s, who was busy looking at the base of a tree where little mushrooms grew. 

They were honey brown and beautiful under the sun, glimmering softly. And Sanji filtered that image in his mind under Zoro’s name. It was the first one he had of the man’s almost smile.

He was, Sanji came to the conclusion, beautiful in his own way. Despite the years of solitude, despite the sadness in his eyes. Sanji saw beauty.

“You’re staring.”

Sanji snapped out of his thoughts.

“The sun. It’s reflecting off of your eyes so beautifully.” He couldn’t stop himself.

Zoro didn’t reply. There was a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.

Sanji tried to backtrack. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean for it–”

“No,” Zoro cut him off, smirking. “You said it. There’s no going back now.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t let it get to your head.”

“It already did.” 

Sanji let out a small chuckle. 

They fell silent for a moment, a companionable one, one that didn’t demand to be filled.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Zoro broke it, his voice raw and full of something Sanji couldn’t name.

“My contract says six months, so that long,” Sanji said as he walked next to Zoro again, making their way back to the entrance. 

Zoro scoffed, but it was half hearted.

“Do you even know why it says six months?”

Dignitas, Sanji thought. Six months until your death.

“No, not really. I don’t know the details,” he lied, trying to give Zoro agency over his story.

Sanji watched Zoro purse his lips as the scenery to his right changed slowly.

“I’m choosing to end my life. On my terms. I would have done it earlier, but Perona, she…” He trailed off, his face contorting into emotions Sanji saw for the first time, but couldn’t name.

“She asked me for six months. And I couldn’t hurt her more than I’ve already done. So I gave her six months.”

“To change your mind?” Sanji asked, curiosity slipping into his voice.

Zoro scoffed again. “No. Nothing will change my mind. I just gave her what she asked for because I couldn’t give her what she actually wanted.”

“For you to continue living,” Sanji said, filling in the gaps.

“Yeah.” 

They didn’t talk the rest of the stroll. They got to the front door and Sanji watched as Zoro meticulously navigated the ramp, as he made his way inside.

Sanji shut the door behind him, the cold air of the mansion a stark difference from the warm sun outside.

He followed Zoro back to his space, into his room.

He watched as Zoro adjusted the wheelchair to face the garden again. He hesitated at the threshold, unsure if Zoro wanted him in.

“Sit. You always sit.” 

Sanji crossed the threshold and made his way to the chair in the corner. There was a dent forming from weeks of sitting on it pretending to read. He took a seat. Zoro’s eyes were on the garden, and a heavy silence stretched between them. Sanji fixed his posture and checked the clock on his wrist. Lunch was in an hour. He had nothing to do until then.

After a few minutes of complete, uncomfortable silence, Zoro’s voice broke through.

“You knew.” There was no accusation. Just a statement.

Sanji looked down at his feet, then his eyes went back to Zoro. Zoro didn’t look back.

“Perona told me. During the interview.”

“And you stayed despite that.”

“I told you, I need the money.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“You could work any job you want. You can clean dishes, deliver items, anything other than watch a man die.” Zoro turned his chair slightly, not enough to look at Sanji straight on, but enough to glance at him from the corner of his eye.

“I couldn’t,” Sanji said hesitantly. “There’s no future for me outside these walls at the moment.”

Zoro looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanji pursed his lips and looked at the floor. 

“I used to be a cook,” he said and paused, collecting his thoughts.

“So cook. What are you doing babysitting me?” Zoro’s voice was almost harsh, but not quite.

Sanji sighed, licking his lips. “I can’t. No one will hire me.”

Zoro looked away, his eyes focusing back on the garden.

“Build something then. Open your own restaurant.”

Sanji laughed bitterly. “I had a restaurant. I lost it.”

“How do you lose a restaurant?” 

“When you have a father like mine, you lose everything if you dare cross the line.” 

“And what line did you cross?” Sanji felt his heart ache at the question.

“Freedom,” he said simply. “I didn’t want to mold myself to fit his best version of me. I wanted to do things my way. So he took everything.”

Zoro didn’t reply for a moment, and Sanji welcomed the brief silence.

“So you’re trapped,” Zoro said, and Sanji couldn’t help but think of how similar their situations were.

“Yeah. I’m trapped in an apartment that’s not home, in a job I’ve no business being in, and with a menace that has no right being so annoying.” It was a joke, something to lighten the load.

Zoro laughed. Sanji felt victorious.

They fell back into silence until Zoro broke it again.

“Cook for me?” He was looking at the grass outside the windows.

It took Sanji by surprise.

“Someone already cooks your food the way you like it,” he countered. Zoro licked his lips and looked up at the ceiling briefly.

“Yeah, cook for me anyway. I wanna taste something different.”

Sanji thought about it. If only Zoro knew how big of an ask that was. 

He hadn’t cooked for anyone in years. He barely cooked for himself. He didn’t know if he could even make something proper anymore. 

But Zoro was asking, and it was the first time he ever did so. 

And Sanji, he saw the kitchen. He yearned to touch the knives there, he knew they were good. He wanted to brush his fingers across the stove, to light it up, to chop through ingredients that he knew were of high calibre. 

“Okay,” he breathed out. “I’ll cook for you. Anything specific you want?”

Zoro’s lips tugged up in a soft smile.

“Surprise me.”

 

Sanji found himself behind the stove, a knife in his hand, ingredients chopped up next to him. 

He wasn’t sure how he got there, but his brain was silent for the first time in forever. His hands were working automatically, as if it had been mere hours since he cooked last, not years.

He asked Perona for permission to cook, and she gave him full access to the kitchen. Nothing was off limits.

Sanji could also feel Zoro’s presence behind him. The man decided he wanted to watch him instead of staying back in his room, and Sanji had no retort to make him change his mind. 

They both existed in the kitchen, Zoro watching Sanji watch the water boil, watched him as he placed the ingredients in, as he stirred and chopped and sprinkled spices. 

Sanji finished the food and plated it the way he knew, beautiful and elegant. 

He placed a plate in front of Zoro and one in front of the seat next to him.

He swallowed, his eyes burning ever so slightly.

“You looked more peaceful than I’ve ever seen you before,” Zoro said, his eyes trained on the plate.

Sanji breathed out heavily and sat next to Zoro, grabbing the man’s fork and slowly building a bite on it. 

He silently raised it to Zoro’s mouth and watched as he opened it and bit down on the fork. Sanji pulled it away and waited.

For what, he didn’t know. Maybe reassurance that he had not lost his touch, maybe a grimace as Zoro swallowed, signalling it was horrible. 

Zoro’s face remained devoid of emotions as he chewed, as he swallowed. He waited for another bite and Sanji had to snap himself out of his spiral. 

He fed him, Sanji’s plate remaining untouched. He waited for Zoro to swallow, placed another bite to his lips, watched him swallow it slowly. He did that until Zoro’s plate was empty.

Silence stretched between them. Sanji looked at Zoro as he stared ahead.

“Don’t let it get to your head, but this was good,” Zoro said curtly, pursing his lips together then licking them.

Sanji didn’t say anything back. He looked at his own plate, untouched. His hand trembled as he took a bite. 

It was just like he remembered it. Sweet the way it should be, salty where it mattered. A combination he had mastered once upon a time. One he hadn’t tasted since everything fell apart. 

He tried to stop it, he really did, but a tear escaped his eye as he swallowed. He didn’t know what to make of these feelings resurfacing. He had not let himself think about cooking for so long, but now he was doing it for someone other than himself, and it tasted phenomenal. 

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? Cooking?” Zoro’s voice broke through the fog in Sanji’s mind.

“Yeah. It was my solace. I haven’t cooked like that in…” Sanji thought about when the last time was. “In so long.”

Zoro fell silent for a moment. 

“You felt like you were at home while cooking.” His voice came out in a mumble.

Sanji turned to look at him. He was looking at the empty plate in front of him.

They didn’t say anything else, not until Sanji was done with his food, not until they were back in the room.

And when they were back in the glass room filtering in the afternoon sun, when Zoro was back facing the garden, it was him again that broke the silence.

“Will you cook for me again?” Zoro’s voice was devoid of any hostility. He sounded childlike and vulnerable, as if asking made him weaker. 

The question caught Sanji off guard, who had settled in his chair by the corner, overlooking the entire room.

“Do you want me to?” He asked softly, his heart picking up speed at the prospect of cooking for someone again.

There was a silence that stretched between them for a moment.

“Yeah, I want you to,” Zoro said, looking at a point far in the distance.

Sanji couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his lips.

“Then I will.”

“Good, cause I’m firing the cook.”

Sanji’s eyes shot wide open. “Don’t do that. I’ll feel so guilty.”

Zoro replied with a small laugh, and Sanji’s nerves eased.

“I’m messing with you, cook. You’re not that good.”

Sanji leaned back into his chair and rolled his eyes at Zoro despite knowing he couldn’t see him. 

“I’m good, and you know it,” he retorted.

Zoro was smiling. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“I bet on losing dogs. I know they’re losing, and I’ll pay for my place by the ring. Where I’ll be looking in their eyes when they’re down. I’ll be there by their side. I’m losing by their side.” — Mitski, “I Bet on Losing Dogs”

 

— Month Two —

 

Sanji was not ready for how the job hit him full force his second month in. 

They were doing alright, Sanji and Zoro. The hostility had died down, the venom almost disappeared entirely from Zoro’s voice. His words landed softer punches when Zoro threw them Sanji’s way.

And Sanji? He had grown accustomed to the routine of it all, and part of him was even excited to see Zoro. But he would never admit that. He could barely understand his own emotions at that point. 

But things were going good, and Sanji was thawing the ice with Zoro bit by bit, and it was all nice and happy for a while.

Until they came. 

Sanji was out of the house on a quick errand for Zoro, who was in his physical therapy session. When he came back, he was met with Usopp and Perona’s ashen faces waiting by the door to Zoro’s room. 

He looked between them, bag in hand. They looked back at him.

“What’s wrong…?” He had a sinking feeling this wasn’t going to be good.

Perona, who was biting on her nails, looked at Usopp, who was nibbling on his lip.

Sanji placed the bag on the counter, his eyes darting between the two.

In the distance, he could hear murmurs. Zoro’s voice rang in Sanji’s ear, and he was talking to two people Sanji didn’t know 

“Sanji,” Perona said suddenly. “It’s time for Zoro’s medicine, isn’t it?”

Sanji looked at her confused, then looked down at his wrist watch. “In five minutes, yes.”

Perona’s hand grabbed Sanji’s arm and pulled him to the medicine cabinet. 

“Now, you go in now and administer the medicine.”

“But there are people in there with him.” Sanji tried to get out of her grip, but it was strong.

“Nonsense, medicine needs to be timely. Come on, get on with it.” She was nervous, Sanji could tell that much. 

They stood in front of the cabinet and Perona looked at him expectantly. Sanji turned to look at Usopp, then back at the pink-haired woman in front of him.

“Anyone care to explain what’s happening?”

Perona sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, but didn’t explain. It was Usopp who talked.

“His ex fiancee is in there.” Usopp scratched the back of his neck.

“Zoro’s?” Sanji was slightly taken aback.

“Yeah, who else?” Perona shot back.

“That’s good news, no?”

Usopp scoffed. “You’d think. Except she’s with her new fiance.”

“Oh,” Sanji said, and then: “Wait, what are they doing here?”

Perona sighed again, heavily this time. “We don’t know, but it can’t be good. He always gets in such a bad mood after every visit.”

“They do this often?” Sanji was bewildered.

“Yeah,” Usopp spoke up. “They’re here every other month. They have no clue the state they leave Zoro in.”

Sanji stared at them until Perona shoved Zoro’s medicine in his hands.

“Now, go. Do some damage control or something.”

Sanji took the pills and stared at her. “What exactly am I supposed to do? This wasn’t in the job description.”

Perona rolled her eyes at him. “Your job is to take care of him. This is in the subtext.”

“But–” Sanji went to retort. 

“Go!” Sanji stumbled as Perona shoved him towards the door.

He breathed in deeply as he took more steps forward, knocking on the door as he got to it.

There was no response. He looked back at Perona, who motioned for him to go in.

Sanji opened the door hesitantly.

“Zoro?” He peeked his head in. There was a woman with short, black hair and eyeglasses, standing next to a big man with white hair. They looked at him while he stared.

He broke eye contact and looked at Zoro, who was already looking at him. 

Zoro’s lips were pursed, his eyes holding grief that tugged at Sanji’s heart. He wanted to wipe that look from his memory, a primal need he didn’t realize he had.

“What do you want?” Zoro’s voice was harsh, but somehow Sanji could tell it wasn’t directed at him. 

Sanji hid the medicine behind his back. 

“You said we can go for a stroll today? You said to remind you when it was time,” Sanji lied through his teeth. He watched as something in Zoro’s eyes shifted, softened. Zoro’s eyes turned to look at the guests. 

“I have to cut this short. Routine is important. I’m sure you understand.” He was curt, cold, venom latched onto his words.

The woman nodded slightly.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll leave you to your routine then.” She turned to face the white-haired man. 

“Let’s go.” And with one glance towards Zoro, “Take care, okay?”

Zoro smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Sanji made way as they stepped outside the door, heard the insincere mumbles of ‘you’re welcome anytime’ and ‘visit us again’ escape Perona’s mouth. His eyes were trained on Zoro, who refused to look back.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Zoro said, his eyes brimming with silent tears, looking away from Sanji.

