Me: I apologize for the long wait! My wifi was down, but here it finally is! Enjoy!

The drive was reposed, aside from the radio dimly playing the popular alternative pop songs of today. Zoro stared blankly out of the window in deep thought, his head drooping slack against the cold surface. It was odd that he always found himself unable to converse with the cook whenever they were trapped together in a vehicle. It just seemed awkward to. Sanji didn't attempt to make an effort to speak. He kept his eyes on the road, focusing on not crashing into other reckless cars merging in front of them. Zoro couldn't help but occasionally stare at him from his peripheral. The longer he did, the more the blonde's foreign features stood out. Did people from France necessarily look much more different than Americans, or was it just Sanji? He seemed...too unique to be real. Zoro's eyes skimmed down his strong, pointed chin, only to dot back up to the golden piece of hair so steadily draped over his line of vision. The thin, spacey mustache he saw weeks ago had considerably thickened along his upper lip, seemingly competing with the full, trimmed beard below. The blonde was seriously mature, Zoro thought. So mature it was frightening. His deathly silence actually intimidated Zoro more than it should have now.

"...'S a good song," Zoro announced nervously, trying to put some relief into his spiraling apprehensive mood. The blonde beside him only hummed low, looking dimly lukewarm about was what said. However, the swordsman noticed the radio slenderly rise in volume as he watched the bypassing houses. He smiled a little.

Merry Apartments came into view down the street, and Zoro stiffened. He'd have to tell Sanji everything pretty soon, and for some reason unknown to him, it felt wrong. Simply and unbelievably wrong. Well, it felt nauseating for anyone to know (especially people he didn't know personally), but Zoro couldn't figure out why. It wasn't embarrassing, at least, not entirely. Maybe it was some sort of pride thing? Or something deeper that he didn't discover yet? Part of him suspected it pertained to Enel, obviously, but another part of him wanted to deny it; that sole part wanted nothing more than to scream its lungs raw that Enel should be kept out of the blame for his own troubles. Sanji just couldn't understand that it was, indeed, severely complicated inside his head. How could he phrase it once they entered the building? Was he in the right sense of mind to be able to?

Zoro almost pressed his doorbell, but remembered Luffy was at home sick, so he wouldn't be fooling around in his apartment. He pulled out his key and jammed it in with slightly shaky fingers, swallowing down the anxiety that bubbled in his stomach. Sanji raised a curled eyebrow at the boy's strange actions as they started up the long flight of stairs. He chose not to voice his concern, which only ended up making the atmosphere coil with tension. Each flight of stairs felt longer with every step. Zoro thought he was going to throw up.

They reached the fifth floor after a good four minutes of pure exhaustion. Zoro kept hearing a crotchety voice down the hall, and the closer they got towards their destination, he realized it was the old couple in the next apartment over. Zoro forgot their names, though.

"Bethaline! Where did you put the ham hocks, dear?" the voice shouted unnecessarily loud.

"By the stove, Harry," the woman replied a bit more calmly.

Zoro couldn't help but chuckle. He heard half of their conversations every morning on his way to school. When he first moved into the Merry, he remembered the sweet old woman bringing him a fruit basket while her husband, a portly, wrinkled guy, gave him disapproving looks for "coloring his hair such a god-awful choice." That was a little over a year ago.

"I swear these walls are paper thin," Sanji observed aloud, waiting for Zoro to unlock the door. "How do you get things done?"

"Easy, I don't," the swordsman claimed, pushing his way through the threshold, Sanji following a few steps behind without another word.

Zoro sat down on the couch tiredly, not bothering to ask the cook if he wanted a beverage or snack. He didn't have time to go grocery shopping this week, and Ace still hadn't returned from his business trip to buy him more booze. He was practically borderline starving.

Sanji had already found the kitchen, rummaging through the somewhat empty cabinets and the bare refrigerator, a look of sheer disapproval twisting his face. Zoro didn't need to actually glance over to tell that the blonde was pissed at him. "I'm not home a lot," he protested before Sanji could voice his complaints.

"You have how many jobs?" the cook asked sarcastically, tossing an old ramen noodles To-Go cup in the black trashcan. Seriously, it couldn't hurt the boy to clean once in a while.

