Sitting at the oak dining room table, Sanji drums his fingers on the surface anxiously. He taps his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray and brings it to his lips, inhaling the smoke deeply. He doesn't normally smoke inside – it makes the apartment smell disgusting – but today he's made an exception. He checks the gold watch on his wrist for the hundredth time in the last hour and sighs. It's quarter till seven and Zoro will be home soon. He glances around the spacious apartment from his seat. The open floor plan is Sanji's favorite thing about their place. The kitchen has a bar that opens in the dining room, which flows into the living room. There's a small hall towards the back that leads to the two bedrooms and bathroom. They've been living here for about a year now.
He glances at his watch again, just till ten minutes till seven. He is supposed to be at work right now – it's the middle of dinner rush. He has a sous chef position at the Baratie, the head chef being his adoptive father. But he called out this afternoon, lied to the old man and told him he wasn't feeling well. Told Zeff he has a stomach virus that's probably contagious, knowing the only way that shitty geezer would let him out of work is if he could hurt the customers. It wasn't a complete lie, though. He feels fucking awful. His head is pounding and his heart is aching and he's thrown up the entire contents of his stomach twice. Not that his stomach has been all too full, however. He hasn't been eating much the past few days.
He groans and lays his forehead on the cool tabletop, wishing he could be at work. Wishing he were sweating in the kitchen heat, screaming at his subordinates, creating delicious food for customers. Wishing so badly that tonight didn't have to happen – that three nights ago hadn't happened at all. Guilt and shame wracked his entire being the past few days, rendering him unable to function properly. He'd barely held it together when Zoro came back in town last night. Thankfully, he had to work today and Sanji hadn't had to interact with him at all other than a sleepy 'welcome home' in the middle of the night and a goodbye kiss this morning.
The apartment is completely dark – the only light coming from the tip of the cigarette resting between his fingers. He isn't sure how such a warm, inviting place could seem so cold. He loves his home with Zoro, they had picked it out together and he decorated it himself. They both previously lived in small studio apartments before Sanji had decided they should move in together. Frowning, he recalls when renting together was first approached.
"I need my own space, cook. Don't we see enough of each other as is?" Zoro had asked when Sanji brought it up the first time. It was true; they did see each other all the time. After spending so much of their friendship hating each other – or pretending to hate each other, really – when they finally started dating, they made up on lost time. Sanji would either stay at Zoro's place or Zoro would crash at his. They had clothes strewn between both homes and it was maddening to Sanji not knowing whether something was at his apartment or Zoro's.
"Having to pay two separate rents is a waste of money, mossy." Sanji had explained to him, slightly annoyed at the uncertainty. He knew Zoro was private and quiet, the man never really wanted to have company or socialize. However, this was just Sanji. His boyfriend. He didn't expect the idiot to be reluctant.
In the end, after a few weeks of listening to Sanji reason why it was the better option to live together, Zoro caved and they went apartment hunting. After viewing several places that Sanji deemed unsuitable for a home together, they finally stumbled across this complex. One look inside was all they needed to sign the paperwork. It was just beautiful. Newly remodeled with hardwood floors, high ceilings, spacious kitchen - Sanji instantly fell in love. One quick look at the spare bedroom that they agreed could be a weight room and Zoro gave his nod of approval. Though he'd never admit it, watching Zoro scrawl his signature on the leasing agreement with a grin on his face was one of the happiest moments of Sanji's life.
Sighing at the memory, he stubs out his cigarette and gets up from his chair stretching, hearing his back crack after hours of inactivity. He frowns at the pile of cigarette butts in and around the ashtray but can't be bothered to clean it up. Slowly walking across the room, he traces his long fingers across the wall as he goes. He moves down the hall and enters the doorway of the bathroom, flipping the light switch. Light floods the spacious bathroom and spills out into the hall. Sanji glances at the shower – it was another selling point of this place. It's huge, with dual showerheads and a small bench. It has enough space for two people, even ones as bulky as the muscled mosshead, to shower comfortably. Memories flash before his eyes, Zoro's mouth on his wet skin, his hands clawing at the pebbled walls, laughing at Zoro getting soap in his eyes. Shaking his head violently, he turns away from the shower and gazes at his reflection in the mirror instead.
