Chapter Text
Zoro sat alone in the crow’s nest, sharpening Wado Ichimonji with slow, deliberate strokes. The blade gleamed in the fading light, clean and quiet unlike his thoughts. The wind was soft tonight, the stars clear, the ship quiet in a way that made memories louder. He hated that, didn’t want to think or remember or dwell on anything. Inevitably, his mind would drift back to Sanji in the silence and the cook was the last person he wanted to be thinking of.
Sanji, who had left.
Sanji, who had lied.
Sanji, who had come back.
He was different, more subdued, quieter, busier. But he was still Sanji. Sanji, who Zoro didn’t trust, couldn’t trust. Sanji leaving had carved something jagged between them. His partner, his rival, his other wing, had disappeared, run off to marry some girl and lied about coming back. If Luffy hadn’t gone to get him, he’d still be gone. Zoro had known all along that Sanji’s heart was fickle. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d known it years ago when Sanji had confessed his “love” to him. Sanji, resident womanizer and flirt, in love with Zoro? Laughable. He was only in love with Zoro as much as he was in love with Nami or Robin or Vivi or Conis or any other woman they’d met on their journey that the cook got all noodly and poetic over.
Sanji had never gotten that way over a man though. Zoro had dismissed that thought. It was Sanji. Sanji fell in love with someone new every other second so Zoro didn’t take this confession any more seriously than any other declaration Sanji had ever made. Then, when they had reunited, it was clear that whatever lapse in judgement that Sanji had had was over and done with. He’d gone pining after women even worse than before so Zoro dismissed his confession as a fluke.
Clearly, he was right to think so because Sanji had left. Left them with nothing more than a note and a wedding invitation.
Zoro had told himself it was proof. Proof that Sanji couldn’t be trusted. Proof that the confession had meant nothing. Proof that Zoro had been right to dismiss him. Sanji had betrayed them worse than any of their other crewmates ever had or ever could.
But Sanji came back and Zoro didn’t know what to do with the relief he felt over that.
He remembered the first time he saw him again — through a haze of fire and heat in Wano, fighting at his side again as if he had never left, as if he’d always been there to guard Zoro’s back. Zoro had wanted to slice him in two, demand answers, ask him why. He’d wanted to say don’t do that again, but he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t know how to say I’m glad you’re back without sounding weak and he didn’t know how to say I missed you without admitting that he’d been afraid.
Afraid that Sanji wouldn’t come back.
Afraid that he’d meant it when he left.
Afraid that maybe Sanji had mattered more to him than he’d realized.
He didn’t trust Sanji, but he didn’t want him to leave again. That contradiction sat in his chest like a blade he couldn’t unsheathe. He watched Sanji now from the crow’s nest moving towards the galley, his sleeves rolled up and a tray in his hand. The one he brought with him to visit Future Zoro.
Zoro didn’t know what to make of that. The Grand Line had thrown a lot of weird shit at them, future versions of themselves was probably par for the course. Zoro had challenged him to a duel as soon as he was healed and had roundly lost. At least he didn’t get weak in his older age. He hadn’t had much interactions with his future self beyond that, mainly because he kept himself confined away from the crew.
It reminded Zoro of his early days on the crew when he tried to keep to himself. However, this suited him fine since he didn’t trust Future Zoro as much as the others seemed to. He had come here for a reason. Zoro knew himself well enough to know that. He also wasn’t blind to the way Future Zoro had looked at Sanji when he’d first landed on the Sunny.
He’d seen glimpses of it ever since in the rare moments he ever saw Future Zoro. One time, he’d even caught them out on deck and Sanji had been laughing, actually laughing. Not loudly, just a quiet, tired chuckle as he stood next to Future Zoro by the stern of the ship. Zoro couldn’t hear the words passing between them, but he saw the way Future Zoro looked at him: steady, soft, like he was memorizing the shape of Sanji’s smile.
