Hey Guys

This is the result of a very distractable brain thinking too much about One Piece.

I apologise for nothing.

What You Mean To Me

Chapter One: Morning

Zoro

Morning.

How many mornings had it been since Luffy told Sanji...?
It had been more than mornings now.

It was closer to months...
Four? Five?

Zoro had lost count.
Not that he had been counting really. Time wasn't what he thought of. Instead, his mind had been otherwise preoccupied. Filled with the thoughts of the man next to him, who was still asleep in bed.

Sanji had changed recently. He had lost his drive, his motivation. Simply a shell of his former self.
It was heartbreaking to watch. As if it was a form of torture to torment Zoro further. Rubbing salt in his wounds.

He had caused this.
He had caused Sanji's pain, Sanji's suffering.

Zoro was the one who had destroyed him...

Suddenly Sanji cried out, lashing out with his arms without warning as he reached upwards.
Another nightmare.
Another memory.

The man let his arm drift slowly back to the bed, the shock of adrenaline gone just as quickly as it had come. The rims of Sanji's eyes were shadowed with tears as he stared up at the ceiling. His eyes were hazy, unfocused, as if Sanji wasn't seeing the room, but instead something far away, out of reach…

Zoro watched him silently, restraining the urge to reach over and hug the man. He couldn't hug him, kiss him or comfort him...
Zoro let out a sigh, his eyes too, staring towards the white far above.
If this was a usual morning Sanji would be up out of bed, long before Zoro had awoken. He would have himself a shower, make a start on some ridiculously fancy breakfast even a king would beg for. He'd put the clothes in the dryer and iron both his and Zoro's shirts for work.
Then he'd crawl back in bed and snuggle up against Zoro for a few minutes just before the alarm went off.

But it was not a normal morning. It hadn't been for a while now.
In fact it wasn't normal since June...

Sanji breathed out a sigh, using the back of his hand to wipe his eyes quickly. He shut his eyes again, his fingertips clutching at the duvet. He dragged it off his body and forced himself to sit up, without so much as a glance towards where the Marimo still lay.

Sanji let his legs dangle over the edge of the bed, shivering at the sudden prospect of the cold morning air. Zoro knew that he'd rather just stay wrapped up and sleep. But the others had put a stop to that a while back, when Sanji had first fallen into his depressed state. He had spent the first week trapped in his bedroom. It was the others that had brought him food.

If they hadn't, Sanji would've stopped eating altogether...

Zoro stared at the man's sagging shoulders, his lithe frame frail and bony, his skin pale and tinted grey from his self-induced sickness. Sanji looked ill. He didn't hold form to his body, letting himself slouch forward on the bed, his arms wrapping himself as he clutched to the material of Zoro's top: one that Sanji had claimed ages ago, near when they first tow had met. He had noted it as a ritual to wear it to bed since… well forever really. The top swamped Sanji, but the man didn't care.

Neither did the Marimo. He thought it was quite sweet that Sanji had taken it. Sort of how a girlfriend nicks a hoodie to wear out; a statement of their relationship. The closeness they share with one another.

But at the same time, the sight of it made Zoro sad.
There was a tightness in his chest, as if a cold hand was wrapping around his heart and beginning to gently squeeze…

"Sanji-"
The cook stood up slowly, turning his head towards the bed. His eyes skimmed over Zoro and the concerned expression on his face, his own eyes shining with something... but in a flash it was gone, replaced by the dull grey emptiness of depression.
The despair on Sanji's face all but broke Zoro's heart. Why was he torturing the man so?

And the moment was gone.

Sanji turned his back on Zoro, standing as he began to strip from the man's stolen top. He took it off and threw it into the wash basket in the corner of the room along with his underwear, before slipping into the en-suite on the other side of the room.

Zoro got up himself. He was already dressed, having been just lying on top of the covers, not actually sleeping…

He seemed to be doing that a lot now a days. He used to lounge about the place and nap when he could, but now he struggled to drift off. Their home had become cold and uncomfortable.

When Zoro shut his eyes, his mind would be full of dreadful memories… Ones that he didn't want to remember.
Things he wished he had never seen and hoped to never see ever again...

Zoro left Sanji to his shower, heading downstairs to the large, open plan kitchen/living/dining room. This room was the main reason why he and Sanji bought the house. Sanji got himself the large kitchen with a breakfast bar, a double oven with a fridge-freezer built into the wall. Sanji had managed to get Franky and the others from Galley LA building company to build a fake wall to finish off the Kitchen (with an in-built wine rack) and build a second room so that Sanji got himself his own pantry. It was like how girls get excited for walk-in wardrobes, but for food instead of clothes…
Not that Sanji didn't also have his own walk-in wardrobe. Technically Sanji and Zoro shared it but Sanji's clothes took up about 80% of the space inside.

Zoro laughed to himself, recalling the memory of an argument between the two about 'rail space'. He sat himself on the sofa, listening to the quickly dying sound as once again, the man was met with the silence with the empty living room...

