[When Miss Goldenweek paints you afraid, that includes Zoro as well. If he wants to wipe that paint off of your arm, he needs to get much closer, witnessing how fear turns into terror with each step towards you.]
a/n: let me know if you want Sanji's version!!
Although Zoro wasn’t one for philosophical debates, he had a habit of indulging you. It was nothing short of selfish – he longed to be the sole beneficiary of your attention. Even if your ponderings were utterly uninteresting to him.
Alas, now he wished that he had listened to you closely, taken in every word you had said. Perhaps then he’d know how to get through to you.
The fear that glistened in your teary, red eyes was impossible. Not only in terms of intensity but also in its origin. How could he, Roronoa Zoro, put such terror in your trembling heart? He, who had promised time and time again to not let harm come your way; he, who shielded you with his own body during a fight; he, who considered a bleeding wound to be a small price to pay for your safety and well-being.
With each step he took in your direction, you took two steps back, ever growing the distance separating you. It seemed as though the larger the chasm between you, the more fearful you were. Something viscous and dishonest inside your thoughts used the space as proof: prey crawls away from the predator, it’s only natural. If you must be so far away from Zoro, just how bloodthirsty is he? What menace lies behind the dexterity of his fingers and the persistence shining in those deep-brown eyes?
You continued to retreat, gaze darting around in search of escape. How silly you really were – there was no way you could possibly outrun him. Finally, your back hit a large tree trunk. A muffled thud symbolised your impasse.
The man was about to take another step forward when your shaky voice called out to him:
“Stay there! Don’t come any closer!”
A desperate break in your voice rendered him immobile. Such an unfamiliar sound, yet more horrible than anything he’s ever heard. It resounded somewhere deep inside him, his own fears repeating it like an echo. His chest suddenly tightened and Zoro found himself both speechless and breathless. That unnamed sensation seared through his lungs, heart and spine. Trembling hands longed to claw his chest open and rip out whatever was hurting in such an unbearable, inexplicable way. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. Nothing in nature should be subjected to that agony.
Your entire body shook as you slid along the trunk and sat on the ground, knees held close to your chest. A violent sob escaped your throat. Trying to stifle it, you put your hands on your mouth, in vain. Hot tears streamed down your face, glistening in the high noon sun.
Seeing the reflected sunrays, Zoro recalled one late night, when you begged him to stay up a little and join you in some stargazing. Bright, white dots littered the dark sky like precious jewels scattered on a sheet of black satin. There, sitting next you, Zoro finally understood the idea of art. If he could somehow save that moment, he would. Then, any time his heart desired, he could once again see your soft smile filled with wonder, faraway stars glistening in your eyes and the almost reverent look with which you admired the night sky. He recalled how you broke the long, pleasant silence: “I wonder what they see when they look down on us.” Zoro would have reminded you that stars, obviously, don’t have much internal dialogue but then you looked at him, casually decided to forever change the way he thought about you: “Sometimes I wonder what you see when you look at me. I mean, we’re so different and yet, we’re here. How does that happen?” The warmth of your skin against his was still fresh in his memory. Unknowingly, he clenched his hand into a fist, desperately trying to relive the sensation of holding you close.
“Fine,” he answered, after a moment of shared silence. Zoro swallowed with difficulty. He didn’t trust himself with longer sentences, not when you trembled in fear before him. “I’ll stay right here.”
He was terrifying.
It was like waking up at dawn and trying to remember the nightmare you just had. There were no details, only fear. A blurry set of silhouettes, their imposing aura only growing darker the harder you tried to make out their specifics. Similarly, you couldn’t recall a moment when one of Zoro’s blades lay threateningly against your exposed throat. The fear, however, remained, as though you remembered you had once remembered such a scene.
Even if you never had a direct reason to fear Zoro, wasn’t it simply common sense to fear a lion? It didn’t require being mauled to realise what a predator is. Although Zoro didn’t roar and neither did he have formidable claws, he was no less threatening: three sharp, well-made swords, years of experience in swordfighting, infamy amongst pirates for hunting them with a rettifying ease, an unshakable determination that even impressed one of the Warlords. Roronoa Zoro had the potential to be a nightmare brought to life. He could be a true demon, the personification of all vile fantasies.
But was he?
