They're back with a sequel!

This fiction follows the events of Blond Beauty And The Marimo Beast so I recommend reading that before starting this.

You've Found Me

Chapter One: Destiny Is A Little Cliché

Sanji

The floors were clean, the windows washed and all the tables that weren't already sitting customers for dining, had been re-laid for the next guests.
The Baratie was oddly quiet for a weekend. But, Sanji thought jealously, looking to the bright sunshine pouring in through the giant windows, it wasn't hard to find the reason why.
The first weekend after Summer started. School was out and the beaches were in.

Sanji wanted to be out in the sun, down on the beach or strolling the town with his friends, but he had promised to help his Dad out on weekends for extra pocket-money. It was only the first day, and Sanji was already regretting it.

The boy sighed to himself. He made one last round of the patrons, filling drinks and clearing plates before sidling himself on a bar stool behind the counter. He had his book just tucked under the shelf, the little purple ribbon poking out to remind him which step of adventure he had left it on.
Books were allowed in the restaurant, phones were not. And Sanji wasn't about to spend his entire day staring enviously out the window. Not that he wasn't able to stop doing just that, when a particularly loud group passed by. The sound of their laughter and snippets of conversation pulled him from his novel to imagination. He could practically feel the sand between his toes.

"I'm heading out," came a voice from somewhere closer to here. Sanji pulled his eyes away from his imaginary beach of golden sands, swaying palms and soft spray ocean, his eyes falling upon his father, who had materialised in front of him.
"Where?"
"Doesn't matter where. Don't cause problems while I'm gone." Zeff turned his back, marching out the front door without so much as a backwards glance over his shoulder.

"Damn geezer, leaving me here," Sanji muttered, turning his focus back to the words, but they stuck to the page as much as his shirt did in this god forsaken heat.
The boy poured himself a glass of water, then made a round to the tables again, topping up glasses with water and ice, earning compliments from the dithery elderly couple in the far corner.

As much as Sanji was polite, he excused himself quickly, earning a shit-eating grin from Oliver, who was tending to the shop floor with him. Well, it wasn't like Zeff would leave a fifteen year old in charge of the restaurant.
Not that that didn't happen, from time to time.

"Do you know where he went?" he asked the older waiter, when Oliver came to help himself to his own glass. "Maybe," the boy teased, downing the tumbler quickly. He let out a satisfied gasp, before adding his glass to a tray. "I've got this, if you've got them," he said, nodding to the only two occupied tables. "Think you'll manage?"
"No, god, please help," Sanji deadpanned, turning back to his book without another look. But the words just wouldn't go in and the weather wasn't helping his patience. Neither was Oliver.

Oliver just chuckled to himself and slipped out back to the kitchen.
"Yeah, yeah you're hilarious," Sanji muttered after him, staring at the top of the page.
The book couldn't keep his attention for long. Sanji rubbed the back of his hand unconsciously, staring at the blank skin that laid there. Earlier, there had been little words and doodles, even a kiss at the base of his pinkie.

[Hating this heat] he wrote, sliding the pen back on the holder on his wrist. It didn't take long until words formed just underneath.
{It can't be too bad. At least you don't have to lug responsibility around all day} There was a little grumpy emoji, followed by the kiss mark. His soulmate's handwriting was as messy as ever and never changed no matter how much Sanji told her she needed to. There had been a week of nothing after the escalated fight.
Then late one night, Sanji had felt the pen on his skin and watched the ink scrawl pictures of little characters holding flowers and things, speech bubbles articulating apologies.

Sanji's soulmate may have had atrocious handwriting, but it held nothing against her ability to draw. He always imagined her fingers padding the pen, lips chewing on the end as she wondered what next to doodle in a coveted drawing pad, covered in doodles and works on art.
Sometimes, she'd ask Sanji, the words appearing on his skin at odd hours of the day. He'd fumble for something, and write whatever came to mind.

But there was no time to hold a conversation today. She was busy, complaining messily about kids and having to care for them.
{It's not like I know the first thing about caring for kids. But Dad won't let me stick them in front of the TV all day, so I'm dragging them around town.}

Sanji was left to occupy himself, torn between reading his book and staring at his arm, hoping for the familiar soft green to grace his pale skin. But the skin remained empty and he had to find other distractions.

