Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zoro was already awake when the first alarm of the day began to ring. Usually, it would’ve taken at least three reminders before he finally dragged himself out of bed, but this time he stood up almost immediately, his eyes wider than usual, as if he had just seen a ghost.

He had barely slept at all after waking from that dream. He had tried everything to pretend he wasn’t affected, that it was surely nothing more than the delirium of an exhausted mind, but neither meditation nor an extra pair of blankets helped in the slightest. Every time he closed his eyes again, he could feel a warm hand threading its fingers through his own, and he could almost clearly see the image of the cook smiling at him, wide and without restraint.

He had never known torture, but he was certain it had to feel somewhat like this.

He got to his feet and started getting ready, seriously considering what he would do if he ran into the cook halfway there. For some reason, just imagining having him right in front of him in the school hallways made him feel stupidly nervous, and his idiotic heart would start racing no matter how many breathing exercises he tried to slow it down. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought that maybe, this time, the blond had finally succeeded in driving him completely insane. Maybe he was reacting like this because of how bad their relationship was. Maybe he just hated him, and that was why the mere thought of seeing him filled him with such aversion.

The image of Sanji laughing openly the day before while they made fun of the unconscious guy on the other bed in the infirmary came to his mind without him even needing to close his eyes, and he felt his face begin to boil in an instant.

Shit, shit, shit.

This wasn’t good. It wasn’t aversion, or dislike, or just the delirium of an exhausted mind; it was something else—something that made his palms sweat and filled his head with stupid thoughts.

He resisted the urge to slam his own forehead against the mirror, taking a deep breath as he finished buttoning up the white uniform shirt. Fine, he was a mature teenager, fully aware of his emotions —a lie— so running into curly brows between classes in the hallways shouldn’t be even remotely complicated —the mere thought made his heart race—.

He gave himself a few light slaps on the cheeks, trying to snap his mind awake. He’d be fine. He had to be fine. Whatever was going on in his head was surely just the result of how moved he’d been when the cook chose to defend Chopper without hesitation, so soon enough his mind would return to its beloved normalcy.

Either way, it’s not like the strange twisting in his stomach hadn’t been there from the very beginning.

-

Zoro could only hope that whatever the hell was going on inside his head would pass quickly.

To the surprise of more than one teacher, Roronoa Zoro had been awake through the first classes before break. The one with the distinct green hair had been staring straight ahead, without drifting off or stepping out of the classroom, looking so serious and focused that several of his teachers left with satisfied, proud smiles on their faces.

Of course, none of them knew that Zoro hadn’t heard a single word they’d said during the first four hours of his school day. Even on a normal day, classes weren’t exactly his thing, but with that overwhelming buzzing in his ears, he was practically absent. He had arrived late, but knowing the cook was just one wall away was… well, almost overwhelming.

He wanted to see him, and he didn’t want to see him. He wanted to greet him, and he wanted to ignore him.

He wanted to see him smile again.

So when the bell for break rang, it took him a couple of minutes to react, blinking in confusion as he realized his classroom was almost empty already. When he stood and walked to the door to peek into the neighboring class, he noticed he wasn’t there anymore.

The walk to the cafeteria was just as torturous. His own emotions had always been difficult for him to understand, so he didn’t even bother trying to untangle them while he began considering how he should act when he didn’t even understand what was going on himself.

He took a seat at their usual table, in his usual spot, watching Robin read like always and Luffy nearly drool over his food like always.

He let his head drop against the table, making more than one person jump in their seat and look his way in concern.

-Eh? Zoro? What bug bit you this time?

-Don’t bother me, Luffy. I’m just thinking.

-Ha! Sanji would say that’s reason enough to worry.

Zoro rolled his eyes despite himself, straightening up while a faint reddish circle bloomed on his forehead from the impact. He tried to think of a witty, biting response, but stopped when he noticed he still wasn’t there.

He turned toward the cafeteria line, searching for him for a moment before looking back at Luffy.

-Where is he?

-Who?

-The blond with the ridiculous eyebrows, idiot.

-His name’s Sanji. —he complained around a mouthful of food.— And he’s probably at home, I guess.

-Huh? He didn’t come?

-It’s not like they’d let him in. —added the one with the scar under his eye, as if any of the words coming out of his dumb mouth made sense.— The old man suspended him yesterday.

It brought Zoro a strange sense of comfort not to be the only one just finding out. Robin had lowered her book, eyebrows slightly raised, and Usopp—who had just arrived with his tray—almost dropped it in surprise.

-What? Why? Sanji was just defending Chopper!

Zoro wouldn’t have defended him with the same fervor as Usopp. He understood that, one way or another, Sanji had chosen violence over dialogue, breaking one of the rules of coexistence he’d learned from a very young age. But he could understand the indignation.

He vaguely remembered Kuina insisting that the only time violence could be used was when defending good people, but that didn’t make it justifiable.

-Well, he got three days. The guy who started it got more. I told the old man he was being unfair, but I couldn’t change his mind.

Zoro noticed Luffy’s slight frown, though it disappeared quickly. It was rare for his best friend to look genuinely upset. Most of the time it was exaggerated drama to spice up his tantrums or protests, but this time it was real.

