Chapter Text
High school reunions were bittersweet things.
Especially the one Sanji just stepped into.
As seniors at Romance Dawn high school, they’d all decided to have a reunion once they became 25—meaning 7 years from when they graduated. The result was this barely-thrown-together party, its location being the high school’s gym, and the decorations limited to balloons that popped the second idiots like Luffy came in as well as badly taped streamers on the wall. The tables that only fit so many were of the portable kind, strewn randomly across the floor with foldable chairs that only allowed half of the lot to sit down. The apparent food bar only had cheeses and vegetables, as well as juice and a fuckton of alcohol. It represented their grade so well that it almost made Sanji laugh.
As he walked further in he eyed the friends that were meeting up with those that have drifted away, and people who were checking each other out, trying to put names to faces and exclaiming to their buddies that “so-and-so has changed so much!” or “when was insert name hot?”. Sanji realized that the people laughing together and recounting their past years with pride was the sweet part of the event.
The bitter part was the realization that some people didn’t make it so far, news travelling that accidents happened or financial lives plummeted to the point of no return. There was also the factor that some people just stopped being friends with others, and Sanji had to hold back a frown when he saw how girls whispered about the redhead sitting at Luffy’s table—Nami, the person that Sanji worshipped for most of high school. He knew it was because of trivial things, like jealousy of Nami’s vastly growing business and her popularity in the city. Those people used to be Nami’s friends, and Sanji felt an awful taste in his mouth at how quick they turned their backs on her.
But life happened, he guessed, and as he walked up to Luffy’s table he realized that a certain marimo had yet to show up. The bastard probably thought it wasn’t worth showing up to this reunion, if he was any bit the same as he used to be.
He made eye contact with Usopp and the man quickly exclaimed his name, turning everybody’s attention to him.
“Sanji!” Luffy proceeded to yell, basically jumping from his seat to wrap him in a hug. The chef realized that Luffy seemed to have barely changed, other than getting a little more muscle in certain places. A smile automatically made it onto his face when Luffy asked when he’d next make him food, as he’d always been weak to Luffy’s good vibes—like everyone at the table.
They weren’t all best friends, but had become friends because of Luffy. The first year of Sanji’s high school was spent with Usopp, and in the second year Usopp introduced him to Luffy, who immediately clung onto him like super glue. From there Luffy made him acquaintances to Franky and Robin, the polar opposite friends who liked mechanics and books. He loved Robin then and he loved Robin now, wherever she was—probably travelling in a different country, he expected. He was then introduced to Nami (who he also immediately fell in love with) and the person he regretted meeting the most: Nami’s best friend, Zoro. At that time he’d only ever heard of the obnoxious dumbass who slept in every class and had real swords in his locker, and their first meeting was up to par with the terrible imaginations he’d had of the guy. Their relationship set off with an explosive first fight, where Zoro insulted Nami and Sanji took offence, getting further riled up when Zoro called him an ero-cook (he was going to be a chef, for fuck’s sake), resulting in a fight that actually gave them a black eye each. They both didn’t have good first impressions of each other, but the rest of their high school they were practically forced to hang out. Through that forced relationship, Sanji managed to get feelings that, even now, still popped up in his mind once in a while.
After saying greetings to Franky, Brook and Chopper, he took a seat on one of the empty chairs that Luffy stole from some other table, observing everyone closely. He’d seen Usopp last week so he wasn’t surprised by the man’s longer hair, and he sometimes ran into Franky at the grocery store so his insanely broad shoulders were no new sight. Brook and Chopper were in the same group as Usopp (friends that he continued to closely socialize with even after high school) so Brook’s nearly dead complexion and Chopper’s older features were familiar to him.
He didn’t have contact with either Luffy, Nami, Robin, or Zoro (the last two having not shown up yet, if they were even showing up) and he realized that Nami was absolutely gorgeous back in the day, and she’d only become more beautiful with time. Her hair now seemingly reached her back and Sanji had seen earlier: her waist had somehow become even more pinched, figure absolutely perfect for a 25-year old. Sanji already had hearts in his eyes and Nami hadn’t even said hi to him yet. He’d already checked out Luffy earlier, so he immediately set to starting a conversation with Nami.
“How are you doing, Mademoiselle?” Sanji questioned, and he vaguely heard Usopp complaining in the background that Sanji only ever focused on Nami, ignoring it promptly to hear Nami’s answer.
“Great! My bank is looking good nowadays.”
