Sanji kept flouncing between the Baratie and his newborn restaurant under construction. He was almost glad that the geezer had offered him to live on the second floor of the Baratie, and under a concerned gaze of his long-nosed friend Sanji moved in the day after Zeff had told him about his new possession.
The construction was moving so slow it was driving Sanji mad. After the demolition of the former cafe he was slightly surprised to learn how freaking much patience was required for such a simple task – to explain what he wanted from the hired specialists. Smug eyebrows were raised at him from every man under his guidance, and the cook was sick of those contemptuous "I'm sorry, Mister Blackleg, but the glass walls will cost you more than the rest of what you have planned."
No, of course Sanji was expecting something like this to happen. He didn't own so much money on his bank account to implement his long-standing dream right there and right now. Gritting his teeth in hidden frustration, he agreed to lay the foundation of the future building at least. He didn't expect it to suck out all of his energy. Fullbody, who had also been flapping nearby with a shit-eating grin on his ugly face for god knew what absurd reason, wasn't making Sanji's temper calmer.
Although even being exhausted to the core, Sanji kept the promise he gave himself. Every day, after all the fuss in both a restaurant and not still a restaurant, the cook returned to Zoro's apartment only to discover it empty.
It seemed that Zoro never returned home since the first day Sanji felt the urge to apologize. A disturbing idea that the swordsman had already moved out was eating Sanji's insides while he was lying on the large bed that once used to be theirs.
Heavy eyelids lowered and hands resting on his chest, Sanji was biting the insides of his cheeks. Of course Zoro didn't want him nearby anymore, who was he trying to fool. Not only did Sanji hit him hard in the face, he hit him hard in his pride, he shattered the fragile bond between them. With his feet. With his words. With his stupid emotional burst that was driving everything around him mad like a storm, like a gust that disturbed peaceful waters. Annihilating, destructing power of being hot-headed. A simple mistake of not thinking before striking an action.
Demolishing appeared to be much easier than creating. Who would have known that such a truism would be so hard to comprehend.
It was almost ridiculous how Zoro's absence in his life painted everything gray. If somebody told him just a week ago that he would be as close to achieving his dream as never before, but it wouldn't bring him any satisfaction, he'd laugh the insane fucker off. Now, biting his nails and dry lips, he'd be damned if this devouring tightness in his chest wasn't his first and foremost sensation.
Without Zoro around, without his stupid quivering smile, without those deep dark eyes looking at him with irritation or amusement, curiosity or belligerence, Sanji wasn't complete. Like a vital limb was ripped off his body, nerves pulled out along with his spine, his tongue tore off his mouth, and he lost the ability to taste. Hollow without guts and cold without blood, Sanji couldn't feel simple happiness anymore. Being close to own the restaurant of his dream now seemed like the stupidest bullshit in the world. Who needed an accomplished goal when his closest person wasn't there to rejoice with him?
One especially mournful day, when the raindrops were knocking onto the misted windows, Sanji was cleaning up, trying to get rid of the thoughts that tormented him. He had no idea how the stupid moss-ball could drown the living room in garbage at such a small period of time: empty bottles and cartons of instant noodles were thrown all over the place, not to mention the dust on every flat surface.
Dusting the bookshelf off, Sanji was caught by a not so thick photo album. Zoro had never been a fan of being photographed, and the blond never forced him to take pictures. All those he'd found in the album were occasional snapshots of them together around their friends. Zoro had a discontent expression on almost every one, corners of his mouth turned down, eyes rolled exasperatedly while Sanji was hugging him with a wide grin. It seemed that those broad shoulders would move away as soon as a photo would be taken, and the swordsman would return to sipping on his beer.
Sanji sighed, flipping through the pages. Whether Zoro looked annoyed or not, something in his frozen demeanor showed that he wasn't so very displeased. That glint in his brown eyes – he couldn't hide it anyway, no matter how hard he'd possibly tried. Perhaps the green haired man just didn't want to be photographed around a bunch of people. Maybe in reality Zoro did want to have mutual photos with Sanji, he was just too nervous about people looking at them together.