Zoro chuckled for a second, a strangely ambiguous sound. "Think you're funny, swirly-brows?"

"No," Sanji said, growing ever closer to the couch, "but I am impatient. I was promised an explanation..."

The swordsman frantically lunged for the remote on the coffee table, switching on the small flatscreen across the room. "Let's just watch TV for now," he said nervously. As the TV flickered on, a certain funky beat played in mid-song, causing Sanji to smirk slyly. Zoro flushed a deep color, fumbling to turn off the damn thing just as a few explicit moans broke free from the woman's mouth. How the fuck did it get on that channel?!

"Big-Breasted Brunettes," the cook whistled, sending the other a wink, "Nice choice."

"I don't watch this shit!" Zoro shouted defensively. He didn't! Who the hell was in his apartment? It didn't seem like Sanji believed him, or at least, he didn't want to for the sole reason it was extremely hilarious to see the teen so worked up. Zoro's face was flustered a hot red as he switched off the television, and rubbed his eyes. The cook sat next to him quite closely, causing the vicious fluster to flare down his neck. If Sanji noticed, he didn't say anything about it, or change his current serious, determined expression. So Zoro scooted over in the opposite direction a bit. There was no chance in hell he would be able to look Sanji while he explained this, let alone have the older man making physical contact with him.

Zoro kept his attention on the carpeted flooring, finally noticing the little dents the table's legs left behind when moved. They were oddly interesting at the moment. "Zoro?" Sanji called, softly gripping the boy's shoulder.

The swordsman swallowed. "Okay. Well, let's see," he mumbled lowly. He honestly didn't have a better way to say this. "I...uh...I guess you could say I was legally dead for twenty minutes?"

Sanji shot up in shock, forcing the couch to slide backward. He was beyond the word of outraged. "You died? What the fuck were you doing?!"

"Do you, uh," the boy gently placed a hand across his chest, squeezing the pocket of his hoodie. "'Member the guy I mentioned a few weeks ago, that's supposedly in town? Mihawk?" Sanji nodded rapidly. He was feeling a surge of various emotions; his heart hurt from it probably beating against his ribcage so hard. He had no clue what that Kendo guy had to do with any of this. Just as he was about to voice his obvious question, Zoro cut him off. "He may have been the one that technically killed me. I was fifteen..."

~T~

The day was considerably beautiful, despite the fact it was the dead of winter, Zoro's least favorite season. Snow almost reached his ankles on his way towards the local library, the icy burn was soaking through his dark green combat boots. Luffy trudged behind him slowly, dramatically lifting his legs over the large snowbanks. Zoro sighed as he brushed a few stray flakes off the top of his head. Damn school projects, requiring more information than they already knew. Usopp and Nami refused to help him in the slightest, on account of their own difficult project, but mostly because they agreed Zoro's plead for "help" would just end up with him doing nothing education related and them doing everything.

"Hey, Zoro, did you hear me?" Luffy called before landing face first in a mini bank. Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I heard you. You wanna write about different foods. Fine with me," the green haired teen muttered.

An arm confidently hooked around his waist, causing a growl to vibrate the back of his throat. Enel didn't say anything as his lips curled upward. The swordsman-in-training repeatedly questioned why he wanted to come (so eagerly, to be precise) and why they had to travel to this library, but ultimately gave up in trying to comprehend.

The way they first met began as slight obsession on Zoro's part. With a social website account, and a few days of browsing for friends later, Enel popped up almost inevidently, sending him a friend request. His profile picture was just a shot of his dao leaning against a beige wall. Zoro thoroughly investigated his page with a mild interest, well, as best as he could with Saga always hanging over his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was to be lectured or made fun of.

They technically started dating in secrecy a few months after Zoro's birthday. In retrospect, their relationship wasn't as stable as Zoro had hoped it would be. They argued constantly about trivial matters, especially around strangers in public. Since then, a large part of the teen regretted ever making the damn account; he regretted answering to Enel's persistent advances. Because now, it didn't seem he was going anywhere any time soon.

If there was at least one measly thing they had in common, Enel, too, never liked the cold. Although his way of dealing with it was a bit more extreme. A coat the size of Texas hung off his body, the same color as an old birch tree, and the fuzzy brown hat hiding his blonde locks fell over his eyes every now and then, effectively blinding him. Of course Zoro gave him shit about it; there was barely a breeze. Sure it was cold, but it wasn't a damn blizzard.

