Living with anxiety is like being followed by a voice. It knows all your insecurities and uses them against you. It gets to the point when it's the loudest voice in the room. The only one you can hear.
- Unknown
They met underneath a car bridge in the dead of night.
It was pouring, the sound of rain loud and steady, enough to silence even his innermost thoughts. For now, at least. He looked around, but couldn't see jack shit for lack of light. His body was soaked through with rain water, clothes heavy and dragging. The grass squelched underfoot and the uncomfortable noise made him wince in slight disgust. Even walking was difficult, each step like forcing his way out of quick sand.
Sanji cursed as he ran into a branch, the jagged surface scratching his cheek, dangerously close to his eye and he shied away. He glanced up, startling when the constant downpour suddenly ceased, quieting around him, and realized that he was under an overpass. Now that he listened, really listened, he could hear the tell tale rumble of cars. In a moment of bleak resignation, he wondered if the large cement posts would crumble. He wondered if that will be the literal incarnation of his world falling apart around him.
It was simultaneously a disturbing and comforting thought.
While he was distracted, there was a low growl that the 17 year old almost missed, too consumed by his morbid inclinations. The loud snap of a stick caught his attention and hr tensed, preparing to fight off whatever was approaching. He turned at the last moment, certain that it was one of his brothers- likely Yonji, the problematic bastard- having finally caught up with him and got a glimpse of a flash of green. Or maybe blonde, he can't quite tell. It was hard to see in the dark.
Around his residence-because that place will never be home- he knew it like that back of his hand. After all, he could hardly predict his father's moods, and a backhanded slap was always on the horizon. Let alone the jibes of his brothers. What better place to run than the one where he lived?
Fortunately, Sanji was always particularly good at hiding in plain sight.
From his peripheral, he saw an arm rise as well as the low glint of something metal and let his reflexes kick in, not bothering to distract himself with the numerous questions he harbored and lifted his leg, stopping the staff...pipe...thing in its path. There was a huff of annoyance, and then the pressure alleviated for a moment, only to return with stronger force. It was enough to push the 17 year old back a few feet, slipping easily on the wet, muddy concrete. This action repeated, the clash becoming increasingly more desperate. Sanji did his best to block it all while standing upright, even delivering his own kicks from time to time. He really didn't want to have to use his hands. Just the thought of having to stick his hand in some cold, soppy substance made him shiver.
By this point, Sanji had concluded this is not, in fact, any of his brothers, but it still left a shit ton of questions unanswered. Namely, who the hell is this guy? And why was he attacking Sanji of all people?
They moved pretty far from their initial position in the duration of the scuffle and passed under the light of a street lamp. He got a decent look at bright green hair, tanned skin, and the flash of anguished eyes before they were plunged right back into shadow, the blond performing a no hand flip to avoid another strike.
The staff, which, by now he realized is a fucking SWORD, nicks the hem of his pants. It was hardly a graze, didn't even break past the thick folds of wet fabric and yet it still was enough to throw him off guard and he stumbled, steps staggering. The swordsman tackled him to the ground, and the concrete hurts, knocking the air from his lungs. It wasn't nearly as detrimental as the beatings his brother's dished out, but fairly painful.
Through the haze of discomfort, he realized that his head had been cradled carefully, laid gently on the floor as though it were scared. Clearly, this kid was insane, whoever he was, showing malicious intent one second, the unexpected kindness the next and Sanji prepared for the worst, closing his eyes and letting out a low breath. He wondered what it said about him, that out of all the gruesome deaths he'd envisioned for himself someone like him didn't deserve anything peaceful, this one wasn't bad at all. To die at the hands of a random madman under a car bridge at god knows what time of the night.
He waited patiently, for the final blow, then got impatient when nothing happened and he opened his eyes, freezing when he saw the face so close to his own. It was a startlingly heart wrenching glare, so raw and open and with much more vulnerability than Sanji was ever used to seeing from anyone. Even his own mother is often closed off, warm, but locked away, hiding the weakest parts of herself from him. He laid on the cold ground quietly, unsure of what to make of a complete stranger studying him with such soft despair. It was unnerving, even more so when the teen reached out as if to stroke his face soothingly, before pulling back suddenly.
