Sacramento Kings and Denver Nuggets were going nose to nose. After the first quarter, which ended with a slight advantage for Sacramento, Zoro opened his fourth beer. Drinking without any snack was a bit lame, though he'd been used to it before. A thought that soon he'd run out of drink crossed his mind. He'd woken up late and didn't have enough time to go and pick anything up in the store before the match had started. Falling asleep appeared to be hard, and he closed his eyes only when the first sunrays tore the brightening sky.

His sleep was unnerving, disturbing dreams that he couldn't recollect didn't allow him to rest. So, even sleeping till 1 PM didn't help him to get rid of exhaustion.

When he and Sanji were discussing their plans for the cook's birthday – that mostly consisted of being lazy for two days – they agreed to watch that basketball match. The cook wasn't a big fan of sports, unlike Zoro, but every time they'd been watching broadcasts of football, baseball, basketball – whatever, Sanji would always pick the opposite team to cheer for. He did that on purpose, Zoro knew. Everything that could make a competition always made Sanji excited to strike a rivalry. So, knowing Zoro was cheering for Denver, Sanji grinned and said "Sacramento would beat their blue-golden asses for sure, they're Kings, after all". Of course the cook blurted that only to get under Zoro's skin, but now, seeing Denver's backlog, Zoro couldn't help but repeatedly listen to the cocky voice inside his head.

Something in Sanji's never-ending cocksureness, in his playful insults and fights was funny, Zoro had to admit. Watching the match without the blond's nasty remarks and snorts was somewhat boring.

Zoro had actually never thought about yielding in their so-called rivalry. If Zoro had to be honest, Sanji was utterly better than him in many ways. But he would never admit it, and the thought ate him from within. The cook was nice with people, not with Zoro though, but he never was unreasonably rude with his friends. Zoro in his turn had always felt awkward in crowds. In places where he happened to turn up and knew nobody, for example, when the cook invited him on some of their foppish events in the Baratie, he felt absolutely out of place. Trying to stay with the only person he knew – the cook – ended with receiving Sanji's scowls and constant "I'm busy".

Not knowing how to act around strangers, how people could even get acquainted if it wasn't for a chance, Zoro had no idea how he managed to come together with the blond. An obvious extravert, friendly and good-mannered, Sanji was a pile of traits Zoro never possessed and couldn't understand how to deal with. Well, their friend Luffy, who was hands down the friendliest guy in the world, was an exception, since Zoro had gotten to know him so long ago he couldn't even remember the time without the goofy black haired dork around.

But Sanji was another story. He enjoyed talking, a lot. Even in a company of not the closest friends he could always strike a conversation and never looked unconfident. Although he would turn into a babbling some cheesy bullshit mass in front of a girl, but normally the blond was a shining example of self-confidence. Which always made Zoro roll his eyes in irritation.

He didn't envy the cook's social abilities, no. He just felt uneasy and maybe a little – just a little – jealous. What made the blond stick to him was beyond Zoro's comprehension from the very beginning. Zoro had to admit that in everything beyond swordsmanship he was hardly better than average. He wasn't talkative, wasn't a great buddy who'd cheer everyone and make their miserable lives vivid and meaningful. In fact, Zoro was so self-conscious with people that he preferred to stay silent rather than blurt out some bullshit. He just didn't see any reason to communicate with people non-stop. Maybe that was one of the reasons Sanji got bored of him.

The second quarter ended all of a sudden for Zoro, as well as his beer. This time Denver outran the self-proclaimed Kings, but somehow it didn't bring the green haired man any joy. Using the advertisement break, he headed to the kitchen only to discover that he'd run out of beer. Among the food everything was sad as well. The remains of the meat he'd already eaten after waking up had been the only cooked dish. A piece of a chocolate cake was out of question since Zoro never was a fan of sweets. Well, he found frozen shrimps, some tomatoes, a dozen of eggs, greens, some bacon, an uncooked chicken and a bottle of milk in the fridge, but he was a bit unsure of his cooking skills since he hadn't been preparing food by himself for two years already. Who am I, a child? Zoro snorted at himself, taking the shrimps out.

If he remembered correctly, they had to boil for several minutes, and then they'd be done. What could be easier, huh.

Setting a water-filled pot on fire, Zoro put the shrimps there and returned to watch the match. He looked at the wall clock, noting to himself that in ten minutes he would have to go and turn the fire off.