His pale skin seems even paler than normal, almost translucent. His blond hair is a total mess from hours of running his hands through it and his one visible eye is sunken, with dark bags underneath. He's wearing a wrinkled, black t-shirt he found at the bottom of his dresser and a pair of grey sweatpants, completely unlike his normal pristine attire of button up shirts and dress pants. Hearing the front door open, his breath hitches. Quickly, he turns off the bathroom light and walks down the hall, stopping to peek around the corner and watch Zoro place his keys on the small table set up by the door.
Zoro kicks off his boots and turns the lights on, frowning when he spots the overflowing ashtray on the dining room table.
"Cook? You home?" he calls out. Sanji freezes in place, unsure if he wants to be seen quite yet as the ache in his chest is getting more and more unbearable. Zoro looks in the kitchen and frowns deeper, stopping to scratch the back of his head in confusion. Sanji takes a deep breath, resolving it would do neither of them any good to put this off any longer.
"Hey, you're home" he says dumbly, appearing from the hallway. Zoro visibly relaxes for a second and then looks puzzled, taking in Sanji's haggard appearance.
"You look like shit. Aren't you supposed to be at work right now?" he asks, glancing at the wall clock.
"I, uh, called out…" the Sanji answers, and moves to settle back into his seat at the dining room table. Zoro just grunts and wanders into the bedroom. Sanji chews on his bottom lip and decides to light up a smoke and wait for him. He reappears in a clean shirt and a pair of old jeans, the kind that Sanji yells at him for not throwing away. Scowling slightly at seeing the blond smoking inside, he makes his way into the kitchen and grabs a beer. He sits in the chair next to Sanji and twists the cap off, taking a huge gulp and sighing contentedly after swallowing.
"So, you gonna tell me why you're at home looking like shit and smoking in the house?" Zoro inquires after a moment. Sanji sets down his cigarette and rubs his face with his hands, pushing his fringe up off his forehead for a moment before letting it fall back into place. Might as well get it over with.
"We need to talk. I have something I need to tell you, Zoro."
His lover seems a little surprised at the use of his name. They usually tease each other with insults and those insults eventually became pet names. Sanji almost never says his name in regular conversation, opting for things like 'idiot,' 'bastard', and 'mossy' or 'mosshead' instead.
"Fucking shit…" he mutters under his breath, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly through his nose. He feels like he's going to vomit again. Tilting is head up, Zoro's one remaining brown eye catches his blue one. Sanji can read confusion and concern in his look and he instantly feels worthless and miserable.
"You know how this past weekend you were out of town?" Sanji begins slowly, his voice cracking at the end. This is quite possibly the hardest thing he's ever had to do.
"Uh, yeah, what about it? What's going on, cook?" Zoro's brow furrows. Sanji can't look him in the eye anymore and turns to stare at a picture on their bookshelf instead.
This is it.
"I… I cheated on you," he says softly. Even though he should feel like a burden has been lifted from confessing, he doesn't. He feels like he's suffocating. Suffocating with guilt. His eyes water as the silence of the apartment becomes deafening. He remains still, keeping his gaze steady on the picture. It's a beautiful photo of them, completely candid. Their friend Usopp had taken it when a bunch of their friends went to the beach this past summer. They're standing next to each other with the ocean in the background, Zoro laughing and Sanji grinning at him, eyes full of love.
"I'm really sorry," he whispers, unsure of what else he could say. He braces himself for the anger, the backlash, the yelling, but it never comes. The space around them remains silent and still. Zoro doesn't move, not even flinch. Sanji gulps and turns slowly, letting his gaze fall onto his green-haired partner.
