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i. daises
Kuina frowned at him from amongst the flora. "What? Do you think I'm less of a fighter because I like flowers?"
"Not really." Zoro shrugged. "I'm going to beat you whether you like 'em or not."
That got the sour look on her face to slip off. She turned back to the small bouquet in her hand and settled down again. "Hey," She said after a minute. "did you know they all have meanings?"
Zoro crinkled his brow.
Kuina laughed. "I'll take that as a no. Do you want to know what this one means?"
In lue of answering, Zoro took a seat right next to her in the fields of wildflowers.
ii. marigolds
Even though Mihawk insisted he didn't appreciate Zoro and Perona's presence, he still made them eat every meal together. Cooking duty was similar to chores on the Sunny. The two of them would switch off who would help Mihawk with the cooking every other night.
However, more often than not, Zoro was out of commission thanks to those godforsaken monkeys.
The dining hall was completely silent save for the clinking of silverware and the wind in the rafters. Even the ever chatty Perona kept her mouth shut during dinner.
Zoro first felt it when he took a bite of boiled carrot. He felt the vegetable hit something as he swallowed. It felt like someone had opened a pair of pliers halfway down his throat. The carrot was blocked and would not go down.
The hacking and wheezing sounds were starkly different from the before silence. Mihawk immediately stood up and walked the long distance to the center of the table, where Zoro was busy choking.
"Perona, please get me a glass of water." Mihawk said smoothly before turning to help Zoro get whatever was stuck in his throat out.
In just a few seconds the carrot shot over the other side of the table, but Zoro still kept coughing. He kept coughing until a clump of delicate yellow flowers fell from his lips.
Mihawk raised an eyebrow. "You have not consumed my marigold garden now, have you?"
--
The book thumped onto Mihawk's precious mahogany table. History of Diseases was written on the top in a thick blue font.
"Was this the book you wanted?" Perona huffed. Why she was out of breath from merely lifting a book, Zoro had no idea. He was more absorbed in the bright yellow marigolds slowly wilting in his hands.
Mihawk leaned over and started flipping through the pages. "Yes. Thank you."
"Are you sure it's not a devil fruit?" Perona was trying to wedge her head underneath Mihawk's arm to read the faded text as well. "Maybe there's a fruit that makes you choke on flowers."
"He's been on this island for nearly a month. No devil fruit has that long an incubation period."
Perona pouted and moved to sit on the table next to Zoro's chair. There was a suspicious restlessness in the way her gaze passed over Zoro. Like she was trying to mask her worry for someone she outwardly called a pest. When he finally looked up from the flower in his hands to raise an eyebrow at her, she coughed into her fist and mumbled, "How you feelin'?"
"Like shit."
"Hmm. Maybe it's karma!"
"Fuck you."
"Eat shit."
Mihawk slammed both of his palms onto the table and aimed a frigid look in their direction. "Perona. Would you kindly make Zoro some tea to help his cough?"
"Yes sir." Perona quickly gathered the layers of her dress and fled the room.
With Perona gone, there was nobody to fill the silence. Neither of the two were fond of conversation and the wind had decided to keep it's cries to a minimum. Which only left the sound of paper and Zoro's spinning thoughts.
Zoro just hacked up a garden into a bowl of minestrone. That wasn't anywhere near normal. There were odd people all over the world, sure. You could probably find someone somewhere who was fucking made of flowers. But Zoro had nothing to do with those people. The only connection he had to flowers was buried six feet deep way back in the East Blue.
The great hall doors banged open and Perona strutted up to Zoro. Using both hands, she held a tray with a single teacup settled on top. "I brought your tea! I made it special just for you and your sick little body." She removed one hand to violently shake the hair on Zoro's head.
Shaking his head seemed to shake the final flower in his throat. Zoro coughed as lightly as he could and pulled the marigold out, stem first. "Ugh. It's sweet."
"Yeah. Flowers are sweet genius."
"I hate sweet things."
Perona threw a thick ringlet over her shoulder and smirked. "Good thing I didn't bother making this tea taste any good. Drink up, buttercup!"