The book.
He had read the line like, fifteen times already, so how come the words weren't making sense.
Sanji tried again, letting his mouth move around the vowels and sounds, without making a noise.

'…twirled her fingers in her hair, pulling out her phone to check the messages. She doesn't know why he's doing it. They've been arguing and all she wants to do is forget he has ever existed. But she's in love with the fool. She's a fool in love and she can't deny the part of him that has become a part of her.

It's been more than thirteen minuets past their agreed meeting time, so where was he? Allura turned to the door, watching the miserable rain run down the panes of the window. Tears of the Autumn Evening for a tragedy that unfolded as the woman felt the phone vibrate in her hand. She saw Matt's name appear on screen, fingers hovering for a moment. "Another excuse Matt," she grumbled, feeling the reassurance that her Brother, even after all these years, was never good for promises.

"Allura."
It wasn't Matt.

"Allura, where are you-"

Suddenly, the Baratie doors were flung open, followed by the shrieking that sounded like a dying creature. Sanji barely managed to stay on his stool as the terrible something charged forward, launching itself at the counter. The boy caught sight of two tiny hands clawing at the edge, before the door opened again and two more children ran in, followed by a panting teenager, red cheeked and a face of thunder.
"Don't run off you brat," he yelled at the boy swinging off the counter. His shout startled the other patrons and, although he would never admit it, Sanji. The teenager launched forward, Sanji standing from his stool prepared to fight. But he wasn't' the target.
The teenager grabbed the young child by his collar, hoisting him into the air, off of the counter. The boy fought him, kicking out angrily. "Get off, I'm hungry!" he yelled, as if his appetite was perfectly acceptable reason to act like a wild animal. "Shut up," the older admonished, dragging him and his other responsibilities to the furthest booth by the window.
"Sorry," he said to Sanji, flinching when he saw the look of shock plastered on the boy's face. "Ah, um," he blushed, before muttering, "three orange juices and a coke, please." He followed the children, grip slipping on the black-haired boy. He barrelled forward into the other two, all three deciding that "I want to sit next to the window" and "no Luffy, I was here first!"

"I don't care who sits where, just sit down and shut up," the boy growled, grabbing the children by some sort of garment and literally throwing them at different sofas. "Now behave, or we're not going to the beach." The teenager slipped in next to the girl, lifting his boot to place on the sofa opposite, effectively blocking the two boys in.
Sanji raised an eye as the combat boots left a little dirt on the chairs, but he shrugged it off, thinking it was better than three, hyperactive children loose around the restaurant.
He watched the group with mild curiosity; the children looking no older than five, all roughly the same height, but vastly different from the other. They all had different skin tones for a start. Only the black-haired child and the teenager resembled each other slightly, but that only could be seen if Sanji was really looking. His eyes for some reason kept being drawn back to the slightly tan, mildly attractive teenager. Although the thought was quickly replaced with bemusement when the boy pulled off his baseball cap to reveal striking green hair.

Her green, Sanji thought warmly, the laughter softening when his thoughts were cast to his Soulmate.

The bubbling noise earned him a glance, and the boy rolled his eyes, obviously used to the not-so-polite response. But there was something more, when Sanji saw his cheeks redden as he turned away, his attention pushed back to the troublemakers that still hadn't settled. "Quiet down," he warned them, swiping at the black haired boy closest to him. "Or you only get one thing of the menu."
But none of the children seemed to be listening as they squabbled over some "treasure" they had bought with them. The argument quickly went back to who is sitting where and the noise grew once more.

The other patrons sent the family evils, but the teen had his back to them. Sanji doubted he would care anyway, and was glad the boy couldn't see. If not, Mr and Mrs Partridge might get themselves another bird for their pear tree.

One boy, possibly the youngest was stood on the table by the time that Sanji had poured the drinks and made his way around the bar. He had put them all in children's plastic glasses, including the coke, knowing that there was going to be at least one sent flying. He had already swept up glass off the floor this morning. He didn't fancy doing it again.

