Zoro sat in a remote place on Zou. The toned body that he usually controlled so gracefully, was tense and shaking? He had waited until the crew had fallen asleep before he tied his katana to his haramaki and silently slipped away into the shadows. He had almost stumbled on himself in his hurry to leave. The man had walked aimlessly as he stared ahead with a hollow gaze. For long had he walked? Three hours, four? His jaw muscles clenched to the point that his ears rung. When he reached a hill and started to climb it, his legs had given in. The swordsman fell down on his knees onto a s pot where tiny yellow flowers of some sort were growing. They smelled heavenly but the swordsman was completely unaware. His heavy body rested on the grass but his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until a lonely wolf howled in the distance that he came back for a second and realized he was on the ground. Zoro blinked and looked down at his hands which were shaking. He observed them with an expressionless stare. He's gone… he's fucking gone… Forever… That worthless, shitty, obnoxious excuse of a cook is… gone. Zoros brow furrowed. Good… I'm glad, I'm happy, I'm… He was an eyesore, he was a pain the ass, an idiot, he… he… I- why the fuck can't I stop crying...?
The swordsman was shaking uncontrollably at this point. Tears were welling up and clouded his vision. He started to sob. The sobbing turned into whimper and as the salty tears were dripping from his chin he was crying out in agony. He felt pathetic. He embarrassed himself. He was weak. He was ridiculous. He was repulsive. He was in love.
Zoros brain felt as if it was going to explode. His ears were ringing, his breathing was uneven, his large frame was shaking and the pain was unbearable. He wasn't sure if it was physical or mental, maybe both? Frankly he didn't care. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Sanji in front of him. He saw Sanjis ridiculously handsome smile that made his stomach ache. He heard Sanjis clear and genuine laughter that was so comforting. He could hear his cussing, the foul language leaving the cooks kissable lips. He could smell the homely scent of nicotine and cooking fumes. He could feel Sanjis skin under his hands. His ridiculously smooth skin that amazed the swordsman everytime they had fought and he had laid hands on the cook. He could see the look in Sanjis eyes when he launched deadly kicks at the swordsman, the way Sanjis pale skin had gleamed in the sun when he was covered in sweat after fighting the swordsman...
Zoro had tried to ignore the knot in his stomach everytime the blond had flirted with women. He had tried not to care about his heart skipping a beat whenever the cook had said his name and god, had he tried to mentally butcher the urge to kiss the blond whenever they were close to one another, whenerver they fought, whenever Sanji had stuck his stupid face in Zoros to oppose him… He had tried so fucking hard but all in vain. He had lost to the blond. Lost his control, lost his mind, lost his heart.
There had been pain, there had been days when the want had been close to unbearable. But he had endured. In one way it had been like playing with fire. It was fascinating, intriguing, exciting and frightening at the same time. And eventhough burned Zoro kept coming back for more, because without the fire he would have been lost like an animal left to die in the cold. Eventhough burned he had came back to the comforting warmth of the flames that were Sanjis existance. But now that they had died out the green haired man was on the verge of breaking apart. He exhaled heavily and clenched the fabric of his robe. Zoro lifted his head up and bit his lower lip as tears still trickled down his tanned face, glimmering in the moonlight.
Sanji, I'm so cold…