Got bored today in math class… Thus, this story was created! I seriously typed this up and then decided to go back and add plot. That and I just wanted to write some angst.
So here it is, people.
Enjoy!
Later on the two of them will simply pretend they don't recall exactly how their fight started, even though they can both clearly remember each and every moment of it. They will look back and feel absolutely guilty, and they will try to apologize in several ways that don't require the use of words, because to say it out loud it to acknowledge that it really happened will hurt them both.
The acknowledgment will come later. Now, the fight begins with a fist.
It slams into Sanji's jaw, sending him reeling. He will stand up in a moment and return the blow with his foot, and Zolo's body will then smash into the wall and end up breaking a picture frame, sending it crashing to the ground with the force of his body.
It is their first big fight, and the blinding rage is completely unknown and horribly overwhelming. Zolo knows anger, he knows how it feels to be upset at Sanji, but it's never like this- screaming, biting, and hitting each other. It's not something they do, not something they ever imagined would happen, could happen. When he looks at Sanji in the morning over a bowl of cornflakes he sees someone he wants to spend the rest of his forever with. When he looks at him now, split lip bleeding freely onto the front of his shirt, he sees someone he wants to hurt.
The next morning he will remember this feeling and he will be sick.
A pair of hands tangled in green strands of hair then pulls, and shirts are ripped by grabbing hands. Very tiny holes are found and tugged at until they widen into great gaping holes of black, and everything tears and unravels.
Backs against the wall, their bodies close, chests heaving, and punches and kicks turn into even harsher kisses and bites, all teeth and tongue. Pinned back, nails dragging into soft flesh, carving red lines that fill shallowly with blood.
Their bodies jerk together unevenly, unprepared, harder and faster than is safe. There is shuddering and pain and horrible, perverse pleasure, and Sanji and Zolo fight to wring screams out of each other, skin against skin against blood and sweat.
It ends in a flash, legs giving out and collapsing to the floor, breathing heavily, wetness smeared between them. Exhausted and spent, they can no longer feel anger, only shame and fatigue. Limbs tangle and they hold each other fast on the floor, drowning.
The two of them will wake up in the morning, sticky and half-naked and bruised, and stand up gingerly. Zolo will use the broom to sweep up the splinters of wood and glass that are leftover from the brawl. When he's done, Sanji will take his hand and guide him into the closet, and gently kiss away the cuts and blood and tears. When they make love, it will be slow and tender and sorry, an apology in movement. Afterwards they'll put on some clothes, grab some breakfast and carry on with the rest of their day.
Later, they will pretend they don't know how it all started, even though they both remember it thoroughly.
Still, they shake it off and go on with their lives. They still go on loving each other, bickering and all.
The End.