"Alright adventurers, I've bought drinks," Sanji announced loudly, showing the small waiters' tray he held balanced on one arm. Who cares if he was showing off?
The children turned to him with a chorus of "me firsts" but Sanji held the drinks further away. "Bottoms on chairs first. And where's your 'Please?'" The promise of a cool drink was enough to calm the children down, and they all took respective places along the sofa. At one point the girl had climbed over the table and now sat next to the green boy's boot.

"Now then, who wants straws?"
There was a burst of excitement as the children shouted out who was having red, yellow or orange. Well, more like loudly argued, but it was enough that Sanji couldn't help but send an apologetic glance over to the other tables.
He set the glasses down quickly, dropping straws into the drinks accordingly.

Then, he set the coke in front of the older, complete with ice, a lemon slice, and a green straw.

The boy raised his eyebrow at first, looking up to Sanji to make a remark, when he froze.
Sanji froze too.
There was something… familiar….

"Sanji?"

"Zoro?"

Sanji was staring, wasn't he?
Maybe he should stop.
Maybe he should do something other than stare at the teenager before him.

Every nerve in his body is alight with energy. His toes are tingling with the same sensation of burning summer sand, his fingers prickling with the chill of frostbite. His tongue is electricity inside his mouth, his eyes darting over this sleek, sculptured Aphrodite who is his soulmate, soaking up every single detail about him.
Three golden hoops sit in his left ear lobe, there's a scar on the tip of his top lip, his eyes are copper against honey and sage, they're glowing the same recognition as he takes in the sight of a boy Sanji was in his dreams.

But they were just dreams.

This was real.
This was….

"Sanji?" The boy was standing; the soft husk of his voice hitching on the name that he had called over and over so many times. The name he had screamed in fear, roared in anger, whispered lovingly through broken lips stained red with blood from the sword that drove through him over and over when dreams became nightmares, and Sanji saw his lover die, die, die, die, die-

"Sanji?"
He reaches out.

Zoro reaches out, his hand held in the dead-space between them, freezing at the fear that covers Sanji's face.

Everyone dreams of meeting their soulmate. Everyone fantasizes their chance meeting in the supermarket, when they bump into each other amidst the rush of Christmas shopping, when she's the girl he has a crush on in college, or he sat in her seat at the cinema, or she's that girl that helped you in study hall, or his is the name that always falls before hers on the library cards.
Everyone imagines the feeling, begging it to be magical when they hear the stories from parents, from family members who bring in the shy, gentle girl who is to be their 'forever after.'

They all think about it. Heart stopping, life changing moment where everything vanishes and you're far beyond cloud nine and her arms are around you, and yours around her, and he's whispering in your ear that he's been longing to meet you since the marks first began to appear etched across his skin.

"It's like electricity," they say. "Everything stops and they are there and you can't see anything, can't do anything else but grab them and hold them close to you and just… breathe."

Sanji can't breathe.

Sanji can't see anything other than the sight of the Beast before him.
He can't hear anything but the thrum of blood in his head, so loud it feels like his head is going to implode.

There's no joy.
There's no excitement.

Only dread.
Thick, syrupy dread that traps Sanji on the spot, staring fearfully at the hand that wants to caress his cheek, push back the curtain of sunshine-in-dewdrops hair and stare into the eyes that reflect the cloudless summer sky that stretches from here to their 'forever more'. It's the warm blue of forget-me-nots, the softness of the silk dress he wore for him so many Christmases ago, the same blue that arcs and curves over Zoro's arm when he reaches out and Sanji reaches back.

But Sanji doesn't reach back.

Sanji doesn't reach back, but stares, his one blue eye wide and watery from the beginnings of tears.
Zoro pulls his hand back like he's been stabbed with a hot poker. He had done something. Had he? Had he done something wrong?
This was Sanji wasn't it? This was his soulmate.

His body told him that.

The ringing in his ears, the ice in his lungs, the electricity in his head and the laugh that he had heard echoing in the fogginess of waking after every blissful dream that held the Blonde beside him in the castle he built in his mind.

"Sanji?"

And the moment shatters.