“Hear what?”

“The pity in your voice.” 

“I’m not pitying you, grow up.” 

Zoro’s eyes shot Sanji a wicked glare.

“What do you want?” 

“We’re going on a walk, also you need to take your medicine,” Sanji said plainly, waving the medicine pack.

Zoro’s eyes softened ever so slightly. 

He looked away from Sanji.

“I’m thirsty.” 

Sanji blinked, his arm falling to his side. He walked to the bedside stand and grabbed the glass of water there, then went to Zoro’s side. He bent down and gently placed the tip of the glass against Zoro’s lower lip. 

Zoro drank, then he drank again when Sanji placed the medicine in his mouth. Sanji watched him swallow, watched as his eyes found Sanji’s.

Sanji stared back.

Zoro looked away.

“I wanna break something,” Zoro mumbled angrily.

“Okay. What do you want to break?”

Zoro looked at him again, puzzled. But he answered anyway. “That glass. What do you want me to say? I can’t even fucking break something when I need to.”

Sanji looked at the glass that he just finished helping Zoro drink from. He walked towards it, grabbed it, and held it up for Zoro. “This?”

Zoro watched Sanji carefully. “Yes.”

Sanji threw the glass and watched it shatter against the wall opposite him. Zoro’s eyes followed the trajectory, and Sanji could tell they were still holding back tears.

“What else?” Sanji prompted.

There was a moment of silence as Zoro wrapped his mind around what was happening.

“In the drawer next to the bed. There’s a picture. I want it gone.” Sanji couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable Zoro’s voice had become. He walked to the drawer and opened it, revealing a picture frame with a picture inside of it. 

It was Zoro, beaming, next to the black-haired woman from before. They were hugging while she pressed a kiss to Zoro’s cheek. A soft kind of intimacy that Sanji had no doubt pained Zoro beyond measure.

He walked back to Zoro, who was avoiding eye contact with Sanji at all costs.

“This?” Sanji held up the picture.

“Yes.”

“You want to break it? Do you want to take the picture and tear it?”

Zoro hesitated. “Yes.”

Sanji smashed the picture right there, the glass shattering to hundreds of small pieces, the wooden frame breaking at the corners. He bent down and picked up the picture itself, then held it out in front of Zoro.

He tore it once, then twice. Then a third. He tore until his strength failed him, until a tear rolled down Zoro’s eye.

“There. You did it. Anything else you wanna break?”

Zoro’s tear dried on his cheek, his eyes glimmering as he looked up at Sanji.

“No.” He said weakly, his voice breaking. 

“Good. What do you want to do now?”

Zoro thought for a moment, glancing outside.

“I want to get out of this room.”

Sanji nodded, looking at the garden. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“It was your lie, you’re coming.”

Sanji fought off a smile. “Let’s go then, I must atone for my sins.”

Silence settled between them as they made their way outside. The guests — his ex fiancee and her new one — were long gone by the time they got to the garden.

Zoro was quiet as he maneuvered his way down the path leading to the opposite end of the house, where the oak trees sheltered the ground from the sun. Sanji walked next to him, silent, too, his hands resting in his pockets.

They got to the tree with the mushrooms growing underneath it, and Zoro stopped in a spot where sun still seeped through. He didn’t talk, he didn’t have to. Neither did Sanji. They remained like that for a while, letting the breeze mess up their hair. In the distance, the sound of birds singing caught Sanji’s ear. He smiled to himself, wondering if Zoro heard them, too.

Zoro was watching his surroundings, the mushrooms, the tree trunks, the leaves scattered on the ground. His eyes fluttered up to look at the branches, his hair turning soft gold at the edges, reflecting the sun. 

Sanji watched him silently, watched a million emotions cross his face. Some were sad, some were something akin to happiness, but not quite. 

Zoro’s eyes found Sanji’s, and the blond almost blushed at the prospect of being caught staring. 

“She used to visit me everyday.” Zoro’s saddened voice cut through their silence. “Then every week. Then once a month. We were in love, you know. As stupid as that sounds. She was in my old room the morning of the accident,” Zoro paused, and Sanji let him collect his thoughts.

“I don’t blame her for leaving. It just…” Zoro trailed off.

“Hurts.” Sanji filled in the gap.

“Yes. It hurts. Seeing her happy with the guy that was supposed to be my best friend hurts.”

Sanji’s eyes lingered on Zoro’s fleeting ones. 

“There’s no shame in feeling hurt. Even if they’re happy, even if the world tells you you should be, too.”

Zoro looked at Sanji. Really looked. It felt like he was bringing down Sanji’s walls with his eyes.

“They asked me to come to their wedding. It’s in a couple months from now.”

“Will you go? You really don’t have to.”

“I’ll go.” Zoro fell silent for a moment, his eyes back on the mushrooms by his wheels. “Will you come with me?”

Sanji smiled softly. “I will, if you manage not to kill me until then.”

Zoro scoffed lightly. “With what, my glaring eyes?”

“They’re brutal, you know. Cut straight through my heart.”

Zoro rolled his eyes at Sanji, almost childlike.

“Fine, I won’t glare at you, you wuss. I’ll keep it to a minimum until after the wedding.”

“Perfect. You have a deal then, Mosshead.”

Zoro glared at him anyway, and Sanji laughed.

 

They made their way back a while later. Perona met them at the door, followed them into Zoro’s space, and asked Sanji to talk to her outside for a moment.

Sanji slid the door shut behind him as he stepped into the kitchen where Perona was waiting.

She looked at him, arms crossed.

“What happened in there? I went and saw glass on the floor.” 

Sanji bit his lip and collected his thoughts.

“He just broke some stuff. Venting off his anger.”

She studied him, her hands fisting where she held them across her chest.

“With what exactly did he manage to break those stuff? How did he manage to tear a picture apart? He can’t move from the neck down,” she stated as a matter of fact.

Sanji shrugged and looked at the door separating them from Zoro.

“He just did. He was really angry. It helped him calm down.”

Perona nodded once, slowly. 

“Okay, and the walk outside?”

Sanji looked at her. “He really wanted to get out of the room at that point. Can you blame him?”

He watched her swallow, thinking.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “You’re good for him.”

Sanji shrugged again, his own arms crossing over his chest. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am. He asked, I complied.”

She hummed in response, her eyes not leaving Sanji’s even for a moment. 

“Our dad, Mihawk, is coming home soon. You’ll meet him next week,” she said. “Then we’re going on a trip across the country,” she paused, tilting her head Sanji’s way.

“I want you to come.”

Sanji blinked at her. She held eye contact as he wrapped his mind around her request.

“Does Zoro want that?” He finally asked.

She smiled slightly. “He doesn’t even want to go. Dad thinks it’ll be good family time. But we can’t go alone. Usopp’s coming as well, and you should, too.”

Sanji nodded, “Okay. If you think it’s for the best.”

“I do. He’s… different around you.”

“Different how?”

“Happier.”

Sanji sat with that for a moment. 

“That’s just my job,” he finally muttered.

“No. Your job was to take care of him. I never asked you to make him feel happier. I frankly didn’t think it would be possible.” Her arms fell to her side.

Sanji didn’t speak. He thought about the softness he had been seeing from Zoro recently, the laughs that seemed to appear more often. The memory tugged at his heart, making a ghost of a smile appear on his lips.

“Pack your bags. It’ll be cold. We leave next week,” she turned around to leave, but stopped at the door.

“And Sanji?” He looked at her. “I bet my money on the right person.”

 

That night, despite the comfort that came after the storm, Sanji heard Zoro’s sobs as he was making his way outside. He stood by the door, listened to the almost silent cry, and his heart ached beneath his chest. 

He looked at his watch, the bag on his shoulder, felt the yawn fighting its way up. 

But he also heard him breaking down in the dark, unable to even wipe his own tears.

Sanji slid the door open, silently making his way in and placing his bag back on the chair he grew accustomed to.

He didn’t sit, though. He made his way to Zoro’s bed, who was now watching him with tears running down his cheek. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was raw. “I thought you left already.”

Sanji got to his bedside table, grabbed a couple tissue papers. “I was on my way out. Decided to stay instead.”

Zoro looked away, his eyebrows furrowed. “Leave.”

“No.” Sanji sat on the side of the bed next to Zoro, his hand reaching up with the tissues and softly dabbing the tears away.

“I said leave.” Zoro’s voice broke.

“No, Zoro. There’s no need for you to go through this alone.” He pulled back his hand and placed the tissues down on the nightstand. He looked at Zoro, Zoro looked at the ceiling.

“I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to.” Zoro said, holding back sobs.

Sanji looked down at the hand resting by Zoro’s side, at the fingers that could still feel and move, even if slightly. He hesitated before holding Zoro’s hand with his own.

It was warm underneath his touch.

Zoro’s eyes fluttered towards Sanji. 

“Too bad, Mosshead. I’m staying, and I’m seeing you, and it’s perfectly normal to cry when shit happens.” 

Zoro didn’t reply, his tears escaping his eyes again. 

Sanji leaned up to brush away his tears with his other hand, and to his surprise, Zoro leaned into the touch ever so slightly. 

“So you’ll sit on the bed all night? You’ll be tired,” Zoro managed to say.

Sanji tilted his head, thinking. “I could lay down.”

Zoro stared at him for a moment, Sanji stared back.

“Okay,” he said, and Sanji smiled a little.

He lay down next to Zoro, hand still holding his, and they fell into heavy silence. 

After what felt like hours, Zoro’s soft voice cracked the silence.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For staying.”

Sanji didn’t reply. They fell into silence again, a little more comfortable than before.

 

Sanji woke up to coughs and a hand in his own.

His mind lagged behind his body as he tried to understand where he was. He forced his eyes open. The light from outside was dim and filtering into the room, casting shades across the wall.

He looked around, his eyes taking in the now familiar room around him.

It wasn’t until a second cough echoed through the room that Sanji realized he was holding onto something. 

He stilled. 

It was Zoro’s hand. 

It was cold.

“Zoro?” His voice was rough, sleep still clinging to it, and his eyes squinted as the man’s face came into focus. 

Zoro didn’t reply. Instead, a sharp cough tore through him. Sanji involuntarily squeezed his hand. 

He sat up, his body turned toward Zoro.

“Zoro?” His voice was more urgent, his other hand going to touch Zoro’s forehead.

Heat. Not warmth. 

It was burning.

Sanji froze, his hand pressed where it landed on Zoro’s skin.

Something was horribly wrong.

“Hey, Zoro.” Sanji cupped Zoro’s face in the palm of his hand, softly shaking his head to wake him up.

His eyes remained closed, and Sanji realized that Zoro was breathing shallowly, ragged breath hitching in his throat. 

“Zoro, wake up. Can you hear me?” Sanji was on his knees now, his body leaning above Zoro’s, both palms pressed against his face as he tried to wake him up.

Zoro mumbled something incoherent, sweat beads dropping across his face.

Sanji’s heart picked up its pace. He scrambled off of the bed and made to leave, to call Perona.

“Don’t leave.” It was weak, almost inaudible, but it was Zoro. 

Sanji looked at him, his heart aching. “I’ll be back,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m just going to call for help. I’ll be back, I promise.”

Zoro didn’t reply. Sanji almost ran outside. 

Sanji didn’t remember crossing the hall.

One moment he was next to Zoro, the next he was watching Perona climb down the stairwell.

His voice came out jumbled, words tripping over each other as he tried to explain what had happened. 

Perona’s face shifted from confusion to something sharper. She breezed past him, and made her way to Zoro, her phone next to her ear, already dialing, already speaking. 

They got to his room and Sanji watched as Perona described symptoms, rushing whomever was on the other line to come quickly. 

His eyes fluttered to Zoro, who was still lying on the bed, still delirious. He moved to the side of the bed and fell to his knees next to him, taking both his hands in his own, cold still, as if anchoring Zoro. Or anchoring himself next to him. 

“Zoro,” his voice came out laced with panic. “You can’t go. Not like this,” Sanji whispered, his heart beating a fast rhythm against his chest.

“Not yet.”

Zoro didn’t reply.

Sanji waited anyway. 

A second, two. 

The silence settled in, heavy and suffocating.

His ears heard Perona’s distant, calm voice calling for him. But he didn’t answer. Not until a hand rested on his shoulder.

He looked up at her. Her face was laced with hidden worry. She swallowed hard.

“He’ll be okay, Sanji,” she said, her gentle voice different from the one he’s accustomed to. “The doctors are on their way. So is Usopp.” She paused, rubbed Sanji’s shoulder with her palm then let her hand fall to her side.

“He’ll be okay,” she repeated, and Sanji had a feeling she was reassuring herself, trying to make it come true.

 

The doctors came soon after. Sanji had to make room, had to leave Zoro’s immediate side. 

He watched in a haze as they drew blood, as they took his temperature. They hooked him up to a monitor, pierced an IV needle into his skin and propped it up. 

Sanji watched as the room turned mechanical, the smell of antiseptic clinging to his nostrils. The smell of a hospital filled the room. And Zoro disappeared beneath it all.

He could briefly sense a hand on his shoulder, Usopp’s voice breaking through briefly as he told him it’ll be okay. He clutched his chest, squeezed to calm down his heart, his eyes searching for glimpses of Zoro. 

He picked up fragmented pieces of conversations. Someone said pneumonia, another gave a seventy-two hour deadline. For what, Sanji didn’t know. He felt dread settle in his bones. 