Zoro is rigid, his expression blank. He's staring hard at Sanji, but his eye isn't really focused on him. He's somewhere else, somewhere far, far away. Sanji's own eyes fill with tears again but he bites his bottom lip, refusing to let them spill. He wishes Zoro would say something. Scream at him, insult him, even punch him, but the mosshead isn't doing anything at all. Somehow it makes Sanji feel even worse. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and reaches into his pocket for his smokes. He lights one and takes a calming puff while waiting for Zoro to react. But he never does. Sanji waits throughout the duration of the cigarette and by the time he stubs out the butt, Zoro hasn't moved once.
He opens his mouth to apologize again but is cut off when Zoro suddenly reaches a tan hand forward and grabs his collar, bringing their faces close. He asks in a low voice that's so calm it's almost dangerous, "What do you mean?"
Sanji blinks and leans away from Zoro to study his face. His jaw is clenched and his eye wide, waiting for an answer. Sanji almost chokes over the hurt painted on his boyfriend's face. He pulls free of Zoro's hold and wraps his arms around himself, completely crumbling.
"It means I had sex with someone else."
Zoro sits back in his chair and looks completely dumbstruck, staring at Sanji as if he were a stranger. He rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand and keeps them covered, mulling over the information.
"I was at a bar and really drunk and – " Sanji starts to explain but Zoro holds up a hand, signaling for him to stop. He clamps his jaw shut. He knew Zoro wouldn't take the information well but this is a drastically different reaction than what he had anticipated. Yelling, screaming, physical violence, even crying… he deserves all of that. But Zoro just remains sitting there, eyes covered with the palm of his hand, body rigid. Sanji studies the man before him, the man he loves more than anything, and feels so much shame. Shame for what he's done and shame for what he's brought upon their relationship. Things may never, ever be the same because of one stupid, fucked up mistake.
Silently, Zoro stands and moves to their storage closet by the front door. He opens it and digs around, pulling out a duffle bag. Sanji's heart jumps to his throat. He knows the man probably just needs some time to think things over, some time away from him. But it still hurts – it hurts so much. Tears fill his blue eyes and for the first time, he doesn't even try to keep them from spilling out. He cries silently from his chair and watches as the love of his life stalks from the closet to the bedroom. He begins to sob quietly as he hears dresser drawers open and the rustling of clothing being shoved into the bag. Zoro moves from the bedroom to the work out room and he listens to the distinct sound of three sheathed swords being placed into their travel case. They're Zoro's most prized possessions.
He grasps the edge of the table and clutches it so tightly he could swear he'll break it any second. He wants so badly to race into the bedroom and scream a million apologies and try to force Zoro to stay. But he knows it would be futile and would only serve to push Zoro further away. His boyfriend, or possibly ex-boyfriend, emerges from the hallway with duffle bag and swords case slung over his shoulder and calmly trudges to the door, stopping to pull on his boots and pick up his keys. Sanji's eyes follow him every step of the way and he's sure that Zoro is going to leave without sparing even a second glance. His hand hesitates at the doorknob though, and Sanji's heart stops completely as Zoro turns back to look at him one last time.
His handsome face wears a wounded look that expresses so much anger, so much sorrow, and so much betrayal. The gravity of the situation fully weighs in on Sanji's heart as he makes eye contact with his lover for a brief second and sees how much grief he's caused. Zoro wordlessly turns back around and opens the door, disappearing into the night, leaving just the soft click of the latch to follow.
Blinking at where Zoro was just standing, Sanji let's the breath he doesn't realize he's holding escape him. He stands and staggers to the door, ghosting his fingers over the handle. He wants – needs – to run after Zoro. Needs to plead and beg for him to come back and talk things over. Needs to know things will be okay. Shaking his head he reaches up and turns the deadbolt, locking himself in. He spins and presses his back against the wood and closes his eyes, slowly sliding down to the floor. Stretching his long legs out in front of himself, he holds his hands open in his lap, staring at his palms. Willing himself not to cry anymore, he concentrates on breathing for a few minutes before the pressure in is chest is too much for him to handle and he swears he feels like he's going to die.