Sanji stumbled back, face hidden behind a waiter's smile. "Enjoy your drinks," he says, the words louder than they need to be, his eyes averted to the sight of three children almost finished theirs. Zoro's eyes follow, then look back but the Blond is gone. He's scurrying through a pair of doors that lead into another room, suddenly replaced by an older, taller version.
But this boy's hair is dusty brown, the highlights of Sanji's sunshine only an attempt at his beauty. It's shorter, wispy and styled like a pop-star wannabe. His limbs are thin and long, but his muscles are fuller than Sanji's, his eyes are rainwater grey, the storm at sea that hides Sanji's ocean from him.

"Sanji what-" he asks, turning at the quickly closing doors, but there's no reply and the boy is left feeling just as confused as Zoro. Their eyes meet, a flicker of questions in the ghostly grey that say nothing else but "Run."
The boy comes closer. Zoro is a deer in the headlights, frozen, wanting the boy to come over here and tell him what just happened, but at the same time, wishing the storms would stay at sea and he would remain safe and dry on land.

"Zoro, I want another!"
The boy turned to his brother, to the cheeky grin of a four year old eyeing his untouched coke. Concentrated sugar that would have the boy hyper for three years straight.
Before Luffy can grab it, Zoro has him in one grip, the other hand in his jeans pocket for a wallet. "Nami, Usopp we're leaving," he snaps, fishing out a fifty dollar bill and throwing it on the table.
The children don't question his sudden anger and jump from the table. Usopp snags Zoro's baseball cap, pulling it down on his own mess of hair and they're bundling for the door before the second waiter can corner them.
"Thanks for the drinks," Zoro throws over his shoulder, urging Nami and Usopp faster, quietening Luffy with promise of BBQ for lunch. He's storming down the street without mind to where he's going, letting Nami take point, his head back in the moment where he just met his soulmate.

And his soulmate was a boy Zoro had met before, in his dreams

"Calm down, calm down," Sanji tells himself, the words like a mantra, his back pushed against the door that separates the kitchen from the restaurant. He knows Patty is watching him with the same eyes Oliver had when he had shoved him onto the shop floor, but he doesn't want to talk about it.
All he knew, he had to get away from the restaurant.
The kitchen too. It got smaller and smaller, the walls closing in on him. He couldn't breathe.

"Feeling sick," is all he offers to the concerned cooks and suddenly he's out back, climbing the stairs that take him to his living room. His phone is on the dining table so he snatches that, working himself up to the third floor, then the fourth where he stakes claim to the entire attic as his bedroom.

It's hot and he's sweating before he's made it to the window, feeling despair to see it already wide open, trying to entice a non-existent breeze.

With nothing in his head, Sanji strips himself to underwear and crawls into the shadowed confines of bed. The duvet is cold and it's a comfort against the pounding of his skull. He hears his name being called but doesn't want to reply. He just wants to sleep. He just wants to sleep.

Electricity touches Sanji's skin. He can feel the fluid movements of water over rock, already seeing the colour that, once calmed him and soothed his pains, only brought fear and heartbreak into his already pained chest.
He pulls his arm from where it's smothered by the covers, watching with mixed emotions, as the green moves down his wrist…

Zoro held the pen over his arm, feeling hesitant about writing more, wondering if he should. He had already written too much, he knew it, but there was a feeling of incompleteness about him that was more suffocating than the fact he had met his soulmate.

His soulmate.

He had met his soulmate.

He had met his soulmate and the fearful, petrified look in his eyes, the piercing blue that had remained wide, the trembling of fingers that had covered the skin where the words, his words would appear.

The moment was a hundred times more powerful than Zoro has imagined it would be. No matter how many times he imagined it, never had the results been so… painful.
For the past fifteen years each fantasy, however similar or how different they were, there was always acceptance and, dare he say, love. There were hugs and tears and fluff. There were cuddle puddles and a thousand words shared in the brief kisses they shared before trains were leaving and his other half had to go but "I know who you are now. I'll come back."

Will Sanji come back? But back to where?
Back to… no, that place was never real, Zoro growled, staring at his mobile, punching in 'clack château de la falaise,' for the millionth time, watching the Google page come up empty.

