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Chuhai was an interesting island for the Strawhats to stop at, partially due to its very big drinking culture. But if anyone was going to enjoy it, it would be Zoro.
He sought out the first dive bar on the island literally an hour after they docked The Sunny. They’d frequented dives like this during rest stops on islands before, so this is nothing new for any of the crew, quite honestly. They’d have fun; Luffy would order as much food as they could afford, Nami would look around the room and try to find the men she could sucker into giving her berry, Sanji would flirt around the bar, and Usopp would tell his grand stories while everyone one else just sat in tranquil silence while he did so.
So he did exactly that like it was any other time and it was alright. He felt alright; not great by any stretch of the imagination because he was feeling how drunk he was but it was enough for Zoro not to complain.
Being in places like these always brought him back to earlier moments in this crazy adventure they've been on.
Once, when they were freshly reunited after two long years of being seperated, they'd been in a situation similar to this one. He remembers going out behind the bar and hanging by the wall with Sanji as he smoked even though the scent of cigarettes made him dizzy, thinking to himself about what the alcohol and smoke would taste like mingling in his mouth as they kissed. He’d grab whatever ashtray was lying around and scoot it over to the cook once he was done and watch him stub the thing out before picking himself up off the floor and dusting whatever cinder and ash landed on him.
Back to trying to woo the ladies, Zoro couldn't help but think even though he'd follow him back inside anyway to watch the spectacular fuckery of the night.
Sometimes Zoro would call him over for a drink of whatever and it was blissful. They’d just sit and poke some lighthearted fun at each other and call it a night after Sanji drank his limit: two glasses of whatever Zoro was drinking unless it was wine. Sanji could stomach more wine than even Zoro could, honestly. But a glass was always put down for him when they drank.
It was as close as Zoro could come to saying don’t go. It was the only way he could think to do it, even if Sanji never got the hint.
But they both were only twenty-one at the time, and Sanji spent a lot of time in denial about who Zoro truly was and how he truly loved. Even when he tried to make sense of it, even when Sanji went about trying to understand Zoro there was always something off about it–something strange and distant, like even with explanation he couldn’t quite put his head around it.
Twenty-one changed to twenty-five and they were shacked up at yet another dive somewhere on the Grand Line and still the nagging feeling in the back of his brain was there. This time, however, it had just been Zoro and Sanji in the bar; Usopp, Chopper, and Nami had headed into the village with Brook and Robin to hit up some shops while Luffy and Franky went exploring. Jinbei stood on the Sunny to watch over the ship and then it was just the two of them with the tiniest shred of free time.
He wondered what they could possibly do with a day and a half to themselves. Zoro's head spun with all the possibilities, especially since it had been so long to just….take a breather. There was no obligation, no intense and life altering alliance, or ; they could just….be.
And they ended up in a dive. Because of course they did. It's like a fish ending up in the ocean, or a bear to a stream of salmon; dives were their free time, their place of calm amongst an unsavory amount of unsavory figures that most likely know their names.
Zoro really didn't want Sanji to notice his gaze lingering, but he could feel himself staring. Sanji had grown more accustomed to his longer hair even though it made him a near spitting image of his mom---lore that got filled in for Zoro later after the whole ‘finding out about the princely arranged marriage his fuckass family had out for him and escaping the island’ thing that Sanji had to go through a few years before. Even despite all of that though all Zoro could do is look at him. Sanji's hair was longer, nearing his shoulders, and his shirt was ruffled. Sanji was absolutely stunning, if Zoro could even say that much. But that was one of those things that would stay in the brain; Sanji was too busy laughing and flirting with the bartender at the opposite end of the bar. Joy and happiness painted his face. Of course it did, Zoro couldn't help but think as he nursed his drink--a local drink that was something akin to sake in strength that Zoro found himself enjoying.
He wonders if he could ever change Sanji's mind. It's a lingering hope even though he knows he should just squash it before it becomes a problem for the rest of the crew.
As they head back to the Sunny, tipsy but feeling alright, Sanji grabs Zoro's hand. “So you don't get lost,” he says, cheeks rosy and breath smelling of wine. He's on a high that Zoro hadn't ever seen Sanji on before when they frequented dives and bars prior, but happiness looks good on him so Zoro can't complain much.
And now they’re both thirty and they're still doing the same things that happened when they were in their twenties. Their names were heard all throughout the world; they accomplished their dreams and yet they were having the same conversations that they were having in their twenties. Sanji and Zoro were still eligible bachelors and Sanji was blissfully unaware of how much Zoro actually loved him.