In the end of the third quarter his nose caught a strong reek from the kitchen.

No, seriously, how could the cook make everything so easy it looked like wizardry? With smooth moves of his thin finger Sanji was able to make a delicious masterpiece out of raw meat and fresh vegetables.

After scraping the burned pot, Zoro peered at the remaining mass suspiciously, which was least of all looking like shrimps. Noting to himself to never leave a cooking meal on fire while watching TV, Zoro chewed the tasteless food. Of course he'd forgotten to put salt into the boiling water.

When he finished his miserable lunch – or early dinner, more likely – the match had already ended. Denver Nuggets came out victorious with a difference of just three points. Sighing and sitting down onto the couch, Zoro came to a conclusion that he should train. His body, however, was so heavy and numb that he couldn't even imagine doing push-ups now. It was nearly his only responsibility, and he couldn't force himself. What a shame.

The vibration of the phone in his sweatpants made him jump on the spot. Maybe the cook was calling to ask if Zoro was at home – he hadn't picked his stuff yet, and no courier came yesterday, so...

'Yosaku' the screen read.

"Yes!" the green haired man snapped.

"Hi, bro!" the cheerful voice greeted him. "Watcha doing? 've you seen how the Nuggets owned the Kings?"

"Yosaku, what do you want?" Zoro asked flatly, feeling a wave of rage inflaming his muscles.

"Oh, yeah, me and Johnny are going to the bar, you wanna join?"

"No."

"Why not, bro?" Yosaku whined, drawling. "We're going back to the voyage tonight, wanted to hang out with you for a bit!"

Well, even if the swordsman wasn't in the mood for dealing with those two idiots, he hadn't any booze left or any willpower to train, so maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

"Okay, where?" Zoro sighed, and instantly his ear was pierced with gleeful laughter.

Two pairs of overwhelmed brows rose at him.

"Seriously? Just like that?" Johnny smashed the tankard over the wooden desk. The bartender shot him a glare that he ignored completely.

"Dude, that's too tough even for Blondie!" Yosaku frowned, gulping his beer down and putting it onto the counter for refilling.

Zoro sighed quietly, twisting a pistachio between his fingers. The stubborn bean wouldn't open even after the swordsman gnawed at it. His jaw was still too numb to bite harder.

"Anyway." Johnny dipped his fingers onto his temples. "All of this isn't your fault, why would he break up with you just because of," he glanced shortly at his friend, "us?"

Rolling his eyes slightly, Zoro put the pistachio aside and took a sip of beer. It was his fifth for the evening and ninth for the whole day.

"You two have nothing to do with this," he uttered reluctantly. He had no intention of talking about it from the beginning, and he'd probably have succeeded in being silent if only the two stubborn buddies didn't drown him in questions about his bruised, unshaved face.

"No, we have!" Yosaku slapped his palms over his knees enthusiastically. "You got late only because of us!"

"Yes, we are the guilty party here!" Johnny assented, hitting his poor tankard over the desk once again. The bartender narrowed his eyes at him with unhidden grudge.

Zoro scratched his stubbly chin. Why didn't he notice that annoying itching when he was still at home?

"He said I'm always like this," the green haired man forced out. Sanji's words wouldn't get out of his head the whole previous night, playing back like on a broken recorder, squeezing his gut with disturbing coldness.

"Like what?" Johnny snorted. Yosaku nodded vigorously, cheeks puffed from beer.

"Like..." Zoro pondered.

He hadn't actually looked that deep. Really, him returning late wouldn't be enough to get Sanji that mad, even if it was his birthday (and Zoro had to admit it was really awful of him to be late for the date). Under normal circumstances the blond would probably start a quarrel, throw several discontented remarks, but that would be all. So, what could really make Sanji not only become so enraged, but determined to break up, seriously and without any doubts?

"Bro!" Johnny shook his shoulder, wakening Zoro from his trance. "What's with that face?"

"No, I just... I don't know what the real reason is."

Johnny and Yosaku exchanged uncomprehending looks and drew their tankards upside-down to their mouths.

"Didn't he tell you?" Yosaku asked, grabbing a handful of pistachios.

"Nothing coherent," Zoro absently peered at his boots.