Zoro growled but took the cup. He drank it all in one gulp. The pollen stuck to his teeth was washed away and his throat was coated with a minty polish. Perona was annoying and he wished she'd just drop dead, but Zoro had to admit she pulled through on this one.
Mihawk cleared his throat and slid the textbook over the mahogany to Zoro. "I found it."
The page title read "Hanahaki Disease" with a long winded description typed directly under. Before getting even a fifth down the page, Zoro frowned. "How can I have this? The book says it's been dead for a century."
Mihawk's nod felt akin to him rolling his eyes. "Yes, and you can very well say this entire island has been dead for a century. But now we are residing within it, same as this disease is now residing in you."
For the first time since Zoro's known her, Perona spoke without her usual lilt. "It doesn't say anything about a cure."
"That's because," Mihawk said solemnly, "there is none."
Zoro would say a hole opened up when he heard those words, but said hole would probably be filled with the roots and vines that were drawn on the medical page. "I'm going to die from fucking flowers?"
Mihawk nodded and sat back in his seat.
The man was insane. Either that or the book was a fake because he was not dying to some obscure disease that should've died years ago. "No. No. You're wrong. How could I even get that shit? I haven't done anything but train since--"
"It comes from unrequited love."
That effectively shut Zoro up.
"You must have come in contact with the disease while training and your unrequited love set it in motion."
"Thats-- I'm not..." Zoro sunk deeper in his chair and pressed a palm against his eyelids. "Fuck."
This time, Perona's hand on his head was much kinder.
iii. amaryllis
The old medical tome said the only way to get rid of the flowers inside him was for Zoro's feelings to get reciprocated. So basically for the impossible to happen.
Back on the island, Zoro was coughing up flower beds regularly. Perona graciously took it upon herself to call him a pining idiot every time she had to brew up her special tea.
If merely thinking about Sanji made Zoro choke once every other week, what would sleeping in the same room do to him? What would seeing Sanji's scowl, specially reserved for Zoro, do to him?
Majority of the two years away from the crew was spent with a chest about to burst, but as soon as Zoro saw the blond again it felt like his ribs had just caved in.
Zoro hated how much seeing Sanji again felt the same as coming home. The familiar way his hair curled around to meet his chin, the smell of burning tobacco, and the annoyingly cocky stance his hips sat in.
He was so fucking screwed.
Even after two years apart, Zoro could tell the differences between Sanji's scowls. He never smiled at Zoro, but there was a definite difference between his frowns. Just because nobody else noticed but Zoro doesn't mean they didn't exist.
"Lemme guess. You got lost?" Sanji's voice had grown deeper and it resonated against Zoro's ribs.
Zoro had spent so long living with only memories of Sanji and he felt an urge to reach out to prove Sanji was real. But that wasn't their relationship. Even if he tried, Sanji would take it as an invitation to fight. There were no gentle touches between the two of them.
"You didn't have to wreck their boat, Mosshead. It's not their fault you're a dumbass."
"It's the fisherman's fault," Shusui and Wado clacked against each other as Zoro adjusted his grip. "not mine"
Sanji took a drag from his cigarette and curled his lip into a glower. Watching him push out the smoke was nearly lethal. "Yeah, right." He began walking past Zoro down the road. When Zoro stayed put where he was standing, Sanji frowned at him over his shoulder. "If you're going to insist on being a musclehead, might as well be a useful one. Help me carry the groceries."
If the closest Zoro could get to holding the cook's hand was holding his grocery bags, he would easily take it.
There was a slow crawling sensation in Zoro's throat as he fell into step with Sanji. A feeling that was quickly becoming just as familiar as Sanji's gripe. Zoro made a bet that he would grow more at peace with said feeling in no time at all.
iv. bluebells
The bullet wound went straight through his shoulder. Straight in and straight out. Zoro has handled worse without the aid of a doctor, so he didn't feel the need to share with Chopper. The boy was just a kid. He didn't need to worry about Zoro when Nami had gotten shot in the side.
