Chapter Text
“What does it say. . ?”
The card had blipped into existence the same way they always did, folded on the table while they had eaten breakfast in the dining room. Sanji had nearly spit out a mouthful of rice when it had. Zoro had taken it, reading it silently to himself a few times before setting it back down on the table.
“‘The tell-tale heart beats from below. Come on, let’s go dig! Aren’t you having fun?’”
Sanji covered his face with both hands and breathed in deeply a few times. When he pulled them away, his skin was pale.
“I’m so tired of this.” His breathing was shallow despite the deep breaths he’d taken.
“Yeah, me too.” Zoro made a face.
Sanji pushed his bowl backwards, took out a cigarette and lit it silently. The end of it glowed a dark red as he drew in, and he leaned back in his chair on the exhale. His hands were shaking. Just barely, but it was enough for Zoro to notice. His control was slipping again. He could see the cracks in his composure beginning to deepen, traveling across his body and putting pressure on his entire soul. Whatever the next puzzle was, they needed to solve it. And fast. Lest Sanji lose his grip entirely.
“Wait.” Sanji sat up in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table. “The Tell-Tale heart— That’s a book. Well, a short story.”
“So?” Zoro cocked his head to the side.
“It’s about. . . Well, a guy murders some old geezer and buries him under the floorboards of his house.” He sat back in his chair, his leg bouncing rapidly.
Zoro made a face. “That’s a bit dark, isn’t it?”
“This whole ‘situation’ is pretty dark.” Sanji ran an anxious hand through his hair as he took a long drag from his cigarette. He let the smoke drift lazily as he spoke. “I mean, some shitty creep has us locked up here, playing with us like dolls, watching us do—“ He grimaced. “Watching us. Making us solve these bullshit creepy puzzles. . .”
“So you think there’s a dead guy somewhere in here?”
“Well, no, probably not. Remember, our last clue was a series of numbers? It’s probably a safe of some kind.”
“Buried underneath the marble. . ?”
They both thought for a moment. The entire mansion’s flooring was marble. There was no way the dollhouse creep could have buried someone underneath it. Unless. . .
There was one room. The sitting room was decorated with carpets. The edges of the room were marble, sure, but the carpets would’ve covered any abnormalities in the flooring underneath. Zoro stood up from the table suddenly, grabbing hold of Yubashiri’s grip.
He padded his way to the sitting room, standing in the doorway inspecting the room before entering.
“Cook! C’mere, come help me out.”
Together they pushed all of the furniture away from the centermost rug. Once the area was clear, Zoro stood back, staring at the pattern on the rug. There was an intricate twisting of the stitching that formed the same kind of pattern as the very first puzzle in the ruins.
He pulled the edge of the carpet up, pausing before yanking it off entirely and tossing it to the side. Just as he thought— The center of the floor was made of polished hardwood planks.
“Hm. . .” Sanji crossed his arms over his chest. His breath was barely audible, but Zoro could still hear the short, anxious pants he took. His fingers tapped his arm as he inspected the details of the flooring.
“So whaddyou wanna do now?” Zoro mimicked his posture.
“Well, I’d gather that he intends for us to rip the floorboards up, right? I mean, that’s what happens at the end of the story.”
“Then let’s do that.”
Zoro unsheathed Yubashiri and stabbed at the ground between two planks, then twisted her blade so that the nails ripped from their resting place. He reached down, grabbing the edge of the plank and pulled it up. There was nothing underneath but straw. He turned back to look at Sanji, who sighed and rolled his eyes.
“We’ll probably have to do the whole floor, stupid,” he said.
“Then come help me, princess.”
“Wh—!” Sanji’s face flushed and his fists balled into fists. “Can you just shut up for once!?”
Zoro smiled to himself as he turned back to rip up another board. It didn’t take long for them to uncover the entire square section of floor. When they were done, they stood back and stared at the hole. The entire cavity was covered with dry straw. Sanji pushed some aside to reveal a steel floor underneath.
“No bodies is good,” Zoro said, kicking some of the straw in front of him aside.