He felt useless standing there, unable to move as he watched and watched and watched. There was a ragged cough, then Perona’s voice gently ushering Sanji outside.

He moved mechanically, her hands leading him outside. His legs burned in protest, but her words kept him moving. They needed space, they needed privacy. He wasn’t family. 

He stood outside next to the counter, his eyes trained on the shut door in front of him. His ears picked up on murmured commands, machines beeping. He watched as the door slid open again, Usopp making his way outside. He saw glimpses of pink hair and white robes before the man shut the door behind him. 

Usopp came closer, standing in Sanji’s direct eye sight. 

“Sanji?”

Sanji didn’t reply.

“Hey, Sanji,” Usopp repeated, snapping Sanji back to the room he was standing in. “How are you holding up?” 

Sanji’s eyes focused on him. It took him a moment to reply, and when he did, his voice was raw. “He was okay last night. I made sure of it.”

Usopp sighed lightly, nodding his head. “These things happen a lot more than I’d like to admit. His immune system is weak, and his body doesn’t have the ability to help him cough properly.” He paused. “That being said, he’s stubborn, and refuses to leave other than on his own terms. He’ll make it through.”

Sanji looked at the door behind Usopp. “They said something about seventy-two hours. What’s the deadline for?”

Usopp scratched the back of his neck. “It’s for the fever to go down. Otherwise he’ll need immediate hospitalization, a makeshift hospital in his room won’t do.”

Sanji nodded slightly, his fingernail resting between his teeth.

“You did the right thing calling for Perona,” Usopp added after a moment of silence.

“I should have done more.”

“There was nothing else to do. Even the binder says to go tell someone if something like this happens,” Usopp countered. 

Sanji didn’t reply, and silence fell between them. There was nothing more to say, just the waiting, just the shared dread.

 

Sanji didn’t know how long it was until the door opened again. Usopp was somewhere else in the house, maybe gone. Sanji didn’t know. 

He watched Perona exit the room and slide the door shut behind her. Her face was drawn. She looked at Sanji, who was now sitting uncomfortably on the stool, and made her way to him. She sat next to Sanji.

“The fever is going down, just slightly,” she mumbled, eyes focused on the door that Sanji, too, was looking at.

He didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to.

After a moment, “I thought I was gonna lose him.” Her voice broke, a choked sob escaping her.

Sanji looked at her, at the woman that held it together through everything Zoro had put her through so far. In that moment, she felt as human as ever before.

She was his sister and she, too, was hurting beyond measure.

Sanji hesitated, his hand reaching up to rest on her shoulder, but fell to his side before it got there.

“He’s okay?” He asked weakly, holding back his own tears.

Perona wiped at her eyes, not looking at Sanji.

“He will be, yeah.” 

 

Only when the doctors were gone, when Perona left, did Sanji dare think about going inside.

The doctors had talked to them when they exited the room in hushed voices.

Zoro was still delirious. He needed close monitoring. Sanji was handed their number as a means to contact them immediately if anything were to happen. 

His hand shook as he grabbed the card extended to him. 

They told them he was out of the danger zone, that if it were anyone else, it would have been harder. But Zoro was a fighter, and he pushed through and his body responded to the medication quickly. 

But the doctors also mentioned that he wasn’t stable yet, that it was going to take weeks, if not months, before he returned to baseline. That he needed constant care. 

Sanji nodded solemnly at that, filing everything in his mind so he wouldn’t forget. 

Only when everybody left did he slide the door open.

The room was brightly lit, the afternoon sun seeping through the windows and casting shades across the wall. He could hear the faint beeps of the monitor going off. His eyes drifted across the room until they landed on Zoro, who was lying there, eyes closed, sweat damping his hair.

Sanji’s legs slowly moved towards him. He reached the side of the bed and gently sat on it, his eyes not leaving the chest moving up and down rhythmically. 

Sanji watched him for a long moment. 

The beeps of the monitor filled the room, a reminder.

He was still there. Still alive.

Sanji reached out with his trembling hand, brushed his fingers against Zoro’s knuckles. Placed the hand there.

He held onto Zoro’s hand, a little warmer. 

“You can’t do this, you know.” Sanji said, his voice catching in his throat.

“I thought you were gone,” he whispered.

Zoro didn’t reply, his chest moving up and down slowly.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on Zoro’s knuckles. 

After another long moment of silence, filled only by the rhythmic beep of the monitor, Sanji whispered. “Tell me, why did you suddenly grow so important to me?”

He asked. He looked at Zoro’s face. Zoro didn’t reply.

Sanji laughed weakly. “Mosshead, you’re one insufferable bastard,” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “You’re always angry, you’re always throwing insults my way. You can barely tell me my cooking is good when I do cook for you.”

He squeezed Zoro’s hand.

“But if you dare leave like this, out of the blue, I…” Sanji’s voice faltered. He looked down at his lap, at the other hand laying there helplessly. He squeezed his fist shut, swallowed hard.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

Zoro’s breath hitched slightly, then quickly went back to normal. 

Sanji thought he had imagined it.

Was he listening?

“Zoro?” Sanji prompted, squeezing his hand again.

No response. 

“If you can hear me, you better make it out of this alive.” He tried to warn, but his voice was weak.

His other hand reached up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind Zoro’s ear. 

“You got this, Zoro, you promised four more months.” He mumbled to no one, to himself. To Zoro who wasn’t responding anymore.

Sanji blinked back hard. Tears slipped out of his eyes regardless.

He didn’t let go of Zoro’s hand.

 

The next seventy-two hours were a blur. Sanji was caught somewhere murky in his mind, between sleep and alertness, between fear and comfort. He didn’t go to his apartment except for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He was by Zoro’s side as soon as he could manage, by the bedside table on the same chair he had pulled closer now. 

Days folded into each other, indistinguishable, marked only by Zoro’s shallow, rhythmic breathing.

Sanji watched, as if in an endless loop, as Zoro’s chest rose and fell. He stopped counting hours and started counting little moments of awareness Zoro had. Like that time Zoro’s finger twitched under Sanji’s grip, or the murmurs he’d have when delirious and high on medication. 

Words Sanji leaned in to hear, and pretended not to.

Doctors came in and out of the room, machines buzzed and murmured 

By the third day, Zoro’s eyes parted open and met Sanji’s, who was leaning over him fixing his pillow. 

Sanji stilled, and Zoro just looked at him.

A momentary silence stretched between them.

“You’re still here.” His voice was rough, broken up from lack of use. 

Sanji leaned back, his eyes looking down, patting the pillow under Zoro’s head in an attempt to fix it. 

He didn’t reply for a long moment, his heart picking up speed, eyes back on Zoro’s face. Studying him. Zoro’s open eyes lifted a weight off of Sanji he didn’t know he was carrying. 

He sat back down on the chair next to his bed, Sanji’s hand placed on his own mouth. 

Zoro watched him, eyes half lidded, breathing deeply still.

“And you’re still here, too,” Sanji said, whispered maybe. 

Silent tears threatened to fall as he looked at Zoro, who was finally awake, who didn’t give in to the fever. 

Zoro stayed silent for a minute before his hoarse voice broke through.

“Hold my hand again.”

Sanji’s hand was trembling as it slowly made its way to Zoro’s, fingers brushing against knuckles before he grabbed the hand softly inside of his. 

They didn’t talk. They simply existed in each other’s silence for a long while, Sanji counting Zoro’s breath and Zoro watching him.

A while later, Zoro fell asleep again, and Sanji let the tears fall.

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“I’m singing at a funeral tomorrow for a kid a year older than me. And I’ve been talking to his dad, it makes me so sad. When I think too much about it, I can’t breathe.” — Phoebe Bridgers, “Funeral”

 

— Month Three —

 

By month three, Zoro had stabilized. He was more reactive, less tired. But there was a certain sadness that appeared after the incident and never left him. Or maybe it was there all along and it took Zoro almost dying for Sanji to notice it.

But it was there, stagnant, leaving Sanji wondering if he could even help Zoro through that.

Was it even his job? The lines seemed to blur for him.

It had been weeks since the incident, and Sanji was still counting Zoro’s breaths.

The routine came back. Sanji would cook Zoro’s meals at precise hours, he’d administer medication on time. Usopp would show up on schedule, and Sanji would hear Zoro’s usual curses as Usopp worked with him. 

Perona was back to her collected self, the only reminder of the incident was the darkness stretching under her eyes more and more with each passing day.

Sanji stayed by his bed throughout the entirety of the first week. It was only him, Perona, Usopp, and the doctors at first.

Then Mihawk returned a day after the fever broke. Sanji didn’t see him at first, but he felt his presence. 

It was like everything in the household tensed up. The house staff seemed quieter, moved in tandem with each, smoothly and efficiently. 

They were amazing at their jobs prior to his arrival, but now they were working from a place of fear. Or was it respect? Sanji didn’t know. 

Mihawk didn’t linger in the open spaces of the house.

Sanji noticed that quickly.

He appeared when needed, and disappeared quickly after. Fleeting. 

But every time he passed through, something in Sanji straightened instinctively.

Sanji saw him most often in Zoro’s room, standing by the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

He’d ask Sanji about Zoro without looking at him, questions so systematic and devoid of emotions that Sanji had to physically remind himself that this was Zoro’s father.

“When will he be back to baseline?” He’d ask Sanji, to which Sanji would reply, “In a couple more weeks, sir.” 

Or he’d ask about his medicine, if it was being administered correctly, and Sanji collected himself before respectfully answering “Yes, sir, every day.”

Mihawk never acknowledged him or replied past a low hum.

He never asked how Zoro was.

And Sanji stopped expecting him to. 

He quickly realized that what Mihawk needed from him were short, precise answers, so he adjusted his vocabulary to fit what he wanted.

“Yes, sir.”

“No, sir.”

“He’s improving.”

That was enough. 

It was later that first week that Sanji heard Perona argue with him.

“Why would you cancel the trip?” She said, frustration clear in her voice.

“He’s not in a condition to travel.” His voice was even.

“That’s not the point.” Her voice rose slightly.

Silence stretched between them.

Sanji listened from behind an ajar door, his hand placed on the wood gently, uncertain if he should just leave.

“You didn’t even ask him.” There was hurt in her voice that felt so raw and out of place.

“There’s no need to ask him.” Mihawk’s reply came, sending a shiver down Sanji’s spine.

“Of course there is. It’s his decision.”

“No, the decision has been made. He needs to recover.”

“And after that?” She asked. “What then?”

Silence settled again, longer this time, heavier.

“This isn’t helping him, you know. He deserves–”

“That is enough.” 

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. 

Sanji moved out of the way before they could catch him listening in. 

He made his way to Zoro’s room, slid the door open and entered. 

There was an unfamiliar look on Zoro’s face that tugged at Sanji’s heart. It was exhaustion, coupled with something akin to vulnerability.

Sanji swallowed hard and smiled softly, a million words left unsaid between them.

Sanji knew Zoro knew about the trip. He knew he had been silently looking forward to getting out of the house despite his constant protests. 

He could feel how devastated Zoro was. 

Neither of them spoke.

Silence settled between them, heavy and unbearable. 

That was the moment Sanji realized how little control Zoro had over his life anymore.

He was a watered down version of himself, an echo of the person he used to be before the accident happened.

Days morphed into weeks after that encounter. Mihawk’s presence in the house was evident, strong, demanding as ever. Sanji often found himself hiding in Zoro’s room, or in the kitchen cooking, avoiding open spaces at all costs.

It was one night well into their third month that Zoro said anything about how Sanji acted around his dad.

Sanji was packing his bag to leave for his apartment when Zoro’s voice cut through the silence. He thought the man was asleep, so it scared Sanji a little.

“Are you hiding here, Sanji?”

Sanji furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why would I be hiding here?”

Zoro shifted his eyes to look at him in the dim light of the room. “Does he scare you, my dad?”

Sanji blushed and thanked the night for the cover.

“No, nonsense.”

“Don’t start lying to me now.” 

A moment of silence stretched between them.

“Yeah, he’s intimidating. But it’s not like he’s done anything wrong.” Sanji was quick to explain, Zoro was quick to shut him down.

“No need to explain,” he paused. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “He’s rather intense, but he means well.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“I know. I know that.” It was all Sanji could honestly say.

Zoro bit his lip, his face contorting into emotions Sanji didn’t have the name for.

“He’s just…” Scary? Heartless? Controlling? “Intense,” Zoro said, his voice wrapping around the word weirdly, like he wasn’t allowed to talk negatively about his dad.

“He was never like this before the accident.” Zoro’s voice was low, almost inaudible. “It changed him almost as much as it changed me.”

Sanji’s fingers stilled where they were on the strap.

“People don’t always know how to deal with things like that.” 

He watched Zoro look at anything but him.

“I understand why he’s like that, but I can also tell he cares.”

Zoro’s eyes locked on a distant point.

“Even if he doesn’t show it right.” Sanji added, almost like an afterthought. “That doesn’t make it easier, though.” 

Zoro scoffed lightly, looking down at the sheets. “No,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t.”

After a moment of silence, Sanji moved his weight from one leg to the other. He opened his mouth to talk, then closed it. 

Zoro didn’t look at him.

Sanji pursed his lips, his hand gripping the strap of the bag tightly. 

A second passed, then another. Sanji made to leave the room, to go back to the apartment, when Zoro called after him. 

