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They meet underneath a car bridge in the dead of night.
Its pouring, the sound of rain loud and steady, enough to silence even his thoughts. For now, at least. He looks around, but can't see jack shit for lack of light. His body is soaked through with rain water, clothes heavy and dragging. The grass squelched underfoot and the uncomfortable noise makes him wince slight.
Sanji curses as he runs into a branch, the jagged surface scratches his cheek, dangerously close to his eye and he shies away. He looks up, startling when the constant downpour suddenly stops, and realizes that there's an overpass. Now that he listens, he can hear the tell tale rumble of cars. In a moment of bleak resignation, he wonders if the large cement posts will crumble. He wonders if that will be the literal incarnation of his world falling apart around him.
While he's distracted, there's a low growl that the 17 year old almost misses, too consumed by his morbid inclinations. He turns at the last moment, certain that its one of his brothers, having finally caught up with him and catches a flash of green. Or maybe blonde. Its hard to see in the dark.
He sees an arm raise and the low glint of something metal and lets his reflexes kick in, not bothering to distract himself with the numerous questions he harbored and lifted his leg, stopping the staff....pipe...thing in its path. There's a huff of annoyance, and then the pressure alleviates for a moment, only to return with stronger force. This repeats, the clash becoming increasingly more desperate.
By this point, Sanji has concluded this is not, in fact, any of hos brothers, but it still leaves questions unanswered. Namely, who the hell is this guy. And why is he attacking Sanji of all people.
They move far from their initial position in the duration of the scuffle and pass under the light of a street lamp. He gets a decent look at bright green hair, tanned skin, and anguished eyes before they're plunged back into shadow, the blond flipping back to avoid another strike.
The staff, which, by now he realizes is a fucking SWORD, nicks the hem of his pants. Its hardly a graze, doesn't even break past the folds of wet fabric and yet its still enough to throw him off guard and his stumbles. The swordsman tackles him and Sanji prepares for the worst, closing his eyes and letting out a low breath. He wonder what it says about him, that out of all the deaths he's envisioned for himself, this one isn't bad at all.
He waits for death, and when it doesn't come he opens his eyes, freezing when he sees the face so close to his own. Its a startlingly heart wrenching glare, so raw and open and with much more vulnerability than Sanji is ever used to seeing from anyone. He lays on the cold ground quietly, unsure of what to make of a complete stranger studying him with such soft despair. Its unnerving, even more so when the teen reaches out as if to touch his face, before pulling back suddenly.
The same hand falls to the ground, not far from the blond's hair and really, Sanji's libido had no self control because now he is acutely aware of his attacker's strong thighs on either side of him, and gazes in the direction where he assumes the arms are, imagining how toned they must be.
He curses lowly, shaking the thoughts away, brief feeling of attraction chased away by his father's words of unnatural, unclean, and his brothers' taunts of slut, you can't have your cake and eat it too."
Shame pools lowly in his guts and he shifts slightly, thankful for the cover of the night. A light hiccup breaks him from his stupor, followed by a low heave, and Sanji doesn't have to look up to know that the wetness falling on his face is not the rain.
"Sorry." The teen above him mumbles, voice deep and thick with an emotion that can only be described as a mixture of grief and anger. "You...looked like her, in the dark."
This was normally the moment he'd crack a joke about girl troubles but something tells him that if he does, he'll actually die and for some peculiar reason, he suddenly feels like hanging around for a bit longer.
"Didn't mean to disappoint." Sanji replies back in a drawl, before wincing, realizing too late how insensitive that might sound. He spares a glance at the teen, who's getting up finally, and is surprised to see what he thinks is a blush spread slowly over dark features.
"That's not what I meant." The teen corrects. "It's not like you could've been her anyways. " There's a pause. "Since she's dead."
Sanji doesn't know who this woman is, or what she means to this boy, but he thinks of Sora and almost cries.
They stand in silence, and the blond isn't sure what to do now. He won't apologize, it's not as if has anything to feel sorry for. He can't comfort people for shit, not without food at least, and there's not a stove in sight.
His lips twitch, eager for a cigarette, or for dick, as his brothers like to say. Sad thing is, Sanji isn't really sure anymore if thats an actual lie. He winces, cutting his eyes away from the bridge.
He almost forgets that someone else is there, when a voice picks up. "So, what're you running from?"
Sanji wants to break into hysterics, but he doesn't, instead settles for a light scoff. He walks away, shame guiding his feet away, and back to his shitty excuse for a home. "What aren't I running from?" He replies over his shoulder.
He's almost back in the rain, when the teen speaks again, words coming out rushed, as if quickly contemplated. "My name is Zoro! Meet me here again!"
Sanji pauses, stopping mid step, toes of his right foot getting soaked all over again. His lips twitch in a semblance of a smile and he raises his hand in a backwards wave. "Sanji." He says in return.
He crushes down the feeling of disgust, and hopes he'll see Zoro again.