Right after the battle with that nameless pirate crew, Zoro retreated into the crow's nest. He was expecting to wrap the wound, change out of his bloody clothes, and get on with his training like usual.
But of course the cook had to fuck that up.
Zoro was sitting on the bench when he heard the door creak open. He hadn't even noticed someone making the way up. "I saw you get shot, shithead. Don't think you can muscle it away."
A lot of Zoro was so fucking happy that Sanji bothered to check up on him, but a small part was dying over it. That small part was probably his lungs. No matter how much Zoro enjoyed seeing the blond, nine times out of ten he ends up hunched over, hacking out petals.
Sanji apparently took the silence as an invitation because he pulled himself all the way into the crow's nest. "Show me."
Sure, Zoro spent their entire time in Punk Hazard with his entire torso exposed, but this felt a lot more intimate. He let himself falter before slowly pulling off the top half of his robe.
"Is the kit still on the shelf?"
"Mhm."
Chopper had tucked a small medical kit in every room he could. The fact that Sanji knew where the one in the crow's nest was caused a little flutter in Zoro's chest. The crow's nest was Zoro's space. Everyone knew that. Maybe Sanji knowing where he kept his med kit was a small thing, but it still felt meaningful.
"Scoot over and turn towards me." Sanji sat with one leg on either side of the bench and the white tin box right in front of him. He grabbed a small towel from the bottom and asked, "You got a water bottle or somethin' up here?"
Zoro had chugged the last of his water as soon as he made it up, so the only thing left in the room was a warmed bottle of wine from the night before. The drink was sweet and Zoro had trouble deciding if it was worth drinking. Gesturing to the alcohol with a nod of his head, Zoro grumbled, "Only got that."
Sanji scoffed but leaned over to pick it up. "Why'd I expect anything different. You're gonna get yourself killed you know."
"Like I'd die from that." No. Zoro would suffocate long before dehydration ever caught up to him.
How long did Mihawk say he had left to live? He said something about the disease being temperamental and Zoro didn't know what that meant.
As Sanji was pulling various supplies out of the box, Zoro murmured, "Don't worry about the bullet. It went straight through."
Sanji huffed a laugh that swept across Zoro's skin. They were so close Zoro could see each blond eyelash. "Don't know if that's better or worse." He poured some wine over the small rag and started to wipe away the blood dripping down his arm and around the wound.
With his attention so entirely focused on cleaning up the blood, Zoro took the opportunity to study Sanji's features properly. He was almost never allowed this close. The only other times Zoro could recall was when his swords were drawn and Sanji was eager to kick his skull in. Maybe all the fight-picking was Zoro being a masochist, but at least Sanji wasn't fawning over girls when they sparred.
All that attention was focused on Zoro and it was breathtaking.
Sanji put down the towel and started to attach string to a hooked needle. "You might want the wine for this."
Zoro wrapped a hand around Sanji's wrist, the needle just a hair above his skin. "You don't have to." It was hard for Zoro to decide if he wanted Sanji here or not. The constant fighting and animosity toward each other helped his heart. Zoro didn't know how to act with these little moments of peace the cook kept on offering.
Sanji's eyes traveled up from the tan fingers on his arm till just below Zoro's gaze. "Let me do it, mosshead."
"Alright, alright. Just-- Hold on." Zoro leaned slightly forward, careful not to move his shot shoulder, and picked up the bottle of wine beside Sanji's foot. "'M drinkin' this." He downed the rest of the bottle in one breathe. Somehow, the sweet tang didn't bother Zoro all too much.
During the time Sanji spent sewing him back up, they both stayed in a mellow silence. And while Sanji probably spent that time daydreaming about ladies and all their feminine wiles, Zoro spent it trying to judge how long he had left to breathe. It likely wasn't long.
Zoro idly wondered what flower would fall from his lips this time. He attempted a chuckle at how morbid that thought was, but it very quickly turned into more of a wheeze.
Snapping the first aid kit closed with a clack, Sanji frowned at him. "Someone shoot you in the lung? The fuck's wrong with you?"