“Can we leave the house tomorrow?”

Sanji stopped where he was and looked back at Zoro.

“Where do you want to go?”

Zoro fell silent, thinking. Then: “The lake.”

“The one by the park?”

“That’s the one.”

Sanji bit his lip as he thought.

“Yeah, I’ll run it by Perona and your father before we leave.”

Zoro laughed lightly. “They’re not gonna come around easily.”

Sanji shrugged. “It’s what you want, and I don’t see why we can’t have a stroll. It’s pretty close by.”

Zoro looked at him closely, his eyes holding a glimmer of something raw and sweet. Hope. 

Sanji’s grip on the strap loosened. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, then quickly added. “Don’t get sick.”

 

They didn’t leave for the lake until evening the next day. Sanji had cooked them dinner to take with them, securing it in bags the staff provided. He also added a blanket just in case they wanted to sit on the floor instead.

Every time Sanji glanced at him before they left and during their walk there, he would notice Zoro had a distant look in his eyes. As if he were screening a memory Sanji wasn’t allowed to watch. He wondered what it could have been, how heavy it must have been, evident from the melancholy on Zoro’s face.

They slowly made their way across the garden, then past the gates, and finally across the street leading to the park. It was relatively empty as they walked across it, only a few people scattered around. Swings were empty, slides were devoid of kids. 

Sanji let Zoro guide them, walking behind and letting silence settle between them. 

After a while, they got to muddy grounds. Sanji hesitated, wondering if Zoro’s wheelchair would be able to cross, but the man wheeled by without any second thought. His wheels sunk a little into the mud, but Zoro maneuvered the chair right across the patch of ground underneath him. Sanji followed. 

His eyes wandered around in the dim light of the park. There were trees growing all around the place, tall and towering. He looked at his feet and saw flowers and grass covering the ground, fallen leaves littering next to the base of their roots. He gazed up at the sky above them. It was dark enough to see stars, the moon casting soft lights on tree leaves and guiding them deeper into the scenery. 

They walked until finally, they were at the edge of the lake. Zoro stopped his chair facing it, still as silent as he was at the house.

Sanji stood beside him. The soft murmur of the lake caught his ears, melodic against the silence of the place. The wind was gentle, running through their hair, rustling tree leaves. Sanji took a deep breath in, his eyes following the flow of water disappearing behind a curve up ahead. 

After a moment, he turned to glance at Zoro, just to see his eyes distant and glimmering. 

He hesitated at the sight, unsure of whether he should interrupt or not, but the reminder of food going cold solidified his choice.

“Hey, Zoro?” He said gently, tilting his head down to catch the man’s eyes.

A soft hum came as a reply.

“Is this where you wanna sit? I can put a blanket by the tree there.” Sanji pointed to the tree closest to the lake. 

Zoro’s eyes drifted up to meet Sanji’s. “Yeah, here’s good.” 

Sanji nodded once and moved to grab the blanket from one of the bags. He laid it down by the tree trunk, and went to slowly get Zoro out of his wheelchair. He helped him sit up against the trunk and sat next to him, already unboxing the food they brought.

Zoro was silent again, staring at the lake. 

Sanji wanted to ask. He wanted to know what was wrong, what had Zoro in a daze.

Instead, he picked up a fork and began slowly feeding him, then taking a bite himself while he waited for Zoro to swallow. 

They stayed like that for almost half an hour, sharing food, looking at the lake, silence stretching between them. 

It was Zoro who spoke up first after a while, after they finished eating.

With his eyes glued to the lake, he said, “I used to come here after every important thing that happened to me.” His voice was low, as if he were talking to himself instead of Sanji.

Sanji wrapped his arms around his knees. “This place must mean a lot to you, then.”

After a beat, Zoro mumbled, “Yes, quite a lot, actually. I used to come here after matches, after birthdays, after significant milestones. I had my first kiss here.” He chuckled lightly, sadly. 

Sanji looked at him, gave him the space to talk.

“I used to swim here often, even during winter when the water was ice cold. Mihawk would scold me for it each time, worrying that I would get sick.” He paused, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“I used to run around when I was a kid, getting mud all over my body. Had to walk past the park all dirty.”

His smile faltered.

“I haven’t been here in over two years.”

Sanji’s mouth fell open slightly. “But this place holds a lot of memories. Why didn’t you come?”

Zoro sniffed, and Sanji watched closely for tears that refused to appear on the man’s face.

“I couldn’t bring myself to. It held such happy moments, I was afraid I’d ruin them if I came here like this.” He spoke softly, like he wasn’t sure if the words should come out at all. 

Sanji let the truth settle between them, the vulnerability of what Zoro just said not hidden to him.

“What changed?”

Sanji watched the ghost of a smile appear on Zoro’s face, shy and timid.

“You seemed like someone I could share this place with. Maybe you’ll come here after I’m gone and remember me.”

Sanji stared at him, his mind trying to wrap itself around what Zoro just said. 

The deadline. It was looming over both of them, hidden in the shadows.

Zoro just grabbed it by the throat and shone a light so bright on it, it made Sanji hold his breath.

For a moment, the world around them stilled, and the moon hid itself behind a cloud so thick, the light around them almost disappeared. 

Sanji stuttered out the breath he was holding, and Zoro didn’t speak. 

A million questions rushed into Sanji’s mind. A million requests. Things Sanji would never dare to speak. 

He looked at Zoro, at the soft features in the dim light of the night. Zoro’s eyes fluttered to meet Sanji’s.

“Will you remember me?” Zoro whispered, the wind carrying his words to Sanji.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from brimming with unwanted tears, a feeling so heavy lodged itself in between each breath he took in, each one he let go of. 

Sanji swallowed hard. He laughed almost bitterly. 

“I’ll come here and plant moss for you each year.”

Zoro smiled sadly, and it tugged at Sanji’s heart. 

They stayed silent for a while after that, each lost in their own thoughts.

Zoro was looking at the lake. Sanji was looking at Zoro. 

He didn’t know when these feelings formed, when the ache in his heart turned from a chore to something real. 

He didn’t know how to name the pain in his heart, or how to categorize the tears refusing to dry up in his eyes. 

He didn’t know, and he didn’t like not knowing.

He had felt loss before. The loss of a life he worked so hard to get. 

Yet this loss, this soon-to-be loss, felt entirely too different. He could feel it begin to chip away at his heart bit by bit, every passing day a tick in the unstoppable clock that’s about to hit disaster.

“When I die,” Zoro said as if he wasn’t holding the trigger. “I hope people remember me for who I was, not who I ended up becoming.”

Sanji licked his lips, looking at Zoro. “What’s wrong with who you are right now?”

Zoro scoffed lightly, looking up at the sky above them. 

“I’m not even half the man I used to be. I’m nothing.” Zoro said, his voice lowering. “Not anymore.”

Sanji looked away, at the lake in front of him, his grip on his arm tightening.

“That’s not true. You’re stubborn.”

“How kind of y–”

“I’m not done yet. You’re also annoying. You’re a menace, you say mean things all the time it’s like you have no filter. You move around this world like you own it. You’re a piece of shit.”

Zoro was silent. Sanji looked at him, and saw him staring at a point in the distance.

“But you’re also kind,” Sanji said softly. “You’re gentle with the ones you love. You’re funny, despite your frequent dad jokes. And despite that stoic attitude of yours, you have a heart that is kind, a heart that still cares. I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never met someone who drives me crazy every single day and simultaneously brings me so much comfort. You made me cook again for someone that’s not me. You sit there, every day, and eat what I make you and you bring me happiness. So…” Sanji trailed off, looking down at the blanket under them.

Zoro's eyes looked his way.

“So, what?” He asked, his voice raw and gentle at the same time.

So, stay.

Sanji shook his head in response. 

“So, don’t say you’re nothing. You’re so much more than you realize.”

They fell silent, the honesty sticking like honey between them. After a moment, Zoro’s soft mumble broke the silence.

“You make it sound easy.”

Sanji looked at him. “What exactly?”

“Wanting to live,” he replied, his eyes glued to the lake flowing gently in front of them. 

“Is that so bad?” 

“Yes. I don’t want to.”

“Oh.”

Silence creeped back in, heavy and uncomfortable, the weight of the truth unbearable to Sanji who had lived his life trying to survive no matter what. 

Sanji looked away. 

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“How much sorrow can I take? Blackbird on my shoulder. And what difference does it make, when this love is over? Shall I sleep within your bed? River of unhappiness. Hold your hands above my head, ‘til I breathe my last breath.” — Sufjan Stevens, “Mystery of Love”

 

— Month Four —

 

Sanji fixed his tie. 

He looked at it. 

Untied it and switched it for the other tie he brought with him. 

He looked at the mirror again and sighed in exasperation.

He went to grab the first one he had on when Zoro spoke from behind him, scaring Sanji.

“If you keep this up, we’ll get there for their baby shower.”

Sanji rolled his eyes, then continued to look in the mirror. “You’re not helping.”

He switched his tie again, patting it down under the suit jacket. 

He turned around to face Zoro, his arms slightly open. 

“What do you think?” 

Zoro thought for a moment, his eyes running up and down Sanji’s body.

“Hm, I think the tie isn’t working.” 

“What?” Sanji almost shrieked, twirling around quickly to look back in the mirror. He went to grab the other tie when Zoro spoke again. 

“I’m kidding, Curly. The tie is perfectly suited.” Zoro chuckled lightly to himself when he heard Sanji huff in response, his hand letting go of the extra tie he was holding. 

“I’d appreciate it if you could stop calling me Curly, Mosshead” Sanji added as an afterthought.

He could see Zoro grin mischievously from the mirror he was looking at.

“Fix your eyebrows then.”

“Fix your hair.”

“I like my hair like this.” 

“Too bad no one else does.”

He saw Zoro roll his eyes at him. 

Sanji fixed his cuffs one last time before turning around again.

He looked at Zoro, who was wearing a dark navy suit with a blue tie. His hair now short, beard trimmed. 

He looked handsome. 

Sanji smiled warmly at him. 

“I’m ready.”

“About time, the car’s almost here.”

“How do I look?” Sanji asked, turning in a slow circle, arms open slightly.

Zoro looked at him again, a small smile etched on his lips. 

Sanji watched him swallow as his gaze lifted up. 

“You look good.” 

“Yeah?”

“You’ll never hear that from me again.”

“Sure big guy.” Sanji laughed lightly and walked to the bedside table, grabbing the medicine he had placed there earlier. 

He moved behind Zoro and slipped them into the bag hanging from the back of the wheelchair. 

“Are we forgetting anything?” He asked, pausing to think.

“You tell me. You packed the bag.” 

Sanji glanced around the room, going over their routine in his head. 

The light of early morning filtered in softly through the windows, casting long shadows on the ground. 

The day felt beautiful. 

It was bright and gentle, and it warmed Sanji’s heart. 

They had been stuck in a routine so vicious for the past month with only a few breaks scattered across the days. 

Sometimes, Zoro would suggest a walk around the garden, other times, Sanji would accompany him to the lake.

They frequented it often, whenever they could. Whenever his coughs were distant and his mind clear enough. 

Some days, Zoro refused to get out of bed even for meals. 

Sanji would sit by his side. Sometimes, he’d hold his hand, and other times, Zoro would yell at the walls. 

Sanji never flinched. 

He would sit there, calmly anchoring Zoro back to reality. 

He knew he was just in pain. 

Sanji let out a deep breath as his eyes lingered on the soft light filtering in for a moment longer before turning his gaze to Zoro.

“Ready?” He said, his voice softer than he intended.

Zoro hummed in response, his fingers pressing buttons on the arm of the chair to guide him towards the door. 

Sanji slid the door open for them and they stepped outside. He followed Zoro past the kitchen, past the main living room, and down the hallway to the entrance where Perona was adjusting the bags and talking to one of the house staff. 

The front door was already open, and in the distance, Sanji could hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and doors slamming shut. 

Perona looked at them and smiled warmly, her arms crossing over her chest. 

She stepped forward, eyes moving from Zoro to Sanji and back to Zoro. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her eyes lingering on Zoro, the question directed to him more than it was to Sanji.

That was okay by him.

Zoro looked at her and gave her a half-hearted smile. “All good, ‘Rona.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, unconvinced.

“You don’t have to stay overnight, okay? As soon as it gets too much, just call the car. The driver will be on standby.”

Zoro squeezed his eyes once, then looked at her with a smile across his lips. “You got it. Don’t worry.”

Perona opened her mouth to speak, her face betraying her worry, but decided against whatever she was going to say. 

She turned to look at Sanji instead. “You keep an eye on him. Don’t forget the medicine. Did you take everything with you?”

Sanji gave her a small smile. “Yes, ma’am, everything is with me.”

“Did you double check?” 

“Triple.”

“Quadruple check then.” She said, and Sanji thought she was joking, but her serious look made him reach for the bag again.

He felt her eyes burning holes as he checked the bag carefully, making sure all the medicine was in there. He glanced at Zoro, who had a distant look in his eye. He wasn’t with them in the room.

He straightened up and smiled again. “All here.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes focusing back on Zoro. She moved her arm towards Zoro, pulled it back for a second, then placed it on his shoulder. The movement snapped Zoro out of wherever he was. 

He looked at her.

“It’ll be okay.” Her voice was gentle. Her hand didn’t stay on his shoulder for long. “Just… take it easy, alright?”