Luffy wasn’t happy. He was upset, surely, though he knew there was nothing he could do.

Zoro envied, just a little, his ability to know what to do and how to do it for the sake of others.

Without thinking too much about it, he pulled his phone from his pocket while Usopp and Luffy kept talking, slipping into his private chat with the cook.

—Are you really suspended for three days?

He didn’t even notice he was staring at the screen without blinking while waiting for a reply, biting the inside of his cheek until the blond started typing a couple minutes later.

The idiot:
Guess Luffy told you guys.
I got suspended yesterday.
At least the other idiot got a week plus after-school detention.

He took his time deciding what to answer. He didn’t know why something like irritation was running through his veins, and he didn’t know why that irritation was mixing with something like concern.

Emotions had become unnecessarily complicated lately…

For a moment, he even considered not replying at all, but in the end, he did.

—And it doesn’t bother you to be suspended?

It wasn’t just irritation or concern as his fingers moved across the screen. The mix of both was settling into something calmer, almost like resignation.

The idiot:
Nah.
Honestly, I don’t really care. No regrets.
Though my father wasn’t too happy.

The tone in the cook’s voice from the other night’s call drifted back into his mind—the heavy, exhausted one that had caused a dull ache in his chest.

“Sometimes I wish I’d never speak to him again.”

The idiot:
The old geezer’s calling me.
See you in three days, marimo-head.

The irritation-concern-resignation twisted into a stupid, restless urge to see him before those three days were up.

--

-Boss! The broccoli-head kid is here.

-It’s “marimo,” actually.

The guy who had opened the restaurant doors for him stared at him for a second longer, as if debating whether to laugh or ignore the small correction, making his face, ears, and the back of his neck burn. He didn’t even know why he’d spoken up when the nickname irritated him so much.

Fortunately, the cook who had let him in didn’t get the chance to mock him before the chef with the enormous hat stepped out of the kitchen —Zoro found a sliver of relief from his boiling embarrassment when he noticed the tip of the hat get stuck in the kitchen doorway for a few seconds before comically bouncing back into place— walking toward them and looking down at him with a raised brow.

The man wasn’t much taller, but he was far more imposing. One of the few people Zoro knew who could look intimidating even with such a ridiculous mustache.

-Brat.

-… Sir.

They stared at each other for a few silent seconds before Zeff let out a faint chuckle.

-The little eggplant mentioned you’re not much of a talker. Looks like he didn’t exaggerate, for once in his life. —the man commented, and Zoro couldn’t tell whether it was meant as something positive or negative.— If you’re here to see him, you’ll have to wait upstairs for a bit. I sent him out with Carne on an errand.

Zoro nodded slightly before fully processing what he’d said, blinking a couple of times.

-Wait… upstairs?

-I’m not keeping you standing around here when the rush is about to start. You’ll be less in the way up there.

He was rough, careless with his wording. Zoro would’ve assumed the chef was being intentionally hostile, if not for the easy smile tugging at his lips.

The man pointed toward a door before heading back into the kitchen without giving him room to refuse, and after a few seconds of hesitation, Zoro walked toward the indicated door, obeying Zeff’s order-suggestion.

The door led to a small outdoor hallway, the hallway to a set of stairs, and the stairs to another door. Thankfully, that one was open.

The cook had mentioned before that they lived above the restaurant, so he wasn’t surprised by how spacious just the entryway and living room were. He suspected the bedrooms were just as large. It was a direct contrast to Kuina’s father’s house, where the Japanese style made small, simple spaces feel natural and normal.

Despite the size, the place was simple. It surprised him a little that curly brows didn’t mind living there, considering how vain he could seem at times.

He couldn’t help thinking that Sanji wasn’t actually that vain as he walked further into the living room. It was true he wore rings and different colognes, and that his phone and briefcase looked expensive and new, but even so, he hadn’t had any issue sleeping alongside nine or ten other people in sleeping bags during Luffy’s party. He hadn’t complained about cooking for them, or about taking public transportation with Chopper without so much as a grumble, just to keep him safe.

The large living room looked comically empty, with a wide couch, a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall, and a couple of decorative cabinets with framed pictures on top. The walls were painted the same dull green as the restaurant below, and a pink rug stood out against the floor. Zoro wasn’t someone who cared much about colors, but he was beginning to suspect Zeff cared even less about harmony.

His eyes settled on one of the photos. Zeff looked younger, though not by much, and his mustache was definitely shorter. He was standing with a lake behind him, and from how clear the water was, Zoro knew there was no way it was any lake from the East. Beside him stood a tiny blond kid with a round head and a bright, radiant smile, holding a fish at least half his size.

The little boy had peculiar spiral eyebrows, and an ugly bruise on one of his arms.

The next photo showed a different scene. A blurry picture of the same small child in front of a mirror, though looking at the camera with a furious, embarrassed expression. In his hands was a tiny, ridiculous pink apron, and in the mirror’s reflection, Zeff could be seen holding an old phone.

Zoro didn’t understand. Zeff wasn’t the cook’s father, but there were enough photos to prove how much time they’d spent together. He also didn’t understand why the bruises on the small blond child seemed to move to different places in every picture.

