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kind, is what zoro really thought when he first saw him. surely, kinder than i’ll ever be.
his eyes (windows of the soul, as some may say) are two identical onyxes, resting under a ridiculous swirl he calls his eyebrows. sometimes, when sanji is looking off, he’d just stare, trying to see through those dumb eyes of his. he’d instantly look away the minute sanji’s gaze drifted to his, of course, but in the lingering moments before, zoro swore he could see something deeper. as utterly ridiculous as that may sound.
they’d butt heads and play fight and the whole crew would laugh about it like a big family. zoro swore to himself that he was content with just that, and nothing more. (looking back, he almost wished he kept sanji at that distance, kept seeing him one-dimensionally and nothing more. but like most things in life, connections are cardinal. the love-cook just had to push it.)
crewmates, nothing more. they were just crewmates, even when sanji would flick his cigarette’s ashes over the merry’s rail while zoro’s secrets split through his mouth like a waterfall. his tight lips stayed shut for even the most intrusive people, and yet, his aloofness wavered with the blonde. (a part of him knew that of all people, sanji wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. deep down, he knew sanji wouldn’t ask questions. he knew sanji would simply understand. he’d die before admitting that, of course.) as promised, sanji simply took a drag and gazed onto the horizon. he didn’t bother responding to what zoro said, instead opting to reveal his own untold affairs.
zoro didn’t ask questions. sanji knew he wouldn’t. they were just crewmates.
the strawhats, in all their glory, had finally gotten themselves mixed up with an emperor. while zoro and the others were at dressrosa cleaning up law’s daddy issues, sanji had ran away in a pathetic attempt of self sacrifice, of course, one that zoro saw through instantly. (ingloriously, a part of him wanted to accompany luffy to whole cake island to see sanji at his most vulnerable.)
at times like these, zoro’s soul began to break. at times like these, zoro became plagued with the notion that they weren’t simply crewmates, and they weren’t simply brothers, either. even amidst the heat of his fight with kaido’s first mate, he could still hear the twinge of vulnerability in sanji’s voice over the transponder snail asking him to kill him after the fight. zoro wondered why sanji phoned him, out of all people. he told himself that perhaps it was because he knew he would actually follow through. but in the back of his mind, he knew it was because he knew zoro understood.
“the fight was tough.” zoro admits later, elbows resting upon the wooden railing of a serene terrace just outside the festival. he was relishing in a moment of silence amidst the chaotic strawhats celebratory party for the liberation of wano, with a certain cook sharing his space with a cloud of smoke.
sanji took a drag, spiral eyebrows slightly raised at zoro’s confession. wanting to keep the conversation laced with their lighthearted tone of rivalry, he quipped “for someone as weak as you? ha! i’m sure it was.”
this time around, though, zoro didn’t take the bait. his gaze remained fixed on the horizon before them. he’d found himself reacting more like this as of late. what on earth was the matter with him? “the fight was tough, not jus’ because of my opponent. i remembered some people from my past, while the fight was happenin’.” zoro said. “changed my view on a couple things.”
picking up his insistence for a tone of retrospection, sanji took a long inhale of his cigarette. “well… the same thing happened with me. kaido’s got a real fucked-up crew, if you ask me.” sanji paused. “a couple bootlickers without an ounce of humanity left in ‘em.”
sanji sighs. “y’know, mosshead, it’s kinda a relief we’re both guys. don’t get me wrong, i adore nami and robin, but i swear, they always insists on these heart-to-hearts with me, claims it’ll help me and my emotions!” he ruffles his hair before locking eyes with zoro. “women are perfection, but they just don’t get it. we gotta be harder than they have to be, y’know?.”
brothers.
sanji continues, “i’ve never seen you cry since that time at the baratie, mosshead. how do you do it?” he smiled, his face glistening with a strange level of admiration for something zoro never expected to be praised for. by him, at the very least. the love-cook, the idiot insistent on letting his emotions reign free. zoro was used to being the rock of the strawhats, the one without their eyes wet from tears. after all, someone needed to there guide luffy in his inevitable bouts of emotional whirlwinds. it was simply his duty as first mate. and yet, hearing that from sanji left a strange sense in his heart. sanji, the man he’d somehow grown to be vulnerable with, was praising him for his lack of it.
zoro’s heart changed after that. the ache in the back of his mind had become painted with the implications of something new, something scary. sanji’s marathons after women had begun to stung, and seeing his hand extend to anyone but zoro tainted his mouth with the foul taste of envy. his heart, whether sanji knew it or not, was opened to the other man. zoro didn’t mean for it to happen. he wished he could take it back. their roles were never meant to change. zoro would remain the unmovable wall, devoid of emotions, and sanji would be the opposite. zoro would forget the moment he stepped outside of those lines and let his soul go where it cannot. he had to.
resigned to a life of a half empty heart, zoro continues to chug the bottle in his hand. he understands the period of grief had come far too late, after years and years of repressions and denials, but he allows himself this much. sanji extends his hand to him out of concern, as the kind-hearted bastard he is, but zoro resists the urge to take it. why sully their brotherhood and duality as wings of the pirate king just because sanji won’t reciprocate his disgusting feelings? my crewmate. my brother. my lover. my sanji. none of those words fit right in zoro’s mind. sanji isn’t any of those, he’s something different. he’s all of the above. he’s nothing. he’s everything.
the future's unwritten, the past is a corridor i’m at the exit, lookin' back through the hall you are anonymous, i am a concrete wall