The same hand fell to the ground, not far from the blond's hair and really, Sanji's libido had no self control because now he was acutely aware of his attacker's strong thighs flexing occasionally on either side of him, and gazed in the direction where he assumed the arms were, imagining how toned they must be. Despite the cold, his body began heating up, and what a horrible thing it would be, to die horny.
Death by Blueballs. Sanji envisioned on his makeshift gravestone, hardly a pebble on the side of some unnamed road, a tiny '3' the only sign of his existence. Caused by dick or pussy, no one knows.
He cursed lowly, shaking the intrusive thoughts off, brief feeling of attraction chased away by his father's words of unnatural, unclean, and his brothers' taunts of slut, greedy slut, you can't have your cake and eat it too."
Shame pooled lowly in his gut and he shifted slightly, thankful for the cover of the night. A light hiccup broke him from his stupor, followed by a low heave, and Sanji didn't have to look up to know that the wetness falling on his face was not the rain. Nor was it his own tears. He made certain to always cry on the inside. His brothers smelled tears like sharks smelled blood.
"Sorry." The teen above him mumbled, voice deep and thick with an emotion that can only be described as a mixture of grief and anger. "You...looked like her, in the dark."
This was normally the moment he'd crack a joke about girl troubles but something told him that if he did, he'd actually get killed and for some peculiar reason, he suddenly felt like hanging around for a bit longer.
"Didn't mean to disappoint." Sanji replied back in a slow drawl, before wincing, realizing too late how insensitive that might've sound. He spared a glance at the teen, who was finally getting up, and was surprised to see what he thought was a blush spreading leisurely over dark features.
It was a charming appearance, and Sanji found himself wishing that it were lighter outside. He was sure it'd be a sight.
"That's not what I meant." The other corrected quietly. His voice sounded far away, deep and melodic. Somehow, the blond got the feeling that he didn't talk much. "It's not like you could've been her anyways. " There was a pause and a sense of foreboding. "Since she's dead."
Sanji made a noise, lowering his head and glancing away, not processing that it was dark anyways. He didn't know who the woman was, or what she meant to this boy, but he thought of Sora, then thought of Sora dying and felt his heart shatter.
They stood in silence, and the blond wasn't sure what to do now. He wouldn't apologize, it wasn't as if had anything to feel sorry for. He couldn't comfort people for shit, not without food at least, and there wasn't a stove in sight.
His lips twitched, eager for a cigarette, or for a dick, as his brothers liked to say. Sad thing was, Sanji wasn't really sure anymore if that was an actual lie. He winced, cutting his eyes from the bridge.
He almost forgot that someone else was there, when a voice picked up. "So, what're you running from?"
Sanji wanted to break into hysterics, but he didn't, instead settling for a light scoff. He walked away, shame guiding his feet, and back to his shitty excuse for a home. "What aren't I running from?" he replied dryly over his shoulder.
He was almost back in the rain, when the teen spoke again, words coming out rushed, as if quickly contemplated. "My name is Zoro! Meet me here again!"
Sanji paused, stopping mid step, toes of his right foot getting soaked all over again. Unbidden, his lip quirked up in a semblance of a smile and he raised his hand in a backwards wave. "Sanji." He said in return.
He crushed down the feeling of disgust, beginning his decent to that called he was expected to call home and hoped he'd see Zoro again.
The walk home was dreadful. Sanji slouched low, hoodie doing nothing assist in protection from the rain, cotton fabric utterly decimated by hordes of water, everything plastered to his skin like one large, horrid wetsuit. He cursed loudly at a car that came dangerously close to to the curb- sidewalk completely non- existent- and driving straight through a filthy, germ infested puddle.
He spluttered, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth, only to get a sickening taste of rain and stale cigarettes. He was going to get sick from this, and if he didn't, then miracles were fucking real and Sanji was finally going to devote his life to the Christian god. He'd even fuck around and find a group of old, creepy pastors to hang with. He mused over the fact that most pastors, catholic especially, tended to be mass manipulators. The very rapists and molesters they preached against. It was, perhaps, even more intriguing that that all believed what they were doing was right, for the cause, whatever the hell that meant. And they convinced the women who's body they violated that this was the way the world was, and that as women, they should lay down, legs wide open and take it.
The mind was powerful. It was why Sanji was certain in his worth- or rather, his lack of it. It was why he knew without a doubt that he'd never change anyone's life for the better. It was why he wanted to die, despite knowing that it wouldn't fix shit. It was why he listened, and took his family's criticisms to heart, even when he knew they were being cruel. Maybe the most peculiar fact of it all was that Sanji knew things on two different spectrum of thought. There was, in theory, his heart, and his brain. Logos and Pathos.