The first time he had remembered the name, Zoro had typed it into the search engine of his computer, holding his breath as the loading page held him in suspense. He imagined the pictures of the castle that was once his home, painted pictures of ruins in his head that proved these dreams, so vivid, so bright, were real.
The search came up blank, but that didn't deter the eight year old, with hopes and dreams bigger than his chest could hold.
Books told stories of past lives, so why couldn't it be true. Why couldn't his dreams be the life he once lived with Sanji, the boy who was destined to be on the other side of the ink trail. He had wanted to ask, desperately wanted to ask for his name, for the colour of his hair, for the colour of his eyes… but the fear of Zoro being wrong stayed his hand and the questions remained unanswered.

Until now.

Zoro ambles to the park bench, just about being able to stop himself collapsing to the weathered wood. He wanted to go home. To his couch, to his bed where he could bury himself in its soft embrace.
He does all he could to stop himself from exploding. Every emotion he's ever felt from birth to heartbreak is inside him now, vying for spotlight in the forefront of a mind that's too overcrowded to do much more than feel.

Angry, upset, disappointed, powerless, lost, unsure, helpless, alone, weary, lifeless, anxious, insecure, crushed, rejected, tearful, unworthy, repulsed, lousy, desperate, hopeless, disorientated, pathetic, distraught, overwhelmed, trapped, weak, bitter, frustrated, hesitant, doomed, nauseated, heartbroken, appalled, slighted, smothered…

Zoro drops his head into his hands, covering his face, trying to remember what breathing was like.

"Hey, Zoro!" A familiar voice filters through the background noise, and before the boy has time to prepare himself, Kuina is beside him, sliding onto the bench next to him. He can't hide his face quick enough, can't slap on a happy grin and greet the girl with his usual joy. But the love he feels is only guilt, and he hates himself for wishing her not to be here right now.

"I didn't think you were- The hell? What's the matter, what happened?" Kuina's big grin disappeared at the sight of Zoro's near-panic and her hands are already on his wrists, prying his hands from his face so she can see him clearer. She makes to hug him before Zoro scrambles to sit himself up straighter, forcing himself to smile even as tears well up and threatened to spill over. "N-Nothing! Nothing happened- I'm fine, I'm fine, haha."
But the laughter cracks his voice and his lips wobble slightly. Fucks sake, this wasn't like him at all.

"Oi." Kuina's voice is stern. Zoro meets her eyes, unable to pull away. "Tell me. What happened?"

Can he?

Kuina and he were dating.
It felt like he was cheating on Sanji to admit it. And at the same time, Zoro felt like he was betraying Kuina.

It had started as a give and take relationship. He wanted skin-ship and she had a crush she'd never tell him about. Neither knew their soulmates then, neither knew their future. They only knew the then and now.
Feelings came later. Along with the looks, the whispers, the lectures. No one accepted them but they loved each other anyway. They were in love and they were going to stay that way.

But could they, now that Zoro had met his fated one?
And his fated one was the boy he had loved in more than one life.

"You look like shit," she says when he doesn't speak. But then she's cupping his cheeks in her hands, fingers in the short length of his hair, kissing his lips in gentle moments of comfort. There's no passion. Just the press of lips to trembling lips.

Maybe she already knew.

"Hey." Her voice is soft. It's warm and it's sweet and it hurts him.
"Tell me? Please?" His head can't bring out words, but she fills the silence.

"Come on Zoro. I know you. You're actually terrible at hiding things from me, you know? So-" she prods him in the shoulder as a show of impatience "-What happened?"
"I… met him." His eyes meet hers, watching the confusion as they narrow. "I met my soulmate."

And before he can think twice, he has his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest, burying his face into her hair, trying not to openly sob. "I met him, Kuina. I met my fucking soulmate," Zoro forces out, and doesn't even notice when she stiffens in his arms.
He just keeps going. "I met him and he said just stood there with a face like I slit his mother's throat!" He curls tighter around her, deaf to the grunt of pain she gives. She's not tense anymore, her arms falling under his, coming up to his back, moving in a mixture of patting and rubbing in circles.

Kuina had known the day would come eventually, they both did. To either or, they knew they'd have to be there for each other, even if the subject had been ignorantly ignored.
Though, Kuina had to admit, she wasn't expecting it to be so soon.

"Shall we go to mine? We can talk easier there."

She's pulling him up, leading him by the hand. "Luffy, Nami, Usopp. We're going, come on."

