It's amazing how easily someone can swallow a lie when they don't have the time or the effort to care enough about finding the truth. The way he could soothe everyone's thoughts but his own by making believe that the world was still a place of beauty, that dreams could exist and flourish in the light of day and not fear the crushing weight of reality. It had been a little over two months since he had lost his job, and yet his closest friends all still believed that the restaurant was where he spent most of his free time, not bothering to take a step back and look at the mess he had become. They merely believed his words when he said everything was ok, that he was just too busy to see anyone, when the truth couldn't be further from the matter. Even Zoro hadn't pressed the matter, just calmly accepting that the blonde was bailing on another date night to "work" even when Sanji's heart screamed for the green haired bastard to come to his side, to save him from his own mind. But Sanji knew that there was no reason for anyone to suspect that he was suffering deeply, he had given no indication that he was on a dangerously dark path or how lost he had become these past two months. He knew this charade had to come to an end sooner or later but he remained stranded in limbo, torn by the disappointment he could already imagine on his friends faces and in their voices. He was nothing anymore, a meaningless existence that demanded an even more meaningless end to escape the failure of what he had become, of what he had allowed himself to become. The backlight of his phone lit up again as the unaware chef made his way to the bathroom, ignorant to the marimo's arrival but well aware of his own selfish intentions. This was no way to live and the blonde wanted out.
Zoro pulled off his helmet and drug his fingers through his hair, ripping through a few light knots as he stared up at the Baratie, eager to finally see the curly browed cook after so long apart. The blonde had been dodging him for some time and, while it seemed a bit suspicious, the swordsman knew that he had no reason to doubt the words of his friend. But when he asked to speak with the chef, the wait staff gave him several uncomfortable looks before calling Chef Zeff over to speak privately with him. As Zeff recounted how the blonde had been fired several month earlier due to sexual harassment allegations waged against him by a customer, Zoro grew still and fear began to prickle uncomfortably in the back of his mind and heart. Something was terribly wrong here. All the avoided phone calls and canceled plans, how the chef had meticulously been avoiding everyone and playing it off as if he was insanely busy. He didn't bother to listen to the rest of Zeff's words, instead choosing to slam down a 20$ for the information, jog outside to snatch his helmet off the handle of his motorbike and pray he still could get himself to Sanji's apartment building.
Several u-turns later, the marimo found himself in the vicinity of the chef's apartment and quickly parked his bike in order to once again ask for directions from a stranger who gestured at a small run-down building right down the street from where he was. Knowing he couldn't become lost if he locked eyes on the target, he beelined it for the building with thoughts swirling chaotically inside of his head. Why would Sanji lie to him, to everyone about still having his job at Baratie? Why would he cancel plans to hang out by claiming he had to work when there was no work to be done? Why couldn't Zoro calm the alarm bells ringing deep within him, telling him that something was terribly wrong about this whole situation? Apprehension prickled at the nape of his neck and he almost ran to Sanji's door, forgoing the gentle knock and instead choosing to pound loudly on the door, silently begging the door to open and grant him a glimpse of the blonde's carefree smile, but his knocks continued unanswered. He glanced at his phone but could see the messages had only been delivered, not read. All that confirmed was that Sanji's phone was on, but unattended, worrying the swordsman even further.
"Sanji, open the fucking door. We need to talk about Baratie NOW." His poundings only got louder and more than one pissed off neighbor came outside to bitch about the noise before eventually becoming fed up with being poignantly ignored and retreating back within their own apartments. Zoro tried to call him but, upon hearing the muted jingle of the chef's ringtone through the door, his fear and anger reached a new, intolerable level.
"You have until the count of ten before I knock this fucking door down out of its frame, Sanji. This isnt a fucking joke, asshole." Zoro began to slowly count out loud, mentally willing the chef to come to the door, to show him he was ok. But when he reached zero and no noises could be heard from within the apartment, Zoro made the split second decision to slam himself into the door as hard as he could, wood splintering beneath him before he fell through the newly opened doorway into a stuffy dark hallway. The smell of sadness and booze was almost tangible in the air and as the green haired man gently spoke the chef's name aloud, he had to question whether the man was even home. Until he saw the small droplets of crimson on the floor and the bloodied handprint smeared on the edge of the bathroom doorway, only partially visible from where he stood and the blood in Zoro's veins ran cold. He seemed to watch himself walk up to the bathroom, saw himself gaze in through the crack in the door and heard the gasping cry that forced its way out of him at the sight that lay before him.
Blood seemed to be everywhere, the countertop, the toilet handle, but most of it was concentrated inside of the tub where Sanji's clothed body lay still. His left wrist was dyed a deep scarlet from two long ragged cuts down the edges of his tendons and Zoro could see hie blood steadily pulsating and oozing out before dripping into the ever reddening bath water. Zoro's hands shook violently as he wandered to the tub's edge and dropped to his knees, afraid to touch the blonde lest it confirm his worst nightmare. But as he kneeled frozen on the floor, he could hear the soft staggered breaths struggling to continue being pulled in by Sanji and his phone was to his ear faster than he could even process his actions. Sanji needed an ambulance, and he needed one fast.
He tried to maintain his composure with the 911 operator, relaying their address and insisting upon the urgency of the situation but as the call ended, the phone slipped from his hand and cracked against the bathroom tile as he sunk back to his knees beside the tub. He did his best to apply a tourniquet to the blonde's arm and gently held Sanji's uninjured hand to his cheek, as small sobs began to emerge from deep within him. If only he could have known how much the chef had been hurting these last couple months, if only he had come to visit sooner, had learned the truth sooner. But he knew as much as he was hurting inside, the chef had to be hurting even worse to have done something as desperate as this. Pleading for the ambulance to hurry up, he slipped his arms underneath the underweight chef's torso and knees, lifting him gently from his cold water prison and curling his wet, chilled body against the swordsman's chest in a tight fearful grip.
By the time the ambulance arrived and emergency workers got the blonde safely settled in for the ride to the hospital, something had broken inside of Zoro. He could no longer control the sobs that racked through his chest and threatened to split his heart into fractured slivers of pain. He could have done something but didn't. He could have tried to see Sanji's pain and had instead chosen to pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. Zoro continued to sob until the emptiness threatened to overwhelm him, his eyes burning from the tears and his mind almost blank and clouded. His tears ran dry but the raucous sobs still tore their way out of his chest every few moments.
Things were not ok.