It made Zoro’s skin crawl. He’d seen that look before. In mirrors. In moments he didn’t name. In the way he used to glance at Sanji when the cook wasn’t looking. After a fight, after a meal, after one of those rare moments when Sanji let his guard down and Zoro saw something raw beneath the bravado. He’d never let it show because it didn’t matter. He had his dreams, which superseded anything else. Beyond that, he didn’t trust Sanji’s heart and he wasn’t going to jeopardize the crew on a man as erratic as the cook. They’d both left that in the past and moved on.
Future Zoro clearly hadn’t.
Zoro didn’t like it. He didn’t like the ease between them, the quiet, the attentive way Sanji would visit Future Zoro every day, sometimes for hours. Zoro didn’t trust it, didn’t trust him. Future Zoro had come from the future soaked in blood and reeking of loss. Now he was here watching Sanji like he was something sacred. It didn’t make sense, unless he wanted something from him.
Zoro had spoken to both of them separately about it on one occasion. He had gone to the first mate’s quarters, a room that was technically his though he’d never used it. Future Zoro hadn’t looked surprised when he saw Zoro standing on the other side of the door.
“You’re healing fast,” Zoro said.
“I’ve had practice,” Future Zoro answered, stepping aside so Zoro could enter.
The room smelled like sake and salt. The lantern cast soft shadows across the desk, the bed, the half-empty bottle. Zoro didn’t sit but Future Zoro poured two cups anyway. They drank in silence for a long while before Zoro broke it.
“What’s the deal with you and the cook?”
Future Zoro wordlessly rose an eyebrow in return.
“The way you look at him… it’s like you know something the rest of us don’t.”
“I know him.”
“Not this version,” Zoro replied, jaw tight.
“Close enough.”
“You’re always watching him, spending hours with him locked up in this room. I don’t know what you want from him or what you came back here for, but Luffy didn’t go running into an Emperor’s territory to bring him back here just for you to do… whatever it is that you’re doing.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because of Luffy? Really?”
Zoro’s fists curled in response.
“Everyone on this crew belongs to Luffy. I’m not about to sit by and let him lose his cook again.”
Future Zoro stared at him for a long while before he gave him a sad, knowing smile.
“He never stood a chance with you.”
Zoro’s brows furrowed at that.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
Future Zoro shook his head before replying.
“I’m not here to steal the cook away. If I’m stealing anything, it’s just some time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Future Zoro looked down at his cup.
“You’re asking the wrong questions.”
Zoro paced the room, eyes scanning the desk, the bed, the tray of half-eaten food.
“You came back from a timeline we don’t understand. You won’t explain how. You won’t explain why. And now you’re here, watching Sanji all the time, and me asking why is the wrong question?”
“He’s the reason I came back.”
Zoro froze at that as Future Zoro continued.
“You think this is about strategy, about a mission, but it’s not. It’s about a choice. I had a choice to visit anywhere in time, just once, and I chose him, here and now, when he’s feeling at his lowest and most alone. I chose now so he knows that no matter how much anger and vitriol you throw at him, in the future, you’d still choose him. I bet you’d choose even now, wouldn’t you?”
Zoro didn’t answer, instead he turned to leave the room. Future Zoro’s voice followed him.
“You don’t trust him, I get that. But you don’t want to lose him either. Trust me, you won’t survive that.”
Zoro paused at the doorway.
“He’s still here,” Future Zoro pointed out.
“You should ask yourself why that matters so much to you.”
Zoro hadn’t slept after talking to Future Zoro. He’d trained instead until his shoulders burned, until his breath came ragged, until the ache in his chest felt more physical than emotional, but it didn’t help. He kept seeing it, the way Future Zoro looked at Sanji, the way Sanji softened in his presence, the way they moved around each other. Zoro didn’t understand it, didn’t trust it and he didn’t know why that mattered so much. He waited a day after before going to talk to Sanji. He found him on the deck, leaning against the railing, cigarette glowing in the dusk. The sky was bruised with color and the sea was quiet. Zoro approached like he was walking into battle.
“You look like hell,” Sanji commented with a glance.
Before, that would’ve sparked an argument or a spar but that’s not where they were with one another nowadays.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Future Zoro,” the swordsman said, cutting right to the chase.
