Chapter Four – The Wounds
"I don't believe in it," Zoro said.
"You don't believe in Scientology?" Sanji asked. Together, with a bowl of ice cream between them, they sit outside of a beautiful café in central Italy. Naples to be exact. The food here is amazing, divine almost. But nothing matches up to Sanji's authentic French cooking.
To be honest, Sanji had no clue how the topic of Scientology even came up. All he know is that they were talking about Tom Cruise and suddenly, this topic erupted. Coming in from left field, like every other conversation with this knuckle head.
"No," Zoro said, taking a nice spoonful of ice cream and eating it. "Scientology is a place where people who believe in conspiracy theories go."
Blinking, Sanji didn't know what to say. He, instead, shoved a nice spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. With religion, he didn't know where he stood. Zoro was obviously Buddhist and Sanji, well, that was a little – actually a lot – hazier. Nothing really stuck with him and nothing really took him by storm.
"Anyways," Zoro said. "Let's move on from it." He leans across the table and gives Sanji a kiss. "Mm." Zoro licked his lips. "Strawberry."
Sanji grins. "Mm, idiot swordsman."
"I love you too."
The smell of burning startles Sanji from his sleep, making his blood pressure rise. Two things could be happening at this very moment. One, the apartment is on fire and he has to get out now. Or two – which seems to be the more realistic one – Zoro is using his kitchen to make breakfast and burnt something.
Just how much food did this fucking guy waste today? Sanji grumbles to himself, shoving his feet into his faux-fur slippers. He remembers all those time where Zoro would try to be romantic and cook Sanji something to eat before he awoken. And he also remembers all those times where Zoro blatantly wasted fucking food. Just the little things that really set Sanji off. It causes his emotions to go wild, making him unable to think sometimes.
How is these possible? He moved on. Zoro moved on. Yet… There they are, plain as day. Standing there in front of him. Lust, love, passion. All there.
"Ah," Zoro says, looking at the irritated blond in the doorway. Well, at least this time the mess isn't as bad as it was the first time. "Sorry, I … Um… Surprise."
"You're still a shit cook," Sanji says, walking over and grabbing the spatula out of his tan hands. "No more cooking for you, marimo."
"Hey," Zoro says, trying to deflect the conversation. "Where are those cancer sticks you were so addicted to?"
"None of your goddamn business." Sanji doesn't want to admit how much more he smokes whenever he's alone. He probably goes through a pack every two weeks now. Which reminds him to buy more, since he forgot yesterday. He can't believe Zoro still remembered that.
"You can't believe I remembered that, huh Curly Brow?" Zoro's cocky voice breaks Sanji's concentration. "Believe it or not, I still remember a lot of things about you."
In his heart, Sanji could feel all those old wounds opening. All those memories flooding in. The way Zoro hugged him, where his body fit in just right. All those nights where he was Zoro's and no one else's. They were sweet and caring. And most of all, painful.
I can't keep doing this, Sanji thinks. But something keeps him from changing. Something keeps those old wounds closed.
A/N: Yes! I am alive. Somewhat. Here is another chapter, and it's short. Don't kill me please! Thank you so much for the likes and favourites and reviews! Woohoo!
To ema670 - Yes! Short chapters are great, especially when you're in a rush. Hopefully I'll get longer chapters up. But who knows at this point.
To xri - YOUR WISH HAS BEEN FULFILLED! I hope!