“Now isn’t the time, Zo.”
You sidestep him in the cramped galley, ignoring how the flesh of his arm burns you as it brushes against your shoulder. Tuning out the noisy chatter and clanking dishes, you worry your chapped bottom lip, darting to the door.
When the cool breeze kisses your face, you gulp it down with greed. The brine settles uncomfortably in your lungs, but you keep going, taking and taking and taking until you can’t anymore. It isn’t until you dry heave that the tears flow. They scald your cheeks in rivulets and drip down your chin, falling dejectedly onto the deck. The stars—shimmering pinpricks in the velvet night—offer you no comfort in their silence. But a sense of calm washes over you as you slow your breathing to match the lazy lap of the waves against the hull.
“The hell’s this all about?” Zoro demands to your back as he bursts outside, half-shouting.
In a melodramatic fantasy, you imagine jumping overboard. The murky sea floor would grant you a moment’s peace, surely… But you know Zoro would dive in to save you without hesitation—then proceed to give you even more grief than he already has.
“I just want to be left alone. Can you not be dense for—fuck, I don’t know!—five fucking seconds?” You don’t bother turning around to deliver your outburst, eyes fixed on the boundless horizon.
Your words are harsh, but they don’t rattle Zoro. What does concern him, however, is the syrupy thickness of your voice—the way it hitches and clumps as you speak. He’s beside you in three strides, coaxing you to face him with his warm, scarred palms, aching tenderness in his touch. You can’t meet his steel stare.
“Hey, look at me,” he entreats, gravel voice wrapped in silk. A callused thumb nudges your chin upward, your watery gaze meeting his concerned frown. “What’s goin’ on? Whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay.”
Shaking your head before he finishes speaking, a fresh sob bubbles past your lips, wet and desperate. You collapse into his chest as his strong arms encircle your waist, anchoring your bodies together. You weep to the tune of his steady heartbeat and the slow rock of the tide. The heaviness in your spirit feels insurmountable—a tsunami that will surely drown you.
Zoro rests his chin atop your head. “I’m always here,” he murmurs into your hair. “As long as you want me to be.”
I do, you think to yourself. I want you to be. But you don’t have to say it. Because he can hear it in the way your nails bite deeper into his skin, the way your emotion dampens the fabric of his shirt; so he holds you now. And he will continue to do so for as long as you’ll have him.