He jolts up and scrambles into the kitchen, barely reaching the sink before retching loudly. His stomach is completely empty so he continues to dry heave a few more times before stopping and wiping the saliva off of his chin. Knuckles white from gripping the counters' edge so tightly, cheeks tear stained and heart aching, Sanji breaks.
His screams are loud and animalistic, echoing through the apartment. He's long past caring if the neighbors call in a noise complaint. He rips his hands from the counters edge and grabs the closet object – the coffee pot – and flings it against the wall, causing it to break and shatter into thousands of pieces. He starts opening up the cabinets and pulling out piles of dishware, flinging them onto the ground, stepping on the glass shards as he continues his assault on the kitchen. He spots a photo he has hanging on the wall next to the stove and pauses, breathing heavily. The glass crunches under his shoes as he steps closer to the picture entranced, not even blinking once. Stopping before it, he stares, taking the image in; it's him sitting on Zoro's lap, smiling at the camera bright and happy with Zoro beneath him, hands wrapped around his waist and grinning, too. But Zoro's eyes aren't on the camera; they're looking up adoringly at Sanji's face.
He glares at the photo and feels so much hatred for himself it's sickening. Hates himself for ruining the happiness they had, for making such a stupid fucking decision, for letting the best thing in his life walk out the door. He balls his hand into a fist and punches the photograph as hard as he can. The picture frame shatters and he can feel shards of glass sticking into the skin of his knuckles. He pulls back and slams his fist into the photo again, right into his stupid, fucking face. The face of an idiot who doesn't know what he has until it's gone. The photo and frame fall to the ground but Sanji continues punching the wall where it was just hanging, not giving a shit about his bleeding knuckles or the tears rolling down his face.
xXx
Strong hands cup his cheeks, thumbs tracing slow and soothing circles over his cheekbones. Face so close that moist breath can be felt against his lips, as comforting words are whispered, "you stupid love-cook, what would I do without you?"
Soft lips press lightly against his own, placing small kisses teasingly, leaving him wanting more. He reaches his hand up and runs his fingers through soft, spiky hair, knowing its unique green shade without having to open his eyes. Opening his mouth to nip at the bottom lip brushing against his, he lets out a surprised gasp when the source of those perfect kisses pulls away. Warm mouth moves to suck on his earlobe and he gets a sudden chill when a breathy sigh blows on the wetness. A deep, rumbling voice murmurs, "How could you ever doubt me?"
Perfect, straight teeth nibble along the edge of his ear the way that makes his body light on fire. He pulls hard on the short strands of hair and guides his lover's lips to his own for a slow, passionate kiss. It ends abruptly when the other man pulls away to speak again, this time his voice full of sadness, "Why did you decide you don't love me anymore?"
Sanji's heart drops and he his brow furrows, "What are you talking about? I do love you. Zoro –" He reaches out to wrap his arms around the source of the voice but he only grasps air. Opening his eyes he realizes he's laying in the dark living room on his plush sofa, completely alone.
It's been five days since Zoro left.
Ignoring the throbbing in his hand, he pulls himself up in a sitting position, reaching for his phone to check the time. The screen flashes brightly, 6:23 a.m. Groaning, he runs a hand through his unkempt hair and decides to go ahead and get up for the day. He won't be able to go back to sleep, anyway. Not after that dream.
He's dreamt of Zoro every night since he left. Unable to even look at their shared bed, Sanji has set up camp in the living room and slept on the sofa, tossing and turning through every night. He unlocks his phone and scrolls through it, making sure he hasn't missed a single call or text that could be from Zoro. Tossing the phone on the floor once he sees no one's contacted him, he nonchalantly picks at the bandages wrapped around his right hand, convincing himself to not be disappointed. Zoro hasn't contacted him at all since he walked out the door.