Indeed, Zoro had never been an easy-going person. Despite always knowing that, Sanji had been forcing Zoro into crowded places like a cinema or a restaurant, when the swordsman would probably rather enjoy watching the same movie at home. Zoro had never told his complains out loud, but his behavior did show he was a bit uneasy around people. When Sanji had invited him to the Baratie's anniversary party once, the moss-head was looking like a lost child.
Zoro had never shown him neither deep displeasure, nor an approval or delight. And if Sanji looked closer, he'd see that it never meant the swordsman was an emotionless plant. Zoro did have his own inward experiences that he just didn't express way too explicitly. And Sanji had been willingly ignoring those subtle signs, egoistically thinking Zoro was just a dull asshole whose major desire was to ruin Sanji's mood.
If Zoro had never told about his feelings out loud, it didn't mean he was heartless. If Zoro had never expressed his love for Sanji with words, it didn't mean he wasn't experiencing it.
What a shitty, selfish human being I am.
Sanji almost choked on a lungful of smoke when his eye caught a photo stuck in between the pages. It wasn't inserted in a binder, but it was certainly the brightest picture in there. Zoro was holding a gold medal in his right hand, clasping fingers of his left onto Sanji's shoulder. Sanji's grin was so wide and stupid it exposed all his teeth. And Zoro... Zoro looked happy. The corners of his eyes wrinkling gleefully, his lids closed, he wore a small but such a sincere, genuine smile that Sanji couldn't help but chuckle weakly.
Always arguing, never able to reach a consensus, stuffed with flaws and general inability to understand each other, they both looked so happy together on that picture. Smoke made Sanji's eyes sore, prickling on his eyelids, swollen from restless nights. Letting out a strangled breath, he put the photo into his chest pocket. Even if their relationship was in ruins, at least he could keep a memory of its bright times. Or so he tried to assure himself when it became impossible to pretend his eyes were aching and watering just from the smoke.
After having checked the progress of the construction at lunch break of his last work day in a week, Sanji was hurrying to the Baratie doors from the parking lot. Realizing it would be impossible for him to save money for the new restaurant without working extra hours, Sanji asked Zeff to let him work on Saturdays too. The geezer scowled, muttering something about the cook being a workaholic, but agreed nevertheless.
Passing by a call-box, the blond mentally cursed himself. He still hadn't bought a new phone, and the public telephone was his only option for now. He'd learned Zoro's number by heart long time ago – who would've thought he'd need it under such circumstances – but that didn't actually help. The blond was told by the voice mail that his desired subscriber was out of coverage all fifty-seven times he'd called the moss-head. It wouldn't hurt to try for the fifty-eighth time, but his wristwatch showed him he was already fifteen minutes late. Throwing his wasted cigarette into the ashtray and chewing on his lip, Sanji fled to the main entrance, hoping the old man was too busy to notice his absence.
The main hall was filled with gleeful chatter of the citizens who enjoyed the afternoon of their day-off. Even the bar was crowded, despite an early hour for alcohol. Passing by the row of smaller tables along the wall, Sanji was lost deep in daydreaming about his own restaurant someday becoming a place for people to enjoy their free time and the best fish meals in the town.
His suddenly high-lifted mood was cut off instantly when he felt a rough hand gripping his wrist.
"What the–"
Turning abruptly to the abuser, Sanji was about to roar and kick the fucker out of the building right through the window. But when he noticed to whom that outrageous hand belonged, his jaw dropped and his blood rushed off his limbs, making his head spin.
Zoro slowly raised a tankard of beer to his lips, his free hand still gripping Sanji's.
"You know what, Cook," he threw a sharp glance at the blond's face, and Sanji felt terror spreading throughout his body when he noticed a black eye patch on the swordsman's left eye, "this beer tastes like piss. Not to mention it costs as much as three nice tankards in the bar on the other side of the street."