Ah, Sanji thought wistfully, Nami’s love of money is wonderful.
The rest of the table settled into their own conversations as Sanji and Nami continued theirs, and the chef was even a little surprised that Luffy didn’t immediately get jealous of the two of them.
“Though I’m a little pissed,” Nami spoke, “Because a certain idiot hasn’t shown up yet and he still owes me two thousand dollars.”
“Two thousand dollars?” Sanji questioned, curious but trying his hardest not to show it too much.
“A mixture of the costs of a flight to Japan and expenses for an injury,” she explained, and Sanji’s mind didn’t know what to focus on first.
Japan? Injury? He had to hold back the multitude of questions that were threatening to spill out of his mouth.
“Well, what do you expect,” Sanji tried to joke, ignoring the signals in his mind telling him to figure out more about all he’d missed, “It’s Zoro.”
“Yeah, and I bet he got lost on a straight path,” Nami rolled her eyes, “He said he was coming, by the way.”
No, Sanji’s heart did not just speed up.
“I even told him the time half an hour earlier than it actually was, because I knew he’d get lost on the way.” Sighing, Nami took a sip out of her cup and shrugged, “So, I’d say you have to wait another half an hour before he gets here.”
The blond let out a chuckle, leaning back in his seat, “Why would I be the one waiting for him? I’d expect Luffy to be more excited.”
Nami just gave him a pointed look, but the moment she opened her mouth to refute his statement, Luffy yelled out in joy.
“Robin’s here!”
All attention was focused on Robin now—Franky’s loud ass Super!! was hard to talk over either way—and Sanji nearly sighed, secretly thankful for the bullet he managed to dodge.
The rest of the evening continued, and 8 PM turned into 9 PM before Sanji even knew it. He enjoyed the company of his friends, and he swore that he wasn’t waiting for—something. He wasn’t waiting. And yet, of course, Sanji’s eyes flit to the door every now and then, contradicting himself every time that someone didn’t walk through the door, feeling disappointment well in him with every passing minute. Zoro never appreciated such meet ups either way. Though, it would be weird for him to go against his word if he truly did tell Nami that he was going. The bastard kept his word so often that it actually baffled Sanji.
He was starting to remind himself of the old times, where Zoro was always the last one to show up at every party held at Luffy’s place, and he’d subconsciously wait for the idiot before making his favourite dishes, details not going unnoticed by people like Robin and Nami. He was just glad they never mentioned it back in the day, but it seemed like they’d had a change of heart, seven years later. Nami seemed ready to beat some sense into him earlier.
Sanji held back a sigh, trying and failing to immerse himself into Robin’s travels across the world. It was interesting, but with the itch of wanting to smoke and wanting to see a certain marimo, he couldn’t quite pour all his attention into her stories like everyone else.
It was sometime after 9, perhaps 9:20—9:30, when his eyes did the routine sweep of the place and his gaze stopped dead on green hair.
He could feel his heart immediately start to pound in his chest, and he wondered if Nami next to him could hear the erratic sound over all the yells. The hair disappeared behind Kuma’s big ass body and Sanji resisted the urge to reposition himself to find that damn hint of Zoro again. Too bad only half the people were sitting down, so losing the mosshead behind the crowd who lost himself on simple paths was the easiest thing.
Sanji assumed that it was just his imagination, turning back as to not seem suspicious for staring in that direction for too long, tapping a finger on his thigh absent-mindedly. He couldn’t concentrate, and he wondered if it was even a good idea to show up—no, wait, he took that back. He liked being with his friends but—
Yeah, fuck addictions but he needed to smoke. Sanji stood and turned so quickly, wanting to escape into the cool night with a good puff of nicotine, but that action only led to him running straight into someone.
Hands grabbed his shoulders faster than he could even express a reaction, and he swore he knew those hands just moments before he looked up and confirmed that, yup, it was Zoro that he’d seen earlier. It was also Zoro that he’d bumped into.
A Zoro that now only had one eye.
The new revelation shocked Sanji into silence, but it didn’t last long as Zoro spoke up easily.
“Still always getting in my way?” the greenhead questioned, and he released Sanji when the man got a hold of himself again, seemingly unaffected by anything, as usual.
“Fuck you, marimo,” Sanji answered as if on instinct, realizing that even after all these years, it was just as easy to fight with the bastard.
“Zoro!” Nami and Luffy exclaimed at the same time, and the lines that came next were opposites, one being: “I haven’t seen you in forever!” and the other being: “Give me back my money, you punk!”
“Yeah yeah, later,” Zoro brushed Nami off, and smirked when he watched as Luffy stole a chair from right under someone just to give to Zoro, receiving a wack on the head from Nami for rudeness.
Zoro sat next to Franky who was opposite to Nami, and he easily got into conversation with the bigger guy.
“Sit down, Cook-san,” Robin’s smooth voice invited, and Sanji wondered what he’d just looked like, staring after Zoro like a lost child because—he realized he was the only one really affected by the time lost between the two.
Forgetting about his smoke break, he slunk back into his seat, questioning and wondering why Zoro didn’t seem to care whatsoever. Of course, the mosshead was always like that but... after seven years? He couldn’t say anything more to Sanji than some insult about getting in his way?
He spent the next few minutes just observing, from Zoro’s leather jacket haphazardly thrown over a black t-shirt to the eye that’d once been there, noting that Zoro had changed greatly. His hair was more grown out before, but was still considered short to anyone who didn’t see his high school cut. He looked bigger, in physique and in presence, but his voice sounded the same. His smile was also identical to the one Sanji remembered, the guy laughing at some dumb story Usopp was telling about Luffy.
Sanji felt mentally sated for the time being, less anxious about everything but still, he realized, craving a smoke. He stood, more gentlemanly this time, and told Nami his intentions, grabbing the jacket he’d thrown over the back of his chair to shield against the night chill. Hands in his pockets, he walked to the side exit, opening the heavy door to the cold air and the school’s parking lot.
While moving to the side of the door he fished out a cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he threw his jacket over his shoulder, noting that it wasn’t as cold as he’d remembered it to be. He must’ve just gotten hot in the gym, as the air actually felt comforting to him.
Leaning back, he lit his cigarette, staring at the black sky and the little dots of stars.
In truth, Sanji had no real reason to be upset with Zoro’s lack of attention. It was to be expected, either way.
The way they’d parted was quite simple. On their last day of school, at the very same parking lot he was currently standing in front of, Sanji had given Zoro his new phone number.
“Take it. Who knows when a mosshead like you is going to be lonely,” Sanji had said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I’m upgrading phones, and I thought I might as well change numbers. Don’t try my old one anymore because it’s this one now.”
Zoro had merely let out a tch and grabbed the slip of paper, shoving it into the pocket of his trousers. “I’m sure you’ll be the lonely one, love cook.”
“It’s fucking chef, bastard.”
The memory made Sanji smirk, but it quickly fell when he thought about what happened after. He remembered watching Zoro turn to get to his car, and calling out—in what he recalled as a completely normal voice, and not a clingy one—
“Call me.”
“I will,” Zoro had answered without turning, lifting the hand that held his keys as a sort of goodbye wave.
He didn’t call Sanji. Ever.
In the past seven years, he hadn’t called Sanji once, and the blond knew it was probably because of something dumb, like Zoro forgetting to call for the first three months and deciding it wasn’t worth it anymore. To add onto that, he seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Usopp, Chopper and Brook had no idea where he’d gone, and Sanji didn’t keep in touch with Luffy and Nami. He also didn’t want to ask, just in case it made him seem desperate.
So he just kind of let go; told himself it didn’t matter anymore, and it really didn’t, for a period of time. He had more important things to focus on either way, like achieving his dream as a chef and opening his own restaurant. Even now he was only halfway there.
But, Sanji admitted, he wondered what would have changed if Zoro would have just called once. Just once.
Because, he was pretty sure, high school him was in love with Zoro.
He tapped off the crusted part of his cigarette and at that moment, the door next to him opened, the sliver of light making a path on the ground and forwards. Sanji turned his head and saw Zoro step out, immediately spotting him.
When the door closed behind him they were both engulfed in darkness again, and he turned back to the view of the sky, head leaned against brick and cigarette finding its place in his lips once more.
Zoro stood there to his right and didn’t say anything for a bit, until he broke the silence with a curt:
“You smoke now.”
Of course, it was one of the first things Zoro would talk about. Mentally scoffing, Sanji answered, “And you apparently lost half of your vision.”
“That’s not good for you,” Zoro decided to say.
Sanji laughed, mostly to himself, and then turned to gaze at Zoro. “And losing an eye isn't?”
The mosshead grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “Just another step to becoming the greatest swordsman.”
Sanji couldn’t say anything in response to that, frankly speechless with that boyish smile directed at him, and the refreshing info that Zoro hadn’t given up on his dream—one of the reasons Sanji used to love him so much.
They fell into a silence that was uncharacteristic for either of them, leaving Sanji a little antsy. He wanted to talk...about everything. He didn’t know where to start, and he was afraid that he’d just turn into a mess of words if he didn’t gather his thoughts quickly enough.
Thankfully, Zoro spoke up before he could make a fool of himself.
“So, are you coming with?”
Sanji raised an eyebrow, tossing his three-quarters finished cigarette onto the floor, crunching it under his shoe, “And where would we be going?”
“Further into the school,” Zoro said easily, as if the other doors weren’t all locked. But Sanji understood seconds later, because he hadn’t forgotten their little revelation during their second year.
He shrugged, trying to seem at ease even if he was sure being in the school with Zoro again was just going to bring him back to all those times.
“Let’s go,” he said after a moment, and Zoro started off by walking past him, turning the corner of the school to get to the church that was connected (yes, they went to a catholic school, as surprising as that was). “Can’t believe we used to do this whenever we wanted the gym to ourselves to spar.”
“We wouldn’t be delinquents if we didn’t,” Zoro replied, and Sanji felt the corner of his lip quirk up, shoving his hands into his pockets as he quickly sidled up beside Zoro. He felt as if they were kids again.
For now, he was just going to forget about his unresolved feelings. He wanted to walk in the school with Zoro once more before deciding anything more.
"You mean you wouldn't be a delinquent. I never was one, you know. You're just a bad influence."
"Oh yeah, because you spent most of your days with a spatula shoved up your ass when you followed ladies."
That was a dig on how Sanji used to be in the Home Ec. club. And his love for ladies.
"I wasn't the one swinging swords around in school."
They made it to the church’s backdoor, where they easily entered the code onto the old buttons that looked as if they were wearing out with time. It was a gamble to try a code that was 7 years old (Sanji once again thanked Robin for being the one who even figured it out) but thankfully, when Zoro pulled the handle down it unlocked like all those years ago.
“Oh hell yeah,” Sanji said, and then he heard the familiar sound of the door being wrenched open from its spot—probably one of the reasons they were still able to use this door; no one else used it because of how hard it was to open. But Zoro had always had incredible strength, and it was just another thing that made Sanji feel something.
They slipped into the church’s lobby and Sanji slowed down in his reminiscing, watching Zoro’s back and figure with the shimmery light of the moon from the stained glass up above. He remembered that exact sight, but Zoro of that time wasn’t as big, and Sanji remembered that he felt a lot more attainable; compared to now. He shook the thoughts away and focused on his path to follow Zoro, who had made it to the door leading to the hallway.
The thing with that hallway was that the doors were locked if one went from the school to the church, but not the other way around. It was always their way to sneak into the school, of course after passing through the pitch black hallway. They’d never bothered to turn on the lights for the short path, and now was no different.
The moment Sanji was engulfed in darkness he remembered what happened in between these two exact walls, and he felt a blush rising from his chest upwards. They were not practicing christian values.
He didn’t think about it too long lest things became weird, and it was soon after that Zoro pushed open the doors to their school. When Sanji made it to their school’s familiar hallways, spotting the art class off to one end and the band room on the other, he felt it all come back to him in waves.
Nostalgia took over the entirety of his thoughts, and he felt a strange longing to go back to those days; where all he had to care about was grades, clubs, and his unrequited love.
It was different from now, where he was trying to put himself into the professional world of chefs. He also didn’t have to care about if he’d be able to pay next month’s rent without his guardian’s help, taxes, family problems, and whether or not this mosshead was alive or not. At least he now had that last one figured out.
He wanted to throw himself back into the person he was before, thinking about everything that passed as his fingers glided over the white brick walls of their school. To the dumb and entirely too emotion-driven teenager he was, completely smitten by some idiot he fought with every other day.
Sanji kept on wishing, of course, that they could go back to what they were before. But it was different now. Zoro wasn’t focused on him as they went through the school, as he’d once been. He wasn’t promising Sanji that he’d beat him in their next sparring match—wasn’t promising anything. Not his kisses, his stares, or even his mere presence in Sanji’s life.
Some chapters in life just closed with unsatisfying ends.
And no matter how hard someone tried to pry it back open, they’d only realize that there were no more empty pages, and the ink that rested on every piece was irreversible.
Sanji was in the midst of doing just that.