“Is that a problem,” Sanji asked around a puff of smoke.
“He’s not me,” Zoro replied tightly.
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t trust him.”
Sanji raised an eyebrow at that.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.”
“You don’t trust anyone nowadays,” Sanji replied bitterly.
“He’s hiding something.”
Sanji turned fully now, eyes sharp.
“What is this, Zoro? What do you want from me? You clearly don’t want me around you, you don’t trust me, so I’ve left you alone. Now you don’t want me around the future version of you? I don’t really think that’s your choice to make, is it?”
“It’s not about that. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m trying to warn you.”
“Warn me or control me? What do you think I’m going to do to him anyway? Kill him in his sleep? I’m spending time with him because he doesn’t look at me like he wants to murder me, or like I’m going to slit the crew’s throats in their sleep, or like I’m going to fall apart any second, or like I need to be under constant surveillance, so I don’t run off again. He sees… me. I don’t know if any of you do anymore.”
“You think he cares about you? You think he’s here for you,” Zoro asked, his tone turning cold.
Sanji flinched at his words. Zoro saw it and hated himself for it but he couldn’t stop.
“You’re making the same mistake, trusting someone who’ll leave, who’ll lie, who’ll use you.”
“You mean someone like me? You mean what I did? You don’t have to forgive me and if you never trust me again, I won’t blame you. But stop pretending whatever issue you’re having with me has anything to do with him.”
Zoro opened his mouth trying to figure out how to fix this but ultimately turned to leave. Sanji wasn’t hearing concern, all he was hearing was contempt and Zoro wasn’t making it any better. He didn’t know how to say I don’t want to lose you again without sounding like he still hadn’t forgiven him for leaving the first time.
Zoro had kept his distance ever since, watching Sanji gravitate more and more to his future self while he remained unable to put his finger on just what about them bothered him so much. He knew he had a general distrust for both, but there was something more, something deeper burning in his chest that he couldn’t decipher for the life of him.
~*~*~
Zoro wasn’t looking for them. He’d been heading to the galley, half-distracted and half-starving, and had somehow ended up in the hall where the first mate’s quarters were. He had noticed that the door was ajar as he walked past. He didn’t mean to stop but he did. Inside, the lantern light was low, casting soft gold across the room. Sanji sat on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath him, hair damp and shirt loose. Future Zoro knelt behind him, fingers combing gently through Sanji’s hair, slow and reverent. The silence between them was intimate and heavy.
Zoro’s breath caught, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched. Future Zoro leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the back of Sanji’s neck. It was soft and careful, like he was afraid to break him. Sanji closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Clearly, it wasn’t the first time. Zoro felt something twist in his chest. Not anger, not quite, something quieter, something colder.
Future Zoro’s hands moved slowly, one resting at the curve of Sanji’s shoulder and the other tracing the edge of a scar just beneath his collarbone. His touch was reverent, almost ritualistic, like he was memorizing the shape of it and offering something gentler in return. Sanji didn’t speak or flinch, just breathed and softened, melting into Future Zoro’s touch, his body leaning towards his. Zoro had never touched him like that, had never let himself want to, had never believed he could.
Sanji turned around in Future Zoro’s arms and met his lips, their bodies pressing together like they were used to it. Sanji moved to straddle the older man’s waist, his fingers gripping Zoro’s shoulders like he was holding on for dear life. Future Zoro pressed soft kisses all over Sanji’s face, down his neck, over his ear as Sanji ground his hips down against the older man’s, breathy moans brushing past his lips.
“Do you want me,” Future Zoro asked.
Sanji nodded against him, holding the man even tighter.
“Please, Zoro. I just need… please.”
Future Zoro kissed him even softer before laying Sanji down on the bed beneath him.
Zoro should leave. He knew he should leave. His feet wouldn’t move.
He stood frozen in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorframe hard enough that the wood creaked beneath his fingers. His other hand had found the hilt of Wado Ichimonji without conscious thought, knuckles white, palm slick with sweat. Leave. Walk away. This isn’t your business. The commands echoed in his head, but his body refused to obey.