His saya virtually stayed strapped to his back like it was attached to him, which never ceased to annoy Zoro. He supposed he felt resentment considering he needed to be twenty-one just to leave the house with Wadou. He shoved the taller man with little to none intention of actually getting him off, automatically adding a snide scowl as he spoke. He felt too accustomed to do so every time he saw the other's face. "Why'd you have to bring the sword, too?" he muttered.

Enel smiled, but it never had the true appearance of a real one. "What's the point of having a license if you don't use it?"

The youngest boy eventually popped up as if nothing happened and his face wasn't freezing cold from the chunks of snow still stuck to it. He chirped excitedly, "U-rope has a lot of good stuff, Ace told me!"

Zoro snickered a little, forgetting the blonde's sarcasm and pushing through the glass French doors of the building. He didn't have the heart to tell him he pronounced Europe wrong. Though, Luffy usually said a lot of stuff that was just wrong in general. Zoro remembered he once asked their chemistry teacher, Mr. Blueno, which tubes contained the edible chemicals. Well, not in those specific words. Still, Zoro guessed he loved the raven, faults and all.

In the midst of Luffy's jumbled, loud suggestions, the first thing to be spotted inside the library was the high loft above eight feet tall bookshelves. It was a sit-in area, mostly for grouchy old people who didn't want to be bothered by the presence of others. Zoro normally wouldn't have paid any attention to it, but there was an object so familiar, so pearly white, so completely oddball-ish that is caught his eye instantly. He gasped until there was no more breath left in him, stock still as he stared in bewilderment. The arm still coiled onto his waist tried to pull him along, but Zoro wasn't budging. "What's your problem?" Enel nearly snapped, his irritation lowered for the public vicinity.

Luffy poked his best friend's cheek like it would help the situation, and was disappointed when it didn't. Zoro slowly brought his hand up to point above their heads, too dumbfounded to speak properly. From their point of view, they could only see a feathered black fedora-like hat sitting on the wooden rail.

Enel raised an eyebrow, looking indifferent. "You look like you shit your pants because of a hat?"

Zoro shook his head, ignoring the urge to lash out on the other. "No, you dumbass! It's-"

"Shhhhhhh," a woman at the entrance scowled.

Zoro lowered his voice respectively to a breathy whisper, still pointing to the floating hat, "Don't you know who that is?! Come look from this way."

Luffy promptly squished his face against Zoro's, pursing his lips as a sign of concentration. The swordsman grunted in discomfort, but didn't move away. "Oh, it's the Haw-!"

As fast as a bullet, Zoro threw his hands over Luffy's loud, babbling mouth. He was too loud; Mihawk would definitely hear and probably leave! "Shh, you idiot. The last thing he needs are fans ambushing him. That's probably why he's in incognito."

Luffy frowned, "You said "in" twic-"

"Luffy, shut up."

"Okay!"

The swordsman tried to control his quickened breathing, but he couldn't seem to stop hyperventilating. This was happening; was it actually real? Dracule "Hawk Eyes" Mihawk was in New York City, in a local library, sipping tea as if he were a regular person! As if he didn't have a single care in the world! It pissed Zoro off! Why was he here and not off making more of a name for himself? Luffy continued to talk even though Zoro couldn't make out a word he said, and he slowly removed his appendage. "-o him."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"It's the Hawk guy, right? This might be your only chance to talk to him!"

Of all the things Luffy said, none of them actually struck total fear into Zoro's heart. He was nowhere near ready to challenge Mihawk, much less talk to the demonic man! He had decided his first meeting with Hawk Eyes would be when he crushed him. It's not like he was some kind of obsessive fanboy, trying to greet his "hero" at every opportunity and endlessly stalking the poor guy. Well, at least he could say he wasn't doing the initial honestly.

Enel finally let go of the green haired boy, much to Zoro's relief, and pushed him in the loft's direction hard enough for him to stumble a bit. The bottom of his boots felt planted to the white tiled floors. When Zoro glared irritably at him, he was smirking his usual completely overconfident smirk, arms crossed loosely. It looked very uncomfortable to stretch his bulky arms over his chest in that coat, but he didn't appear to be. "Who knows, you two could arrange a match before he leaves," he shrugged.