Logically, someone cared. There were too many people in the world that he'd come into contact throughout the duration of his life. Even as a total nobody, his life had impact. Then there was the fact that he wasn't a nobody. That as a Vinsmoke, prevalent or not, he was in some degree of spotlight. That there was someone out of all those people, who cared, or at the very least would be consumed by curiosity. The problem was Sanji being a contrary bastard.
He wanted someone to care, yet didn't care if the person that cared was someone he didn't care about.
Sanji sighed, not even sure what line of thought he was going down anymore, words becoming melded in his mind, running into one another until they became something incomprehensible.
Through the darkness, he saw the familiar glow of neighborhood lights and his feet practically wept in relief. His calves were burning, and back still in pain from the fight earlier. It was a peculiar way to meet a person, for sure. The blond didn't think he'd forget that disturbed expression any time soon. He chuckled quietly though, at the almost tragically romantic way that they parted- with promises to meet again no less- and the cliche absurdness of it all. He shook his head affectionately, before pausing, wondering what it was about the other teen that even warranted any sliver of Sanji's affection.
Like calls to like.
Sanji tried not to think about it, but he knew. He knew. He liked the understanding that he wasn't the only one broken. It was satisfying, comforting to know that he wasn't the only person in pieces.
Before he continue down the morbid path, his phone buzzed, overly fucking expensive water proof case finally coming in handy and the 17 year old reached into his pocket, pulling out the small device. The rain had lessened significantly since he started his walk, and now only the occasional drop of water fell, striking the screen of his phone and dripping away. It was a text from Reiju, and the teen held in a sigh, knowing that her correspondence with him meant something bad.
Reiju [2:30 a.m]: The door is locked. Go in through the window. I left rope.
He cursed lowly, running a hand over his face, eye twitching in irritation. His brothers were always like this, using their father's business trips away to be exceedingly tyrannical. Though it wasn't as if things were drastically different even on the rare occasions that the Judge was there.
Sanji [2:31 a.m]: Alright. Thanks.
There was no response.
Approaching the obnoxiously large house, he glided up the marble steps, and after a bit of hesitation, placed his hands on the golden handle, giving it a light squeeze and turn. He tried not to feel dejected when nothing happened, the large black door staying stubbornly closed, just as he knew it would.
The silver plate stared back him mockingly, engraved Vinsmoke reminding him that he was about to enter a place that he didn't belong. About to enter a place that didn't even want him. It's so fucking absurd and pathetic that Sanji wants to cry and laugh at the same time. It was ridiculous, the thought that he was going to break into a residence that didn't want him there. He was breaking and entering for all intents and purposes.
Imagine, breaking into a place you don't even want to go.
But then, Sanji had no where else. Nowhere else except the bridge maybe. And for once, he didn't mean jumping off it, but rather what would- should be waiting for him underneath.
Hopefully.
With a sigh, he stepped back from the door and rushed to the backyard, jumping over the white picket fence. He held in a snort, amused by how stereotypically white he and his family were. It was almost blasphemous, completely laughable, about how much of sheltered childhood he had in retrospect. But what a way to be raised, considering that his shelter was the most dangerous place he knew.
He reached into the hole of a familiar tree, the one he and Reiju used for situations like this, and pulled out a thick coil of rope. He thanked his sister silently for having the foresight to turn on the back lights and provide some kind of illumination. Sanji reached up and grasped the nearest branch, before hauling himself up, and dragging the rope with him.
They clashed through the leaves and the blond winced, hoping that if his brothers overheard for whatever reason, they would mistake him for a woodland creatures or some shit. He remembered the shotgun resting behind the down stairs china chabinet and felt a cold sweat form, recalling Niji's quiet love for killing small animals. One of the main signs someone was a fucking psychopath but no one wanted to talk about it.
He climbed higher, until he he was positioned diagonal from his bedroom window, a few feet higher. Sanji growled as leaves hit his face and did his best to keep his mouth close, praying that no insects would come out of the wood works and find its home on his skin. Tying the the end of the rope on a particularly sturdy branch, he tugged hard, testing to make sure it'd hold his weight, before eyeing the ledge next to his window. It wasn't to far, and maybe he did have something to thank the old bastard for, considering his long legs.