Sanji stared at the number on his hand. It was slightly smudged and the threes look more like eights, but it didn't matter. He had already written it down on the notebook he kept for recipe ideas, had it scrawled on the napkin he was using as a bookmark and it was jotted down on the corner of some scrap of paper too.

Sanji already knew the number off by heart.

Zoro's number.
Written across his wrist, just above the hand writing that confirmed the feelings that had swarmed inside him.

{If you want to talk. If not then...}
The words had a harsh line slicing through the middle of them, followed by more:
{I won't talk until you do. Ring or write, I don't care.}

'I don't care' had been covered with so much green that it looked like Sanji was turning ogre.

{I do care. But I'll wait} followed by the smallest drawing of a fox. It was Sanji's favourite animal and god knows how many times Sanji requested her to draw it…. Him. Requested him to draw it.

Sanji felt the smile disappear from his lips, not even realising Zoro had drawn that from him. He felt his stomach drop as the fleeting happiness is replaced by a dark guilt. Slowly, he pulls the sleeve of his long top down, hiding the skin. Maybe Zo-
Maybe his soulmate could feel the pain as he brushed against the words, and it has him feeling more than just guilt.

Sanji grabbed the pen from his bedside cabinet, the pads of his fingers squeezing it, yet he made no effort to bring it to his skin. He just stared at his hand, watching his skin for the answer to magically appear.

Was this… a bad thing?

He had only reacted the way he had from shock and fear. It was unheard of to dream your soulmate into existence. Not only that, but Sanji had dreamt up an entire previous life with the boy.
When he was a Beast. Green fur, seven feet tall and-

But that wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
It couldn't have happened-

"Sanji? Sanji are you home?"

Sanji groaned into his pillow, dropping the pen, pulling his limbs back into the cocoon of his duvet. There was banging on the floor, as footsteps run upstairs. Nothing ceremonious as a knock, before the bedroom door was flung open, and Sanji's little sister invaded the room.

"Sanji! I know you're hiding in here!"

Sanji groaned in rebellion, but Vivi wasn't about to give up.

"Dad's looking for you- Hey, why you sleeping?" The older let an eye open coming face to face with rosy cheeks and bright blue pigtails. "I'm not sleeping Vivi."
"Then why are you in bed? Oli said you came up here looking like a ghost. Dad said you should be helping out in the shop."
"I can't. I'm sick."

Vivi stuck out her bottom lip. She obviously didn't believe him.

"But Dad says-"
"Go awayVivi!" He groaned loudly, pulling the covers over his head once more.
But Vivi wasn't letting up. Stubbornness ran in the family, and she was the worst out of the four.

"Sanji, get your flat ass out of bed and go to class," Vivi snapped, yanking the covers off of him. Sanji's body shivered violently from the lack of heat. How? It was still baking in the middle of the day.
"Who's going to make me?" He gritted out, but it was weak. A migraine throbbed in the forefront of his mind, heavily so he didn't hear the footsteps of another approach. "Give the blanket back," he moaned, eyes closed, searching blindly. Suddenly, there was cold on his forehead. A whimper slipped between gritted teeth and Sanji pressed his face towards it. It was nice.
It was Carue's hand, checking the older's temperature. And yes, he had one.
"Vivi, go tell Dad Sanji's sick."
"What, he is?" There was more footsteps and she was gone, taking her noise with her.

Carue remained, and so did the cool of his hand.
When he withdrew it, Sanji whimpered again, eyes open, seeking the cold. Carue threw a blanket over the other. Not a duvet, but something to stop him from shivering. He left to fetch the boy a drink.
Sanji watched him go, some part of his head staring at his door, debating whether or not to lock it. It was silly, illogical even, to deny his family caring for him, but it would stop the torrent flow of investigation that was soon to follow.
Thinking about it forced his own head to begin its long line of questions, lined up, armoured for the battle ahead. "Leave me alone," he whined, turning over his bed, finding new space on the mattress, cooler than the parts heated by his fever-filled body.

Awareness stayed in his head however, his eyes open, staring at the open notepad, scrawled with Zo- his soulmate's number. Then came the questions again and Sanji growled as he shoved his face into his pillow. The migraine was worsening with every minute, the intrusive thoughts doing nothing to qualm the pain.