“Mmh. . .” Sanji hummed. He felt along the floor with his foot for a moment, then there was a metallic “click” and he stood back. He leaned down, wiping the straw to the side to reveal a safe dial. “Go get the paper from the library.”
Zoro retrieved the numbered paper, holding it down for Sanji, who now crouched on the floor, scrutinizing the lock. Zoro watched as he carefully twisted it to the different numbers, leaving a few seconds of space between each one. When he twisted the dial back to the final number, there was a click and the lock glowed a soft gold.
The two looked at each other for a moment. Zoro nodded his head, and Sanji pulled the door to the safe open. Zoro peered over to get a closer look as Sanji slowly opened it.
It was empty.
Of course it was empty. Because why wouldn’t it be? This was truly the end of the line. There was no escaping.
Sanji let the door fall completely open and fell backwards himself. Slowly, he drew his knees close to himself. He let his face fall forward into his hands. He was shaking. Zoro wanted to reach out. To kneel down and wrap him in a warm hug, but he remembered how that had gone last time he tried to comfort him.
“Quit feeling me up,” Sanji’s voice echoed in his head. But then— That was before . . . Maybe now he could. . ? No. Probably not with his fuck up yesterday. He’d already offended Sanji once. He wouldn’t make the mistake of offending him again with pity.
The sound of Sanji crying was quiet, but to Zoro, it was deafening. This was his fault. Even if the safe wasn’t his fault, it was his fault that they had needed it to begin with. He was the one who pushed himself, the one who had needed Sanji to rush in after him. The one who was too weak to know even his own limits.
“Cook. . .” his own voice was so soft.
Sanji’s muscles tightened and he let out a louder sob. Zoro reached out a hand, then drew it back. He watched Sanji’s body shake as he cried, doing nothing. Then he twisted around. His face was mottled red, tears smeared across his cheeks from crying into his hands. His eyebrows were pinched in a painful expression that made Zoro’s stomach turn.
“Why?!” he yelled, thumbing one fist against the ground. “Why did you—“
“I-I didn’t mean— I’m so sorry. . .” He shrank back away from Sanji. That face hurt. It grabbed hold of his heart and twisted inside him.
“You. . . You’re so fucking stupid, you know that!? If you care about everyone so much, why do you act so damn selfish!?” He stuffed the heel of his hand into one eye and sobbed. “If you weren’t such a bull-headed, shitty idiot, then you’d know when to stop. But you don’t! You just— You push, and push, and push yourself until you go down, and then you act like a victim later when one of us has to save your stupid ass.” He paused to take a shaky breath. “We wouldn’t have ended up here if it weren’t for you.”
Zoro almost stumbled backwards. Sanji’s tone ripped his already twisted heart to shreds and scattered the pieces at his feet. He was right. About everything. It was his fault. It was all his fault.
“I’m sorry. . .” he repeated.
Sanji took his hand away from his eye and his mouth wavered as he stared at him.
“I’m getting tired of waiting, Zoro.”
Zoro wasn’t sure what that meant. He didn’t even have time to think about it as watched the tears cloud Sanji’s eyes and spill over. He watched him stand up from the floor and turn to leave. He listened to his footsteps as they faded away down the hall. He heard the sound of the straw crunching as he climbed out of the hole in the floor and sat on the edge of the marble.
Sanji had finally cracked.
And if they were being honest? So had Zoro. In that moment, watching Sanji sob because of his mistake, his faults— It had finally broken him. Any resolve he had had left had drained from him when he saw Sanji’s watery eyes glaring up at him. His head fell forward and a small noise escaped him. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying. But the image of Sanji’s pained face had stamped its way onto Zoro’s mind. He hated that sight. He hated himself for creating it.
The image that unfolded in his head made his heart fall further. The crew, looking down at him, faces obscured except for disappointed scowls. He tried to reach up, to grab at Luffy’s hand, ‘I’m sorry!’ he'd shout, but the words were lost among insults being hurled at him from all sides. He had failed Luffy. He had failed Sanji. He had failed the entire crew, failed himself. And if he died here, he would fail Kuina.