Sanji tested the other end of the rope, holding in one palm, and then the other, before nodding, satisfied. He tightened his grip, then leaned back on the thick branch rocking to the edge for lack of any running and bent his legs. He jumped off, and relished the feeling of wind against his face. It was cold, it lashed across his face and whipped raindrops into his eye.
Just as fast, it was over, and his foot was touching the edge of the window seal. He reached out, grabbing the wall with one hand and pulled himself closer, breathing heavy as he finally let go of the wood.
Balancing on the edge, he pulled the small handle up, letting out an audible sigh of relief at the small click. It meant that either his brothers we more occupied with something else, or that Reiju was keeping an eye out for him. Likely both. Using the toe of his shoes, he tugged at the glass pane, lifting it all the way up and silently singing praises to his flexibility.
Steadying himself, Sanji ducked into the dark room, hopping onto the ground and smiled softly when he saw one of the messier towels laid out on the floor. His sister really did have his back, despite her cold language and indifferent stares. The intrusive voice in his head said that it was only because she was secretly hoping that being nice to him would mean he'd commit a cleaner suicide.
He told the voice to shut up.
The house was quiet, unusual considering the fact that his brothers had full rein. It felt strange, oddly uncomfortable and it wasn't as though he enjoyed all the mockery and insults, but it was still better than the silence. Kenopsia. The word popped in his mind. The eerie forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling, suddenly quiet and empty.
Sora was in the hospital she practically lived there and the Vinsmokes were known for throwing parties of all kind, so he was surprised not to at least a little bit of commotion. Yonji and Niji had chased him to that bridge hours ago and should've been home by now.
Sanji tried and failed to convince himself that he wasn't worried about his shitty excuse for siblings.
"Yonji has gone over to one of his friends house." A soft voice sounded and Sanji jumped, tense stance relaxing when he saw it was only his sister. "You eldest brothers are out on the town for once."
Reiju was standing in the middle of his bedroom, wearing a lacy pink nightgown and her short hair was done up in a ponytail. She smiled slightly at him, a bit of warmth raiding her expression.
"Learn how to knock, why don't you?" He muttered without any real malice, shucking off his sneakers and wet socks, sighing happily as his poor feet were spared. "I at least expect you to be more decent than the other three."
His sister chuckled, and Sanji supposed he should feel weird about the fact that he was stripping in front of his older sibling without any reservation but it wasn't. Especially not considering the fact that Reiju had to see him near naked several times throughout the years. It wasn't like the he could've reached all the cuts and bruises by himself.
"Knock? And that's necessary because...?" She trailed off, cerulean gaze expectant. Of all things, Sanji was glad that she was the one who got their mother's eyes.
He shrugged as an answer to her question, undoing the button of his jeans and peeling it off of his skin with a disgusted expression. "I dunno. I could've been jacking off or something."
Normally he'd filter himself around ladies, but Reiju was different. And she'd likely murder him if he tried acting all chivalrous with her. It's already dead and that's how it must remain. She said to him once, after he'd given her one kiss on either cheek.
"A germaphobe like you?" She purred quietly, gliding over to sit on the end of his bed, legs crosses and face resting on palms. "I don't see that happening. Not without a bath at least."
"Which I plan on taking." Sanji sniffed, pretending to be offended. He was standing in only his boxers and gave the woman a pointed glare. "Alone. Unless someone plans on following me in there?"
He only got a secretive mile in return.
"I'm glad you made a friend." The woman said, and Sanji paused, hesitating a second too long before putting up his middle finger, growling as she laughed, a tinkering sound that pulled at the edges of his lips.
Reiju was gone by the time he emerged, feeling clean and sated, and the house was still silent. He tried not to let it bothering him, sighing at his typical paranoia. "Altschmerz." the blond whispered quietly as he crawled into bed, letting the covers swallow him whole. Weariness with the same old issues you've always had. The same boring problems and anxieties you've been gnawing on for years.
Sanji curled into a ball, throwing the cover over his head and reminding himself that he still had to wake up in a few hours, despite the fact that it was well past four in the fucking morning. In the stillness of the room, he thought he could hear his pulse and shuddered in mild revulsion.
Rubatosis, he remembered, suddenly. The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.
Sleep came and with it were blank dreams.