He sat down to the table, letting out a breath.

Two empty bottles were standing on the wooden surface. If somebody weren't aware of what had happened there during the previous night, they'd think two drinking buddies had apparently been chilling. But Zoro was unfortunate to be aware.

That vague hope in the back of his mind melted away when he woke up and felt raw pain in his face. The blow was real, as Sanji's determination had been.

Zoro moved himself out of the bed, every cell of his body hurting as if he'd been smashed against a brick wall several nice times. Half of it all was probably caused by the amount of alcohol he'd poured into his throat after that fateful slam of the door. Now, looking at the table, he was slightly surprised that his body had welcomed two bottles of liquor and then somehow managed to drag him to the bedroom, where he passed out without undressing.

But wait. One of the bottles was apparently some sweet garbage that Zoro wouldn't drink for sure. Yes, he had been angry, but something was suggesting he wasn't the one who'd dried that bottle down.

As he recollected those final moments, something had been a bit off in the blond's demeanor. Well, not just "something" – everything was damn surreal – but the way Sanji's voice sounded, his trembling hands splashed, his facial features quivered... Seemed like that bottle of vermouth was Sanji's.

Zoro chewed on his lip, and the taste of blood wrapped around his tongue again. No, even if the cook had been drunk, his actions were sober, his words were straight, without any implied possibilities of a choice.

His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as he hit the table.

Zoro was so goddamn angry. He didn't want to hope that everything would magically become alright and a simple spell would heal the possessed cook. No, Zoro was a realist. Moreover, he had been living with Sanji for two years and knew that the cook valued the word of a man. None of his decisions had ever been altered.

That was exactly the reason why they'd even started to live together. Zoro had been sane enough to understand that he'd never be able to stand sharing an apartment with the blond – they had been... dating for almost a year back then. They both hated to call it dating though. It was more like a weird companionship involving sex. And irritation. A lot of irritation.

He couldn't even remember properly how it started. Once upon a time, during an ordinary hot summer day, he'd gotten into a fancy restaurant to have a drink. Not only did it end up tasting like piss but in addition was expensive as hell. Zoro wasn't really going to complain, until a cocky blond cook was offended by his remark about the taste.

That had been their first fight, at the end of which Zoro realized the blonde moron was a really good sparring partner. His movements were graceful, power flowed in his legs like his blood was boiling with fuel. And the most interesting part of it was that they could perfectly predict each other's strikes, blocking and dodging them in the most natural way.

Probably, that was the exact reason why Zoro started to visit that shitty place more often. The blonde cook acted as nastily as he did the first time, but as the time passed, they somehow ended up chatting friendly. They would still fight though, but it was gradually becoming less of rage and more of entertainment. The blond's flashing smirk was also a pleasant view to watch.

It appeared they had the same friends. Only that, when Usopp learned Zoro and Sanji had got acquainted, he shook in fear, mumbling something like "I prayed to all the gods you guys would never meet each other". Maybe the long-nose was right. Luffy just chuckled matter-of-factly: "That's great, you two are friends now!" Except for they weren't friends, not at all.

Nami, who seemed to be pretty indifferent about them two, threw a party and invited them both. Eventually, Zoro somehow ended up in one bed with the blond. The memory was faint, they were probably drunk. The swordsman thought it had been an accident – a fucking good accident, he should admit, but afterwards Sanji didn't look like he was against it. In fact, as Zoro noticed back then, as their cocks ground against each other, Sanji was biting and sucking on his neck so hard there was no way the blond could pretend he didn't like it.

Yes, sex was just too good to let the chance slip away. And they started, ugh, dating.

Everything except for that was a huge mess. They were always bickering even about the tiniest things. But then there were fights. And sex. Fights and sex were incredible, and Zoro caught himself ignoring the blond's screaming flaws as the time passed.

The reason why they ended up in one apartment was simple as day. Once Sanji just called him and said that he'd found a place that would suit the best for both himself and Zoro. It wasn't pricey, and the trip to their work places wouldn't take more than twenty minutes. "We'll split the rent in half," the cook's last argument was.