I'm dying. I'm slowly suffocating everyday and it's all for you. All of it's for you. "Nothin' just tired."
Sanji clicked his tongue. "Aren't you always. You're done, you stupid swordsman. Try not to get shot next time." And then he was gone.
The crow's nest was empty and Zoro coughed up bluebells. Beautiful, pathetic, bluebells.
v. carnations
"Oi, cook. Booze."
He didn't turn around. Not even a flinch. "Crawl back into your cave, mosshead." The sound of chopping droned on throughout the room.
Zoro's boots on the hardwood floor already gave quite a loud thump, but now he was actually stomping, just to drown out the sounds of Sanji's knife. "Just a cup."
The knife hit the cutting board with enough force that Zoro half worried he would split it in two. "I am not up for your bullshit today. So get out or I'll break your spine." Sanji's tone was icy and it made a pit drop inside Zoro's stomach. Or maybe it'd be more accurate to say his lungs.
Maybe it was his imagination, or one of those phantom occurrences, but he could almost feel the leaves slowly unfurling in his chest. Not so eager to let it slip to the crew that he was sick, Zoro heeded Sanji's warning and swiftly left the galley.
The bathroom sink was graced with beautiful unclipped carnations. It hurt enough to get the cold brush off, but the bushel of fully bloomed flowers was only adding salt to an already festering wound.
They were suffocating. They bloomed off each other as they climbed, Zoro could feel it, filling every gap. The sweet pollen filled his nose as they grew and he couldn't breathe without choking.
Zoro sunk down onto the tile right beside the sink, a carnation gripped between his thumb and pointer. There was a thin stripe of dark crimson lining each petal and he couldn't tell if it was because of him or not. It looked like the petals had been stained blood red as they traveled up from his lungs.
There was a soft rap of knuckles sounded on the door. Zoro moved to hurry the flowers out of view but the door opened before he even stood up. Robin slipped into the room and silently shut the door closed behind her.
A dark laugh escaped Zoro's spit slick lips. Of course Robin would be the one to find him here. She probably knew something was wrong with him the moment he walked back on deck in Saboady.
"Oh goodness. Are you alright?" Genuine concern was obvious in Robin's brow as she bent down beside Zoro. Her hand brushed a stiff lock of green back behind his ear.
He tried to speak but only a strangled wheeze slipped through. Zoro pounded on his ribs, trying to let the cough out so he could finally breathe.
Over the sounds of choking, he could hear Robin's clothing rustle as she shifted closer. Her cool fingers slid through his hair. Even though it wasn't that long, Robin pulled each strand away from his mouth. Her actions were one of a mother and Zoro couldn't bring himself to hate it. Affection is welcomed when in pain.
Eventually the final carnation hit the tile and Zoro could relax into the bathroom cabinet. Robin very carefully picked up the flower and examined it with both her hands.
"I'd hate to be nosy, but would you mind telling me what's wrong? It's not often people cough up flowers, now is it?"
Zoro shook his head. He was the first person to do so in over 100 years. "'M sick."
"Did you contract it on the last island?"
She already caught him red-handed. It seemed easier to just let everything spill. Plus, even though Robin always had her creepy extra hands in everyone's business, he knew she could keep her mouth shut. "I technically got it back on Mihawk's island."
Robin lifted an eyebrow at him. "Technically?"
"It's somethin' called Hanahaki." He mumbled.
"Hanahaki? I think I know that one." The hands neatly folded in her lap tapped against each other as she thought. "Ah. I remember it! But... I thought that died out a century ago."
"It did. Still got it though."
"Oh. Zoro." Her voice took on a new melancholy air. "I don't believe anyone has survived the Hanahaki."
Both of them sat in the silence Robin's revelation brought for a moment before Zoro started speak up. His words were soft and seemed to float just above the wounds within his throat.
"Ya'know, there's this one moment, every time I'm with him. I know I'm going to choke later but I just-- I can't bring myself to care. In that moment it's just me and him and that's all I've ever fucking wanted. It doesn't matter if all I get is anger. It's attention and that's all that matters." Zoro had to catch his breath after letting out so many words.