When he asks what Zoro saw for his mid-thirties, Zoro didn't quite know what to say to him. He pictured a life with someone he cared about–that's about it--and whoever that may be gender wise didn't really matter to him. Guy, girl, or a secret third thing didn’t matter at all; especially not now, when he feels he's too old to be looking too deep into things like that anyway.
But even now Sanji couldn't quite understand him in the way Zoro had hoped he would. He heard his words but didn't quite know what they actually meant. He cycled it around to Zoro having not found the right woman yet and that, when he did, it could all change in an instant.
And, well, Zoro couldn’t necessarily explain how much of that didn’t work out with who he was. He didn’t really have a preference, sure, but he knew that he liked Sanji and that’s all that mattered to him in the end. He liked Sanji so much, but could never really find the words to say. Zoro felt like he was too stoic, too undeserving, too afraid or too confused; too much in love with Sanji that the thought of telling him the truth and being alone for it ate him up on the inside so much so that Zoro resigned himself to be miserable instead.
Ignorance painted Sanji a good mental picture of who Zoro was. That’s what all of it came down to and Zoro couldn’t change that about him. He learned to accept that nowadays even though he hoped deep down that something could change.
The idyllic life: a beautiful wife, adorable children, and a restaurant somewhere; knowing that he found the All Blue and could pass those stories down to spitting images of himself and whatever woman decided to love him. Sanji–just like the rest of the crew–had ambitious dreams, ones that were far too important for Zoro to ruin with a confession of love that he was certain that Sanji wouldn’t take well. And how could Zoro sit there and say that it was wrong for Sanji to have dreams like that? The idyllic life that had been spoon fed to Sanji since he was young was all the bastard knew; who was he to ruin it for him? And forget about if other crews began to question them because of Zoro; forget about it if the possibility of them dying out on the sea was too much, because at least they could have had a somewhat happy life. But this just hurts, in the end, watching Sanji trying to flirt around the bar and get shot down every single time; it hurts watching the confidence leave him after an encounter gone wrong because Zoro knows the nagging thoughts in the back of his brain when it happens.
I’m not good enough.
No one could ever like me how I am.
This is just going to be my life now.
Zoro knows it because he’s been there and he knows one fact about it all: shit like this gets Sanji hurt more often than it gets him a chance to even try. Even when Sanji tries to take it on the chin, when he grins a boyish grin and tries to let it go, Zoro knows that it eats at the back of his brain because he knows this isn’t where he wanted his life to be right now. It’s not where Zoro would like to be either: thirty-one and still pining over his best friend like a lovesick dog. But that’s just how it is; that’s how it’s always been and most likely will continue to be for the foreseeable future. And Zoro? Well, Zoro didn’t want to be hypocritical about it, not entirely anyway. They were the wings of the Pirate King. They both had a reputation to uphold; the world’s greatest swordsman and the discoverer of the All Blue, Luffy’s left and right hands–there were a lot of complicated things to work through. The both had infamy in their veins and behind their names and there wasn't much they could do to change that. But even then, sometimes Zoro wonders what could have happened if they had met outside of asking Sanji to join the crew, if it was just Zoro and Sanji getting to know each other before all of the happenings of their strange little lives crashed in on each other.
Could he have changed Sanji’s mind then? Probably not. Zoro probably wouldn’t have been able to change Sanji’s mind; they’d probably still be the way they were, but there would be less people’s eyes on him. There would be way less people giving him looks of sympathy–and some of pity–when the blond goes out and flirts with every woman under the sun. They most likely would have still argued like cats and dogs about everything, too.
But he could dream, right? Zoro could pretend that maybe, if they had met before all of this, they would have been something more.
Zoro knows one thing about himself: he would have given almost everything up for Sanji. It wouldn’t have been a question of if, but when. He still would give up a lot for him, to be completely honest. But for now, in this shitty bar with dim lights, Zoro resigns himself to this simple concept: if he can’t be with the actual love of his life, he can try his best to love the ones he ends up with; even if it’s not true love but some cheap imitation of it, it’s better than a hollow and empty feeling that he gets when he even thinks of Sanji nowadays.
He’ll resign himself to a potent bottle of sake and maybe he could find someone that loved him back in the process, he couldn’t help but think to himself as he hauls ass back to The Sunny, Usopp’s arm hooked into his to avoid getting lost.