So Zoro agreed. He wasn't sure how he'd handle the noisy idiot. But then, they could sleep together in one bed every night. Zoro was slightly aware (since they'd stayed over at each other's pretty rarely) that in addition to good sex the blond was very comfortable just to sleep with. His skin was soft and warm, and Zoro really enjoyed snuggling to him from behind, which drove him to sleep instantly. Not that he ever admitted it to his... companion.

He never knew where this relationship was leading them. He wasn't even thinking about it. It became like a habit, some sort of escapism. Every time Zoro failed (which, of course, wasn't often), he could always return home where he had Sanji's shoulder to lean on. The blond never asked him about his fights – somehow, he always sensed if Zoro won or lost. When he won, Sanji would greet him with a smile a bit softer than usual and prepare a delicious meal (which Zoro never praised though – too much of an honor for the egocentric cook). And when Zoro lost, Sanji would squeeze his shoulder and prepare a meal even more delicious. In both cases Zoro's body would get some special attention before sleep, not depending on his results. And it was especially good since the swordsman hated being given pity.

But sometimes Sanji was a disaster. Zoro liked to enjoy some quiet time after work, and Sanji would annoy him, not allowing the tension in his muscles to spread and dissolve. The blonde cook would ask him silly questions, babble complains about his shitty customers, offer Zoro to go out despite the swordsman was worn out. Noisy, very noisy and distracting. When Zoro wouldn't reply him anything, sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, eyes shut, the idiot cook would snort, probably rolling his eyes. Sometimes he would be nasty enough to start a quarrel out of nothing. Zoro just wanted some rest – was it really so beyond understanding?

Sanji was indeed a drama queen sometimes. No wonder that relationship didn't lead them anywhere. Zoro wasn't even very surprised that it ended. Just, he hoped maybe it would last a bit longer. The time he had spent with that idiot wasn't that unpleasant, after all. In rare times of the blond's calmness Zoro would just sit in the kitchen silently, watching Sanji's hands make witchcraft with food. Sipping on a beer, the green haired man just enjoyed those moments of peace.

Suddenly his attention was driven to the empty bottles. His brows rose at the realization, and he jumped on his spot.

Sanji had been drinking yesterday. And then he left. Drunk or not drunk, was he able to drive? What if–

Zoro tried to block all rushing thoughts while hurrying to the parking lot.

The blue Ford Mustang was still there as if nothing had happened. Approaching, Zoro felt an uncomfortable knot in his gut. What if Sanji fell asleep in his car and was still inside?

The moment he glanced into the cabin he cursed himself through gritted teeth. Of course the cook wasn't there. Despite being an idiot, Sanji wouldn't drive while being drunk. He'd probably catch a taxi, but... Where might he go?

Dipping his fingertips onto the bridge of his nose, Zoro sighed. There wasn't a broad amount of possibilities after all. He definitely went to Usopp – not Luffy, since the guy was out of town for who knew what business. And of course not Nami, because he wouldn't disturb a girl even in a serious situation, what a dumb white-knight he was.

After returning to the apartment, Zoro flipped his phone open. Oh, right, it died yesterday when they were at the police station. Remembering the reason of the matter that was by all means idiotic, Zoro punched his forehead, instantly feeling dull pain creeping from the back of his head.

He set the phone on charge and turned it on. The main screen showed him it was already past 1 PM, forcing a slight frown on his face. Several missed call notifications popped up. One from Johnny, today at 9 AM, another from Yosaku, 9.45 AM. Bastards, got rid of their problems and slept their asses peacefully. Two others were from 'Love-cook', dated yesterday night. The air came out from Zoro's lungs constrained and ragged. His finger rose to the contact name, but he instantly jerked it away.

Putting the phone onto the table, he pressed his fingertips to his heavy eyelids. Pulsing red in his shut eyes made his head spin. Suddenly the phone on the wood vibrated, making him flinch. He grabbed it, again feeling the treacherous hope tickling his stomach. But it faded right at the moment he saw the one calling was 'Johnny'.

"Yes," Zoro husked through his teeth. His jaw didn't allow him to open his mouth wider.

"Yo, bro!" a cheerful voice chuckled. "How are you? I'm not distracting you from anything important, I hope?"

