One Piece belongs to Odacchi (vote him for UMNO President).
That was a joke. How are you lovely people? Thank you for reading my oddly-written Zorobin fictions. Thank you Blame-It-On-Magellan, Suhana Hasan, ZoroandNatsu, NinzkieIsAnOtaku, madcres, bAsAn, Fellow Malaysian, Kojo208, e (whoever you are, thank you), NinjaSheik, and ME (whoever you are) for putting tiny hopes in this multi-chaptered fic that I hope I will not fail to commit to. As you have clearly noticed, my writings are a bit rusty at the moment, it really has been forever. I was so caught up in writing Malay fictions – that's what you get when you're bilingual. Once you get better at one, you'll lose your touch on another. I hope you'll love this one though. I know Robin's a little OOC. The fiction is meant to revolve around a Broadway like show, so.
This is not a sympathy trick for reviews, but I've been through a shitty week (do I have to ramble all my bad luck in my fictions?). My friend's car was broken in and they took my iPod, my precious precious bag and some other stuff like my keys and passport in it. I'm just grateful they didn't take my guitar at the back seat. This happened at Singgah Selalu (Danga Bay) just outside JOHO Concept Store so if any of my readers decides to go there, do park nearer to the restaurant and don't leave your electronic belongings inside the car – iPod, power bank, etc. I was careless because I've forgotten that I've brought my iPod in the bag, I tucked it under the seat and they managed to find it anyway. Brader dari JOHO tu cakap selalu je kereta kena pecah area tu tapi tak tau la kenapa sekuriti kawasan tu tak dipertingkatkan.
Public service announcement ends here!
"Perona's such a rebel. She went away for two months, and this is what she had been doing?"
Do I look like I care? I wanted to blurt out, but with him being in my house for a glass of wine and perhaps some good chat between 'old friends', I fought the urge to contribute more awkwardness into the already awkward atmosphere. Thankfully, he didn't comment on how my rented, single-storey house looked like the headquarters of a hipster-grudge all-female band, with pearl white leather couch and a dark wooden coffee table, with two bookcases full of new and thrifted books with no television but a guitar rack occupied by my pink semi-acoustic Starsun guitar and a brown Mahalo ukulele. Beside it was an electronic drumset, which I barely play nowadays, and Yamaha keyboard on a good, steel mount, and papers on a small table just by it – scribbles of music lyrics I never get to keep properly. He was almost impressed by how much my little house resembled a place where music and books are almost more important than every other piece of furniture, or food, there is.
I brought him to the kitchen, where old movie posters I got from vintage shops are hung on the wall, and two potted plants – amazon lilies and poppy flowers I placed near the window, on the kitchen counter. He settled on the wooden chair at my little dining table, where I spent most of my mornings reading the daily news on my laptop and have my breakfast.
I served him wine, because I knew he is a sake person, much to his luck because although I wasn't fond of alcoholic beverages, I kept a few bottles of of Villa Travignoli in the cabinet. I, on the other hand, am more of a coffee person, I feed myself with Nescafé tea every day.
Ignoring his rants about Perona, I've opened the fridge, looking for something to munch on, but there was nothing other than eggs, fruit juices, stale vegetables from last week as I remembered, and fruits, loads of fruits, because I was a sucker for fruits. No, yogurt and wine doesn't sound compatible, neither is the Yusoff Taiyobb dates sent by Vivi's father from the Middle East – they always have the best dates – and there is no point of taking out herbs, spices and sauces to be presented to someone who is having wine in the middle of the night.
Fruits, yes, fruits. Maybe I could make a fruit salad if he is willing to wait for five minutes, but I remembered enough, he isn't really fond of eating fruits. "Do you want some fruits?"
"Fruits? No, s'okay." He passed. Of course, not fruits!
"I'm really sorry, I only have fruits."
"That's fine. Wine's enough."
Being polite, I pulled a chair and sat just adjacent to him at the table, with my hands around my hot mug of coffee. The warmth of the mug made my skin turned red, it felt good given the fact that the midnight rain chased away the heat inside my kitchen. I discarded my shawl in the living room once I arrived home, and how I wish I didn't because it was unusually cold in the kitchen.