Future Zoro’s hands moved to the hem of Sanji’s shirt, pushing it up slowly. Sanji lifted his arms to help and the fabric slid off to reveal pale skin marked with scars Zoro recognized. Some he’d seen in battle, some he’d glimpsed in passing, some he’d never let himself look at long enough to memorize. Future Zoro looked at them like they were sacred. His fingers traced each one with deliberate care, his lips following the path his hands made.
Sanji’s breath hitched. His head fell back against the pillow, exposing the long line of his throat. Future Zoro kissed it, slow and reverent, and Sanji’s hands came up to tangle in his hair.
Zoro’s chest tightened. Something hot and sharp twisted beneath his ribs, spreading through his lungs until breathing felt like work. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to understand it. This was Sanji. Sanji, who he didn’t trust. Sanji, who had left. Sanji, who—
Future Zoro’s mouth moved lower, kissing down Sanji’s sternum, over his ribs, pausing at the scar just below his navel. Sanji made a soft sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, and his hips shifted restlessly. Future Zoro’s hand pressed against his hip, steadying him, grounding him.
“I’ve got you,” Future Zoro murmured against his skin.
Zoro had heard himself say those words before. In battle. To the crew. Never like this. Never with that kind of tenderness, that kind of weight. Future Zoro’s hands moved to Sanji’s pants, undoing the button with practiced ease. He slid them down slowly, taking his underwear with them, and Sanji lifted his hips to help. When he was bare, Future Zoro sat back on his heels, just looking. His eye traced over Sanji’s body with an intensity that made Zoro’s stomach clench.
“Beautiful,” Future Zoro said quietly.
Sanji’s face flushed. He turned his head to the side, embarrassed, but Future Zoro caught his chin gently and turned him back.
“Don’t hide from me.”
Sanji’s eyes were wet. He nodded, swallowing hard, and Future Zoro leaned down to kiss him again. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, but still achingly gentle. Sanji kissed back like he was drowning and Future Zoro was air.
Zoro’s grip on his sword tightened. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He should leave. He needed to leave. Why couldn’t he leave?
Future Zoro stripped off his own clothes, revealing the scarred, weathered body Zoro would one day inhabit. Sanji’s hands reached for him immediately, pulling him back down, and they pressed together skin to skin. The sound Sanji made was raw and needy. Future Zoro swallowed it with another kiss.
“Tell me what you need,” Future Zoro said.
“You,” Sanji breathed.
Future Zoro reached for the nightstand, pulling out a small bottle of oil. He slicked his fingers methodically, his movements calm and sure. Sanji watched him with trust in his eyes. Trust. Sanji trusted him. Trusted this version of Zoro in a way he’d never trusted the present one.
The thought burned.
Future Zoro settled between Sanji’s legs, one hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the muscle. His other hand moved lower, and when his finger pressed against Sanji’s entrance, Sanji’s breath caught audibly.
“Relax. I’ll take care of you,” Future Zoro said softly.
Sanji nodded, his hands fisting in the sheets. Future Zoro worked the first finger in slowly, watching Sanji’s face for any sign of discomfort. There was none. Just pleasure, just trust, just that soft, vulnerable expression that Zoro had never seen directed at him.
Zoro’s breathing had gone shallow. His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to escape. The heat in his chest had spread lower, coiling in his gut, and he hated it. Hated that he couldn’t look away. Hated that some part of him wanted to see this, needed to see this, even as it tore something open inside him.
Future Zoro added a second finger and Sanji’s back arched off the bed. A moan spilled from his lips, unguarded and raw. Future Zoro’s free hand came up to stroke his hip, his thigh, grounding him through the stretch.
“That’s it. You’re doing so well,” Future Zoro murmured.
The praise made Sanji shudder. His eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting around another soft sound. Future Zoro’s fingers moved with purpose, searching, and when they found that spot inside him, Sanji cried out.
“Zoro, please.”