Zoro gave a curt head shake, "I doubt he'd acknowledge me."

"Zoro," Luffy clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder softly, and the swordsman breathed a ready sigh of defeat. He knew Luffy was about to make one of his positive speeches; there was a time when Zoro could just give up on whatever the hell he wanted and go home. Though he rarely did so, he still used to have the option. With Luffy, he believed every choice should be pure instinct, meaning the raven hair faced every challenge head-on, no matter the situation. Hell, Luffy would probably take on an entire SWAT team if his instincts told him to.

Luffy grinned childishly, his knuckles cracking as Zoro smacked his hand off. "Alright, damn it. I'm going. Just no more sappy life lessons," he grumbled. He stalked off worriedly towards the stairs, only hesitating to look back for reassurance. Luffy gave him a crooked smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up, while Enel gestured impatiently for him to get on with it. Zoro swallowed air; his mouth ran dry. He was pretty sure he could handle this without passing out.

With each step he took, the more clearly he could see Mihawk's clever disguise. The older man never went anywhere without his trademark black, silk hat, a bleached white feather protruding out of the side. His attire was less outstanding, however. Instead of his trademark black and purple, long-tailed coat and white dress shirt, a plain dark orange T-shirt took their place. Blue jeans hung loose around his crossed legs. Zoro noticed a green parka slung over the back of his chair.

He licked his chapped lips, twiddling his thumbs behind the lower part of his back. Mihawk was too immersed in his book to notice Zoro awkwardly sitting across from him. Should he say something or stay quiet? Would it be a bit stalkerish to remain silent? He grabbed a stray novel abandoned by another person on the table, and opened it to a random page. Maybe the ice would break if he just lingered.

"Step 1: Raise and support the frame securely before installing the front fork by greasing the bearings. Push the large sud on top of the fork assembly through the hole in the B2-37 frame. Put the locking fluid-"

What the hell was he reading? Zoro blinked, closing the book and gawking at the title. "How to Assemble Motorcycles"? Why would something like this be lying around?

Mihawk suddenly darted his yellow-ish eyes upward for a split second, then went back to his oh-so interesting book. "I would appreciate it if you were to set down my how-to guide. It costed me an arm and a leg to purchase," he said in deadpanned monotone, thoroughly startling Zoro. "May I help you, child?"

"I...I'm not a child," the swordsman said dejectedly. He suppressed the pout wanting to form as he placed the guide down respectively. Mihawk hummed dully. Zoro mentally screamed from frustration. That couldn't have went any worse!

"Actually, I was wondering..." the boy trailed off while staring into the cream colored table, looking for a polite and simple way to express his feelings. It was harder than he thought.

"My apologies if you are a fanboy, but I do not sign autographs. It's a matter of principles," the man stated, calmly turning a page with a fingertip.

Zoro clenched his fists more out of restlessness for the situation than anger. He felt like a fool so far; Mihawk must have thought of him as an annoyance rather than an opponent. What if that was a permanent impression? "I, uh-"

"I do not like to repeat myself, boy," Mihawk spoke firmly, as if dealing with a hard-headed toddler, "I already explained that I don't give autographs, no matter how greatly you might idolize me. Now, if you have no further important business to offer, please take your leave. I'm waiting for someone."

The small morsel of Zoro's confidence and spirits were demolished at the request. He knew he should have left right then and there, but he needed to know who Mihawk was waiting for. The urge to know itched at his conscience until he blurted out the question of "Who?" Mihawk didn't have to answer him, or even still acknowledge his presence. but Zoro saw the slightest twitch of a smirk flash across the other's straight lips.

"A rookie, apparently," he declared, finally setting the book in his grasp down, the bent corner of a page holding its mark. "I normally wouldn't travel out of my way for anyone, but an old acquaintance boasted about his spectacular skills. I couldn't help myself."

Zoro glanced at the new book on the table, its hardcover was a dim white, noting that its title boldly stated "Hips Won't Lie: Part 4" in a curly front. What was it about with such a label?! More importantly, did that mean the elder swordsman read parts one through three as well? Mihawk cleared his throat for attention, seemingly irritated that a stranger was judging his reading preferences. Zoro's gaze shot up, anxiousness coiling in his chest. Mihawk made a shooing gesture, and it took a moment for the boy to realize he wasn't about to continue speaking to him. After all, he really didn't like to repeat himself apparently.

