OP: Against All Odds [ZoSan/SanZo-ish]
Title: Against All Odds
Series: One Piece
Length: 604 Words
Pairing: ZoSan/SanZo
Summary: It seemed the two could fight so hard for anything but each other.
Status: Complete
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They hadn’t lasted.
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Sometimes Sanji thought Zoro was the only one who understood him.
Not in the conventional way that a man might understand another, (because they certainly fought enough over the dumbest of misunderstandings to easily invalidate such) but in a way that only Zoro could; like he knew only the core of who Sanji was and nothing else, because nothing else mattered. Some kind of screwed up, skewed to hell version of utter, unabashed, honest understanding.
Like he could just glance at Sanji as he passed by, and, without a care in the world, peek at everything inside the cook-everything he was, everything he felt, everything he had tried to shove, and hide, and protect deep within those self-constructed walls of his conscience. Of his heart.
If he were poetic when it came to matters of the Marimo, Sanji may even say Zoro looked at him as if he could see the cook's very soul; the essence of all Sanji had to offer.
Well. Zoro used to look at him like that, anyway.
To be honest with himself (and Sanji was rarely honest with himself these days) he wasn't really sure exactly when their relationship had gotten so screwed up. So complicated.
Really. He didn't know what ignited it, why it had burned so bright for so long, where it had gone too. Perhaps the spray from All Blue's tides had finally managed to extinguish it after so long. Hell if he knew.
But that didn't matter anymore, details weren't important-the only thing that mattered was that it had been real, hard, and the most confusing thing Sanji had ever experienced.
If he were poetic, Sanji may even say it was what he expected true love to be like.
But things like love and relationships were words wasted on men like Zoro, so Sanji wasn't poetic. Not for the Marimo…
Sanji hadn't seen his nakama in a very long time now. He lived his life on the waters of the All Blue these days, didn't travel, spent all his time cooking and reminiscing, drinking and smoking.
And dreaming. The way he used to about All Blue, only now it was of days past and time lost.
Zoro had stopped by once in all the years Sanji had lived in this place. Sanji fed him. Zoro stayed. They bickered. Fought. Sparred.
If Sanji were poetic, he may say it was almost like old times.
But Zoro had stayed. For a long time; longer than Sanji had expected. The world's greatest swordsman followed in his predecessor's place, never staying in the same place for long.
Not like Sanji. He stayed put. Settled down. Zoro couldn't.
(Sanji understood.)
The two never had any expectations to start, so when Sanji woke to find Zoro had finally gone, he shouldn't have felt the way he had. Knew it would happen, knew it was coming.
Zoro had left one of his earrings behind.
Sanji wore it now.
It wasn't the goodbye he was expecting, but Sanji hadn't said anything about it. Didn't have the right too, he supposed. Stared out into the sea all day long, and just thought.
In the end, Zoro had walked out of his life, without a trace, like the ending of some sort of love tragedy from one of Nami's romance books. Like Sanji had always expected him too.
Ah, if Sanji were poetic. . .
In the end, it was almost funny. Just when Sanji dared to let hope flicker.
Just like that, Zoro was gone with the tide.
And Sanji never saw him again.
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Don’t know.
I’m very tired these days.
There was so much more I wanted to do with this and it just… didn’t happen.
Sorry this sucks so much. :P