Anger made Zoro's teeth clench tighter.

"No. What's the matter?"

"Nah, just wanted to ask if everything is alright. You seemed so pissed yesterday, I'm really sorry about what happened... Anyway, how's Blondie?"

Zoro's jaw creaked dangerously.

"Johnny, I seriously don't want to talk about it now," he uttered, keeping his rage shut. "Call you later."

He heard some mumbling from the other end before hanging up. It wasn't directly Johnny and Yosaku's fault, so it would be pointless to yell at them. Zoro just couldn't think properly now, hearing that carefree voice.

He sat in the kitchen for a long while, his face buried into his palms. Not hearing the familiar tapping of a knife was indeed unusual.

He stood abruptly and stretched his arms. There was no need to get so frustrated about such stupid things. Things he could not change anyway. For now he had another problem to deal with: he hadn't taken a shower in what felt like a century, not to mention his jaw wouldn't stop itching.

His eyes widened at the reflection he caught in the bathroom mirror. Framed in one-day stubble, his face was still covered in blood that had dried by now and looked like dirt. Zoro winced at the ugly image. His jaw didn't fail to remind him about its injury under the movement of muscles.

Taking his clothes off for a shower, he heard a small thud. A dark-grey box with a red ribbon fell out of his jean pocket. Damn, he completely forgot.

Picking up the box, he looked at it with a dull face. He'd wanted to make sure he'd make a worthy gift for the blond this year, since every holiday ended up with Sanji receiving tons of pans and spatulas. Porcelain tea-sets too. Sometimes fine cigarettes and liquors.

So Zoro had done some research, at the end of which he figured a Swiss watch with an extremely correct second hand would please the cook just fine. Working with complicated dishes, Sanji had to rely on time and be sure it wouldn't let him down. After searching through all the specific stores Zoro was able to locate, he bought a silver chain watch. He was actually really happy that he'd found one the cook might like.

Not that it mattered anymore. He tore off the ribbon and the wrapping paper to check if the watch managed to survive its encounter with the floor. The dial was fortunately unbroken, and Zoro sighed with relief. The thing was, what was he going to do with it now?

The watch was expensive as hell – Zoro had been unfortunate enough to choose one of the priciest to impress the blond. Snorting at his own idiocy, the green haired man put the watch back into its box. After several seconds of tapping his fingertips over the edge of the sink, he moved the mirror and laid the box into the medicine drawer. It would be a waste to throw the present away, but since he couldn't come up with any other use for it, he just left it be for now.

Taking the rest of his clothes off, Zoro stepped into the shower cabin and turned the water on. A refreshing stream of mild warmth wrapped around his body, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the perfect temperature. Occasional streaks flowed over his slightly parted lips, dripping onto his chest in a way that made him shiver. He raised his hands to wash the blood off his face, then slid them to his neck.

When they were taking a shower together, thin fingers would land onto his shoulder blades, brushing them lightly. They'd wander over his skin, heated under the warm streams, and then stop on his buttocks, massaging the muscles in circles. The blond would glide his other hand over Zoro's side to his torso, his index finger following the long scar from Zoro's shoulder to his hipbone, stroking Zoro's abs. He'd caress Zoro's ass and balls, and the swordsman would throw his head back onto Sanji's shoulder, breathing harder, exposing his neck for a kiss that he'd receive immediately. Warm lips and warm water would tease him together while one hand would clasp its fingers around Zoro's arousal and the other would spread his buttocks. A fingertip brushing over his entrance and the ascending strokes of the hand on his cock would make him gasp.

Zoro pushed his finger inside, biting his lip at a familiar sensation. His hand pumped on his length faster as he started to pull his finger in and out. Pressing his hot forehead to the cold tile wall, he panted as his hands were about to bring him to climax.

A doorbell made him freeze sharply. Pulling both his hands away and jumping out of the cabin, Zoro grabbed the nearest towel, which turned out to be so small it was barely enough to cover his arousal. Soon he wouldn't need any towel anyway.

Zoro dashed to the door in a flash, tying the towel on his hip. He'd never been in such a hurry to open a door. He jerked it open only to find a brown-haired guy in a white coat.