The name hit Zoro like a blade to the chest. His name. Sanji was saying his name, but not to him. It was to the version of him who’d learned how to be gentle, who’d learned how to touch without breaking, who’d learned how to love.
Future Zoro added a third finger, working Sanji open with infinite patience. Sanji was trembling now, his skin flushed, his breath coming in short gasps. He looked wrecked and beautiful and completely undone. Future Zoro looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Please. I’m ready. Please,” Sanji whispered.
Future Zoro withdrew his fingers slowly, pressing a kiss to Sanji’s inner thigh. He slicked himself with oil, his movements steady despite the tension in his shoulders, and positioned himself between Sanji’s legs. Their eyes met and something passed between them that Zoro couldn’t name. Understanding. Forgiveness. Love.
“I love you,” Future Zoro said.
Sanji’s eyes filled with tears.
“I love you too.”
The words punched the air from Zoro’s lungs. His vision blurred at the edges. His hand on the doorframe was the only thing keeping him upright. Sanji loved him. Loved this version of him. Had maybe always loved him, and Zoro had been too stupid, too stubborn, too afraid to see it.
Future Zoro pressed forward slowly and Sanji’s mouth fell open on a silent gasp. The stretch was clearly intense, but Sanji didn’t flinch. He reached up, pulling Future Zoro down into a kiss, and they stayed like that as Future Zoro worked himself in inch by careful inch. When he was fully seated, they both stilled. Future Zoro’s forehead pressed against Sanji’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them.
“Okay?” Future Zoro asked.
“Yeah. Move. Please move,” Sanji breathed.
Future Zoro did. He pulled out slowly before pressing back in, setting a rhythm. Each thrust was deep, angled perfectly to make Sanji gasp. Sanji’s hands clutched at Future Zoro’s back like he was afraid to let go.
“I love you,” Future Zoro said again, the words falling from his lips like a prayer.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry I didn’t see it. I’m sorry—”
“Stop. You’re here now. That’s enough,” Sanji interrupted, his voice breaking.
Future Zoro kissed him, deep and desperate, and his rhythm faltered slightly. Sanji’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and they both moaned at the sensation.
Zoro’s hand on his sword was shaking. His whole body was shaking. The heat in his chest had become unbearable, spreading through his limbs, making his skin feel too tight. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand why watching this felt like dying.
Future Zoro’s hand slipped between their bodies, wrapping around Sanji with the same careful attention he’d shown the rest of him. Sanji’s head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat, and Future Zoro leaned down to kiss it, to mark it, to claim it.
“Come for me. Let me see you,” Future Zoro murmured against his skin.
Sanji shattered. His whole body tensed, his back arching off the bed, and he came with Zoro’s name on his lips. Not present Zoro’s name. Future Zoro’s. The distinction didn’t matter. It was still his name, still his voice, still the sound of Sanji falling apart for him.
Future Zoro followed moments later, burying himself deep and shuddering through his release. He collapsed onto Sanji carefully, mindful of his weight, and they lay there tangled together, breathing hard.
“I love you,” Sanji whispered into the silence.
“I love you too,” Future Zoro replied.
Zoro finally moved. His feet obeyed this time, carrying him away from the door, away from the room, away from the sight of Sanji being loved by someone who knew how. His legs felt unsteady. His chest felt hollow. His mind was a storm of thoughts he couldn’t organize, feelings he couldn’t name, realizations he didn’t want to face.
He didn’t understand why it hurt, didn’t understand why jealousy burned so hot in his veins when he’d never wanted Sanji. Had he?
No. He couldn’t have. Sanji was his crewmate. His rival. Someone he didn’t trust. Someone who’d left.
Someone he’d missed.
Someone he’d been afraid wouldn’t come back.
Someone who mattered more than Zoro had ever let himself admit.
He didn’t remember walking to the crow’s nest, didn’t remember unsheathing his swords. Only remembered the way Sanji had leaned into Future Zoro like he trusted him, the way their bodies moved together in softness and pleasure, the way Sanji looked at his counterpart.