That thought made him double over. His gut was wrenched. It felt like he’d been stabbed through the stomach. It felt like the scar across his torso had been ripped open and he was bleeding freely from it. He felt coated in blood, both physically and metaphorically. He had given so much for this crew. He had killed an uncountable amount for this crew. He had beared the brunt of so much pain for this crew. He pushed himself to his breaking point every time for this crew, and yet it still wasn't enough. He would never be enough.
Suddenly, he wasn’t afraid of being alone anymore. In fact, he would’ve loved to crawl into that hole in the floor and let Sanji shut him up inside it, like the old man from the story. He wanted nothing more than to be nowhere near the crew. But he was stuck. Here, with Sanji, who he loved, but who hated him. It was enough to drive any man mad.
He thumped a fist against the marble and sobbed. One heavy hand covering his face as he clawed at the stone underneath. And he cried. And cried, and cried, and cried, until he couldn’t anymore. Then, he collapsed back on the marble and his eyes closed.
‘Zoro.’ The image of Sanji was warped, running like watercolor paints.
“Please, just. . .” Zoro’s voice cracked.
‘Zoro.’
He wiped his hands over his face.
“I-I can’t. . .”
‘Zoro.’
“What!?” Zoro looked up at the watery image of Sanji who was reaching a hand out toward him. The closer he came, the more the colors ran, the blurrier he got. “No—“ Zoro stood, extending his hand forward, but when they touched, Sanji’s hand melted away, leaving only blank space in its wake. “No, please. . .”
‘Zoro— I’m getting. . .’ His voice waned like his visage.
“Please, no, don’t go—“
‘I’m getting tired. . . Of waiting. . . Zoro. . .’
And then the image disappeared entirely, and Zoro was left by himself, reaching out to no one.
When he sat up, his head was pounding. He brought a hand up to hold it to try to dull the pain somewhat. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and sulked his way to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he didn’t see Sanji.
“Cook?”
A hand raised across the room. When Zoro walked around the bed, he saw Sanji on the floor, hugging his knees tight to his chest like he had in the sitting room. Zoro sat next to him, kicking his feet out and folding his hands in his lap.
“I know I already said it, but. . .” he said. Sanji turned to face him, resting his cheek on his knees. “I really am sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I know. I am, I promise. I didn’t mean for us to. . . Well, I didn’t know this would happen. If I had, I wouldn’t have done it. Pushed myself so hard and everything.”
“You’re reckless.”
He could argue with that. He was right. Zoro had been known to act recklessly once or twice.
“If you actually care about everyone, you’ll care about yourself, first.” Sanji set his chin on his knee and stared at the wall in front of them. “You gotta keep yourself alive if you plan on protecting anyone. I would’ve thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
Zoro nodded and stared at the wall too.
For a long while, they sat in unmoving silence. Then, suddenly, Sanji leaned sideways, setting his head on Zoro’s shoulder. His heart beat quickly at the little touch and the intimacy behind it. He let out a short, content sigh. He couldn’t help how one arm came up to wrap around Sanji’s shoulder, the other reaching out to tangle in soft, blond hair. He ran his fingers along Sanji’s scalp gently, petting his hair back away from his face.
“You’re stupid easy to read, Marimo. To me, anyway.” Sanji reached up to pull Zoro’s hand from his hair and weave his fingers through his own. Zoro’s heartbeat only increased. “You’re so obvious about it.”
“. . . About what?”
Sanji shifted his head so he could make eye contact. Idly, he rubbed his thumb over Zoro’s hand. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke.
“Just say it. Please.”
Then Zoro’s heart stopped. There was a long pause between beats. He swallowed hard, blue eyes boring holes in him. Say what? What did Sanji want him to say? He had already apologized. Unless—
Suddenly, a million different things fell into place until Zoro was surrounded by a perfect puzzle of memories. His head spun as he turned over each one, slotting it into its proper place and building the larger picture out in front of him.
Sanji already knew.
He desperately groped for words. His stomach dropped. This was it. This was the moment that everything fell apart. This was the moment that Sanji really, properly rejected him. This was the moment that Zoro had been dreading ever since he first realized he was in love with Sanji.