The following photo was of Zeff and Sanji. Both were smiling, and a large sign that read “Grand Opening” was taped to the restaurant doors below them. There was a third figure this time: a woman with long, beautiful blond hair, a kind smile, and a wheelchair. No bruises this time.

-What the hell are you doing here?

Zoro tore his eyes away from the photo immediately, turning toward the voice on instinct, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Curly brows wasn’t looking at him with annoyance, just absolute surprise and confusion.

Everything came back at once. The image of his laughter in the infirmary. The sleepless night. The irritation-concern-resignation. The stupid urge to see him.

For a second, his knees felt strange, like they might give out beneath him.

Instead, he stayed rooted in place.

-I came to see you.

The other let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it by the door.

-Believe me, I figured that much. What I meant was more like… “why did you come all the way to my house to see me?”

Well. That was a far more complicated question—one Zoro didn’t know how to answer. He felt his mind begin working at full speed to come up with something, wishing he could make it sound a little less confusing, even to himself. Fortunately, the blond started walking down a long hallway without looking back, and after standing alone in the living room for ten seconds, Zoro followed.

Behind one of the doors was a bedroom. Still comically spacious, but less empty. There were bookshelves, a desk, a bed, and a few old cartoon posters—or he assumed they were old because of how yellowed and wrinkled they looked—along with a very large closet.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, he noticed that many of the books on the shelves were cookbooks. There was one open on the desk as well, filled with notes and colorful markers throughout its pages.

Zoro lifted his gaze to the blond, who was already watching him. He seemed to notice the displeasure in his expression and quickly looked away, as if downplaying it, pretending there was nothing strange about it.

That ugly mixture inside him only grew.

-You’re suspended for three days.

-Uh-huh.

-And you didn’t think to tell us?

The blond rolled his eyes, making him tense up further.

-That almost sounded like a complaint, marimo.

-It was.

-Then let me remind you I don’t owe you any damn explanation.

Zoro clenched his teeth for a moment.

-It’s not about explanations. It’s about talking to the people who consider you their friend so they don’t worry more than necessary.

Sanji laughed, and it wasn’t the soft, sweet, melodic sound he remembered from his dream. It was sharper. Colder. Like he meant to hurt him.

-You’re giving me advice about talking to people? Do you even realize you’re one of the worst people at communication I know?

He was being a jerk. An absolute idiot, and he was doing it on purpose. It was like he was saying the first thing that came to mind, not even looking him in the eye. Letting his stupid hairstyle hide most of his face, when he usually styled it carefully to the side.

It reminded Zoro of their first fight. The one where the blond had said striving for a dream was absurd and a waste of time. The fight that had made him stop cooking for Luffy.

Stupid, selfish blond.

-Stop.

-What? It’s the truth: you’re boring and quiet and-

-Stop talking. I’m not doing this with you again.

-Doing what, exactly? — he shot back immediately, turning to face him, his expression cold and distant. Angry.

-If you want to fight me, start by saying things you actually believe instead of spitting out whatever crosses your mind just because you had a bad day.

That silenced him effectively. Some of the anger faded from his features. For a brief second, his blue eyes were honest, something like regret and sadness flickering there, before disappearing when Sanji looked away.

-… How would you even know if I had a bad day? You don’t even care about me.

Fortunately, his voice was lower now. Less hostile. Less honest. It sounded so unconvincing that Zoro knew it was just another weak attempt to push him away.

He stayed where he was while Sanji sat down on the bed.

The first minute passed. Then the second. The mix of anger and concern made him want to turn around and leave, and kept him rooted in place at the same time. When the third minute ended, he chose to sit in the desk chair, not looking at him but making it clear he wasn’t leaving until he had the guts to talk properly.

-… I was going to text you guys. Really. —he heard him say after so much silence.— But I went downstairs and the restaurant was packed because of breakfast rush, so I thought I’d do it at lunch. Then my father called and…

He heard him sigh and had to lower his gaze to the desk to avoid turning immediately. There was the annotated cookbook, a list of ingredients, and a crumpled, forgotten test underneath everything. Barely a passing grade. Math.

-… That’s when I started having a bad day.

Zoro nodded, slowly lifting his eyes after a moment to look at him. He didn’t look angry anymore, just… sad. He hated how transparent his expressions were right then, easy to read even for someone as oblivious as him.

-I didn’t want to fight.

-A minute ago, it looked like you did.

-Screw you, okay? I— Ugh.

Silence again. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen—

-I’m sorry.

-… You could hurt other people if you do that again.

-I know.

-The reasons you’re in a bad mood aren’t my fault.

-I know.

-I don’t want to fight with you again when you’re not even being honest.

-… I know.

Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

-I’m sorry.

-… I forgive you.

Sanji sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.

-I was honest in the text. I really didn’t care about being suspended. I’d kick any idiot who messes with someone in front of me again. —he explained, his voice quieter now, less heated.— And yeah, my father ruined it.

-Was he mad?

He laughed, the sound as dull as his voice.