Robin peered down at Zoro. "Is it all really worth it?" She asked quietly.
"Yeah." Zoro smiled down at the blossom in his hands. "I think so."
vi. gardenias
Sanji had forced Zoro to be a pack mule and Zoro was pretending that he hated it. All of it same as usual. Sanji piling bags of food into Zoro's arms while strolling through the alleys and roads.
They had just left a small storefront stocked with fruits and vegetables Zoro could never recognize, when Sanji's focus caught on the booth right outside. Each of their limited surfaces were covered in bundles of flowers. The air around it smelled sticky sweet. As Zoro's eyes swept over it he was surprised by how many he actually knew.
He recognized the dahlias from the flowerbed that lay just outside Kuina's house. And he recognized the gardenias from the trash can he's been coughing into the night before.
Zoro was dragged out his thoughts when he saw Sanji softly smile at the white flower. Propping the brown paper bag of groceries on his hip, Sanji reached a hand out to lift the gardenia's face up. Zoro was unable to look at anything else.
"What?" Sanji snapped once he noticed Zoro's stare. "You think I'm less of a fighter because I like flowers?" He was snarling so hard his cigarette had started to drip those dried brown leaves.
"No." Zoro said weakly. "Not in the slightest."
The small smile he had wore only a moment earlier slowly painted over his frown and Sanji turned back to the various bouquets, trailing his fingers along each petal. Zoro desperately wanted those fingers to weave with his.
"Hey, did you know all of them have meanings?"
vii. forget-me-nots
Zoro could feel a glare aimed right at the center of his shoulder blades.
After a few more minutes, Sanji huffed and shoved himself right next to Zoro at the sink. "Give me that." The serving plate Zoro had been washing was plucked out of his hands. Sanji started cleaning it himself and, once he looked over his work a couple times, handed the plate to Zoro. "You're drying. Here."
Dishes were Zoro's job and only his. But occasionally Sanji would linger in the kitchen long after the rest of the crew had trickled out, a dying cigarette between his fingers. He would end up either helping Zoro clean or cooking a new dish that nobody would eat until the next morning.
Sanji had just cleaned the final dish in the sink and passed it off to Zoro, when he leaned against the counter and asked, "You still don't like sweet things, right?" The question was tentative played off as nonchalant. His eyes were on the opposite end of the room but everything about him was focused on Zoro's answer.
"Why?" He placed the plate on the stack, the ceramic barely making a sound.
Sanji waved a hand around like he was blowing away smoke. "I got this recipe from the island I was stuck on." A quick glance at Zoro. "You should try it."
The rain hitting the window above started to fall harder. The little taps against glass louder.
"Okay."
Zoro's acceptance satisfied Sanji and the blond began to rifle through cabinets underneath the counter. "Then sit down and don't touch anything. I don't trust you in my kitchen."
All he got was a grunt in response and Zoro walking around the counter to sit at the table. Gun metal eyes subconsciously tracked each of Sanji's movements, but the swordsman's thoughts were barely in the room.
When Sanji broke an egg on the rim of the bowl, Zoro imagined pale hands ghosting along his ribs. When Sanji closed a cabinet with his hip, Zoro wondered how they would feel beneath his palm. And when Sanji tasted the batter right off the spatula, Zoro had to lay his head down against the table.
Thunder boomed through the walls, the window flashed, and Sanji closed the door to the oven. Zoro heard a chair scrap against the floor across from him and he looked up from his folded arms.
Sanji had pulled out his cigarettes again and lit one while it hung off his lips. As he breathed in the tobacco, his finger's traced the designs carved into his lighter. Sanji's jaw was pulled tight.
Zoro must have stared harder than he meant to because, as another thunder clap sounded outside, Sanji's eyes flicked up at Zoro's. He sighed out a plume of smoke and tapped the lighter on the wood. "What?"
"You look nervous, cook."