Zoro smiled at her, his expression softening lightly. “We will.”

There was a shift in the air before anyone got another word out.

Mihawk came in from the opposite hallway, the binder in his hand. He walked up to Sanji and handed him it. 

“You take good care of him, understand?” He said, voice even.

Sanji straightened up slightly, instinctively. “Yes, sir.”

A silence fell between them as Mihawk studied Sanji further. 

Zoro exhaled loudly. “We’re going to a wedding, not war.”

Mihawk didn’t respond, he just shifted his eyes towards Zoro. Zoro didn’t look at him. 

Perona sighed, stepping back slightly. “Go, now. Before this turns into a whole thing.”

Sanji nodded, bending over to place the binder in the bag on the floor.

In all honesty, he didn’t need it anymore. He had memorized it word for word, seen the pictures countless times, especially during his first month with Zoro. He zipped the bag shut anyway. 

Perona beckoned for a staff member to help with the bags. Sanji watched him roll both of them carefully towards the car. He stood there as Zoro said his goodbyes, then followed him outside of the door. 

The walk to the car was short. It was bigger than other cars, lower on the ground. The doors were already slid open, a ramp extending from the edge and laying flatly on the ground. 

Sanji watched as Zoro maneuvered his way up the ramp. The interior was spacious, a seat moved back to make room for the chair, straps on the ground to hold it in place when they moved. 

Sanji could smell new leather. It wasn’t just a hospital transport. The seats were cushioned, the lights dim and warm, the air cool and quiet. It was just a car, just a ride, if he looked past the ramp on the ground or the wheelchair being strapped into place. 

Sanji took his seat next to Zoro, buckling his seatbelt. He watched as the driver slid the door shut behind them. There was silence for a moment, a heavy one. 

Sanji glanced at Zoro, who was looking at the ceiling.

“You doing okay?” He asked gently, grabbing Zoro’s attention. 

The man looked at him, eyes soft and glassy. “Yeah, peachy.” There was sarcasm hidden behind his words.

Sanji pursed his lips before talking. “Something on your mind?”

Zoro looked away. “Oh, you know. Nothing other than my ex fiancee marrying my best friend. All good thoughts here.”

“You know, it’s not too late to back out.” Sanji offered, his voice hesitant.

“No. I have to see this through.”

Just then, the driver climbed in the car, shutting the door behind him and adjusting the rearview mirror.

Sanji’s eyes lingered on Zoro for just a moment longer before turning to look out the window. 

The car started moving smoothly, exiting the main gates and getting on the road. 

Sanji watched the scenery. He stared at the park they had been to so many times now, watched as kids played on swings and slid down slides. 

And then it was gone, just to be replaced with tall trees and mountainscapes.

Sanji did not know how to feel. On one hand, he was excited about the trip, about spending time with Zoro outside of the confines of the mansion. On the other hand, he could feel how hard the wedding weighed on Zoro. It wasn’t a fun occasion, even though it was a celebration of a new life. Not for Zoro.

He bit his lip, lost in conflicting thoughts.

It was good for him, wasn’t it?

Whichever way the night went, Sanji would be ready to handle the mess. 

He looked at Zoro, followed his gaze. He was staring at the trees outside from his own window. His lips were turned down slightly, air ruffling his hair. 

He looked sad. 

It tugged at something in Sanji’s heart.

He watched Zoro’s eyes for a moment longer, watched him close them shut, listened as he breathed in deeply. 

His voice caught Sanji offguard. 

“Curly.”

“Yeah?” He stumbled over his letters.

“Hold my hand?”

Warmth spread in Sanji’s body as he reached out slowly with his hand to hold Zoro’s gently. He squeezed it lightly, watched as the man’s features relaxed. 

They spent the ride hand in hand, each watching out their own window, silently comfortable. 

Soon enough the trees thinned out, and the coastline made its appearance. The shore was sparkling, water rushing to the beach and pulling back in the distance. The wind carried the scent of the ocean into the car, and Sanji heard as Zoro took a deep breath in. 

He focused his eyes on him, a soft smile plastered on his lips, but he didn’t say anything. 

Sanji watched Zoro watch the coastline, eyes reflecting the blue. 

His eyes fluttered to Sanji’s, and Sanji had to fight off an unreasonable blush. 

“I missed the beach,” Zoro mumbled, his lips curling around the last word. 

“Then we’ll go to the beach whenever we need to hide, how does that sound?”

Zoro smiled. Genuine. “Perfect.”

A while later, Sanji could tell they were nearing their destination. The hotel they were staying at loomed over the other buildings, the front facing the beach. Sanji craned his neck up to see the top, then slowly gazed at the rest of the surroundings. 

The entrance was huge, gates leading underground for cars to park in. There was a fountain in the middle with seats scattered all around it. 

The car took a left turn and followed the road leading to the entrance of the hotel. The driver parked it in front of the doors, turned the car off, and stepped outside. 

Sanji was still holding Zoro’s hand when the door slid open, the ramp unravelling outward. 

The driver unstrapped Zoro’s chair, and Sanji let go of Zoro’s hand only when he was done.

Sanji waited for him to go down the ramp and followed after. He watched as the driver handed their bags to the bellhop, bidding them farewell and getting back into the car. 

Sanji walked next to Zoro as they made their way inside.

Instantly, the air shifted. The hum of conversation inside the lobby caught Sanji’s ear. The cool air of the place tickled his face.

He glanced around. 

The place was… familiar.

Maybe he had been here when he was a child with his family.

Maybe the familiarity stepped from the modern decor that looked strikingly similar to any other fancy place. 

He turned his gaze to the reception desk where Zoro was going. He followed and stood beside him as they got there.

“Hello, and welcome to Azure Crest Hotel. How may I help you today?” The lady behind the desk — Seph, her name tag read — said elegantly. 

Sanji smiled at her and waited for Zoro to speak.

“Hello, we have reservations under the surname Roronoa,” Zoro replied.

“Ro…ro…noa… Aha. Here it is.” She typed something on the computer in front of her. “You will be staying in room 515.” She reached and grabbed a key card from the side of the desk.

Zoro and Sanji both looked at her expectantly. 

Her eyes landed on them, shifting between the two.

“Is there a problem?” She asked calmly.

“Oh,” Zoro started. “Is there another room under the reservation?”

“Hm, let me check real quick.” She went back to typing on her computer. “Nope. There is one room under the surname Roronoa and that is room 515.” She smiled, handing them the key card. 

Sanji slowly reached out and grabbed it, looking at Zoro questioningly. 

Zoro looked back at him. There’s a moment of silence that stretches between them. 

“Well, it’s not like we’ve not slept in the same room together before,” Zoro said, and Sanji blushed lightly at the memories crossing his mind. What for, he didn’t know.

They thanked Seph with warm smiles and made their way to the elevators, the bellhop following after them. 

The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk down the hallway. 

Sanji unlocked the door once they got to it and stepped in, keeping it open for Zoro and the young man carrying their bags.

The bellhop brought their bags inside, laying them gently against the walls, and left promptly.

The door clicked shut behind them. 

Sanji glanced around the room. 

It was white and spacious and elegant. The kind of rooms one would find in five star hotels, which Sanji assumed this one was.

There was a balcony on the far end, one where Sanji could see the ocean from. He smiled lightly, glancing at Zoro who was also looking around. 

Zoro looked at him and Sanji motioned with his head towards the balcony. Zoro followed his gaze and smiled, too.

He moved his chair closer, between the dresser and the bed, and stopped at the glass door looking out.

“I could get used to this,” he spoke softly.

Sanji walked closer, stopping behind Zoro and placing his hands on each of his shoulders. “We could come back here, you know. Anytime you feel like it.”

Zoro fell silent, and Sanji didn’t break the lull. 

They stayed like that for a moment, savouring the view, watching waves crash against the sand, until Zoro spoke up.

“We should really go down. The ceremony should be starting soon.” His voice was quiet, almost too gentle. 

Sanji pulled back his hands slowly, letting them drop by his sides. He let go of a small sigh. “What a pity, I could watch the ocean for hours.”

Zoro laughs lightly. “Yeah, I could just hide on this balcony for days on end.”

“Try weeks,” he said as a reply, then softly added. “Are you sure you want to do this? This is your last chance to back down.”

Zoro thought for a moment, then let out a huff. “I have to face this sooner or later. Better sooner. It’ll just get harder with time.”

Sanji nodded despite Zoro not being able to see him. “Alright then, let’s go.” He stepped back as Zoro turned his chair around. Sanji looked at him and patted down his suit gently, fixing his tie.

“There, you look less homeless now.” He grinned at Zoro, who rolled his eyes at him.

“Big talk coming from you. You chose the wrong tie color.”

Sanji faked a gasp, his hand going to his own tie and adjusting it. “I don’t believe you. You said I look good, remember.”

Zoro rolled his eyes and moved past him. “Well, don’t let it get to your head, Curlybrows.”

They walked together, Sanji opened the door to the room and grabbed the keycard from its place holder, the lights dimming behind them.

Zoro wheeled out, and Sanji followed after him, the door clicking shut behind him. 

His footsteps were muted against the carpeted hallway as they walked to the elevator. Sanji pressed on the key and they waited in silence.

A soft ding echoed as the doors slid open. Zoro entered first, turning his wheelchair to face the front, and Sanji followed suit. 

The ride up was long, and they took it in comfortable silence. Sanji glanced at Zoro and saw him staring at the door. He looked back up.

Another ding signalled their arrival to the rooftop. The elevator door slid open and fresh air caressed their faces, soft and gentle. Sanji got out first, his hand holding the door open until Zoro was outside. 

Then he looked at everything spread out in front of him.

Rows of neatly placed chairs lined both sides of the long aisle. The wind picked up the scents of the flowers littering the place, and the light shone bright, illuminating the white that the roof was covered with. 

It was bright and flashy and beautiful. It made Sanji squint. 

There was soft chatter from people spread across the seats. Sanji picked up on the ruffle of fabric as guests took their seats. A loud laugh rang across the roof, clinking of glasses following soon after. 

Sanji let his eyes linger on faces he didn’t know. Smiling as if this was a happy occasion. 

And it should have been.

He looked at Zoro, who had the same distant gaze as before. He pursed his lip and nudged Zoro’s cheek softly.

Zoro’s eyes fluttered to him. 

“All good?” He mumbled so only Zoro would hear. 

He smiled at Sanji, but it was riddled with sadness. “Yeah.”

Sanji held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded his head, even if he didn’t believe him.

Just then, a staff member approached them and respectfully motioned for them to follow her. She led them down the aisle, almost to the front of the row where there was a missing chair.

Sanji saw the glances thrown Zoro’s way. He really didn’t want to notice them, but he did. The curiosity in people’s eyes, the heads spinning around quickly as if caught staring at something taboo. 

He looked at Zoro, who was looking ahead, head held up, jaw tight.

Once they got close to the front, the staff member ushered them to settle in there, and Sanji slipped into his chair next to where Zoro adjusted his wheelchair. 

Sanji swallowed hard, looking ahead and adjusting his suit slightly. 

Then his eyes instinctively found Zoro again. He was looking straight ahead, too, his eyes unblinking. 

Bit by bit, the chatter dimmed down, and everyone took their seats. Sanji watched as heads looked back, at the doors the couple were supposed to enter through. The officiant took his place by the end of the aisle, book in hand. 

Zoro was breathing quicker than usual.

Soon, the music, soft and melodic, started, muting the chatter. 

The groom came in first, white hair a striking contrast to the black suit he was wearing.

Zoro’s best friend. 

Sanji glanced at Zoro as the man walked down the aisle and took his place to the left of the officiant. He was nibbling on his lower lip, eyebrows almost furrowed.

Then the music shifted, the wedding march playing softly around the rooftop. Everyone stood up, including Sanji, who placed a hand on Zoro’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Zoro turned his chair so he could look back and watch the bride walk down the aisle. 

Sanji watched Zoro watch her, his thumb unconsciously rubbing soft circles on the nape of Zoro’s neck. 

The bride took her place on the right of the officiant, her smile stretching from ear to ear as she gave her bouquet to the maid of honor behind her.

Everyone sat back down.

She held her fiance’s hand, and Sanji's hand slipped into Zoro’s. 

Zoro’s eyes fluttered down to their locked hands, then to Sanji who was already looking at him. Zoro smiled just barely, but it was there for a moment and Sanji cherished it.

They watched as the couple shared their vows, as the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, as they kissed deeply. Everyone stood up to clap, everyone cheered. 

Sanji sat there next to Zoro, hand in hand, gently rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

Soon enough, people started leaving their seats and grabbing drinks from the bar. 

Sanji brought them two glasses of white wine and sat back next to Zoro. 

They drank in silence, Sanji tipping Zoro’s glass on his lips slightly for him to sip from, then taking a sip from his own glass. 

His eyes kept lingering on Zoro, who was busy looking at everything and nothing all at once. 

The bride and groom were walking between the crowds, greeting and thanking the guests. Sanji had a sinking feeling they were next.

And just as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the bride made her way to them, hand in the groom’s hand. 

Sanji swallowed hard, his jaw going rigid. Zoro was looking at them, head held high.

“Zoro, I’m so glad you made it,” the bride said, falsely cheerful. The groom stood there, silent, a forced smile on his face.

Zoro smiled mechanically their way. “Wouldn’t have missed it. Lovely ceremony, Tashigi, Smoker,” he said, his words sounding rehearsed. 