Zoro trained until his arms shook and his breath came heavy and his lungs screamed in protest, but it didn’t help. He sat on the windowsill, staring at the sea, fists clenched, heart pounding. He didn’t know what he felt. Jealousy was too simple. Anger was too easy. It was something else, something deeper, something that clawed at his ribs and made his breath catch.
He’d seen Sanji with other people before. Flirting. Dancing. Laughing. He’d never cared, but this? This was different. This was Sanji looking at someone like he meant it, like he’d found something worth breaking for and it was him. Zoro but not.
He didn’t know what to do with that.
~*~*~
Zoro was already down on the deck when Nami found him.
It was just past dawn. The sky was pale and streaked with gold, the sea quiet beneath it. He stood at the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the horizon like it might offer answers he hadn’t earned. Nami didn’t speak right away, she just stood beside him, close but not touching, her presence steady.
“You saw them,” she said eventually.
Zoro didn’t answer. Nami sighed as if his silence was answer enough.
“I did too.”
Zoro’s jaw clenched. Nami pulled a thermos from her bag, poured tea into two cups and handed him one. The silence between them was familiar, not comfortable, but familiar.
“I think Future Zoro’s grieving. So is Sanji in a way.”
Nami sipped her tea contemplatively before continuing.
“I was furious with him after Whole Cake, after the lies, after the fight with Luffy. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. But now? I’ve watched him wilt, watched him bow and bend and carry every ounce of guilt like it’s a second skin.”
“He left. Maybe he deserves to feel guilty about it,” Zoro replied, his voice cracking.
“I know, but he came back. And he hasn’t stopped punishing himself since.”
Zoro looked away as Nami continued.
“I didn’t know how to reach him. I still don’t, but future you did. Somehow.”
“He’s reached for him alright,” Zoro answered bitterly.
“Sanji matters to him. I think he came here for him. I don’t know if what’s going on between them is a good thing or not. I don’t know if it’s safe. But I know Sanji needed someone to look at him and not see a mistake.”
“I don’t want to keep being angry at him. I want to forgive him,” Zoro admitted.
I want to be the one to look at him like that, to touch him like that.
Zoro’s breath hitched at the unbidden thought.
“You still can,” Nami reassured him.
Zoro didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he was too late. Nami didn’t push, she just stood beside him watching the sun rise over the sea and let him feel whatever he needed to.
~*~*~
Sanji didn’t seek him out. He moved through the ship like nothing had changed, but Zoro saw it now. The tension in his shoulders and the way he avoided eye contact when he was with him versus the way he lingered near the first mate’s quarters and the way he softened when Future Zoro was around. Zoro hated it. He hated the way it made him feel, like he’d lost something he didn’t know he wanted.
That night, Zoro stood outside the first mate’s quarters again.
He didn’t think of himself as a masochist or a voyeur, but he stood outside the door, not knocking, not going in, just listening.
He heard laughter, low and soft. He heard Sanji’s voice, warm and tired. He heard the clink of sake cups and soon silence before it was broken by breathy sighs and the creaking of the mattress. Zoro walked away then, his chest burning. He hated it.
Not because it was Sanji.
But because it wasn’t him.
~*~*~
Zoro trained until his hands bled.
The sun rose and fell and rose again and he didn’t stop. His muscles screamed. His breath came ragged. Sweat soaked his shirt, his bandana, the floor beneath him. He welcomed it, needed it. The pain was clean and the ache was honest.
He couldn’t stop seeing it. Future Zoro’s mouth on Sanji’s neck. Sanji’s hands on his shoulders, his hips and groin grinding into the older man. Sanji’s voice — low, broken, reverent, moaning. Zoro’s own face hovering above him. Not his face, not his body, but close enough to make him sick. It wasn’t just jealousy or anger, it was something more. Sanji had said he loved him. He had found him when he had half his foot in the grave and had been at his bedside when he woke up from his closest brush with death to that point.
I think I’m in love with you.