-More than mad. He’s obsessed with how our actions affect the family, even if nobody would give a damn that his son got into a fight. I’m sure Yonji’s fought more people than I have.

-… Is your family… important?

-… Complicated.

Zoro couldn’t help laughing, and Sanji followed shortly after.

-I’m serious! I mean— The Vinsmokes are a wealthy family from the North, but we’re not famous. People just recognize my father in business circles.

-Then why does he care so much about his reputation?

-Because he’s got a tiny brain and a massive ego.

Zoro laughed again.

-And he was… what? Rude when he talked to you on the phone?

-That’s one way to put it. —he replied, rolling his eyes as if the memory alone irritated him again.— He started saying he knew letting me come back was a mistake and that he wasn’t surprised I was still as disappointing as I’ve always been to him.

Oh.

It always stole his breath hearing him talk like that as if it were completely normal. Zoro hadn’t had parents to teach him what a typical dynamic looked like, but he remembered Kuina and her father. There were occasional corrections and a few arguments, but the man had been gentle and kind with her. He’d been that way with Zoro too—though he believed it had been his way of coping with grief rather than genuine affection.

And the cook just… spoke as if wishing never to hear from his father again was completely normal.

Zoro didn’t like it at all.

-What you did was good. You know that, right?

-Of course I know. I just told you I’d do it again.

-Then why let an opinion like that define how you treat other people? You’re letting your father win if you push your friends away. Or me.

He fell silent for a few seconds, his brow furrowing deeply in distaste.

-I don’t like the idea of letting him win.

-Then don’t. Instead of acting like an idiot with everyone, you could try talking to them.

Sanji flipped him off again, though he sighed right after. He sighed a lot, like the weight on his shoulders kept stealing his breath. His shoulders would slump slightly, and he’d stop breathing for a second or two before starting again at a slower rhythm.

Zoro realized just how closely he was watching him when he became aware of the way those thin, pale lips parted slightly.

-I’m not used to… talking about that with anyone. At my school, everyone’s the kid or relative of someone important, and talking about these kinds of things is kind of… forbidden.

Zoro could imagine it. The censorship, not letting others see the flaws of powerful, wealthy families. He’d seen it in some of the novels Nami watched during sleepovers, though he’d never thought it actually happened in real life.

-It’s not easy to talk about that with anyone.

-… You’re talking with me.

-Yeah, but that’s because you’re stubborn as hell.

They both laughed quietly, and this time the silence that settled wasn’t oppressive. Five seconds, ten, fifteen.

-You can’t be a jerk to them and leave your friends wondering why you disappear sometimes. They deserve to know.

-I wasn’t being a jerk to them. I was trying to calm down before texting. —he justified, not defensive.— I was only a jerk to you.

-Doesn’t matter.

-It does. It’s not right to be a jerk to your friends.

-… Are we friends?

Zoro’s tone was honest, somewhere between surprised and suspicious. He wouldn’t have described them as friends—more like acquaintances who kept things cordial for everyone else’s sake. Though, if he was being honest, that didn’t feel entirely accurate either.

They were more than acquaintances. But with how different they were, Zoro didn’t know if what they had could really be called friendship.

Sanji looked at him for a few seconds before shrugging.

-Maybe?

Maybe. Zoro figured he was just saying it to dodge the question.

-That would explain why things seem easier when I’m with you.

Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. His heart began racing again, his palms growing damp. The warmth returned to his ears and neck, and he had the sudden urge to look away.

The other’s pale cheeks turned pink.

He thought of sunny afternoons in the infirmary and soft laughter that seemed to light up the room.

He looked back at the desk instead, hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

-Cupcakes? —he asked, eyeing the ingredients list.

There was a brief silence before he heard him walk closer. He began silently begging any higher power not to let him notice how red his ears were.

-Ah, yeah. Ingredients for small pastries. Patty wants me to help with the desserts for Valentine’s Day. —he said casually.— Those are what we’ll need.

-Hm…

-I’ll be in the kitchen with him since morning just to make sure he doesn’t ruin anything with how clumsy he is. —he added with a sideways smile.— Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to sneak out of classes for a bit.

-You don’t like Valentine’s Day?

-Of course I do. In the North, it’s the perfect season to give gifts to all the ladies and make them feel special. —he explained with that exaggerated chivalrous air that always made Zoro roll his eyes. For some reason, those comments stirred a feeling similar to when he heard about Ace writing to him—though on a much smaller scale.— Though gorgeous Nami told me that here it’s usually the ladies who give gifts.

Zoro nodded lightly. The holiday made him uncomfortable in general—he never knew how to reject the girls who confessed to him every year without seeming like a complete jerk. He also didn’t quite understand why saying no always ended in tears.

Silence settled again. Even though his heart was still pounding and his ears were still warm, he didn’t feel as tense as he’d expected to in his presence. For a fleeting second, he even thought he wouldn’t mind being stuck in that moment a little longer. Just him, Sanji, and a comfortable silence that no longer radiated tension or hostility, but something closer to trust. Something almost like ease.

Clearly, Zoro was still delirious. He always seemed to be when the cook was near.

-… Your math is depressing.

-Excuse me?