Tashigi smiled softly, pride swallowing her face momentarily. “I’m glad you think so. The reception will start soon, will you be there?”

“Free food, free drinks, who am I to say no?” Zoro joked.

Tashigi laughed slightly and Smoker smiled. 

Sanji’s eyes locked on his for a second. Smoker looked at the ground, his smile disappearing. 

Sanji forced himself not to roll his eyes. This wasn’t his battle.

“Well.” Tashigi cut through the awkward silence stretching between them. “We’ll see you at the reception, then. We’re gonna go change.” 

Zoro smiled half-heartedly her way. “See you.” 

“Bye-bye.” She waved and, grabbing Smoker’s hand again, left together.

They disappeared behind closed doors.

Sanji looked at Zoro, who looked back at him and let go of a sigh.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” he told Sanji, who chuckled softly.

“Yeah, I had half a mind to throw this glass in their faces.”

Zoro widened his eyes slightly, breathing out a laugh. “Good you didn’t, that would have been embarrassing.” 

Sanji shrugged, sipping from his almost empty glass. “Not my problem, people will talk about your bad choice of caretakers, they won’t even remember me.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable.”

“You say after four months with me.” 

Zoro rolled his eyes at him. 

 

Slowly, the crowd filtered out of the rooftop, making their way toward the reception.

Sanji followed along beside Zoro, the afternoon sun warm against his skin as they stepped outside and towards the dome-like structure.

They entered, and Sanji’s eyes wandered.

The walls and ceiling were made entirely of glass, sunlight spilling through them and casting soft, shifting shadows across the floor. Tables were scattered neatly around the room, and at the center sat a marble dance floor, circled with pots of sunflowers.

It was bright.

Too bright.

Sanji tore his gaze away and glanced at Zoro instead.

A staff member led them to their table, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Sanji followed closely, making sure Zoro had enough space as they moved.

They settled beside each other.

Sanji adjusted his seat slightly, his fingers brushing against Zoro’s hand for just a second before pulling away.

They sat in silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… aware.

The staff moved between tables smoothly, placing plates of food and filling glasses with wine or champagne. Sanji watched them as they placed plates in front of Zoro then him, filling their glasses midway. 

When they left, Sanji asked if Zoro was hungry, and proceeded to grab his fork and prepare a bite.

They ate in silence for a while. The food was delicious, and the champagne a treat. 

At one point, Zoro asked for his glass to be refilled, and Sanji motioned for a staff member holding a bottle.

Conversation between them came slowly, soft words traded, small laughs recorded. 

Zoro’s jaw relaxed, his features morphing into a tipsy calm. 

Sanji’s head was buzzing slightly, blissfully. Laughter became easier, jokes were shared mirthfully. 

Then the music picked up. Couple after the other made their way to the dance floor.

Zoro turned his gaze to them, and Sanji watched as he watched them move across the dance floor, his eyes glimmering softly.

“You okay?” Sanji mumbled softly so only Zoro could hear him.

He gave Sanji a tender smile, his eyes not leaving the people dancing. “Yeah, just watching.”

Sanji nodded slightly, going back to his glass and taking a sip. 

Laughter rang from across the room, carrying over the music, and something clenched in Sanji’s heart that he couldn’t put a name to.

He sat there silently watching Zoro, lost in his mind, tipsy on the alcohol he had consumed.

And then—

“Curly.” Zoro’s soft voice broke through the fog of rambling thoughts in Sanji’s mind.

“Yes?” He leaned forward to hear better.

“Dance with me?”

Sanji’s mouth fell open ever so slightly. He blinked away his confusion.

“...What?” 

Zoro glanced at him. “Will you dance with me?” 

Sanji stumbled over his words. “How– why?”

Zoro’s lower lip jutted out slightly. “I really want to dance.”

“Yeah, let’s dance.” Sanji breathed out.

“Come here then.”

Sanji stood up and walked around the wheelchair unsure. Zoro turned it slightly to face him fully. “Sit.”

“On your lap?”

“Where else, idiot?” 

Sanji hesitated for a second, then moved closer, slowly sitting himself on Zoro’s lap. 

He swallowed hard and looked at Zoro, who was closer to him than ever before. Zoro looked at him. “You might want to grab onto something.”

Sanji’s arm slowly wrapped around Zoro’s neck. He had done it before, when adjusting Zoro’s head. But this was different. He was holding on instead of fixing, he was out of his element.

He shifted his body slightly, feeling Zoro’s warmth underneath his. He blushed lightly, his hand holding onto Zoro’s shoulder. 

Zoro grinned at him once he was settled. “Ready?” 

Sanji laughed at the absurdity of what they were doing. “Let’s go dance.”

Zoro pressed on the button on the arm of the chair and wheeled them forward toward the dance floor. He smoothly maneuvered his way past the crowd, and Sanji could feel eyes lingering on them.

But that was okay because Zoro was smiling wide. Because his eyes were glimmering brightly. 

He looked so beautiful.

Sanji’s eyes fluttered away from Zoro’s face, choosing to focus on the dance floor instead. His other hand rested on Zoro’s chest instinctively as Zoro began moving a little faster.

The music around them slowed down just slightly, Hozier’s ‘Work Song’ playing softly through the speakers.

Zoro stopped them in the middle of the room, and started to turn them around slowly, matching the rhythm of the song.

‘When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth.’

Sanji tightened his grip on Zoro, the spinning and the warmth in his veins pulled a laugh out of him. 

He heard Zoro’s laugh echo across his chest. He instinctively rested his forehead on top of Zoro’s head, his laugh continuing as the song played around them.

‘If the lord don’t forgive me, I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me.’

The world around them disappeared slowly, distant laughter muffled. They were in their own bubble, dancing in the middle of the floor with a song that sounded too sweet. 

‘No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her.’

It was just them, spinning, grinning, completely oblivious to what was happening around them.

And then, the song slowed down, just to be replaced by another song Sanji did not recognize. Zoro slowed the spinning down to a stop, their chests heaving lightly from the laughter.

He looked at Zoro, a rose blush tainting his cheeks, and Zoro looked back at him, brown eyes glimmering like honey. 

His heart yearned for something he couldn’t place. He swallowed, pursed his lips in a small smile, eyes not leaving Zoro’s.

Zoro let out a breath, and the world focused around Sanji, the sound of chatter and laughter rushing in. He looked around, dazed, then back at Zoro.

“We should probably sit back down before making a scene,” Zoro said softly.

Sanji let out a small laugh. “Yeah, like we haven’t already,” he said, and then whispered the next part. “Their eyes are burning holes in my back.”

Zoro laughed, then slowly began to turn his wheelchair around to go back to their seats. 

Sanji stayed on his lap until they were at the table, and even then, part of him wanted to stay where he was. 

He moved off of Zoro’s lap, patting down his suit and then turned to Zoro to fix where Sanji held onto his shoulder. 

Zoro watched him as he fixed his suit, as he sat on his chair, as he took a sip of water. And Sanji let him. 

The afternoon light stretched around them. Zoro chatted with a few people every now and then, their conversations always pleasant. Rehearsed. 

His eyes watched Zoro softly, his mind filing away images of him smiling, of him existing in a world that took everything from him. He sifted through the smiles he gave people, trying to decipher which were genuine, which were there out of duty. 

He knew a lot of people. Not one greeted him without an iteration of ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen you’.

He kept his interruptions to a minimum, the only time he had to gain Zoro’s full attention was when his phone beeped, signaling it was time for his afternoon medicine.

The time passed slowly, the sun fading behind the horizon, waving a shy goodbye to all the people watching. 

Zoro looked over at Sanji, who was already looking. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want to walk on the beach,” he mumbled softly, voice betraying his tiredness. 

Sanji nodded, sipped the last bits of champagne in his glass, and stood up. 

“Let’s go, then. The sunset is beautiful.”

Sanji walked beside Zoro, keeping the door open for him as he wheeled outside. They made their way past the hotel gates, down the ramp leading to the beach. 

The light was dim now, the soft rays of sun remaining painting the sky a beautiful orange and pink. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore lulled Sanji’s mind into a near meditative state. 

The sand near the shore was hard enough for the chair to wheel on without much trouble, and Sanji helped Zoro off of the ramp when they got there. 

He took off his shoes and socks, held them in his hand, and walked beside Zoro as they made their way along the shoreline. 

They were silent for the most part. Zoro took them to a rather secluded area of the beach further down, and only stopped after the sun fully disappeared behind the horizon. 

“Here.”

“Here’s perfect,” Sanji replied.

Zoro turned his chair to face the ocean, the wind ruffling his green hair softly. A strand fell into his eye and Sanji’s hand reached out instinctively to push it behind Zoro’s ear. 

Zoro looked up at him, eyes as soft as Sanji had ever seen them. 

Sanji let his arm drop by his side and looked back. 

A soft silence stretched between them for a moment, both looking at each other’s eyes, a million emotions crossing through them.

It was intense, and Sanji was afraid to drown in the brown of his eyes. 

But maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, standing here, looking at him, his heart picking up speed. 

Maybe it was okay. 

“Sit with me?” Zoro mumbled, not letting his eyes leave Sanji’s.

“Yeah. Let me just–” Sanji was first to break eye contact, looking down at the beach under him and bending to sit down.

“No.” Zoro stopped him, and Sanji looked up expectantly. “You can’t ruin the suit.”

“Where else would I sit?” 

“On my lap,” he said. “Like before.” 

Sanji licked lips in thought, hesitating before dropping his shoes on the ground and walking closer to Zoro, who was still looking up at him softly. 

“You sure?” And maybe it was more than the sitting. 

Zoro was silent for a moment. “I’m sure.”

Sanji closed the distance, turning his body around and sitting softly on Zoro’s lap. He shifted his weight so he was more comfortable. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, and he could hear his hesitation palpable in his voice.

His face was so close to Zoro’s he could feel his breath on his cheek. 

Zoro didn’t speak for a moment, his eyes shifting to Sanji’s face as he adjusted himself on Zoro’s lap.

“...Yeah,” he said, voice as soft as the honey in his eyes. “Stay.”

Sanji let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulders relaxing, his hand sneaking behind Zoro’s neck again and holding onto his shoulder. His other hand rested on Zoro’s chest, mimicking how he was holding him on the dance floor.

The wind picked up around them, ruffling their hair, the ocean breeze carrying a scent Sanji cherished. 

He was suddenly aware of the heat emanating from Zoro's body, how close they were, the breath tickling his skin. 

He swallowed hard, his heart picking up speed.

His fingers curled on Zoro’s shoulder unconsciously, as if he wanted him closer, as if this wasn’t enough.

Was it? 

His hand was pressed firmly against Zoro’s chest, heart beating under his chest.

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

They were so close.

Too close.

They shouldn’t–

But Sanji looked at Zoro’s eyes and they were asking.

And who was Sanji to refuse what Zoro asked of him?

His eyes fluttered down to Zoro’s lips, lingering momentarily, then shyly looking up at Zoro’s eyes again.

Zoro held his gaze before his own eyes dropped to Sanji’s lips, swallowing hard, lips parting.

Sanji could feel his heart beating faster under his palm, an echo of Sanji’s own. 

His breath hitched in his throat. 

Zoro looked at his eyes, glimmering in the dim light. 

He shouldn’t move.

He really shouldn’t.

“Curly,” Zoro murmured.

“...Yeah?” 

“Come closer.” 

And Sanji moved his head closer. He could feel Zoro’s warm breath on his lips, so close yet not close enough.

He hesitated, thought about pulling back, but one last look at Zoro’s eyes dissolved his resolve. 

He closed the distance, his lips pressing softly against Zoro’s warm ones, parting slightly as Zoro kissed him back.

Their eyes fluttered close, and Sanji could feel the entire world shut down around him. The ocean was a distant murmur, the wind trapped outside of their bubble.

It was only him and Zoro and their lips pressed against each other in something as soft and as inevitable as breathing in when he had been deprived of oxygen.

The kiss was tender and messy, slow as the hum of the ocean from outside.

Sanji kissed him and Zoro kissed back and they didn’t break the kiss until their chests were heaving, lungs yearning for oxygen.

Sanji pulled back, his mind stuck on the feeling of Zoro’s lips against his. 

He breathed heavily, lips parted, eyes looking at Zoro and Zoro’s looking at him.

The rush of the wind came back, the ocean sounds settled around them again.

Sanji licked his lips, the taste of Zoro’s still lingering. His cheeks were burning and eyes glazed. 

Zoro’s lips curled into a soft smile, and Sanji couldn’t stop his own.

“Your lips, they’re softer than they look.” Zoro broke the silence that stretched between them

“Have you been studying my lips, you Mosshead?” Sanji laughed lightly, breathlessly.

He could see Zoro’s cheeks flare up in the dim light of the moon above them.

“What– no. I’m just– whatever, Curly.” 

Sanji laughed again, his fingers curling into Zoro’s dress shirt, and Zoro laughed along, their voices synchronizing in a way Sanji didn’t know was possible.

After the laugh died down, they fell back into brief silence. Sanji was looking down at his lap, his mind replaying the kiss. 

“Curly?” Zoro’s voice brought him back.

“Yeah?” He looked up at him. 

“I’m gonna remember this night for as long as I live.” 

It wasn’t a love declaration, nor was it hopeful. His voice was almost a whisper, barely audible against the crash of waves.