Although when the cook had called him – they'd been sitting in the same bar and even on the same barstools, Johnny and Yosaku all tipsy and yelling chanties wholeheartedly – he'd already sounded angry. Zoro had to cut him some slack though – suddenly learning that the promised date would be delayed wasn't anything near satisfying. And Zoro hated to break his promise – he valued a man's word after all – but then, after Johnny and Yosaku, his friends since the middle school, had joined the sailor ranks, he didn't have an opportunity to see them often. And Sanji knew it perfectly well. And he'd still been pissed.

Well, the cook had never been anything close to a rationalist. Emotions drove him in whatever he was doing. Overly friendly with girls, eagerly loyal to his friends and ready to punch any offender's face, unmerciful to rude customers and unbelievingly polite to the nice ones – Sanji was a mixture of fire-fueled feelings. Often it played a havoc with him: how many times he was about to be fired despite his boss was his adoptive father, how many women were disgusted with his annoying chivalry, how many innocent noses were broken with his swift kicks... Doing before thinking was his life-style. No regrets – going only forward, no backing off, no conceding. But for Zoro, who bit through the blond's stubborn defenses to his core, there was an exception – at least he thought so. Sanji knew Zoro wouldn't play by his rules either, that the swordsman wouldn't accept his energetic pressure without resistance. The reason was simple – they were both the same, yet different in a way.

So the cook never bothered to be polite with Zoro. The nicest addressing the green haired man received from the blond was his name, a rare word to hear in the blond's hypnotizing baritone. Insults were so common for them both that Zoro was sometimes dazed and lost when people asked him about 'Sanji'. He didn't know how to name his companion in a conversation with friends since Sanji's name had become something so intimate that he flinched every time Nami or Usopp or Chopper pronounced it. Something pinched his skin with invisible forceps when he heard the cook's name from a foreign mouth. He's mine – words repeated in the swordsman's head, making his breath sharper, his face tougher. But at the same time Zoro always knew that Sanji wasn't his.

He might've wanted the cook to be in his possession – selfish, but he was desperate and unbending in his desires. Although in Zoro's concept, to own somebody didn't require making a person his slave, of course. He was just... afraid to lose the one who was important to him.

And Sanji was the most important person to him.

A vein pulsing in his forehead made his head spin. Cold sweat dripping off his back, fingers clenching into fists and unclenching, Zoro felt his unseen, unfocused eyes widen. Frighteningly palpable claws clenched his heart tight.

"Bro, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Dude, are you okay?"

He heard the concerned voices – muted, distant.

Who am I then, a stranger?

Sanji had been cooking the most delicious food for him. Sanji had been spending all his free time with him. Sanji had been ready to drop his every important business just to talk to Zoro. Sanji could demand a day-off from the old man he wasn't in the best relations with just to be together with Zoro.

That man with his stupid swirly eyebrows and pompous clothes, with his cocky grin and sarcastic remarks, with his sharp tongue and deadly legs – Sanji was Zoro's best friend, his brother, his lover, his soulmate and the most important human being in the world.

And Zoro let himself lose Sanji.

"I need to go," he threw quickly to Johnny and Yosaku, who'd already given up on the talk and argued loudly about something.

"Where? Why?" Johnny turned to him.

"Wait, bro, we–"

"I need to go," Zoro repeated sharply and ran out of the bar.

The dusk welcomed him outside with drizzling rain. Usually crowded streets were wiped clean with the chill. As ill luck would have it, no taxies were around, and it was pretty far to the metro station. Since Luffy still isn't in the town, he should be with Usopp. Shifting his hood up, Zoro hurried to the station, flipping his phone open on the way.

"Yes?" The sleepy voice answered him.

"Usopp, is... Sanji with you?" Zoro asked. He couldn't believe his voice sounded so unconfident.

A long sigh proceeded from the other end.

"He stopped by my place for some time, yes," the long-nosed guy muttered. "But–"

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes or so!" The swordsman cut him off, his pace increasing into running.

"Zoro–"

"Don't tell him I'm coming, okay?"

"Zoro!" Usopp raised his voice. "Listen to me. Sanji's away now. He's looking for a new apartment."

Zoro stopped in the middle of the empty road. Cold drops trailed down his face, slipping under his collar.

"Where is it?"

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea," Usopp uttered with noticeable regret.

Hanging up, Zoro came off the road and squatted on the border. His clothes soaked thoroughly, and the merciless wind didn't make it better.

With numb fingers, the green haired man pressed Call next to the name that he used to say so often. To piss him off, to call him from the bedroom when he was in the kitchen, to just make him smile.

The subscriber's phone is switched off or is out of the coverage area. Please, try to call later.