It's always the wrong timing.
He'd be there for me, and I'd be there for him. Always. But then it never seemed to be enough.
"How's Nami?" I ask halfheartedly. There's really not much else to talk about. Men usually only revolve around such topics in their conversations: sex, girls, and sex. We're no exceptions, of course.
"She's a sweetheart, as always. Nothing has changed since we started dating, really." Sanji picks up his wineglass and twirls the red liquid around before he takes a sniff and a careful sip. "There's not much thrill in what we do."
"I never expected you to say as such." I look at the expensive wine in my own glass and survey my surroundings. It is the typical posh kind of bar where rich people discuss business matters at. Other than the fact that the curly browed cook likes the wine here, I have no idea why we're wearing suits and discussing such trivial and insignificant matters in this kind of environment.
"I never thought I'd see this day myself." Sanji refused to keep eye contact with me, and I ignore that little clench in my heart as I always have for the past few years. "It seems I've lost all purpose of living."
"Finally facing mid-life crisis, you shitty cook?" I smirk. He finally looks at me, and it's more of a glare than a mere gaze, but I'm still pleasantly satisfied that I've managed to pull bits of the old Sanji back out again.
"Shut up, you marimo. I'm only 25." he mutters as he often would a year ago. "How about you? You've always had a thing for older women. Kuina, was it?"
"Kuina." I take the glass to my mouth and savour the taste of the expensive liquid. I still prefer cheap sake more. "She wanted to have sex with me. I turned her down and we kind of just broke it off."
I half expected with foolish hope for him to waver at my response, but all he did was look up for a bit and refocus on his nearly empty wineglass while muttering a small 'oh'.
I thought I had stopped expecting anything, but the mind has its own unpredictable way to things.
"Are you going to break up with Nami?" I ask.
"... Not before you find another woman," he replies. When he realizes what he's just said, he widens his eyes and look at me.
At that moment, I nearly drop my glass.
We've never spoken it out loud, although we both know it full well deep down.
It's always the wrong timing.
We never let ourselves face the important defining factor of our lives: love.
Sanji has had 5 girlfriends. Whenever he breaks up with one, he comes to me to seek comfort.
It's always the wrong timing.
He would try to come every day after his breakup until he finds another woman. I would reject him on some days, because I'd have found a girlfriend during his break ups.
It's always the wrong timing.
I've never needed consoling after a breakup. I was stronger than that. But it always felt more than unsettling to find the cook tending to another girl when I was alone, downing sake.
It's always the wrong timing. We were never single at the same time to confront each other's emotions.
"Do you want me to wait for you?" I find myself choke out.
He looks at me with surprise, and after a few seconds, he sinks back into his chair with a smile I couldn't read. "Yes."
A few days later, he relays the news that he's broken up with Nami.
This time, he doesn't come to me for the sole purpose of post breakup comfort.
This time, I haven't found myself a girlfriend.
We embrace our new life with open arms, just as we should have years ago.