Sanji’s heart clenched. 

He pursed his lips, searching Zoro’s eyes for a moment.

Then: “This doesn’t have to be the last of them. We can have more nights like this, just let me in.” 

Zoro looked at him, his eyes flashing something sad, something hopeless.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He breathed out after a moment. “Let us have more.”

Sanji searched his eyes, his heart speeding up. 

This wasn’t hope.

Zoro wasn’t giving him more time. 

He was giving him more moments. 

Fleeting, irreplaceable moments that Sanji would look back on with a heavy heart.

Sanji looked away, at the beach under them, his smile falling.

After a moment of silence, Sanji spoke up. “I’m tired.”

He could feel Zoro’s eyes on him as he stepped down from his lap, as he straightened up, as he grabbed his shoes and refused to look at Zoro. 

He started walking, alone, his lips still tingling from earlier.

“Curly.” He heard Zoro calling after him. He didn’t answer.

His legs felt heavy, screaming against him to turn back, to stay, to savour every moment he had left with Zoro. 

“Sanji.” He walked away, heart heavy and his eyes blurred with warm tears.

“Please.” Zoro’s voice echoed across the silent night, stopping Sanji in his place.

His breath hitched in his chest, and his grip on his shoes tightened.

He didn’t look back, he just waited for the hum of Zoro’s chair to follow up with him, for his presence to settle next to him again.

He forced himself to move once more, Zoro silent next to him. Sanji didn’t look at him, not really looking at anything other than where his foot needed to step next.

They made their way back to the ramp. Sanji avoided Zoro’s eyes as he helped him onto it. They continued in heavy silence, Sanji a couple steps ahead of Zoro. 

He could feel Zoro’s eyes burning holes in his back, but he ignored it. 

He couldn’t face them.

So he continued walking until they were standing in front of the elevator. He pressed the button and waited, Zoro next to him. Sanji’s eyes looked straight ahead.

The soft ding of the elevator had Sanji moving again. He kept the door open for Zoro as he wheeled in, let it close behind them, pressing the button for the fifth floor. 

Another ding had them walking out, through the empty and silent hallway, down to their room. 

Sanji swiped the keycard, unlocking the door, letting Zoro in and walking in himself after. The door clicked shut behind them

The tension between them was palpable, unspoken words resting between the lines of silence stretching. 

Sanji placed the keycard in its holder and the room lit up. 

Zoro turned around to face Sanji, who glanced at him momentarily.

Too much. 

He looked away and cleared his throat.

“Let’s get you out of that suit and into something comfortable, yeah?” He asked, feigning casual. 

Zoro didn’t respond as Sanji made his way to the bags, grabbing Zoro’s and placing it on the bed.

He unzipped it and took out a T-shirt and some pants, turning around to look at Zoro.

He was already looking.

“Come.”

Zoro got closer.

Sanji bent down to unbutton his suit jacket, slowly taking it off and unbuttoning the dress shirt under it, taking it off, too.

His eyes refused to look at Zoro, afraid that he would crumble under the intense gaze he was throwing Sanji’s way.

He took the shirt and meticulously helped Zoro in it, his fingers brushing against his skin softly, lingering longer than needed.

They burned. Sanji pulled them back.

He carried Zoro to the bed, resting him halfway on it. 

Sanji took off his shoes one by one, then unbuckled his pants and slid them down, replacing them with the ones he got from the bag.

He then slowly, carefully, lifted Zoro and laid his head on the pillow, adjusting it until he was sure Zoro was comfortable enough. He moved his legs up, rested them gently, and then straightened up. 

Zoro was looking at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna go change.” 

“Okay,” Zoro mumbled.

Sanji moved around the bed to his own bag, kneeling over to grab his change of clothes.

Then he moved to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He stood there, lights turned off, clothes in hand, staring at nothing.

And then warmth spilled over his cheeks, staining them. He could taste salt and the lingering taste of Zoro’s lips on his. 

Sanji’s hand came to his mouth, trembling, cupping it to muffle any sound he might make.

Then, just like a dam opening, he sobbed, sliding down against the door. 

Memories of the four months he spent with Zoro flooded his mind.

All the late nights, all the hand holding, all the witty, snarky remarks he threw his way. 

He remembered the good and the bad and the inbetween. 

That first day he laid eyes on him, how terrified he was at the prospect of being responsible for someone other than himself.

That night he slept next to him before he got sick, the mumbles of ‘don’t leave’ playing like a broken record in his mind.

And then the dance, the laughter, the joy he felt.

The kiss. 

Their lips pressed together messily, their eyes lingering longer than needed. 

He sobbed into his hand, his body shaking. 

Sanji let himself breakdown for just a moment before he knew he had to get up.

His legs held him back up, his hands moving slowly to take off the suit that felt suffocating. 

Sanji undressed, then put on a T-shirt and some pants.

He blindly made his way to the sink, hitting his knee on a corner and cursing to himself.

He splashed water over his face, washing away the tears that refused to stop.

Sanji had to calm down. He had to. 

And so, bit by bit, he did. 

His breathing settled down, his sobs stopped, and tears dried in his eyes.

Sanji grabbed his suit and walked outside, squinting at the light.

Zoro was looking at him, silent. 

Sanji looked back this time, feeling as if he was put on display.

After a moment, “You were crying.”

Sanji just stared.

He felt like laughing, but nothing came out.

He placed the suit in the bag instead, breaking contact with Zoro’s eyes.

Sanji grabbed Zoro’s suit and neatly folded it and placed it in the man’s bag, grabbing it and resting it back on the wall. 

He then walked to the light switch, and turned toward Zoro. “Lights on or off?” 

Sanji could see Zoro’s jaw clenching. 

“Off.” It came out rough, and Sanji took in a sharp inhale because of it. 

He switched the lights off.

There was a dim light filtering from outside, just enough for Sanji to make his way to the couch by the side of the bed. 

He went to lay down on it, deciding to sleep there for the night, when Zoro’s voice broke through the silence.

“Sanji.”

He braced himself. “Yeah?”

“Sleep next to me?” His voice came out a whisper. “Let me feel alive again.”

Sanji took a deep breath in, his eyes glued to Zoro’s shadow on the bed. 

And as if being pulled by strings, his legs moved of their own accord, stumbling over toward the bed. 

He crawled on top, swallowing hard, hands trembling as he lay down next to Zoro. 

He wanted to cry again, to kiss him once more, to hold him and never let go.

Sanji just lay there, on his back, hand resting next to Zoro’s.

He could hear Zoro breathing. 

He could almost hear his heartbeat. 

If he just moved closer, if he just laid his head on Zoro’s chest, he’d have proof he was alive. 

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

“Come closer.” Zoro’s voice was raw and unfiltered, his emotions spilling out of him. 

A tear rolled down Sanji’s nose as he shifted his body so his head was on Zoro’s chest, arm wrapped around it.

Sanji could feel Zoro’s heart beating under his ear. 

Despite himself, despite all the restraint, despite everything, Sanji couldn’t help the words that stumbled out of his mouth.

“Don’t leave.” It was a whisper caught between a silent cry.

“I can’t even hold you.” Sanji heard Zoro’s tears through his voice.

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling into Zoro’s shirt.

Clinging, refusing to let go. 

And helpless all the same.

 

Sleep came slow, dragging at the edges of his mind. 

It didn’t settle gently, it pulled him under in fragments.

Sanji stayed next to Zoro, his arm wrapped around his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Steady.

Still there.

And Zoro stayed still, his breath eventually evening out. 

Sanji followed it without meaning to, somewhere between waking and sleep. It lulled him, calmed him, and bit by bit, his eyes closed shut, and his mind went silent.

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” — Lord Huron, “The Night We Met”

 

— Month Five —

 

Something shifted that night.

A shift that Sanji didn’t know how to fix, let alone exist in.

They had woken up early, Sanji disoriented, with his heart heavy for a reason he needed a second to remember.

And then it had all hit him at once, from the dance to the way he clung to Zoro as they fell asleep. 

His eyes dragged open, met messy green hair and brown eyes already looking at him. 

He then steadied himself on his elbow, pulling himself up, and looked back at Zoro’s questioning eyes.

Heavy silence settled between them. 

Sanji stared at Zoro, studied his face, the way his eyes held an ocean of tender sadness.

His gaze softened then, wetting his lips before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on Zoro’s temple.

Zoro’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips tight against each other. Zoro let go of a deep breath as Sanji pulled back.

They looked at each other again, a million words passing through their minds. 

But Sanji knew what Zoro was asking for, and part of him resented him for it. 

The other part, well, it was weak to his requests.

“I’m selfish,” Zoro whispered, and it made Sanji chuckle lightly.

“Yeah, big time.” Zoro smiled at him. It wasn’t a happy one, not entirely. 

They sat in silence for a moment again.

“Can you give me this? Can you let me be selfish one more time.”

Sanji let go of a breath, searching Zoro’s eyes.

Pleading silently with them.

But, like everything else in his life, he lost. 

So he kissed him softly in response, letting their breaths tangle together, letting his hand rest on Zoro’s cheek. 

He’d give him anything he asked for, and he’d live with the consequences of it after he was gone.

And maybe, just maybe, he could love him enough to make him change his mind.

He had the right to be selfish, too. 

They had left the hotel hand in trembling hand, silent throughout the entire ride.

Sanji could still feel the burn of Zoro’s fingers between his own long after the car ride ended. And long after day bled into another. 

Sanji could remember the ocean breeze fading, trees coming back into view and towering above them as the car drove back.

And through it all, the heavy feeling he had in his heart the morning after the kiss didn’t leave.

It stayed long after the ocean disappeared, long after they settled back into their routine. Long after everything went back to a semblance of normal.

But nothing was normal anymore.

Sanji would look at Zoro and memories of their lips locked together flashes through his mind.

He would see his smile that never seemed to reach his eyes anymore, and he would remember the way his laugh echoed across Sanji’s chest as they danced together. 

They had crossed a line and now they stood on the opposite end, confused and weighed down, yearning for something dangerously close to surrender. 

But Sanji refused to surrender. 

And from the way Zoro carried himself, the way he’d look at Sanji when Sanji dared lock their eyes together, he knew that Zoro, too, refused to give in.

They still went on their walks, they still bickered. Sanji still cooked Zoro’s favorite dishes, fed him gently. 

He stayed, despite the ache, despite the longing. 

There were moments, late at night, that Zoro would ask Sanji to stay. And Sanji, in the shelter of the dark, let his shoulders fall as he crawled across the bed and slept next to Zoro. 

Some nights, their lips would linger on each other, electricity coursing through Sanji’s body as they connected again, as they melted into each other, as tears stung their eyes and wet their cheeks. 

Sanji stopped knowing a world where Zoro’s lips didn’t exist. Where he couldn’t hold him in the dark of night. His palm memorized the shape of Zoro’s cheeks as he cupped them, whispering, pleading, yearning for something he knew he wasn’t able to hold onto for long. 

And in the light of day, he’d plaster a smile and pretend, alongside Zoro, that nothing happened between dawn and dusk. 

But the day the lawyer visited, a little under a month from the night at the beach, Sanji couldn’t pretend anymore. 

Perona had mentioned him in passing, voice heavy with something Sanji had grown familiar with, sorrow disguised as control.

He saw him enter through the front door, suit pressed, shoes polished, a briefcase held tightly in his hand. He walked in sure of himself, head held high and an aura of finality surrounding him. 

Sanji watched him walk in, nodding his way, and Perona guiding him through the living room and past the doors.

Towards Zoro. 

Sanji caught his name — Trafalgar D. Water Law — and a quick visit to the internet brought up his association with Dignitas.

Reality was brutal.

This was no surrender, this was an echo of the end. 

He forced his legs to follow them, almost stumbling as he took a step forward.

His feet moved him to the kitchen he had grown familiar with, to the doors that slid shut behind the lawyer. 

Towards Perona, who was wiping away tears, standing alone in the middle of the room. 

Sanji stood next to her, his eyes fixed on the sliding door. 

He contemplated going in. He contemplated begging on his knees and making Zoro promise him not to go through with this. 

And then, his voice a whisper: “I’m sorry. I couldn’t make him want to stay.”

Perona sniffled next to him, arms crossed against her chest, her eyes, too, glued to the door.

“I don’t think anything could have made him stay.”

And after a moment: “You were the closest thing.”

Sanji’s eyes blurred.

 

Time stretched for him. 

He stayed glued to his place in front of the door, ears trying to pick up on any morsel of information he could from inside.

His legs stiffened from standing for so long, his grip on his arm sure to leave a bruise the next morning.

And then, just as smoothly as the door had slid shut, it opened.

The lawyer stepped out, briefcase in hand, a solemn look painting his features.

Sanji looked at him, he looked back. 

“Mr. Roronoa is asking for Sanji.” His voice was measured, friendliness seeping out like venom. 

“I’m–” Sanji cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “That’s me.”

The lawyer nodded once, stepping aside to make room for him to enter. 

Sanji hesitantly stepped forward, walking past him and turning around to close the door behind him. 

As he did, he could see the lawyer talking to Perona again.

The door slid shut. 

Silence filled the room. 

Sanji pursed his lips, biting his lower one, and slowly turned around to face Zoro, who was already looking.

He was always looking.

Sanji took a deep breath in before moving towards him.

The chair — his chair — was already placed by the bed. 