It's not like Sanji has called or texted him, either. He's tried, several times, usually picking up his phone and staring at the name "Mossy" in his contact book for several minutes before giving up and locking the screen again. Pride hasn't allowed him to call first, knowing that Zoro will contact him when he's good and ready. But it's been five fucking days.
"Fuck it. I'll call him today," he resolves, speaking out into the emptiness of his home. Clambering off the couch, he rubs his lower back while trudging to the dining room to grab his cigarettes off the table, bare feet silently padding along the hardwood floor. Pulling out a cigarette, he lights it immediately, not giving a shit about the stale smokiness that's hovering in the air. He should really open a window.
Wandering down the hall, he moves into the bathroom and flips on the light to begin his morning routine. Standing at the sink, he peels off the bandages wrapped around his right hand and inspects the wounds along his knuckles. The gashes are healing nicely for home treatment, though he probably should have gotten stitches after his little tirade. What an idiot he was punching the wall like that, risking the most important tools for his career. But in that moment he hadn't cared about his hands, or his career, or his cooking. He only cared about losing Zoro.
Flicking his eyes up to his hair, he runs a hand through his bangs noting how disheveled his normally immaculate appearance is. The stubble along his jaw has grown significantly, having not bothered to shave the past few days. He hasn't gone anywhere. The day after everything happened he tried to go into work as if nothing was wrong. One look at the bandaged up hand and puffy eyes was all Zeff needed to literally kick him out of the kitchen and scream at him, "Don't come back until you've put yourself together."
That was on Wednesday.
Now it's Sunday and he hasn't even considered going back to work. The old man tried to call him a couple times but he ignored it. He doesn't want to talk to anyone other than Zoro. Reaching for his toothbrush and toothpaste, he begins thinking about what he will even say to Zoro when he calls him later.
"Sunday!" he exclaims loudly, spitting toothpaste all over the mirror. Zoro always works on Sundays. All Sanji has to do is go to the gym for a work out, casually bump into Zoro and start a conversation from there. Maybe they can go out and grab coffee and calmly talk things over like adults. He grins to himself, spitting the rest of his toothpaste into the sink and wiping the mirror. No need to swallow his pride and call Zoro now. Although this plan is probably even more pathetic, he conveniently ignores the thought and turns on the shower to warm up.
Pulling off his t-shirt and stepping out of his pajama pants, he reaches his hand in to test the water. Nice and hot, just the way he likes it. Stepping in, he groans at how nice it feels washing against his skin, cleansing him. It's the first shower he's had since Wednesday. He's not usually a total slob – that's Zoro's territory – but he just hasn't had motivation the past few days to do much more than lay around the house and think about what's transpired. Grabbing his shampoo, he closes his eyes and begins to scrub his hair roughly, making sure every strand is squeaky clean. Eyes closed still, he reaches for his body wash and snaps the lid open, freezing in place once the scent fills his nose. Zoro's body wash. A dull ache appears in his chest, similar to that of someone squeezing his heart. Inhaling deeply, he takes in the smell and instantly feels lonelier than ever before.
Sanji had bought him this soap as a gag gift one year, joking that if he's going to have a patch of mint growing out of his head he might as well smell like it. His explanation, coupled with fits of giggling and snorting, caused Zoro to scowl and hit him in the head with the bottle. But the next morning, when the dumb bastard sauntered into the kitchen demanding breakfast after his morning shower, Sanji could smell the fresh, minty scent. It was the only kind of soap Zoro used from then on.
He abruptly snaps the lid shut and sets the bottle back down. Grabbing his own body wash he continues his routine, scouring his skin a little harder than normal in an attempt to wash away the memories. Rinsing off his hair and body, he turns the shower off and steps out, running a towel through his hair and wrapping it around his waist, allowing himself to air dry as he sets up everything he needs to shave.