If anyone looked, they wouldn't realise anything had changed. Everything was as it was... The cooking magazines were still strewn across the coffee table, Sanji's slippers at the foot of the sofa where he took them off whilst watching TV. The remote slipping down between the sofa cushions were it hid every time either one wanted to watch a different channel or film...
The kitchen immaculate, from where Sanji had kept it pristine, even when depressed.

Everything was as it was...

Zoro's eyes wandered over to the cabinet in the living room. Everything except the photographs there... In a fit of rage Sanji had knocked them all flat and face down so Zoro could no see them. He hadn't the heart to stand them up. Not when Sanji wasn't ready to look at them yet...

It wasn't just Sanji's routine that had changed...
Usually about now Zoro would be getting ready to go for a run. It would take him just under half an hour, just plenty of time for him to get back for a quick shower before joining Sanji at the breakfast table for a comfortable argument about one thing the man had forgot to do before leaving, or last night...

But as it was, every thing had changed.

Zoro didn't leave the house any more. Sanji sometimes went out, but that was a rare affair, if it ever happened. Anything the pair wanted was usually brought by the others.
Robin and Franky would bring food every other day. Nami would stop in as often as she could whilst she wasn't busy at work and Chopper would always drop in after every of his shifts at the hospital. Usopp would come with him, as the boy would have to give the young Doctor a lift before taking him back to their flat, whom they shared with Luffy, one the other side of town.
Luffy would turn up out of the blue at least every day, if not twice a day. Brook came a little less often as he was busy working and would often be off on tour or recording in the studio…

But without fail everyone would come to the house on a Friday night. Sanji would cook a large meal and they would sit and chat or watch TV or just keep each other company…

Zoro let his body slide until he was laid on his back, sprawled out over the couch, staring up at the ceiling above him.
This was where he'd lay every morning whilst Sanji got ready and did what he needed to do, until the man would come downstairs and make a start on breakfast. He would keep out Sanji's way, but at the same time, staying close even though the two weren't talking to one another.

Zoro would gladly admit to Sanji that he missed talking, fighting, everything if that meant the blonde would just at least talk back. But nothing could change it now.
Zoro knew that. He was just tormenting himself by thinking he could ever return to the times spent with Sanji.

Everything was broken now...

Suddenly, Sanji's voice called out from upstairs. "Marimo, can you grab me a towel?"

Zoro stared in the direction of the stairs… His chest tightened again as he got up from his seat, heading back up towards their shared bedroom. He couldn't hear the shower flowing any more.

Slowly, Zoro approached the bathroom door. Had Sanji really called out for him? Or was it still just Zoro's mind torturing him further…?
Was Zoro so weak that he was starting to imagine the idea that Sanji needed him?

Or was it a mistake on Sanji's part. Had he been so lost in his own thoughts that he had believed everything was normal again?

Slowly, Zoro placed his hand on the wood and pushed gently, letting the door swing open. Sanji was stood next to the shower, his lower body wrapped in a towel. His skin gently tinged red in places where the shower had been too hot. Steam collected in the room, rolling off his body like a cape of smoke, furling around him. There was water all over the floor, some of which Sanji had tried to mop up with the bath mat...
The blonde was ruffling his hair, staring quietly in the mirror.

If this was an ordinary day, Zoro would approach, wrap his arms around the man and whisper teasing words into his ear, only to watch the gentle blush creep onto his boyfriend's cheeks. He'd steal a kiss before Sanji could scold him, and the two would lose themselves in the moment.

Zoro moved closer, silently watching as the man lifted the trademark side fringe away from his eye. The wound that had been just under his usually concealed eye was now only a pale scar; a permanent reminder of Sanji's guilt and Zoro's regret...

"Fucking asshole," Sanji hissed, more to himself than the man behind him as he pulled his fringe down to cover the mark again. Zoro couldn't help but just stare, his chest hurting more and more as he watched the Blonde's back.
There were more scars covering the pale skin, all healed but still obvious to see for those who knew where to look. Forgetting for a moment, Zoro moved closer to comfort Sanji, his hand hovering over the man's shoulder, a gesture of sympathy...

"Sanji."

But just before Zoro could touch him, the blonde spun around. Zoro pulled away in surprise, realising what he had tried to do.
The same hopeful look shone in Sanji's eyes, but again, it was gone before Zoro had a chance to realise why it was there...

Sanji marched past the Marimo and back into the bedroom, ignoring him as if he wasn't there.

Zoro just watched.
He seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

Sanji dried his hair with his towel and threw that to join the rest of the washing in the hamper in the corner of the room. He moved to the walk in wardrobe, ignoring all of his neatly pressed suits and formal trousers. Instead Sanji looked on the right railing. He grabbed one of Zoro's black shirts, one of the ones he would usually nick when he wanted to lounge at home for the day… He pulled on a pair of his own jeans and slippers before slipping from the room, grabbing the washing as he went.
Zoro followed the man out of the bedroom and down the stairs, his lips closed, his hands in his pockets, his eyes down. Sanji dumped the washing hamper in the utility room, hesitating for a moment to let Zoro pass, as he wandered back into the living room. The man sat himself on the sofa once more.