He walked past it, sat on the bed next to Zoro. 

Zoro’s eyes were locked on him. Sanji looked back silently. 

“I leave for Switzerland in a month.”

Sanji looked away.

“Curly?” His voice was softer, laced with something almost tender.

Sanji refused to move his eyes to him.

“Sanji. Look at me.” He was pleading. 

Sanji’s resolve shattered.

His eyes fluttered to Zoro’s, blue locking on honey brown.

Zoro opened his mouth to speak, took in a sharp breath, hesitated.

Then, in an almost inaudible whisper: “Will you come with me?”

Sanji stared at him, searching his eyes for anything akin to humor. Something that would tell him that Zoro did not just ask for the impossible. 

“You’re joking, right?” He finally asked, his voice strained.

Zoro swallowed hard, refusing to look away. “I don’t think anything in this world matters to me more than you do. I want you with me.”

Sanji let out a shaky breath despite himself. “Do you realize what you’re asking of me?” 

And when Zoro didn’t reply, he continued. “You’re asking me to watch you die. You’re asking me to be there and hear your heart stop beating. The same heart I’ve grown so used to hearing under my ear almost every night.”

“I know,” Zoro said. “I know I’m asking a lot. I know how much pain I’m putting you through.”

“Do you really? If you did, you wouldn’t have asked me. You wouldn’t even be going to goddamn Switzerland.”

“This isn’t about you, Sanji. It doesn’t mean you’re not enough.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. What is it about if it’s not?”

Zoro hesitated for a second. “It’s about how I can’t hold you.” His voice was calmer. “It’s about how I can’t follow you if you storm off, it’s about how I can’t do anything but kiss you back. It’s about how I can’t even hold your hand back or wipe away your tears.”

Sanji’s voice lowered into a broken whisper. “I don’t care about all of that–”

“I care. I care a lot. I can’t love you the way you deserve.”

“I don’t want to be loved any other way, Zoro, please.” Sanji wiped at the tears streaming down his face. “Please, Zoro. Stay.”

Zoro looked at him, his eyes glassy.

He licked his lips, his voice cracking as it came out. “I can’t.”

Sanji stood up abruptly, his legs not waiting for his mind to catch up before carrying him to the door.

He slid it open, and without looking back, he left.

 

Sanji didn’t return that night, nor did he come the next morning, or the morning after.

He slept in his own bed, under his own covers, with only his heart beating inside of his ears.

 

He woke up with the dawn of the third morning with his heart as heavy as lead. 

He grabbed his bag, made his way out of the apartment, called a cab, and returned to Zoro.

Because Sanji always returned to Zoro.

The door to his room was open already, and Sanji slipped in to find a sleeping Zoro.

He put his bag down on the chair and made his way to the side of the bed, sitting on it slowly.

Sanji looked at Zoro’s hand, the calloused fingers he had grown accustomed to between his own, and slowly, hesitantly, held it in his.

He let his thumb rubbed soft circles on Zoro’s skin, swallowing hard as memories of a few days ago flashed through his mind.

Sanji stayed like that until Zoro’s eyes fluttered open, until brown met blue again, that familiar rush of blood forcing its way to Sanji’s cheeks.

“You came back,” Zoro said, his voice raw and heavy with sleep.

Sanji looked down at their hands, Zoro’s eyes suddenly too intense to look at.

“Is that stupid of me?” He mumbled.

“Maybe.” And after a moment: “I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“Oh, well, who was I? Who was I to watch you wilt? You were a work of art, that’s the hardest part.” — Noah Kahan, “Your Needs, My Needs”

 

— Month Six —

 

A couple days before they were set to travel, Zoro asked Sanji to go with him to the lake one last time.

They sat by the same tree, on the same blanket, watching the same lake carry through.

And for a moment, Sanji let himself forget.

He listened as the tree leaves rustled above him, as birds his eyes couldn’t see chirped on branches. He watched the water, saw the reflection of the sky in it, littered by white clouds that shaded them from the afternoon sun. 

And above all else, he felt Zoro next to him, lying against the tree trunk, eyes closed with the wind ruffling his soft green hair.

Sanji sat there, with his arms lazily wrapped around his knees, and stared at Zoro as if trying to memorize him.

He watched his chest slowly go up and down. His eyes traced the scar on Zoro’s left eye, faded, a little lighter than the tan of his skin. 

Sanji lingered on his eyelashes, how beautiful they were. And then his eyes dropped to his lips and Sanji swallowed at the memories flooding through his mind. 

They were pink and soft and Sanji never wanted to forget how they felt against his.

His hand reached out, finger gently tracing Zoro’s bottom lip. 

Zoro’s eyes fluttered open and looked at Sanji softly.

Sanji let his hand drop on Zoro’s lap next to the man’s own.

“Did I wake you up?”

Zoro smiled softly. “No, I was awake. The breeze felt nice.”

Sanji’s hand shyly wrapped around Zoro’s.

“It’s a beautiful day. I’m glad you wanted to come.”

“Yeah, it smells like spring is around the corner,” Zoro replied. “I’m happy you came with me.”

Sanji squeezed Zoro’s hand gently. 

They fell silent for a moment before Zoro broke it.

“Can I lie on your lap, Curly?” 

Sanji smiled softly and immediately began to adjust their positions, turning Zoro and carefully resting his head on Sanji’s thigh. 

“Comfortable?” Sanji asked, to which Zoro smiled and replied with a soft “Yes.”

Sanji’s hand found its way to Zoro’s hair, brushing it with his fingers and scratching his scalp lightly. 

Zoro was looking up at him, his brown eyes searching. 

Sanji locked their eyes, his finger running down Zoro’s temple to the bridge of his nose. 

“What are you thinking about, Mosshead?”

Zoro replied after a beat. “How lucky I am to have met you,” he murmured.

Sanji’s hand stilled in Zoro’s hair for a second before it continued its motion, that same heavy feeling settling back into his heart.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” Sanji said, his voice catching slightly.

Zoro blinked, looking away. “I know.”

Sanji let the wind brush through his hair, his ears focusing on the lake’s soft murmur as his hand moved through Zoro’s hair.

“Thank you,” Zoro mumbled after a while. 

“What for?”

“For letting me love you selfishly.”

 

The morning of the day before the flight, Sanji packed lightly. 

When he arrived at the mansion, one of the staff members took his bag from him and placed it next to two big bags and one small one. 

The air felt dark and suffocating, a stark difference to the bright sun filtering through the windows. 

He stood at the entrance for far too long, looking at the bags.

One for Mihawk, black and bare. The pink one for Perona. And the smaller of the three was Zoro’s. 

A one way trip for him. 

Sanji swallowed hard, his fist clenching, eyes unblinking.

He forced himself to move through the house. 

To Zoro. 

Always to Zoro.

He stood in front of the closed doors, taking in a deep breath. 

With a tremble in his hand, he slid the door open and stepped in.

Zoro was already awake, staring at the garden outside his room.

Sanji closed the door behind him and moved to Zoro’s side.

Their eyes met, and it took everything in Sanji not to break down again. 

He already did that earlier that morning, trashing and breaking everything in his way.

“Hey, Curly.” Zoro’s eyes found him. 

They were soft, tender in a way Sanji had never seen before.

Calm.

Sanji let his knee rest on the edge of the bed, then he climbed on top, lying down next to Zoro immediately. 

“Hey, Mossy.”

Sanji rested his head on Zoro’s chest, his arm wrapping around his abdomen. 

Silence settled between them, soft and familiar. 

It was Sanji who broke it this time. 

“Can I stay here until tomorrow?” He asked. “Can I stay with you?”

“Yes,” Zoro replied tenderly. “You’ll always stay with me.”

And Sanji, he found out, would.

He stayed when Zoro scared him, when he tested if he would flinch. He stayed through broken glass and torn pictures. He stayed as his body got weaker, holding his hand and staying the night. He stayed as the momentum shifted. He stayed after the heartbreak of their first kiss and all through the rest that they shared. He stayed at the lake, on the beach, next to Zoro.

He stayed.

He stayed, he stayed, he stayed.

He stays.

And right now, in this moment, Zoro was with him and that was all that mattered. 

He leaned up slightly, his lips searching for skin, and Sanji pressed a kiss to Zoro’s forehead. Lingering, feeling life pressed against him. 

And then he pulled back, eyes searching for Zoro’s and finding them again.

“I don’t know who I was before you, who I am after you.” Sanji mumbled, his voice cracking

Zoro took in a deep breath before he spoke. “You’ll learn in the absence of me.”

“I don’t want to learn.” He whispered

“You’ll have to, so you could carry me with you.”

Sanji’s hand went to where Zoro’s heart was. 

Beating.

Still here.

 

Switzerland carried a new type of silence. 

A calm that settled into Sanji’s bones. 

The air carried faint scents of pine and cold water.

Everything looked and felt… ordinary.

Except he was in a hospital room with Zoro, looking out at a vast meadow.

The only sound was the steady beep beside the bed.

Sanji’s hand held Zoro’s, his thumb tracing slow circles into his skin.

Zoro turned his eyes to look at Sanji.

Sanji locked their eyes together. 

He couldn’t help but notice Zoro’s soft features, relaxed and calm.

Serene. 

“Curly?”

“Yeah, Mossy?”

“Are you scared?”

“...Yeah.” Sanji’s eyes fell.

Zoro fell silent for a minute. “Will you remember me?”

“Always, Zoro.”

“And,” he hesitated. “Will you live for me?”

Sanji looked back up at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Sanji?” His name rolled quietly off of Zoro’s tongue.

“I’ll live for you.”

Zoro smiled softly, Sanji’s vision blurred.

“Cook, and laugh, and fall in love again even if it breaks your heart.”

Sanji looked away, tasting salt on his lips.

“You were the best thing that happened to me, Curly.” 

Sanji wiped away tears. 

He didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to.

“Can I kiss you one more time?” Zoro asked.

Sanji moved up, his hand cupping Zoro’s cheek gently, and closed the distance

Salt tangled with Zoro’s taste as he kissed him delicately, tenderly. 

The softness of Zoro’s lips, the warmth under Sanji’s palm, it was all too much.

And not enough.

Sanji pulled back slowly, keeping his face close to Zoro’s.

Their breath mingled, warmth against warmth.

Stay? Sanji’s eyes pleaded.

But Zoro’s eyes already told him he was at peace with his choice. 

He kissed him again, just to file more of Zoro in his memory.

And when he pulled back again, he couldn’t meet Zoro’s eyes. 

And before any one of them could say anything, a nurse walked in, gently asking Zoro if he was ready.

It was time. 

Sanji’s hand rested on Zoro’s heart for a moment, before he let it drop by his side. 

“Goodbye, Curly.”

Sanji felt his heart clench.

“Goodbye, Mossy.”

Sanji’s hand let go of Zoro’s, and he made his way outside as nurses took his place.

As they talked to him, as they worked around him

As the machine stopped beeping.

Sanji slid down against the wall by the door, face held in his hands, sobs echoing across the hallway.

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“You taught me the courage of stars before you left. How light carries on endlessly even after death. With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite. How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.” — Sleeping at Last, “Saturn”

 

— Epilogue —

 

Sanji unlocked the doors, stepping into the restaurant. 

It was early morning, the birds outside were chirping and Sanji could still smell the ocean from inside. 

He moved around the place, placing chairs down, fixing mats, and flipping the sign upside down.

Open, it read now. 

He pushed the windows open, letting the cool breeze of spring caress his face. 

It had been a couple years since he passed.

Everything reminded Sanji of him, and honestly, he never wanted to forget him.

He kept in touch with Perona, checked in on her frequently during the first year.

Her grief mimicked Sanji’s. 

It was devouring for the longest time.

But then, slowly, life grew around it.

Like moss did. 

And by year two, Sanji could breathe without feeling the ache crashing into his lungs.

The grief still lingered, though. Especially when Sanji looked at the ocean for far too long, especially when certain songs played.

He walked back to the kitchen and started preparing ingredients. 

It was a small restaurant he opened a year after Zoro passed away.

Near the same beach they shared their first kiss. 

La Table du Lac.

The Table by the Lake. 

He could imagine Zoro laughing teasingly at his name choice, at his inability to let go fully. 

And Sanji smiled at that thought.

He didn’t remember Zoro clearly anymore, only fragmented memories of his face, his voice, his laughter.

But he remembered the love he held for him, and the love he received.

And, two years later, that was enough for Sanji.

He didn’t fall in love again.

Not so soon after him. 

But he was cooking, and he was laughing.

He built a place he could call home, somewhere quaint and far away from the reach of his past life. 

And every year, on the anniversary of his death, Sanji would spread moss around tree trunks by the lake. 

Then he’d sit there and watch the water flow, letting himself remember, letting himself forget. 

He built the restaurant with Zoro’s help.

He had left him a fund tied to one condition in his will — to find a place Sanji could call home — along with kitchen knives and a note that Sanji took with him everywhere, tucked in his wallet.

And Sanji cherished him for it. For guiding him even after his death.

The soft chime of the door bell rang, bringing Sanji out of his thoughts and into the present.

He turned around, found the familiar face of a regular at his door. 

He smiled warmly and welcomed her to La Table du Lac.

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

“But as it falls unto my lot that I must go and you must not, I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call goodnight and joy be with you all.” — Hozier, “The Parting Glass - Live”

Notes:

Kudos and comments (!!!) are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading <3