[ sanji had thought he'd heard all that he needed to hear from luffy back when he'd been struggling to free himself from his family's shackles (—you can kick me all you want but you're the one feeling the pain—tell me how you really feel) and at the time, it really had been exactly what he needed then. but it hadn't been the end of it, and the recent nightmares he'd been forced to endure the past few days have been proof that a part of him still lingered in the cell of the castle.
it's not something so easily erased, for all the weight that luffy had been able to release from his shoulders, because those vulnerabilities and insecurities still remain a part of him (—because that's who are you are—). the guilt that followed him in witnessing zoro's lasting anger only confirms the parts of him that still question his worth from time to time, the voice instilled in him that still echo with the cries of a young boy wailing to his wretched father, "i'm sorry i was born weak".
if someone like zoro were to hear those words out of his mouth, would he hate him for it? to hear the person he's trusted most to be his equal to fall into such doubt?
it's only now that sanji even realizes that it's been his fear all this time. ever since he arrived here and faced zoro for the first time since he'd left.
but whatever he'd been afraid of letting zoro for fear of being truly despised, it all withers when zoro takes his face in his hands and says the things that sanji had been needing to hear from him. when sanji feels the heat upon his cheeks, it isn't from the closeness, or the grasp of calloused palms against his skin. it's from having a need that's being met word for word, from learning that for all of his fear of being a burden, the person he'd been afraid of disappointing most isn't turning away.
instead, it's all raw and honest, eye meeting eye, stern and open. ]
Okay. [ he says more quietly, low like a whispered promise.
the last time it'd been like that, zoro had also left him with an unexpected truth (—i want it to be me—) and sanji hadn't known what to do with it either. though he doesn't kiss him this time (even if his gaze does briefly drift to those lips like the quiet pull that always seems to exist beneath the surface of every confrontation), his hands slide down to his hips, fingers curling into the fabric of zoro's shirt to clutch a bit tighter and reel himself in closer.
because so much of sanji's needs live in physicality. if it isn't the typical fire of battle that arises between them, then his language finds other forms of speaking, such as the way he tips his head forward until the top of it nudges against zoro's, offering the very thing that he's been asked to trust him with — vulnerability. ]
I'll come to you first. And you can tell me all of that again. Just ... don't give up on me until then.
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it's not something so easily erased, for all the weight that luffy had been able to release from his shoulders, because those vulnerabilities and insecurities still remain a part of him (—because that's who are you are—). the guilt that followed him in witnessing zoro's lasting anger only confirms the parts of him that still question his worth from time to time, the voice instilled in him that still echo with the cries of a young boy wailing to his wretched father, "i'm sorry i was born weak".
if someone like zoro were to hear those words out of his mouth, would he hate him for it? to hear the person he's trusted most to be his equal to fall into such doubt?
it's only now that sanji even realizes that it's been his fear all this time. ever since he arrived here and faced zoro for the first time since he'd left.
but whatever he'd been afraid of letting zoro for fear of being truly despised, it all withers when zoro takes his face in his hands and says the things that sanji had been needing to hear from him. when sanji feels the heat upon his cheeks, it isn't from the closeness, or the grasp of calloused palms against his skin. it's from having a need that's being met word for word, from learning that for all of his fear of being a burden, the person he'd been afraid of disappointing most isn't turning away.
instead, it's all raw and honest, eye meeting eye, stern and open. ]
Okay. [ he says more quietly, low like a whispered promise.
the last time it'd been like that, zoro had also left him with an unexpected truth (—i want it to be me—) and sanji hadn't known what to do with it either. though he doesn't kiss him this time (even if his gaze does briefly drift to those lips like the quiet pull that always seems to exist beneath the surface of every confrontation), his hands slide down to his hips, fingers curling into the fabric of zoro's shirt to clutch a bit tighter and reel himself in closer.
because so much of sanji's needs live in physicality. if it isn't the typical fire of battle that arises between them, then his language finds other forms of speaking, such as the way he tips his head forward until the top of it nudges against zoro's, offering the very thing that he's been asked to trust him with — vulnerability. ]
I'll come to you first. And you can tell me all of that again. Just ... don't give up on me until then.