"It's just..." Sanji pulled on the hair behind his ear. "I don't like thunderstorms."
The rain brought back memories of paper walls and bamboo swords. Of a headstone wet with mud and water. Zoro wondered if Sanji disliked the rain the same way he did. "Don't like 'em either." He rumbled.
Now the cigarette was tucked into a small smirk. One half hidden by a curtain of hair. Sanji's almost smile caused a bloom in Zoro's chest and he tried to stifle it with a swallow. He was grateful he could breathe, but the petals were still grazing against his insides.
Time ticked on and the room grew steadily warmer. A thick sweet scent hung low in the room.
"Why's it smell sweet?"
"Lemon bars are sweet, Mosshead."
Zoro frowned. "Lemons are sour."
"Which one of us is the chef here, huh? Things can be both sweet and sour." Sanji pulled himself out of his chair and walked around toward the oven. This time Zoro noticed the jerk of Sanji's hands when light filled the room once more. A small stutter of breath and Sanji placed the tin down on the counter. "You want a slice, or what?"
Another flutter in his lungs. This was what Zoro wanted. If he could spend his remaining time living in this one moment, Zoro could die happy. He felt buds push against the inside of his throat but Zoro answered through the flowers. "Yeah, okay."
viii. honeysuckle
The Strawhats had just finished taking down a group of bandits to save some small island. There was a celebration feast held in their honor. There was a bonfire going, people were laughing, people were dancing, and Sanji thoughtlessly aimed a smile at Zoro.
At Zoro.
The way Sanji's eyes softened made Zoro's head fill with thick honey. It staggered him. With the unrestrained happiness in Sanji's gaze, Zoro had completely forgotten about the roots digging into his lungs.
Zoro tried to swallow it down, but then he started to choke. The stems were all tangled with each other and he couldn't get a single leaf through. All the previous joy was lost and the crew came rushing to his sides. Zoro barely caught a glimpse of Sanji's panicked face as the burning view faded to black.
--
Chopper had given him a small white towel to cough into and an old paper grocery bag to hold each blooming bud. Paling yellow flowers were collecting there in a pile. His spit and blood were darkening the bottom of the bag.
He had choked out what felt like one of the final flowers when the med room door was pulled open.
It was expected that Sanji would show up eventually, they were nakama. But Zoro didn't think that he'd be the very first one to visit. Their relationship just didn't stem in that direction.
Sanji walked right up to Zoro, but as soon as he was in front of him, he faltered. He had to take a breathe before turning back to Zoro. "Chopper said you're dying."
What was Sanji so shaken up about? Zoro then felt the trickle of blood leaking from his mouth and the thought struck him. He's worried about Zoro's pain, isn't he? The thought made Zoro laugh, which probably wasn't healthy for his already battered throat. "I've been sick for over three years now, Cook. This pain's nothin'."
For some reason Zoro's words only made Sanji angrier. Of course they made him angrier. That's the only emotion Zoro ever got out of him. He had accepted that fact since before Saboady, but now it seemed to grate at Zoro. His throat was ruined and he was struggling to breathe. Could Sanji be sweeter with him just this once?
"You're dying, Zoro." Sanji's words weren't immediately registered in Zoro's brain. He was too distracted by how nicely his name sounded on Sanji's lips.
The words clicked when Sanji's eyes started to well up. He furiously wiped them away on his suit sleeves and aimed his glare at the floor.
"Shit, Mossy. Why didn't you say anything?" His voice was strangled and Zoro couldn't remember ever hearing Sanji sound like that.
There wasn't really a reason for staying silent. Most likely he just didn't want the crew to coddle him. He didn't need everyone supervising him, waiting for Zoro to collapse. But there was also the very nature of Hanahaki. He really didn't want to explain the why of his disease.
In place of answering the question, Zoro asked, "Did Chopper say how much time I got?"
Sanji pulled on the lock of hair behind his ear again. "He said he didn't know."
"Didn't think so."
"That's all you have to say?" Sanji took another step towards him. He was practically between Zoro's knees. "'Didn't think so' and that's it? How'd you even get sick?!"
