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Sanji reads about the same couple falling in love a thousand times and breaking each other's hearts in at least one hundred of them. He cries and feels a pain in his chest with every other story and suddenly he's a sixteen year old boy again, reading romantic stories in his old room in an equally outdated computer in the middle of the night, terrified someone would find out what he's up to.
His ever-loving husband, god bless his soul, doesn't question him when the first thing he sees after waking up is the blond man sobbing with his phone in his hands, impossibly close to his face (his eyesight got worse with the time), and hearing the same sad song on repeat so the plot makes enough damage.
Twelve Formula 1 drivers chapters later and the blacksmith just places his hand over Sanji's leg, making sure he's not losing himself too much in his own mind, but allowing him to wander in whatever world he's in for as long as he needs.
Most of the time, Sanji is too lost to even notice the gesture, too entranced in the words. Zoro doesn't mind, he just takes out his own phone to watch something about swords or whatever, but never takes his hand off his significant other.
At first, Sanji felt bad about his hobby. In his mind, it was wrong to read about some others living their own romantic story, with its ups and downs, identifying himself with a character here and there, feeling their happiness and pain, laughing when something was funny and crying when it hurt.
What was the problem? Was he not happy with his husband? Was this considered cheating?
Pudding certainly didn't want to know about what he was reading. “It's stupid” she said, "you're a grown-ass man, act like it and leave your Mexican dramas behind, can you?”
The thing is, Sanji always loved to read, he still does. He uses it as some sort of escape. In those other worlds, Sanji is no longer himself, he is someone else, with a different background, a different story, different abilities, different hobbies, he lives somewhere else, he’s in the past or in the future, he has superpowers or dragons exist.
Zoro never took it by heart.
“You don't mind?”
“Why would I?” Zoro meant it. He loved having his husband sitting in a corner of his workshop with just one earphone and giggling from time to time with the phone in his hands.
“You know what I read, right?” Sanji raised his visible eyebrow.
“Of course I do, you couldn't keep your expressions to yourself even if your life depended on it, pervert”
“I don't understand-” Zoro stopped hammering the sword he was working on.
“There's nothing to understand, shitty cook. Long time ago, I came to terms with you being an endless container of feelings. Too much feelings won't fit in a lifetime, so of course you need to live multiple lives”
Sanji never saw his stories the same way after that.
Multiple lives. He lives in a loop of domestic tales and science fiction universes, changing just a little something each time, enjoying each possible outcome, the tears and the laughter, the pleasure and the pain.
And when all those feelings from that other timeline already leave him fulfilled…
“Hey, curly brows” the grounding hand from his husband hasn't move from his leg, still covered by the blankets over them. It's still early in the morning, however the light is already filtering through the courtains. He still feels a tingling sensation at the tip of his fingers, as if he was coming back to himself.
“Hey, marimo” a nasal answer “Can you pass me a tissue?” his nose is still runny from all the crying the heartbreak left in his other self.
“Sure” Zoro never asks. Sanji doesn't know if he doesn't care why he's crying (or he already got used to it) or he prefers not to know, but he will still listen if the chef wants to share the whole story, or just the highlights of his trip.
“It's over” ah. When it hurts so much, he only summarizes the end of his pain.
“Come here, curly” Zoro hugs his husband, until the learning from this alternative timeline settles in. “I hope you enjoyed it”
“Very” a kiss placed over the top of his head. Zoro is shirtless, Sanji is wearing a shirt, but only in boxers. “Thanks, mosshead. What do you want to have for breakfast?” and just like that, he's himself again, brighter than ever
Zoro loves Sanji, the container of too much of everything. His novels helps him canalize his emotions in the right way, otherwise he cries when watching cat videos that are remotely sad (spoiler alert: the blond chef still cries at any minor provocation, but tries to conceal it by being silent. Zoro doesn't mention he notices everytime).
Who is him to deny that little pleasure to his soulmate?