Chapter Text
January, 1, 2016
-woke up late, partied to hard, probably has a hangover.
-slept with some girl he didn't know.
-dressed in orange pin-stipe shirt, regular black slacks, black dress shoes. Normal work attire. Left the women breakfast and bus money.
-went to a coffee shop 3 blocks from his house before arriving to work, became even more late.
-worked two hours extra, stoped at a gas station for cigarettes pall mall 100 lights.
-Helped a lady with her groceries.
-11:19pm when he stepped through the door of his apartment, third floor last room on the right of the elevator. Labeled with a plaque that had his name.
SANJI. last name was scratched out. He hated that.
-undressed naked in his bedroom walked in bathroom, took a five minute and thirty eight second shower, brushed his teeth and headed for bed.
-wore blue pajama pants.
-women was gone.
Zoro clicked his pen and glanced over the blue inked page. It was a master piece to him, although it could use more detail between arriving at work and leaving he didn't want to fill the page with useless info of the everyday Sanji work schedule.
But no, it wasn't useless, everything about the man Zoro thought it was important, he needed to know everything he did, wanted to see everything he did, see who he did. He wanted to know what he does, who he hangs out with, what his habits were. Even the parts of his body that twitches, Zoro wanted to know.
He closed the rugged journal and set it in the night stand drawer along with the pen. Shutting it he looked at his watch and saw it was 1:00am.
He spent all night filling in today's activities. And tomorrow will just be the same but he will right it down anyway, even if it seems like a purgatory, he will write down Sanji's life, day after day.
Sanji is sleeping right now, dreaming, having a nightmare, wet dream maybe. But sadly Zoro can never know about that, it irks him in a untouchable way not being able to know what he thinks about when he's all by himself. It kills him.
He shuffles out of bed and pads his feet on the floor to the tall dresser on the other side of his bed. Opening it slowly he grabs the key dangling on a nail and inserts it into a small keyhole on the backboard.
'Click' it goes.
Pulling the small door open, inside reveals items that do not belong to him.
A silver lighter worn out and empty of any juice, an old pocket watch tick-less and dead with no motion, a small glass cologne bottle worth 80$ half empty, an unlit cigarette bud used with crisps of its past flame on the tip.
It was his treasure. Items that he cherishes with his every being, rewards without any appreciation, value without any sentiment needed, they were his.
With one more hazy gaze at the shrine, he closed and locked the small door and changed into a pair of boxers. Slipping back into bed he smushed his face into a pillow and took a nice nasal intake of ocean breeze scented shampoo.
That too was a reward.