I haven't got the faintest idea of how Zoro ended up in my kitchen, but overwhelmed by nostalgia and the fact that my head couldn't think straight, I remember inviting him home after finding him and his cigarette smoke – which now, his tobacco smell still compels me like nothing else in this world, pulls me like I'm invisibly chained, I am drawn to him still.
My heart sweats, my body shakes. My mind is not my own. I couldn't look into his eyes, although I really wish I could. He was different from the last time I've seen him – he was dressed so mature, his shirt rolled up to his scarred elbows, which he used to claim so ugly, but I told him it was beautiful, the scar. I wanted to trace it with my thin fingers, I tried resisting the urge to.
Please don't do anything stupid, Robin. Don't make things awkward!
His hair was still short now, more well kept than how he used to. I once, twice, or many times, mentioned to him that he looked handsome in well-kept, shorter hair, and my heartbeat tonight wasn't lying. Oh, if only I could run my fingers in his hair.
Shut up, Robin!
"Are you cold?" He asked.
I shook my head. Please, no more mentions of Perona, especially not in my house!
He sighed. He held his head up, looking at the white fibreboard ceiling I've never cleaned ever since I moved in. A heavy sigh, that was what I recognized, but I didn't invite him here in my home to only sigh! I bit my chapped lips, dry from air conditioning after spending hours inside Sabaody Grand Hall, and introduced a new topic into our conversation, which wasn't a conversation at all by the sound of it.
"So, how long will you be in town?"
He raised his firm shoulders. "A week, I guess. I took a week off when I received her invitation to the play. Thought I could nag at her to come back to Kuraigana and just be a good kid, you know. Focus on her studies. She's failing classes!"
Perona, again? It was tough hiding an annoyed face behind a calm and collected expression, when someone you care for the most, is caring so much about someone you liked the least. "Well, go talk to her. Take her home." Yes, I'll be happy if you'd get her out of my sight.
"Wouldn't that ruin your show?"
"Isn't that what you came here for? If you want to do something, then do it. You're that ambitious, still, aren't you?" My tone was almost cold, I didn't like it. But that was beyond my control, now. My mind is not my own.
"That was before I know it's your show."
"Since when is my play, more important than her studies?" I smirked. That was a nice, somewhat comeback. I didn't mean to be, well, mean. But I have a lot of things against him. I deserved to be far, far angrier than how I appear to be now.
"It's not every day you get to live your little dream, Robin." Awkwardly, he smiled his slanted smile, his beautiful dimples appeared after it. The smile didn't last long, it was a little sad to see so. He took a sip of the alcoholic drink, which, I presumed, was still warm enough for him.
"What about her Broadway dreams?"
He let out another sigh, a disappointed sigh. "She is a stubborn one. Always out there chasing her superstar dreams. Couldn't stay put, even if I nag her too much about it. She's too difficult. I don't know where she ran off to, tonight. She couldn't take my nagging, that rebellious girl."
"Nag her more," I told him.
"She's no you."
My heart beats in double time. My teeth grind to swallow away the foreign feeling that my head had allowed me to feel. I felt my cheeks flushed. I didn't reply. I know – confident, too – that Perona and I are two different people. I just don't want Zoro to feed my ears with the truth. Truth, will make me feel victorious. Truth, will make him even more distant to love his current girlfriend.
Truth, will only open opportunities for him to take me back, which I have been trying to avoid so much.
"You're different. You threw away so many dreams, just for the sake of making me happy. You're still holding on to my words too…"
"Oh, really? I didn't notice. My dreams, my dreams… Ah, performing isn't that important anymore for me, I can work my dreams from behind the scenes." Ego made me lie, I am still holding on to his words and advices, everything he used to nag me about, including my clothing choices – I am still dressing up modestly like he wanted me to be!
"You'd do everything to make me happy. You're still the Nico Robin I love, from when we were still young and beautiful."
And you're still the Roronoa Zoro I loved, from when we were still beautiful and young. "That meant nothing, now. You know that, right?"
It's one o'clock in the morning, rain is still pouring, drinks are still warm, and I am sitting in my cold, cold kitchen, with someone I used to call my own.