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Sanji stared down at the rock of the waves below, counting the seconds it took for the water to lap at the sides of the Sunny. The seas were calm, and in a way that seemed mocking. Sanji felt as though the entire world should reflect what was happening to him internally.
But it wasn’t.
It was a nice day. The sun had been uninterrupted by clouds all day, shining cheerfully from its perfectly blue sky. The sea was calm, air just breezy enough to be refreshing, but not assaulting. Now the sun was setting, turning the clouds gathered at the horizon orange and purple, the vast expanse of sky above the sea darkening.
The waves grew quieter and quieter, the rush of blood in Sanji’s ears becoming deafening. He could hear his own heartbeat beneath it, disgustingly and unfairly loud. He always hated being able to hear the rhythm of his own life, so steady and so strong. It would most likely always feel unearned, but this feeling was only more pronounced then.
Grief made living itself feel like a betrayal.
“It’s a good sunset,” a voice spoke up beside him. He didn’t startle, having long gotten used to the expectation of other people being around him. He wanted to be alone, but he knew better than most that that notion wasn’t always what was best.
He looked over at Luffy, away from where the sun was slipping into the sea. Luffy’s tan skin was even more golden than normal in the waning light, and his expression was something unreadable, eyes lost and the corner of his mouth curled downward. It was such an uncharacteristic look on his captain’s face that Sanji just stared at him in silence for a moment.
Luffy looked over at him then, eyes scrunching shut as he beamed a big grin. His eyebrows creased though, crinkling his forehead, illustrating just how forced the smile was.
“What?” he asked with a laugh in his voice. The inflection gave his voice a brittle quality, and Sanji realized it hadn’t been a laugh; it had been a sob.
He’d never seen Luffy like this. As Sanji stared at him, all he could think was how utterly untethered he seemed in that moment. It was bizarre to see him like this, and two realizations dawned on him in that moment.
One: Luffy was normally one of the most stable people Sanji knew. Sure, he was unpredictable and impulsive, but those were constants in his personality. He was always certain in these qualities, carrying that certainty into all of his endeavors. Sanji always knew not to know what to expect from Luffy. This was an entirely new form of unexpected, as though Luffy’s usual sureness had been utterly stripped from him.
And two: Sanji had never had to be the anchor in their friendship. Luffy had been there through quite a few of Sanji’s directionless moments so far, with his steadfast assuredness keeping Sanji on a path, keeping him levelheaded, to some degree. Now that Sanji was being faced with the task of being that for Luffy , he was at a complete and total loss. It didn’t help that he felt much the same. A stiff breeze would have picked the pair right up off the deck of the Sunny, taking them wherever wind went.
“It should be raining,” he finally said, voice quiet and hoarse, strained in a way he disliked. He cleared his throat, and pretended his voice had been strong.
Luffy’s expression faltered, and he made another weird noise, that same broken giggle. It made Sanji’s throat tighten, and he swallowed thickly. His captain shook his head, looking away again, opening his eyes to look back to the sunset. Sanji noted the tears gathering on his waterline, but didn’t mention them. He wondered how different to reality he would one day remember this interaction, if he would remember it at all. Nothing felt concrete in the wake of significant loss, always easily influenced and edited.
“He hated rain,” Luffy murmured to the last rays of sun.
Sanji didn’t know what to say to that.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, the only sound between them being the waves. Sanji no longer felt like counting the seconds, feeling as though it would make him feel more anxious than grounded.
“He hated a lot of things,” Luffy continued, softer. “I think he preferred that to loving things, y’know?” he paused, smiling that distressing smile again. “You really threw him for a loop.”
Again, Sanji was silent. Luffy sniffed, and he watched his throat bob around the lump stuck in it. Sanji grimaced, clearing his throat again.
“What do you mean?” he asked, and prayed Luffy wouldn’t clarify.
“Ace loved you,” he said.
“I love him too,” Sanji admitted immediately, a conclusion he hadn’t ever come to before that very moment. Hurt resonated in his gut so overwhelmingly that he felt ill.
“Yeah,” Luffy huffed out through his weak smile. “I know.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
The dusk was steadily slipping away, beautiful day transitioning into beautiful night. Sanji was still waiting for it to spontaneously start raining, still believing the world should be just as distraught as he was.
“He was so stubborn. I think he taught me how to be,” Luffy whispered. He looked over at him just as a tear finally fell from his eyes, racing its path down the captain’s cheek, and falling from his jaw the moment it arrived to it. “He died teaching me how to be stubborn.”
Sanji couldn’t hear any more of this. Luffy was just saying things, his tone so detached and factual, like he was reading an account off of cards. He just couldn’t anymore. He put a hand on the other’s shoulder, a silent plea to stop disguised as comfort. He heard his breath catch, the inhale hiccuping and shuddering, a normal bodily function suddenly taking unimaginable effort.
He expected it when Luffy pulled him down into a hug, the embrace tight and desperate. Luffy clung to him as his dam broke, letting his tears loose. His sobbing was this thing from deep in his stomach, coming as he exhaled, a sound so visceral and so primordial. Sanji hugged him back, putting his chin on the top of Luffy’s head, encircling him completely. He wanted to offer words of comfort, but they felt so manufactured, so cheap. Everything will be okay. Nothing would be the same ever again, and it was so hard to see that as okay. This is what he would’ve wanted. Who fucking cared what he wanted? They were the ones left to pick up the pieces, and neither of them could.
But they would.
Sanji held Luffy as he exhausted himself, as he cried his voice hoarse, as he stained Sanji’s button down with salty water. Luffy cried until he could hardly hold himself up anymore, leaning so hard into Sanji that his knees had to lock to keep them both upright.
“You need to sleep,” cook said to captain after he’d gone silent, after he stopped shaking in his arms.
Luffy pulled away, taking a step back so quickly that Sanji was shocked by the cool night air that rushed in between them. He stared up at him with red, puffy eyes, so sad but so firm, gaze unwavering in a way that was so certifiably Luffy that Sanji got the wild thought that maybe things would be okay.
“So do you,” he stated flatly. If Sanji didn’t know him so well, he would think that he was angry with him. But he did, and he wasn’t, so he wouldn’t. Luffy was just angry sometimes, and it dawned on Sanji that that was another quality learned from Ace.
“I’m going to smoke first,” he stipulated. Always had to be a stipulation kind of guy, even now, even when Luffy needed him.
“And then you’re going to sleep,” he affirmed. Sanji nodded, and then Luffy nodded, before turning away. He could tell by the way he set off, shoulders squared and chin up, that Luffy would recover. He would never be the same, but he would recover. He would be okay, someday.
Sanji turned back to the horizon. It was so dark, and the stars hadn’t come out enough yet. The sky bled into the ocean. The Sunny was sailing through a featureless world of dark blue. It wasn’t rain, but it was almost as desolate as it should be. Sanji disrupted it with the flick of his lighter, the lone flame quickly going out, only leaving the burning glow of the tip of his cigarette.
He took a long pull, and then exhaled, putting his forearms on the lip of the bow.
“I love you too,” he whispered to the blue. He refused to use past tense. Ace was gone, but Sanji’s feelings would never be. There are some pieces that he would never pick up.