"Got it on Mihawk's island."
"Mossy, I'm gonna kill 'em. You're going to have to give up on your dream."
Zoro let out a light laugh. It was a nice offer, no matter how ridiculous it sounded coming from the cook.
For some reason, he looked absolutely stricken by Zoro's chuckle. Sanji took one more slow step forward, the tips of his shoes meeting the edge of the cot. Then he reached out a hand and brushed a thumb along the line of Zoro's cheekbone. "Can I just..."
Zoro would already do anything for Sanji. But with his voice hushed like that, he would've bit his tongue right then and there, if he'd only ask.
Blonde hair brushed against Zoro's jaw as Sanji glanced down at his lips.
This was pity. This had to be pity. Robin must have told the crew about his disease and Sanji was offering one last awful moment of peace before he died. Zoro wanted so desperately to hate it. He wanted the urge to shove Sanji off him. But he could taste tobacco and smell his stupid conditioner. There was nothing he could do but lean in further.
Zoro snuck a hand over the cook's shoulder and held the back of his neck. Just by breathing Sanji in, Zoro could pretend the vines around his lungs were unwinding. His imagination felt so vivid and tangible, Zoro was half convinced it was real.
Could Sanji taste the blood on his gums? If they kissed long enough, could he taste the sweet pollen coating the back of Zoro's tongue?
"That's not fair." Sanji wept against his lips. "You can't kiss me like that and then fucking die."
Zoro shifted and hummed a kiss into the hollow of Sanji's cheek.
"Why aren't you angry?" Sanji was slowly rilling himself back up. "You're dying and nobody's got a clue why. You should be pissed!"
Zoro un-hooked his arm, pulling back to frown up at Sanji. "What do you mean nobody knows?"
Sanji wiped his cheeks and sniffed. "Uhm, Chopper was saying something about anomalies and how whatever's wrong with you doesn't exist. Robin even confirmed it."
Robin didn't tell anyone about the Hanahaki? "But, then why'd you kiss me?"
"Wha-- Why did I?" Zoro had never seen Sanji blush so genuinely before. The blood spread out from the apple of his cheekbones, branching off to the tips of his ears. "Like it wasn't fucking obvious?!"
The pieces were slowly clicking together. Sanji had just kissed him. It wasn't out of pity because he didn't know the nature of Zoro's disease. Sanji had just kissed him because he wanted to kiss him. "I need to hear you say it. Please. Why did you kiss me?"
Sanji scrunched his nose up, blush still going strong. "Cause I love you, alright? I'm in love with you. Also, by the way, I hate your fucking guts."
"You're serious, right? You're not pulling my leg."
"I don't lie to dying men, moron."
"Sanji." His name was weightless and easy. Why hadn't he ever called Sanji's name before? "I love you."
"You-- You fucking asshole." Pale hands moved to strike, but then Zoro felt his jaw being cradled and Sanji was kissing him again. His fingers were smooth. They were softer than the ones Zoro had imagined holding. Both of Zoro's hands lifted to lightly hold onto Sanji's hips.
Then there was a jerk, and Sanji pulled back to gape at Zoro. He watched as a wave of grief passed over the blond's face. "Holy shit you're dying. We finally get the heads out of our asses and you're dying."
"Oi, calm down."
"Calm down? Zoro do you know how fucked this is?!"
"Will you shut up. I'm not dying."
"What."
"I'm not going to die." Zoro grinned.
"Don't mess with me, shithead. I swear to God I'll kill you myself." The grip Sanji had on his face quickly grew less like a cradle, and more like a strangle. "You were just puking flowers. That's not the average experience."
Zoro felt giddy. He couldn't remember smiling this much since before Saboady. Sanji's hips had softened into his palms and he could knead a slow circle into them without getting a steel-toe in the gut. "My lungs are clear, Curly." Zoro pulled Sanji in a hair closer. "You wanna check?"
"Absolute asshole." Sanji's words were spoken with a smile, and for the first time Zoro's chest didn't flutter with flowers.