He pulled his hand away from Sanji’s and sat up. “I-I know it—. . . There wasn’t supposed to be any. . . I know you don’t— But I. . . I can’t help it, Cook. I’m sorry. . .” His voice was weak. He sounded pathetic. He didn’t recognize himself. He covered his face with the back of his arm and took a deep breath to try and suppress the shakiness in his voice. “I-I’m so sorry. . .”
When Zoro looked back at Sanji, his eyes were lidded. The expression he wore was the same foreign one he had seen more and more lately. There were no tears in his eyes, yet he seemed so profoundly sad. It made Zoro’s heart sink.
Sanji sighed, straightened up, and turned back to the wall.
“You’re such an idiot.”
The silence was deafening. Internally, he begged Sanji to say it. To say what he had been waiting for, what he had been dreading, all this time. He needed to hear those words to move on. But they didn’t come. Sanji wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a closed end. He wasn’t going to wrap this all up with a little bow. Instead, he was going to let Zoro bleed disappointment, grief, humiliation.
Sanji’s lighter sparking was the only thing that filled the heavy quiet. He took a long drag in and breathed the smoke out in an even line where it drifted lazily up toward the ceiling. Zoro hugged himself tightly.
“I’m not upset,” Sanji finally said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Quit saying that. You’re a man, aren’t you? Have some strengths in your conviction. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your feelings.” They were words Zoro had heard before— because they were words Zoro had said. “You spend all your time alone, wallowing in self-pity. You pretend like you’re doing it for yourself, but I know you hate yourself for not being able to save everyone.”
He paused to take a drag. Zoro was silent.
“You wanna be everybody’s damn savior. You’re willing to kill and die for us. You don’t care what happens to you as long as everyone else is okay, right? Well, it doesn’t work like that, Zoro. No matter how badly you want it to. You’ll end up hurting more people by hurting yourself. You should’ve learned that by now. But you haven’t, because you’re an idiot.”
“I’m sorry. . .”
In an instant, Sanji was standing. His foot connected with Zoro’s jaw, and he was sent toppling sideways, skidding back across the floor.
“Shut up!” Sanji balled his fists by his sides. “I’m sick of this shit!” He threw his cigarette on the floor and crushed it under his foot.
Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? Everyone else was too, surely. All Zoro did was drag everyone else down. No matter how hard he worked, he would never be enough.
Sanji’s heels clicked as he walked forward, leaned down, and dragged Zoro to his feet by his shirt collar.
“You’re a coward, Zoro.”
Ouch.
Zoro’s eyes went wide, his body slack as he stared at Sanji’s angry red face.
“I-I’m—“
“Even now, you still can’t say it.” Sanji released his grip on Zoro’s shirt and let him fall in a heap to the ground. “This is pathetic.”
He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. Zoro sat silently while Sanji turned and left. The door clicked closed. The silence of the room became a loud buzzing in his ears.
Sanji was right. He was pathetic. He was a coward. He was being even more pathetic and cowardly than normal. It was the house. It had to be the house. His wound, his inability to train, the ever-closer proximity to Sanji. The drinking, the sex— It was ruining him. Sanji was right. If he was really a man he would admit his own failings.
He stood, teetering on unsure legs. Each of his footsteps sounded louder than the last. The short walk to the kitchen seemed endless. His vision was blurry and his stomach turned with anxiety. The mere sight of Sanji at the counter nearly toppled him over. He stood in the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed and he felt more tears threatening him.
“Cook,” he sounded so weak. Sanji turned, and Zoro leaned forward. His voice cracked. “I’m. . . I love. . . I-I’m sorry.” He reached up to wipe his own eyes and choked back a sob.
Sanji didn’t move. From his place leaning against the counter, he sighed.
“I know.”
Zoro wanted to collapse again. He wanted to be weak. He wanted Sanji to hold him, to kiss him. To whisper sweet reassurances, to crush him against his body. He wanted Sanji to love him. He wanted to be accepted. But Sanji didn’t move.
“I know, Zoro. It’s okay.” He pushed himself back from the counter and stood straight, facing Zoro. “For now let’s just. . . Let’s get some sleep. You look like shit.”
Zoro snorted, but still he nodded.