After a few moments, he heard the sound of his door opening. Carue had returned it seemed, bringing Sanji a drink. The thought of it parched his mouth, making his throat tight.

"Sanji," they said, voice far more hushed than what the boy was used to "How are you feeling?" Not Carue.
"Dad," he said, the hoarseness in his voice much more apparent after realising how dry his throat was. "Go away."

Zeff made a noise. Somewhere between a harrumph and a sigh, before his hand pressed to the boy's forehead, cheek and neck. Sanji tensed at the odd sensation, feeling thick fingers carding through his hair with a gentleness Sanji was rarely awarded from his father. It left goose bumps on his skin, and he shuddered again.
"You always get ill when you stress over things. It never does you any good," the man mumbled softly. Sanji wasn't sure if it was meant for conversation, or to fill the silence. "Even though I tell you to talk to me." He's still mumbling.
Sanji listens to the gravelly voice, the words once heavy with accent now only occasionally slurred when tempers ran hot. It's calming to him, and the migraine that had trapped his head in a tangle of questions slowly becomes unknotted.

"So what's got your head jumbled this time?"

Hands pulled at the blanket over Sanji, but instead of taking it, they lifted both boy and cover. Sanji felt a hand on his back as he sat up, the blanket now a superhero cape on his back. His head swam from the motion, his ears pulsed and he wasn't to sleep, but there was moisture on his lips and suddenly Sanji was so very thirsty. He grabbed at the glass, didn't care that he spilt some down him. He's gulping at the water like a man deprived of air. He needs it, feels to softness of water slide down his throat and quench the burning inside him.
"Careful, careful," someone is saying but Sanji wants water. The glass is pulled from his grip and his hands chase it, only to find Zeff holding out pills. "Take these." He does, only so he can drink some more, but this time Zeff offers a straw.

"Drink slowly, or you'll throw up."

Sanji complies, the water still there, the fire dying and the hand on his back rubbing circle motions to soothe him. "Come downstairs. You need to eat something."
"Not hungry," Sanji says around the straw, looking back to his bed. He wants to curl up again, realising that Zeff isn't going to let him do just that. He shouldn't have been lured out by the water.

"You are," Zeff says firmly, his mind made up for the boy. "You only had half breakfast and from what Oli tells me, you've been in here since I left. It's dinner already." He waved his hand at the window. Sanji looked too, surprised to no longer see the sun invading his room, but instead the view bathed in the orange of sunset. How long had he been asleep?

Sanji pulled his left arm forward, staring at the words that still hadn't disappeared. What? But they usually fade after an hour or so, sometimes longer, but never….

"Oh." Zeff had caught sight of the markings, seen the words, the colour that Sanji coveted so much- "She said something. She got your back up again an-"
"Him."

When Sanji speaks, his voice is weak. Its not dry and raspy, it doesn't hurt, but he sound is different. It's foreign, it doesn't sound like him and for a split second, Sanji wonders who spoke.

"I met him. He came into the restaurant after you left and…"

Nothing more needs saying. Nothing more could be said, but Zeff knows. He doesn't pry, doesn't push but simply offers the glass of water once more.
Sanji doesn't want it. He pushes it away.

"'m tired."
"You're dehydrated. You have a fever. You need food before you go back to sleep." Sanji glares, but it's as weak as a mewling kitten. Furrowing his brow ignites his migraine, and he's cradling his heads in his hands. His palms are cold, so he doesn't remove them.
"Just a little, Sanji," Carue added. He was stood in the door. How long for, Sanji didn't know. He just hoped the boy hadn't heard him speak about his heart mate.

Carue comes closer. "Vivi is making you soup. She's worried."

Sanji pulled his head from his hands, looking over to see the underlying layer of fear in his little brother's face, gaze switching sluggishly between him and father for a moment before he closed his eyes.
"...Fine," he sighed. And he could hear them do the same in relief.

"I'll set the table," Carue said, trotting out the room. Sanji suppressed a whine. Looks like he wasn't going to be eating it from the comfort of bed.
Zeff stood too. "Put some clothes on before you come down." His eyes lingered on the green marks that had brought this upon his son and the man's eyes flickered darkly. He opened his mouth to speak.
Decided against it, and left the room.

