The blond man woke up, like usual, in his dark room.
The curtains are pulled over the windows. They've been like that since forever. He couldn't remember when they had last been open.
He sighed quietly, turning around under the big blanket. He had so much covering him but he was freezing. He even had a huge sweater and pajama pants on, with fuzzy socks to top it all off. He was still freezing, but deep inside his bones. Cold that would never really go away.
Burying his face into his pillow, Sanji reached for his cigarettes that were located on the bed side table. There was also a lamp there, but likewise of the curtains, he never turned it on anymore.
Slowly, and a bit hesitantly, stiffly even, he sat up, taking the lone cigarette out of its box and picking up his lighter. With shaky hands, he lit up, and immediately sucked a lungful of the cancer causing agents into his already diseased lungs.
Discarding his lighter onto the shelf, and without bothering with an ash tray, the man began to smoke. With the little nicotine filled stick between his too skinny fingers, he pulled in lungful after lungful, hoping nobody would walk into the room that day.
He knew they meant well. But he didn't like it when they saw him like this.
He had enjoyed his time with them. He really had. But now that he was sickly and gross, he didn't want them anywhere near him. He didn't want anyone anywhere near him.
He had been a lost cause from the start anyway...
A sharp knock came from the door. Sanji's head snapped up from his thoughts, considering slumping back into his bed and pretending he had just fallen asleep with the cigarette still lit.
But the door opened too quickly for him to do anything about it. So he looked at the person intruding on his thoughts, preparing to defend himself.
The shock of green hair and not-so-graceful shuffling of boots gave the man away immediately. Sanji bristled. If he was here to fucking berate him and tell him to suck it up again Sanji had half the mind to shove his foot so far up his ass that he'll -
"I got you some soup," came the man's gruff voice. Sanji scowled, and though at one point he'd been very adamant about eating anything presented to him, lately he hadn't been able to live up to his previous way of life.
"Not hungry. Get out," he murmured quietly, his voice hoarse from not using it and smoking way too much.
There was a derisive snort that obviously came from the man.
"I don't believe that. And even if you aren't, you're going to eat this. You haven't eaten anything that you've kept down in a couple days..."
Sanji stubbed out his cigarette on his bedside table, and shrugged. "Not like I can do anything about it."
There was a silence that draped over the two men. It lasted several minutes, until Sanji broke it and nestled back into his bed and blankets.
"I'm going back to sleep. Stop bothering me. You aren't doing any good anyways..."
Another few minutes of silence. Until, with a defeated sigh, the green haired man turned out and closed the door behind him.
Settling in quietly, Sanji pressed his face into his pillow again. He closed his eyes.
It sucked that he couldn't even get the heart up to get out of this damn bed and out of this stupid bedroom that probably smelled like a cigarette's asshole to see his friends. It sucked that he didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It sucked that he felt like he was a damn failure and that he couldn't do anything about it.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Sanji pulled his large blanket over his head. He'd rather be sleeping than thinking about all of this.