"You–" Sanji felt his voice stuttering as his heart thumped with insane beat. He inhaled the air deep into his nostrils, helplessly gripping his hair with his free hand.
"Sit down," the green haired man uttered, letting his wrist free.
Sanji's legs obeyed before his mind could proceed with anything. Intertwining his fingers and brushing them against each other, he breathed erratically, not able to force his throat to let the sounds out.
"Cook," Zoro said quietly, his calm eye peering darkly into Sanji's.
"What happened to your eye?" the blond exhaled. The air in his lungs was moving so sharply he wouldn't be surprised if everyone in the hall could hear his heavy breathing.
"Nothing serious. We have another problem to solve now."
When Sanji glanced over Zoro's stoic face, he wasn't sure if he was imagining things or not, but a shadow of a small smile might've raised the corners of the man's mouth.
Wait, what the hell was he doing? Why on the damned Earth was he hesitating?
Sanji jumped up rapidly, gripping Zoro's wrist and almost ripping the man off the chair. He did notice the swordsman's eyes widen at his fulminant action, but he'd listen to all of Zoro's grudges after he said what he had to say. What he needed to say long time ago.
Dragging the caught off guard swordsman through the hall, Sanji was quickening his pace with every step he took, he was almost running. Less of all he cared now about hanged jaws of the customers. His whole being, his entire strength was focused on Zoro's wrist – so palpable, so warm, so real in his tight grip.
He kicked the door of the back entrance hard, pushing the swordsman out and letting his hand go. Stupid panting came in the fucking wrong time, and he pressed the heels of his hands onto his knees, using the sudden hindrance to form his feelings into words.
Zoro, I'm so sorry. I know I'm an egoist, I know it was just circumstances and it's not your fault at all. I've been just a spoiled child, a selfish idiot. I have no idea what came into me, I was so stupidly distressed the whole day, and then you were late and I just... – No, that was out of track, not to mention it was only a pitiful excuse. – I fucked up. It's all my fault. I realized how much I need you when it was too late, and I don't know how to fix it. These words are just all wrong... – Exactly, all the words seemed so wrong.
Sanji raised his face up, looking into the dark eye.
"Zoro, I'm–"
Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. Zoro pressed their bodies tight to each other.
"Sanji, forgive me," a whisper brushed his ear.
Dazed, shocked, overwhelmed, Sanji dipped his fingers onto Zoro's shoulder blades. The swordsman's heart thumped insanely fast, and the cook felt each beat as if it was his own.
"You're an idiot, it's me who needs to apologize," Sanji muttered, feeling his voice weaken treacherously.
"No, it's me," Zoro uttered, tightening his arms around Sanji's shoulders. His breath brushed the blond's neck as he spoke, and Sanji felt its irregularity. "I never listened to your wishes, never even tried to understand you–"
"Fuck, that's not how it is, it was me who was always demanding and never giving–"
"No, it was me!" Zoro's voice rose, sharp to Sanji's ear. "I was an egoist who–"
"Damn me if I wasn't!"
Somehow their lingering embrace didn't break even when they stubbornly pressed their foreheads together, both practically shouting.
"Just forgive me," Sanji uttered, looking into Zoro's eye, full of regret and guilt.
"Only if you forgive me," the swordsman smiled softly, his fingers rubbing the back of Sanji's head.
"You're an idiot," the cook smiled, stroking Zoro's back in pacifying circles.
When Zoro's lips touched Sanji's forehead just slightly, the blond closed his eyes, feeling his breath becoming unsteady and losing its pace again.
"I missed you," he whispered, feeling soreness in his throat form a lump when Zoro traced kisses down his face, to his eyebrow, to his closed eyelid.
"I missed you too," the soothing voice assured him. Assured him that even if they both weren't flawless, they still were perfect for each other, no matter how complicated the things between them were.