This silence was killing him...

As if Sanji had heard him, the man flicked on the radio. He didn't hum along to the music, even though Zoro knew it was one of Sanji's favourite songs playing.
The man simply stood by the kitchen counter. He stared at his chopping board, as if thinking what to cook. After a while, the man moved to the fridge, pulling out a glass dish covered with cling film. It was the coffee cake that Sanji had cooked yesterday…

Zoro followed all of the man's actions as he moved about the kitchen.
Sanji cut the cake in half and placed half in the oven to warm through before wrapping the rest and putting it back in the fridge. He pulled out the milk and cream, emptying some into a saucepan he had grabbed from the cupboard before adding some to a cup along with coffee granules. He sprinkled sugar in both the cup and saucepan before placed it on the stove and leaning over to the kettle to boil some water… Sanji grabbed a wooden spoon and began to stir the cream milk concoction, temporarily forgetting things as he began to hum along to the radio tune, falling into his own rhythm...

It was only when Sanji cooked did he return to how he used to be. He looked alive. He looked happy...

The Marimo could almost fool himself into thinking everything was normal, and how he could call out to the blonde and ask him how long breakfast would take, and if he had enough time to shower. Or Zoro could switch on the TV and settle into the couch to watch a random action flick, for Sanji to moan at him because the radio was on and Sanji hated it when there was more than one thing on…
Things would be normal.

But things weren't normal.

No matter how much both of them wanted it to be…

Zoro got up, and sat at his usual place at the table. Sanji brought over the plates. Zoro felt his chest tighten when Sanji brought two, placing one in front of the Marimo and one for himself. At least Sanji wasn't completely ignoring his existence…

The cook returned to the kitchen, grabbing the cake and turning off the oven. He turned off the stove and poured the cream over both slices of cake on separate plates. He grabbed a cup of coffee and juggled all of it over to the table before going to put the saucepan on soak and grab cutlery. The man returned to the dining room table, blatantly making sure not to look at Zoro.

Instead he picked up his fork and dug into his meal. There was a moment when he hesitated, gingerly taking the coffee cup to take a sip.
Zoro knew he didn't drink coffee. It was meant for him...

Sanji kept his eyes away, eating in silence.

Zoro missed how everything was before.
He missed the talking and the fighting.

He missed having the connection with Sanji.
He missed touching him, holding him, having him close by. Zoro missed pulling Sanji to his arms after a heated argument and pinning the blonde to his chest whilst he continued to rant about stupid things, for Sanji to finally calm down and hug the man back. He missed the muffled insult that would follow and the gentle kiss that meant they had made up.

Zoro missed taunting the blonde for his lady chasing games and the random swooning he would do to random girls off the street or on the TV. He missed the cute confessions and reassurances that would follow by proof of love or lust.
He missed teasing the cook about his food and tasting the delicious meals that Sanji would work so hard for, just for Zoro.

He missed the arguments that got too heated, when blows would be exchanged and the two would spar like teenagers fighting for the same girl, although they were fighting for each other.

Zoro missed flirting with the man, the closeness they shared, the way Sanji would wiggle his hips just for Zoro... He missed the hot nights they spent between the sheets and the dozy calm mornings that followed. Sometimes the rushed mornings when they slept in or the days just spent in bed because Zoro was too wilful and Sanji too alluring.
He missed meeting Sanji late at work at the Baratie after a day at work or a long run through the park. He missed the drive home together, when Sanji would rant about rude customers or incompetent staff and his dreams of opening his own restaurant but the guilt about leaving his father to cope on his own...

The man missed the large parties both he and Sanji would host, and how the Cook was continually being kept in the kitchen to cook endlessly for Luffy and Ace when they came round with the others.
He missed the man doting on Chopper and giving his lady-love advice to Usopp and the endless joking with Franky and the perverted comments he shared with Brook.
He actually missed watching the Love-cook swooning over Robin and Nami, although that had lessened a lot once both girls had found themselves respective partners.

Zoro missed everything, but most of all, he missed Sanji.

The glisten in his eyes when he'd see the man. The relaxed smile he would share when he was stressed, just to thank Zoro for being there for him, the smile just for him. The man's nimble fingers that were covered in scars and nicks from cooking, ones which Zoro would lace between his own sturdier ones. The man's legs, which would lace around Zoro whilst they made out. The way they'd link together behind Zoro's back as the Marimo picked the blonde up, pressing him against a wall to push them closer. The indescribable urge they share to become closer... to become one.

Sanji.

He missed Sanji.

But no matter how much he missed Sanji, it wouldn't change anything…
It wouldn't because...

Because Zoro was dead.

I'm going to go hide now...