Zoro pointed at the barely passing test with the blond’s name on it. He watched him roll his eyes and shake his head before turning and walking back to the bed.

-You really are a brute, aren’t you? Can’t you say things more delicately?

-I don’t lie very often.

The blond flipped him off again, and even though Zoro knew it was practically an insult, he couldn’t help laughing, finding both the situation and his reaction amusing. Maybe it was because of that brief distraction that he spoke without thinking, the words leaving his mouth before he could properly process them.

-I could help you study when your next exam comes up.

-You’d help me?

-I get good grades in math. —he explained, unable to stop himself from sounding slightly defensive at the disbelief in his voice.— And I wouldn’t mind helping. Not if it’s you.

He didn’t know exactly what in his words made the blond’s eyes widen slightly, but he did notice his heart pick up again when pale cheeks flushed faintly with color.

..

-What’s going on between you and Sanji lately?

-Huh?

He looked up, only then noticing how deeply his brows were furrowed thanks to how ridiculously hard it was to focus on reading with Luffy’s snoring rumbling in the background.

Despite being part of a large group of friends and acquaintances, the three of them had known each other for much longer, and seeking each other out even without a good reason was almost natural. So Zoro hadn’t found it strange in the slightest when Luffy started complaining about how much he missed being alone with just the two of them. It hadn’t surprised him that Nami agreed either, even while grumbling nonstop—he knew perfectly well that witch cared about the raven-haired idiot with an immense, unpayable affection and gratitude.

So they had gathered to do homework together, even though all three of them knew it was just an excuse to spend more time with each other. The first hour had been full of life and noise, with Luffy chatting away with Nami while Zoro remained mostly silent, keeping his snack bag close to his chest to prevent the host from trying to steal it.

However, when it was finally time to pull out notebooks and books and actually start working, Luffy had stayed awake for exactly twenty minutes before he began snoring, using a textbook as a pillow. Neither Nami nor Zoro looked impressed.

So they worked in silence for a while, interrupted only by an occasional comment or question from the girl and a short reply from him. It was comfortable and natural—if one ignored how distracting the snoring was.

Nami was staring at him after her question, making it clear she expected a full answer and not some offhand remark. She had her book resting on her lap and was sitting cross-legged on one of the couches. She was wearing one of Luffy’s pairs of pants underneath her uniform skirt.

-What the hell are you talking about, witch?

She sighed, looking at him the way she only did when she was about to start insulting him. This time the insults didn’t come, though the heavy breath she let out told him he’d narrowly escaped.

-I mean… There’s something weird with you two. You notice it, right?

Zoro, in fact, did not.

He stared at her without understanding where she was going with this for a long moment, and she let out another sigh—heavier, fed up, bordering on annoyed. Not the delicate little sigh she usually faked in the school hallways.

Zoro liked this version of the witch a little better. More natural. Less like she was constantly trying to look good.

-You used to look like you hated each other at first, and now you even seem close. And I’ve never seen you so comfortable with someone else’s physical contact besides Luffy like you are with him.

—I’m not comfortable with him.

-You let him fall asleep on your shoulder. The one time I did that by accident, you almost threw my head to the other side of the car with how fast you shoved me off.

—That’s because I can’t stand you.

-Ugh! You’re such a—!

Nami threw an eraser at him, and he complained, offended and confused by the sudden burst of aggression. Luffy kept snoring like nothing had happened.

-What about the looks? You look at him a lot, in case you weren’t aware of that little detail.

-The cook just irritates me, that’s all.

She paused for a moment, arching an eyebrow as if she understood absolutely nothing. Fortunately, she already knew Zoro wouldn’t say anything about it unless she asked directly.

-“Cook”?

-He likes cooking.

-No, he doesn’t. — she shot back immediately, sounding so certain Zoro almost got annoyed for a second. — He told us he hasn’t liked it much lately, and that’s why he stopped cooking for Luffy. Remember? He only made the cake because we asked him to.

-I doubt it’s something he just does because he’s forced to, considering all the cookbooks he has in his room.

Nami froze at that, eyes wide and lips parted, staring at him without speaking for a few seconds. This time, Zoro could guess where her surprise came from—he hadn’t told anyone about visiting the blond as soon as he found out about the suspension.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and tucked her short hair behind her ears.

-Okay… Zoro, what the hell is actually going on between you two? You treated each other like crap, and now you’re visiting him without telling anyone? Not to mention the tantrum you threw when Robin confirmed he and Ace were still texting after the party.

Zoro tensed at the mention of the freckled guy, though he didn’t quite understand why; he liked Ace, he really did, but any mention of the apparently growing friendship between him and the blond made him uneasy. Still, he didn’t dwell on that, choosing instead to focus on the rest of her sentence.

-I didn’t throw a tantrum.

-You stood up and left without saying a word to anyone!

-It wasn’t a tantrum, Nami. I just… I felt annoyed, that’s all.

-Annoyed? You do realize that makes no sense, right?

-Yes, I know. I don’t need you to tell me that, Nami.

She must have noticed the wounded tone in his voice, because she didn’t respond immediately this time.

-Of course I know that. — Zoro added while lowering his gaze back to the reading he’d been trying to understand for the past ten minutes.