Crestfallen, Zoro silently vowed to strip him of his Championship title one day, when he would be a thousand times stronger. He breathed a heavy sigh and headed toward the stairs to make his departure, but Hawk Eyes mumbled something under his breath dejectedly. It froze his feet. It captured his heart in a snare and the wire tightened excruciatingly hard at the words. Something that sounded terribly familiar. Something that sounded like...

"What?" Zoro said, sheer curiosity plastered onto his features, along with a bit of hope.

Mihawk shook his head, even the head shake was unbelievably dull and stern. "I said nothing."

"No, you said something," Zoro grew closer, pointing an accusing finger the other's way, "And it sounded like my name."

Surprisingly, he managed to change Mihawk's usual mask of unresponsiveness to utter disbelief with his claim. Zoro grinned wildly; he didn't know how, but Hawk Eyes knew his name! An excitement like he'd never known raced through his body. It was slightly different from causing trouble and not getting caught. This rush was stronger.

There was a light chuckle coming from the older swordsman, who had placed a hand over his mouth to contain its volume. Tears were sprouting from his eyes, and Zoro could still see the corners of his lips posted upwards behind the covering hand. Mihawk was incredibly amused suddenly. Zoro gaped at the sight. Why was this bastard laughing so hard?!

"You...?" Dracule crossed his legs lazily, the laugh slowly dying and soon became non-existent. "You're saying that you are this Roronoa? Kendo Roronoa?"

Zoro's grin turned quite feral as he towered above the other, who admittedly was still taller than him sitting down. "Zoro Roronoa. I practice Santoryu. You're here for me?"

He didn't think convincing Mihawk would be this difficult, but the man continuously refused to believe his true identity. "Are you a junior? Perhaps there is another Roronoa in town."

"It's just me," Zoro's cocky smile vanished, leaving a sullen expression to wear, "Trust me on that one."

Sanji didn't have the privilege to hear that last part; Zoro refused to make this story more depressing than it already was. He remembered how the lone thought of his biological parents' absence hindered him for the rest of the evening, but eventually it faded into the forgetful creases of his mind. A hand had been placed reassuringly on his knee at some point, as if the blonde knew reliving the "accident" was putting a strain on the boy. Zoro felt his cheeks flush, shifting away slightly so that the comforting hand slipped off. The action only made Sanji smile at his timidity.

The swordsman crossed his arms stubbornly and leaned further back into the couch, spreading his legs apart for comfortability. There was a forced scowl on his face, but they both knew it wasn't remotely real. "I won't go into details," Zoro said, "It's pretty violent."

"Don't leave anything necessary out. I really wanna know more about you, grass-head. But if you absolutely need to stop, I won't press on." Sanji thought he could handle the truth; hell, Zoro thought he could as well, but there was no way their friendship would involve common behavior afterwards. They never really did. Sooner or later, the blonde chef would treat him like china, like almost everyone he came in contact with did. Luffy and Enel were the only ones who were different; Luffy had the presence of mind to not be terrified of touching him, but also not to hug him too hard. Enel didn't really care about how badly he bruised Zoro's body, especially when it came to his own sexual needs. During his entire young life, they treated him somewhat equal, even if one of them betrayed him in the end. It still deeply mattered to Zoro.

"You okay?" Sanji asked, snapping the swordsman out of his consuming thought crisis.

"I...yeah, 'm fine," Zoro muttered dully. "Anyway, Mihawk eventually agreed to fight me with a little more persuasion from Luffy. The date and time was decided..." the teen paused for a second too long, swallowing down air thickly, "and then he left."

"Something else happened," Sanji announced blatantly, a look of worry showing.

Zoro sighed heavily as he scratched the side of his forearm, an irritating habit he's been meaning to break. "Later that night," he gritted his incisors, and then calmed himself with a few more insistent scratches. Sanji raised a curled eyebrow and stopped the boy's fingers from damn near scrapping off his skin. Zoro stared at the pale hand intertwining with his own, and suddenly, the words stuck in his chest came out more poisonous than his intended.

"The bastard dumped me."