You held on to this sliver of clarity like a dying breath. It was impossible to tell which thoughts were your own. The fear directed at Zoro was suddenly directed at yourself – what was happening to you? How could you lose control of your own mind? More importantly: how can you escape the danger if it’s something inside you?
In that moment of clear thinking, you recalled as many memories with Zoro as you could. Maybe it was possible to convince yourself that he was never a threat. As images of shared laughter, intimacy and serenity flood your mind, you hold on to one, undeniable fact: Roronoa Zoro had countless opportunities to kill you in the most gruesome of ways. If he wanted to bring your demise, he already would have. After all, he’s not exactly fond of sitting idly.
“Help me!” you called out to him as your thoughts began to blur once again. Terror grew over them like ivy and moss hide once marvellous buildings. “I can’t stop it!”
“It’s the paint!” he answered, finger pointing at your shoulder. “You need to get the paint off!”
Confused, you looked at your arms. Your gaze landed on a red spiral painted on your skin. Something about this picture intensified your fear. The sliver of clarity was nowhere to be found; grim clouds covered every thought of yours that presented Zoro as anything other than a hungry predator.
You watched as Zoro slowly moved towards you. The beast was on a prowl, keen gaze observing you closely. Surely, he was looking for the quickest way to draw blood from your still-writhing carcass. Zoro was saying something to you but you couldn’t quite make out the words except for “paint” and “come”.
The conclusion was clear as day: Zoro put it there to lure you in. It’s all a scheme to get you to come closer to the swordsman. He was a predator and that was his hunting strategy.
What followed happened much quicker than you could realise. Roronoa Zoro, the beast that he was, pounced on you. Strong arms wrapped tightly around your frame. There was no escaping from that hold, like there was no escaping for the fly wrapped in a black widow’s cocoon. You tried to force your way out of that prison, pulling and pushing as strongly as you could. Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his hands.
A piercing scream filled your ears. It might have been yours but you couldn’t be quite sure – the sound was inhuman, belonging rather to a wounded, frightened animal than a person.
Then, a warm hand rubbed against your shoulder. In a moment, everything went still. What a strange sensation it was, as though the time suddenly slowed down. The colours of the foliage became clearer. Your lungs filled with sweet-smelling, fresh air.
Your heart calmed down, returning to its usual steady rhythm. The fear… was gone. Completely. Along with the terror, all thoughts of Zoro’s murderous schemes disappeared. You could recall some of them, like one recalls a bizarre nightmare they had just woken up from. As the dawn breaks and sunlight fills the bedroom, the night terrors become ridiculous and laughable. How could you ever be afraid of something so calming?
“You with me?” whispered Zoro. His hot, shaky breath brushed against your temple.
“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered equally lowly. “Thank you.”
“Let’s not do this ever again, okay? I-” He cut his sentence before he could finish it. Zoro exhaled slowly, steadying himself. Your terrified shriek still rang in his ears, still asking him whether he truly deserved your trust. “I hated seeing you scared of me.”
His embrace remained just as tight as before. It was both bruising and grounding; one learns they are alive only when they greet Death at her door. Your face was nestled against Zoro’s chest, his chin resting on top of your head. The feeling of being engulfed by him had, strangely, the same power over you as that red paint: it confused your thoughts, taking control of your sanity. However, instead of fear, it instilled a deep sense of safety and belonging, as though the world began with Zoro’s left arm and ended with his right. Everything outside of that was nothing more than a mirage, an afterimage of a dream you had once dreamt.
“You will never have to be afraid of me. You know that, right?” Zoro’s question was met with silence but not with ignorance. The nod of your head was everything he needed to know. “Good,” he muttered under a sigh. It seemed that the acknowledgement was meant more for his own anxiety. The piercing scream continued to echo in his head, although quieter than before.
“You know what was the strangest of all?” you asked. Zoro answered with a low hum. “When I asked for your help, I had this moment of clarity. I tried to make myself remember that you’re not a threat. That I’m always safe with you. And the fear that clouded my mind was the scariest thing I’ve ever felt. The thought of me being scared of you was… “ You shake your head, looking for the right words. “It was more terrifying than anything I could imagine. I would hate to live in a world where, somehow, I should be afraid of you.”
“Good thing you will never have to.”
You felt a pair of lips softly kissing your temple. Was it a promise? An apology? Perhaps a symbol of duty to you.
Zoro wasn’t one for philosophical debates. If he were, he might have understood that he had just witnessed the most profound declaration of love.