He didn’t like when people made it obvious how bad he was at communicating. He knew he didn’t pick up on implicit things, that he was sometimes too honest, that he didn’t even understand his own feelings, but he tried. God knew he tried.

Luffy grunted in his sleep and shifted onto his side to get more comfortable.

-I… I didn’t mean it like that. — she began. — I’m sorry, okay? It’s just that… I don’t know. It’s weird. I’ve never seen you like this.

Zoro nodded slightly. That he could understand, because there was no one more irritating in the world than Sanji—no one had ever gotten so deep into his head, and he had never wanted to look at someone for so long the way he looked at him.

No one twisted his stomach the way he did, and no smile made his pulse race like his.

Despite being someone fairly grounded and quiet most of the time, he found himself staring intently at the highlighter in his hand, running his thumb over the raised letters again and again.

-I’ve never felt like this about anyone. — he admitted, quieter. — He drives me insane, and even so, I end up near him all the time.

Nami didn’t answer right away, which was unusual, considering the witch always had something to say. Instead, she lowered her gaze to her book, though she didn’t seem to be reading.

-That sounds scary… Feeling like that about someone, I mean.

Zoro didn’t think it was scary—just deeply confusing and annoying. It made him want to run from all the noise and go back to a time in his life when he hadn’t experienced any of this yet.

And at the same time, he felt something like excitement whenever he knew he was about to see him again.

-Though it doesn’t really sound like he irritates you. — she added before Zoro could clarify his feelings out loud. — It sounds like something else.

-Something else?

Nami nodded without looking at him, eyes fixed on a spot on the page. Zoro noticed she was twirling her pen between her fingers at high speed.

-More complicated than irritation, at least.

Confused, but suspecting those were her final words on the matter, Zoro let out a long sigh and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment while his free hand patted around the couch for his bag of chips, the plastic crinkling as soon as he grabbed it.

As if by magic, Luffy shot upright immediately, expression sleepy and confused, but already staring straight at him.

Zoro had to flee from a hungry, half-asleep Luffy for the next five minutes.

--

The unbearably awkward Valentine’s Day arrived in the blink of an eye. Or rather, the Friday celebration before Valentine’s Day.

Even though the school administrators had said there wouldn’t be any special event for the date, the hallways were covered in decorations, filled with nervous girls clutching chocolates and tense boys brimming with expectation. Within the first hour alone, Zoro had seen three couples pass by the classroom window facing the corridor, and two girls run past in dramatic tears.

Needless to say, by second period, he was already sick of the day.

The teacher in charge of that class had chosen this precise day to be absent and leave Zoro at the mercy of the love-soaked air. He couldn’t help wondering if it was some sort of divine retribution for having fallen asleep through so many lectures.

He fled the classroom as soon as he noticed one of his classmates staring at him for too long, getting up from his seat and walking out without looking back to avoid the guilt he’d feel if his suspicions were right. He walked without meeting anyone’s eyes until he reached one of the doors leading outside, where the festive atmosphere was almost nonexistent.

With a faint sigh, he began walking around the school. He would be pacing in circles in an unproductive act that would normally irritate him a little, though this time it felt justified enough.

He walked and walked, realizing he was near the back door of the kitchen when he spotted the blond leaning against the wall. He was wearing a white apron and seemed to be looking at something entertaining on his phone, judging by the soft smile on his lips. The air smelled like something delicious baking.

He could’ve kept walking without interrupting, or turned around and disappeared before being noticed.

But his stubborn, stubborn feet started moving toward him before he could think of anything else.

-Something might burn in there if you’re that distracted.

Sanji looked up, and Zoro felt his stomach twist when the other immediately offered him a smile.

-Nah. Patty’s inside. I handled the dough, and he’s making sure nothing burns. — he explained, waving his hand dismissively.

Zoro leaned against the wall as well, keeping a small distance between them. For a brief second, he couldn’t help wondering if his skin would feel cold to the touch.

—You trust him not to burn anything?

—Uh… I’ll probably head back in soon.

Zoro let out a faint chuckle, nodding lightly. He didn’t really know the school’s cook, but he and Sanji seemed close. He remembered the pictures Chef Zeff had in his living room, and how small Sanji had looked in several of them. Maybe “Patty” had known the blond since then.

—I was about to go in anyway. Just replying to that annoying idiot, Ace.

The smile vanished from Zoro’s lips, and it felt like time had frozen in that instant. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to say or even what to think. He only became aware of how much time had passed when a bitter taste settled in his mouth.

He couldn’t look at Sanji.

—… Ace?

—He’s being an idiot. — he replied, though he didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded amused. Entertained. Which was even worse. — Like he always is.

Always. How much did they talk for the blond to speak about him so naturally? How many private conversations had they already had?

Had Sanji called him in the middle of the night, like he had called Zoro?

-He’s saying he wants to come over to Luffy’s this weekend. He’s asking what kind of chocolates I want for Valentine’s Day.

Something twisted tight in his stomach.

What?

He felt frozen again, even though he knew he wasn’t, because Sanji kept talking. Talking and talking, unaware that to Zoro it all sounded distant, muffled, while the knot in his stomach tightened and tightened.