A string burst inside his chest, his hopes tumbling into the hollow abyss.

"Zoro, what happened?" the guy asked worriedly. A frown above his big brown eyes showed way too much concern.

"Hi, Chopper," Zoro forced, backing off. "Give me a minute."

Leaving Chopper in the hall, he quickly returned to the bathroom. No wonder his erection weakened completely, giving him a heavy feeling of guilt and embarrassment. What an idiot I am, thinking he'd return just like that... Sighing, Zoro got into sweatpants and a t-shirt and went back to his abandoned neighbor.

Chopper jumped on his spot when Zoro approached.

"I noticed you on the parking lot when I was returning from the nightshift," the guy explained. "What was with all that... blood?"

"Oh, that," Zoro winced, as his jaw throbbed with pain when it moved. It was way too carefree to come out in such a shitty state. People could think he was a zombie or something. But somehow he couldn't care less when he rushed outside. "Nothing serious, got in a small fight."

"Small fight?" Chopper's voice rose. "Again? Damn it, Zoro, you should be more careful! What did Sanji say about it? Did he help you with first aid?"

Flinching at the way too familiar name, the green haired man felt that unnerving knot in his gut again.

"No."

"Why? I told him so many times to take care of you when you're injured and I'm working and–"

"He won't take care of anything anymore."

The guy's already wide eyes became even wider. With a look of horror and stress, he peered into Zoro's face, wordless.

"He left," Zoro added quietly, realizing his previous answer could've probably freaked the shit out of his younger friend. Not that it helped.

Trying to avoid a detailed explanation, Zoro gave Chopper a brief picture of last night. The guy looked more and more sorrowful with every word, his usually cheerful face full of pity and dismay.

After that short talk, Chopper, who was a practicing surgeon in the local hospital, demanded to take care of Zoro's jaw. Chopper was Zoro's long-standing doctor, with whom he got acquainted right after moving in – his never-ending wounds gained in competitions needed special treatment. The younger guy lectured him every time, reminding him to be more careful. Of course Zoro couldn't help it, since he'd always been fighting with all his force, going towards his goal. So Chopper kept sighing and stewing his wounds. They had become pretty close buddies after a nice hundred of those mini-operations.

Now, despite his obvious concern, the little doctor did his job professionally, firm hands inspecting Zoro's affected mouth carefully.

"None of the bones are broken, which is good," he sighed, removing his rubber gloves. "But one tooth is missing."

"Do you think I don't know that already?" Zoro rolled his eyes slightly.

"I'm saying you should visit a dentist, because there can still be roots remaining," Chopper stated with a confident tone.

The guy left not long after another long and boring lection about Zoro's health and its importance if he was going to stay alive until thirty. Saying goodbye, he lingered in the doorway for a moment.

"Mm, about Sanji..." Chopper raised his wide eyes to Zoro's face. Zoro looked away.

"Nothing to discuss."

"I hope you two will be alright," he muttered and left.

Time passed as slowly as never before when Zoro was trying to distract himself from unnecessary thoughts. Usually he would do push-ups and sit-ups, but now his body felt numb and beaten. Several beers and not so entertaining movies later he decided to call it a night. His stomach, however, reminded him of its emptiness with a low growl.

The leftovers of what seemed like yesterday's dinner, even tasting fine, wouldn't slip down his throat, where a tough lump was blocking them. After several bites Zoro gave up on food. A thought that the cook would never praise him for leaving a meal unfinished crossed his mind, but he instantly forced it out of his head.

The white t-shirt lying scattered on the floor near the bedroom doorway suddenly popped everything back.

Bringing the cloth to his face, Zoro inhaled the painfully familiar scent. Cigarettes, musk, shaving foam, spices – the scent he breathed in every day for so long was barely lingering on the cloth. Soon it would disappear completely, only a memory of it would remain.

Still holding the shirt in his fingers, Zoro lay down onto the bed. Unusually cold blankets wrapped around him unfriendly, causing his chest to tighten. Exhaling a strained breath, he tried to get used to deafening silence. No occasional laughs, no noisy babbling, no tender murmuring into his ear.

He had no idea his life without Sanji would become so empty.