He quickly shaves his face clean, sharpening up his goatee and small moustache, and rinses out the sink. Scrubbing the towel through his hair thoroughly, he walks down the hall to their bedroom and starts rummaging through the dresser, pulling out everything he needs for a workout. Boxers, sweats, and a t-shirt later he glances at the clock on the bedside table, intentionally avoiding looking at the bed all-together. 7:40 a.m. The gym is open but Zoro's shift doesn't begin until 8:30. Turning on his heel, he quickly exists the bedroom and resolves to east some toast before leaving.
xXx
He stares up at the building before him while finishing the last of his cigarette. The Skypeia gym is the biggest workout facility in their whole city, multi-story with every piece of training equipment imaginable. In addition to having strength and cardio equipment, it also has several classes ranging from martial arts to Zumba, and available for all ages. Sanji favors the indoor pool but today is opting for weight training, knowing Zoro will be in the weight room since he's a personal trainer. Heart racing wildly at the thought of Zoro waiting just beyond the entrance, he tosses away his cigarette, takes a deep breath and steps through the sliding doors. In the lobby, a pretty, young blonde girl is waiting at the check-in counter to scan membership cards. Sanji approaches her with a warm smile but feels slightly uneasy as her eyes widen when she spots him.
"Oh, Sanji! I'm so glad to see you. I was afraid that you wouldn't come around here anymore."
"What do you mean, my dear Conis? There's no reason for me to stop coming here when such a beautiful lady as you always treats me so kindly." Although he's perplexed at her statement, it's not enough to prevent him from doing what he does best – wooing the ladies.
"Well I just thought since Zoro had quit it meant that you wouldn't be coming back here, either."
Sanji gapes at her, dropping the gym back slung on his arm to the ground next to him. Zoro quit? His Zoro? Why would he quit? Zoro loves his job. He's always bragging to people that he gets paid to work out. Albeit he does have some clients that annoy him and complains that his boss has a god-complex, he's really happy at Skypeia. Sanji shakes his head, hoping he just misheard her.
"I apologize, miss, but I think my hearing has gone out. It almost sounded like you said that mossheaded bastard quit." he says calmly, hoping that she's mistaken. He watches as she nervously chews her bottom lip, uncertain of what to say next.
"I'm sorry, Sanji. I figured you knew since you and Zoro are together and all… he quit last Wednesday. Walked in here, demanded Enel to speak to him privately, and then cleared out his locker and left. I'm so sorry," she apologizes with a sad look on her face. Sanji's head is spinning. How can that be? Why would Zoro quit? He numbly moves across the lobby to sink down in a chair, unsure of how to process this new information. He immediately digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it and scrolling to his contacts. With absolutely no hesitation, he taps on "Mossy" and brings the phone up to his ear.
"We're sorry but the number you have dialed is no longer in service."
He reels back in surprise, staring at his phone as if it tried to bite him. He presses the 'end call' button and goes to try Zoro again, only to have the same error message play back in his ear. Letting out a low growl, he throws his phone onto the seat next to him and hunches over, holding his head in his hands. It makes absolutely no sense to him why Zoro would just leave his job. And why didn't he tell him? Sanji knows they may not be on the best of terms but he had figured that Zoro would come back after a few days so they could talk things over.
Unsure of what to do or say next, he looks up at Conis and finds her staring at him with a worried expression. He stands up quickly, muttering apologies as he stuffs his phone into his pocket and picks up his gym bag, hurrying out of the building. Once safely outside, he leans his back against the brick wall and concentrates on his breathing. Heart racing, limbs heavy, he manages to piece himself back together swiftly and pulls out his phone again. Calling Zoro one last time, he listens to the same automated voice confirm that the number is now disconnected. He jams his hands in his pockets and kicks the side of the building angrily, wondering aloud as he makes his way to the bus stop, "Where the hell is Zoro?"