-He wants to bring you chocolates? — he asked in a low murmur, soft but present, cutting off whatever the blond had been saying.

-Ace? Nah. He was just messing around. — he replied simply, shaking his head, making his blond hair sway side to side. — That idiot says anything when he’s bored.

Something about the normalcy, the ease with which he said it, made Zoro feel sick out of nowhere. He didn’t like thinking about them being close, even if he didn’t know why. He didn’t like the idea of Ace making Sanji smile, and he didn’t like thinking that Ace might be able to offer him a normal friendship, unlike him.

It hurt to breathe.

-That’d be weird.

-Huh? Weird?

Zoro nodded. He didn’t look at him.

-… You know. Ace, giving you chocolates for Valentine’s Day…

-I’m pretty sure I told you it was just a joke.

-It’s not normal.

They both fell silent for a few seconds, and Zoro couldn’t help glancing in his direction at the lack of response. The blond looked confused, as if none of what Zoro was saying made any sense.

And if he was honest, Zoro didn’t know what he was doing either. He was speaking without thinking, even though he usually overthought his words carefully. He was spitting them out automatically, even as his mind raced a thousand miles per hour.

-What do you mean “not normal,” marimo?

The knot in his throat grew tighter.

-That you let him say stuff like that like it’s nothing.

-And what would be normal then? Tell him to go to hell for joking over text?

For a moment, he thought he wouldn’t hate that. He thought that if Ace and Sanji stopped talking so often, maybe he’d feel less of that senseless resentment toward the freckled guy. He thought about Ace, and how Robin had insisted how attracted he seemed to the blond.

He thought about how unsettling it felt—the idea that Sanji, who was always fawning over any woman in his path, might also be interested in Ace.

He thought that what churned inside his mind felt like betrayal. Or like realizing something far too late.

-I didn’t think you were one of those people.

He meant people like Ace or Robin, who had dated both men and women, but the way Sanji’s bewildered expression quickly shifted into something more closed-off, harder to read, told him he hadn’t said it right.

-One of those people?

Zoro stared at him without speaking for a few seconds, and when he processed what he had just said—and how his tone must have made it sound—he felt like he’d been doused in ice water.

No. He hadn’t meant to sound like that. He hadn’t meant to sound disgusted—not when he himself had no problem admitting he didn’t like women. He didn’t want to sound like Sanji repulsed him.

He opened his mouth, and the knot in his throat stopped him from speaking.

-Fuck you, Zoro.

He watched, more horrified with each passing second, as the blond turned around and walked back into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him.

The silence left behind was so overwhelming it made his ears ring. Five seconds, then ten, then fifteen. The scent of something baking still lingered in the air.

Zoro could barely breathe.

He wanted to speak, to find some excuse that could erase the trace of anger and hurt he had seen on Sanji’s face before he left, but he just stood there, still, for a minute or two, trying every breathing exercise he knew to make his heart stop aching.

--

His heart didn’t stop hurting. If anything, the pain only worsened with every passing minute, his own words buzzing in his ears like a broken recorder stuck on repeat. The way the blond’s expression had shuttered so quickly kept replaying in his mind too, reminding him of the way he had looked at him when they argued for the first time.

It also reminded him of when the blond left his kendo tournament without a word. It reminded him of the almost dull look he’d given the pink-haired girl who stepped out of that luxurious car, and how he’d later learned, after Luffy’s birthday, that his lack of spirit had been because he had to deal with his stupid father.

—Zoro didn’t want to think about where that left him, knowing full well he had managed to make Sanji close himself off just as much as his father did.—

He had stumbled his way back to the classroom, sitting down without a word and fixing his gaze on some random point in the room, letting his thoughts sink into that dark, deep well of unpleasant feelings. Something like regret churned in his stomach, worsening the bitter taste in his mouth.

He had broken into a cold sweat on his way back to the cafeteria at lunch, unable to even glance toward the kitchen out of fear of meeting that hard, furious stare again. He barely heard anything said at the table while his friends joked around. He noticed Nami looking at him with a bad expression too, but he couldn’t find it in himself to try and understand what was going on when his own mind wouldn’t stop torturing him over and over.

When the break ended, he walked for a while alongside Vivi and Nami since their classrooms were near each other. The blue-haired girl chatted about how absolutely delicious the desserts had been, and how happy she was to know Sanji had been the one who prepared them.

Nami, instead, stayed quiet for a bit, glancing sideways at Zoro before speaking.

-His eyes were red. — she commented, almost as if she were scolding someone. Zoro would have embraced the guilt, if not for how his mind finally stilled at her words. — He looked like he’d been crying for a while.

Zoro turned around before he could even think it through. Because the blond shouted and cursed, the blond lashed out when he was angry, but he never cried.

He heard them both calling after him, and Nami sounded more annoyed than surprised, as if she already knew what had happened, but he didn’t look back. He just walked and walked, faster and faster, until he found himself in front of the kitchen’s back door, knocking again and again until the school’s very tall cook opened it just a crack, staring down at him.

He looked serious. Too serious. And for the first time, his bright blue hair didn’t seem ridiculous at all.