Sanji stared for a moment. He looked back to bed. How easy it would be to crawl back in and sleep this pain away.
He found his arm, found the pen on the floor and pressed nib to skin.

Zoro sat on Kuina's sofa, eyes lazily fixed on the TV, watching Mulan for the third time. He hadn't bothered turning it off, even after the kids had left him. They were somewhere in the garden, occupying themselves with something or other whilst Zoro wallowed in self pity.
He cast his eyes back to his arm, back to the tightly wound bandage that he refused to remove until the burning of ink on skin would tell him Sanji was writing back.

Sanji.
He had met him, he was real, it was all real, it was-

"Are we going to talk about it?"

The boy looked up, looked to his girlfriend leaning on the back of the sofa. Her eyes were on the TV, but there was redness in the corners were she was holding back tears. "Do you want to talk about it?" She met his gaze then, saw the fear in her heart that he felt in his. But there was hope too.
Hope pulled from the misery of a boy who had met his soulmate, met the other on the end of his red thread, only to have hate meet him instead of love.

Kuina doesn't answer him with words. Instead, she sits beside him leaning into his chest, taking the position that she has claimed on so many late nights watching TV. There was comfort there, but with her beside him, Zoro only feels guilt.
It's bitter and its painful. She can feel it to, he knows it.
She's thinking about letting go. That's what the intertwined fingers tell him, that's what the tears say as they roll down pale cheeks, dropping onto his shirt without a sound.

"What does he look like?"

"He's thin, small but strong," Zoro says, thoughts turning back to the boy he twirled in his arms that Christmas a thousand lifetimes ago. "He's proud too. And kind."
Finger's touch the dorsal of his hand, the pads of his fingers begging to caress words of Blue. But there are none, and only green remains.
Zoro isn't sad though. He's caught up in memories. Not his, but memories of a Zoro long-since passed, in love with the same boy as he who stood here today. The way he'd watch the boy when he wasn't looking, mesmerised as dark lashes fluttered over pale cheeks. The shine of lips pulled up into a smile, soft and delicate. The slight dip of furrowed brow when eyes moved too quickly and words on the page tumbled together.

"He likes to read. Leather books over paper backs." Zoro watches his memories, sees Sanji lift a book from the bookshelf of the library, caressing the smooth spine, finger tracing the rivulets of gold décor. "Shall we read this one next?" he asked, a hand on Zoro's arm as they made their way from Library to the Garden. To the soft autumn sun that graced them on good days, warming the air. The light wind that ruffled the beast's fur as he sat beside Sanji on the stone bench.
His voice as he reads, the glow of his hair that catches the light, the blush of cheeks that catches Zoro watching him.

"He likes to cook. He works over at the Baratie now, as a waiter. He looks the same…"

Zoro's voice is soft, endearment takes his tone in a way Kuina has never heard. It hurts, but she asked and she has to listen if they are to agree upon a future. Without him is not the path she'll choose, but three steps back won't be as painful as a quick goodbye, one last embrace and a back she can never chase.
He's talking about his soulmate, there's love in his eyes and that will never leave. It wouldn't, hadn't, not even after Sanji had thrown hate to him in their first meeting.

"He is… he is…"

Lost for words, he looks to Kuina, hoping to express all that words cannot. She laughed, the sound not forced or fake. "For once, I'm regretting not being born a man, if he took your eye so easily."
His face scrunches at her remark, but she lays a hand on his chin and pulls him in for a kiss. It's light, lips pressing lips and he holds her there for a moment longer. "I love you," he breathes, barely space between them before pulling her in again, deepening the kiss to more than just comforting.

"I don't love you unless for meeting him, it's just…" He wants her to understand.
Sanji is the boy in his dreams. That had to count for something more than soul mates, doesn't it? Maybe even she was there, but he can't remember seeing her. There were others he's sure, but it's like his head can only focus on the boy. He's never felt the need to see more, but maybe now, he can. Maybe if he talks to Sanji.

Ink on skin, the blood of his soul-mark burned at the thought of the other.
Zoro pulled at his sleeve, suddenly all fear of hate and rejection tumbling back down in one giant landslide. With Kuina beside him, the red the words the danced across his kin, setting fire to his nerves with every word that formed.

[I want to try again.]