And Zoro had rejected it. He’d seen too much of Sanji being in love to believe it. He had thought of his confession more times than he wanted to when he was stuck on Kuraigana and then seen him come back and was reminded just what love looked like when it came Sanji, so it was easy to dismiss any lingering thoughts of what-if.
Then Sanji had left to marry someone else. He didn’t just leave the crew or Luffy, he left Zoro to marry some girl he’d never even met, to play the part of a prince in a cage, to bow and bend and break for a family that never wanted him.
Zoro didn’t want to think rationally about it, didn’t want to think that it was some sort of strategy, that Sanji was protecting them, that it wasn’t personal. He didn’t want to give him the benefit of a doubt, because Sanji hadn’t stayed. He hadn’t fought for Zoro, hadn’t tried to make him see that his love was real or true, that it was something Zoro could trust, something he could make room for in his life. He’d just let it go, like it didn’t matter, like Zoro didn’t matter. And Zoro knew it wasn’t fair to think of it that way, that he should be thinking in the here and now, that he should consider that Sanji had been bleeding inside every second since he got back, that he’d been trying to survive ever since and Zoro wasn’t making it easier for him. But the betrayal still sat in his chest, nestled against his heart and cutting him with every beat.
Zoro pushed him away time and time again and now Future Zoro was touching him, holding him, kissing him, and Sanji was letting him. Sanji was leaning into him, trusting him, loving him back. Zoro hadn’t earned that, hadn’t even thought to ask for it, he hadn’t ever believed in it. But now he wanted it.
He wanted Sanji’s voice, low and reverent, for himself. He wanted Sanji’s hands, desperate and trembling, on his shoulders. He wanted to be the one Sanji leaned into when the grief got too loud.
And he hated himself for it, he hated that he’d waited too long, hated that someone else had stepped in. He hated that it was him.
~*~*~
Future Zoro found him in the crow’s nest, training. Zoro was there more times than not but it was rare to see his future self outside of the first mate’s quarters or the galley occasionally. Zoro ignored him and continued his training as if he wasn’t there until he’d finished all of his reps. Future Zoro stood and offered him a water bottle. Zoro reluctantly accepted it.
“You’re angry,” Future Zoro commented after a long while.
“You think,” Zoro scoffed in reply, taking a long swig before he continued.
“You’re using him,” he accused sharply.
Future Zoro blinked at that.
“No,” he replied simply.
Zoro stepped closer angrily.
“You’re taking advantage of him.”
“I’m loving him.”
Zoro froze. The words hit like a blade to the ribs.
“You don’t get to say that,” Zoro said, his voice cracking.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s not yours.”
“He could’ve been if I hadn’t killed him.”
Zoro’s breath caught. Silence fell, heavy and rushing.
“He was losing himself, piece by piece, emotion by emotion, until there was nothing left but malice and darkness and pain.”
Zoro’s hand went to his hilt.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
He drew his blade, steel ringing in the air as he leveled his sword at his older self.
“I would never kill him,” Zoro said.
“I said the same thing.”
“You’re not me.”
“No, but I remember being you. I remember the promise we made in Wano.”
Zoro’s grip faltered.
“He made us promise him that we’d kill him if he stopped being himself. Later, we told him we’d protect him, that we’d never let him fall.”
“Then why did you?”
Future Zoro’s eyes softened.
“Because I didn’t see it. Not until it was too late.”
Zoro’s blade trembled.
“He reached out, he told me again that he loved me. He was desperate, he was slipping, and I was too lost in denial to catch him. I didn’t know what I felt, not until he was already gone. I had to fight him. Wado shattered during the battle.”
Zoro lowered his blade slightly, his hand shaking. Future Zoro stepped closer, ignoring the sword to his neck.
“I came back here because I couldn’t live with that, because if there’s a version of me who can see it sooner, who can choose him before it’s too late, I want that.”
“You stole him,” Zoro quietly accused.
“I did. I don’t regret it, even if it’s selfish, even if it’s temporary, because he’s hurting and so am I. And this… this is the only time I get with him.”