He said nothing for a long moment, and Zoro suspected the door would be shut in his face if he didn’t start talking soon.

-I want to talk to him.

-And what makes you think what you want matters to me right now? — he replied, and for the first time in a long while, Zoro felt a little smaller. — The boss’s spoiled brat came in and started crying after talking to you, so I don’t need more explanation to be two seconds away from slamming this door in your face, green punk.

He felt mildly annoyed at the nickname, but kept his expression as neutral as possible, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to be annoyed or demand respect. It felt like he was being tested, and he couldn’t afford to fail.

-I just want to talk. He doesn’t have to forgive me, but I want to talk to him. I’m going to talk to him.

Patty frowned deeply, and for a moment Zoro was almost sure he’d receive an insult, or a punch. He was almost ready for it, hoping the physical pain might be enough to dull the guilt that was barely letting him breathe.

Instead, Patty snorted like an irritated bull, opening the door fully and stepping outside.

-I’ll be back in five minutes. And if the brat’s upset or crying when I return, you’ll wish you’d never been born, Roronoa.

The cook brushed past him, shoulder-checking him with his large frame, but Zoro barely reacted, stepping into the kitchen and closing the door behind him.

He scanned the place—which was cleaner than he expected, considering lunch had just ended—for a few seconds, until he spotted a round blond head in one of the kitchen’s corners, wedged between a counter and the refrigerator.

His chest hurt more and more as he approached without a word, noticing how different he looked compared to other times he’d seen him angry. When the blond was angry, he tried to look tougher and older than he really was, but now, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, he looked small. As if his anger wasn’t enough to keep him standing.

Almost as if what he was feeling wasn’t anger, but something worse.

Zoro sat on the floor too, their shoulders brushing.

He couldn’t look at him right away, afraid of meeting those red, swollen eyes. He didn’t want to feel like the fragile bond between them would dissolve before his eyes.

-… I’m sorry.

-Get lost.

He might have felt relieved at the aggression, if it didn’t hurt so much.

-I know what I said and… how I said it… I know it hurt you.

-I don’t want to talk to you.

-I at least want to explain—

-So you can feel better about yourself? Not interested.

That wasn’t the reason. He doubted there was anything in the world that could make him feel better right now, especially with how cold and shaky the blond sounded in the empty kitchen.

But he wanted to try. He wanted to be the worst kind of stubborn idiot Sanji always called him—at least until the other knew he had never meant to hurt him.

-I don’t know why I said it like that. Words that are usually so hard for me just kept coming and coming.

The blond didn’t say anything, maybe because he didn’t care, or maybe because he cared too much about what he had to say.

-I’ve felt like this since Luffy told me weeks ago that you and Ace were still talking after his birthday. — he admitted. — Something… ugly, and annoying, and sad fills my stomach every time I hear about how well you get along.

He considered clarifying that the feeling had been there even before that, thinking about how irritated he’d felt seeing them laughing so naturally in the kitchen—but he didn’t want to ramble yet.

-I… I’m not disgusted or anything like that. It’s just… uncomfortable.

-Does it irritate you that I might like a man?

-No. — he answered automatically, turning to look at him, something between desperation and regret seeping through every pore. — It irritated me that you might like him.

It bothered him that Ace made him laugh, that they talked so normally. It bothered him to imagine them sharing late-night calls, and Ace receiving one of those warm, bright laughs Zoro had been daydreaming about since the first time he heard it.

Sanji looked back at him, and despite the anger and hurt in his eyes, surprise joined them, slowly settling into something warmer, as if he had understood something Zoro hadn’t.

He wanted to ask him what it was that he could grasp so easily just by listening, when Zoro had been thinking day and night about how someone could drive him so insane the way Sanji did.

-… It doesn’t sound like it really irritates you… It sounds like something else.

Hah. Nami had said something similar, and he still couldn’t figure out what the hell she meant.

-I wish I knew. — he admitted quietly, keeping his eyes on the other’s face. Yes, his eyes were swollen and reddish, with dried tears on his cheeks, but even that couldn’t stop his heart from speeding up once more. — I don’t want to feel it anymore. Not if it hurts you too.

He felt him inhale sharply, as if his words had surprised him. He wished he understood what about them was so startling.

-… Sounds like jealousy to me.

Jealousy.

It was like feeling everything that hadn’t made sense over the past weeks slam violently into place. He understood the annoyance, the irritation-worry-resignation, the stupid urge to see him. He understood why he couldn’t take his eyes off him, and why his genuine laughter felt like fireworks in his stomach.

He understood why Nami had insisted so much on what was happening between them.

Zoro’s gaze flickered between his blue eyes a few times, noticing how the anger had softened, and how his pale cheeks now looked almost as pink as his stupid apron.

He felt him brush his hand with the tips of his fingers, and a shiver ran through him at how warm his skin felt against his own.

Without thinking much—because that seemed to be a habit whenever he was around Sanji, Zoro leaned a little closer, his free arm lifting to gently cup his cheek.

They looked at each other for a moment, and their lips met halfway in a kiss.

The kitchen fell silent, the scent of baked pastries still lingering in the air.