Zoro didn’t speak or sheath his blade, he didn’t step back. He just stood there, trembling, staring at the man who wore his face and had already lived the ending he was trying not to write. He thought about Sanji, about the way he laughed, the way he fought, the way he cooked like it was a love language, the way he’d looked at Future Zoro like he was something rare and precious.
Zoro had never been looked at like that. Or maybe he had and he just hadn’t noticed it. He had never thought about whether he wanted that before and now he didn’t think he deserved it.
~*~*~
Sanji found him on the lower deck just after midnight. The ship was quiet and the moon hung low and heavy, casting silver across the wood. Zoro was alone, shirt damp with sweat, bandana still tied, hands still trembling from training. Sanji didn’t speak right away, just stood there watching him.
“I know you know about me and him, future you,” Sanji said finally.
“I saw you.”
“You saw us?”
“Wandered down the wrong hallway one night.”
Sanji’s face turned up in understanding before he shook his head.
“So, you saw us and now you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Zoro denied.
Sanji gave him a dubious look at that.
“You’ve been training so hard lately, I’m surprised you haven’t broken the crow’s nest. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Zoro turned to face Sanji, his eyes wild.
“I don’t care who you sleep with.”
“…then why are you looking at me like I betrayed you?”
Zoro didn’t answer.
“You rejected me. You made it clear I wasn’t worth your time. So, what is this? Jealousy? Possessiveness? Or are you just pissed that he looks like you and I chose him anyway?”
“He’s not me.”
“No. He’s the version of you who loves me.”
Zoro flinched and Sanji saw it. His face cracked slightly before he visibly steeled himself.
“You don’t get to be angry. You don’t get to look at me like I’m doing something wrong when you never wanted me.”
Zoro looked at him then, really looked at the man who had once said I love you and then left. At the man who now leaned into someone else’s touch because Zoro hadn’t known how to offer his own.
“I didn’t know,” Zoro finally admitted.
“Didn’t know what,” Sanji frowned in reply.
“I didn’t know what I felt. I didn’t know how to name it. I didn’t know it mattered. And even now, everything is so messy in my head and tangled up and I can barely think, but I know I don’t like seeing you with him. I know I don’t like the way he touches you. I know I don’t like the way you look at him.”
“Why?” Sanji asked quietly.
“...Because it should’ve been me.”
Sanji’s eyes narrowed in reply.
“That’s not fair. It’s not fair of you to tell me this now.”
“I know it’s not.”
“You had months, years even, to come to this conclusion and you’ve only reached it now?”
“I didn’t understand it.”
“You understood enough to reject me.”
Zoro flinched at the reminder. Sanji didn’t soften.
“You let me walk away thinking you didn’t give a shit about me one way or another. I ran off to get married to someone else because I knew there was no one who wanted my heart anyway, so what did it matter if I tried to give it someone else? Although she didn’t want me any more than you did, probably even less than you actually. You watched me come back, broken and bleeding all over the place, and you never said a word beyond telling me how much you didn’t trust me. Now that I’m trying to heal with the support of someone else, now is when you choose to tell me how you feel? Not then, but now?”
“I was angry and hurt,” Zoro admitted.
“So was I. It didn’t matter to you,”
“You’ve always mattered to me. Even when I’m angry and hurt, you mattered.”
Sanji froze at his words.
“I see you with him, I see the way you lean in, the way you trust him, and I hate it. I hate that it’s not me,” Zoro continued, his words halting and awkward.
“I don’t know what this is. I don’t know how to be good at it, but I know I don’t want to lose you, Cook. I want you. I want to be the one you reach for. I want to be the one who catches you. I know I’m late and I know I don’t deserve you, but I need you to know that I… I think I love you.”
Silence, heavy and crushing. Sanji looked at him with wide wet eyes, breath shallow, heart visibly aching before he slowly shook his head.
“I can’t, Zoro. I still love you, I’ve never stopped, but I don’t trust you,” he said.
Zoro’s heart broke, not loudly, not violently, just quietly.
They stood in silence. The air between them was thick with everything unsaid. Sanji turned to leave and Zoro didn’t stop him.