AN: This is my first story. I just had a sudden desire to write something. Some song lyrics are going to be here and hopefully most of you will probably recognize them. If this chapter goes well, I'll write more. Please leave a comment about anything that I can improve upon, thank you readers, now enjoy. :)
Sanji was already having a bad day, but as the universe had always done, some asshole decided to make it a thousand times worse; and it all started with waking up with a damn phone call.
Beauty queen of only 18, she had some trouble with herself. He was always there to help her; she always belonged to someone else….
Sanji slightly roused from his sleep when he heard Nami's ringtone. His tired mind wanted to fall back to sleep, but something was telling him to wake the hell up.
"I don't mind spending every day. Out on your corner in the pouring rain…"
He picked up the phone with his lethargic fingers, pressed accept as he tried to snap out of the drowsiness that was starting to overtake him again.
"Sanji-kun?" Nami asked loudly, restraining her shouts from the muffled music in the background. "Sanji-kun?" She asked for a verification, but decided to continue when Sanji took too long to answer. "I'm sorry but I think we should cancel our date."
Sanji was definitely awake now. Their meeting. Their date! "Huh? Nami-san? What did you say?" He swore he heard the word 'cancel,' but it couldn't be. Nami-san wouldn't cancel their promised date that he was looking forward to so much... She wouldn't.
Their little private joke with the -san and -kun begun when they took a trip to Japan a few years ago. It was a sign of visible respect that he and Nami clearly had for each other. To top it off, it was a private joke that brought them together and confused the hell out of those, who weren't familiar with the Japanese culture, around them.
"Who are you on the phone with?" A stranger's baritone voice was heard, followed by Nami's cute giggles.
Nami continued to giggle as she answered his question. "This is just one of my close friends, Sanji."
Friend... A piercing mantra to his thudding head.
Sanji's heart felt like it was being squeezed by someone else. To him, Nami-san was not just a friend. Not even a close friend. She was his first dear love, whom he kept in his heart.
"Sorry, Sanji-kun. That's my new boyfriend, Sebastian or Sebby. I know this was supposed to be a friendly meeting, but it'll still offend Sebastian if I go since it's still called a 'date'." Her tone of voice was sympathetic and filled with guilt. It pained the blond far more to hear his beloved like this.
Although his emotions paralleled with someone who just got dumped with a bucket of shit and was told happy birthday. He told his 'friend', "Of course I understand, Nami-san. It's alright. I had other plans today anyways." He replied as his lies slipped through his tongue more naturally than expected. "Baratie needs an extra waiter today." The last part was the truth at least.
He was used to this.
He knew Nami well enough to know that she was an incompetent girlfriend who hated commitment. She was never able to give herself up to just one guy and couldn't even possibly imagine marriage. Many mistook her as a slut or promiscuous because she would go through guys faster than she shed her clothes. But Sanji knew that wasn't the truth because he knew her better than anybody.
"That's great! I was thinking of bringing Sebastian there. I told him it's one of the greatest restaurants in the world. I'll be seeing you there tonight." She told him. Faintly, in the background, he heard Sebastian whispering something to her. "Sebastian, you're so sweet." Sanji heard a loud sound of them kissing and cringed inwardly. "Sebastian is a famous food critic, so if he likes Baratie, he'll recommend it on his blog tonight. Isn't that great?"
Sanji didn't give ten fucks, didn't give a shit.
He did not care if Sebastian decided that his old man's restaurant was good enough to be on his stupid blog, or if he decided to jump off the fucking Manhattan bridge as another option. Sanji just wanted to get off the phone and go back to sleep, into a world where Nami wanted him for a change. "That's great Nami-san, but I have to get going now. Sorry. I'll see you tonight." He said, last word cracking, but hanging up before Nami could answer.
The blond fell back into bed and tried to go back to sleep; but that phone call completely awoke him, so he decided to get up and get ready.
He dragged himself towards the bathroom, turned the faucet on and made sure that the water was icy, then started washing his face until it began to numb. He continued his regular routine with brushing his teeth, combing his hair and beard, and blow drying his hair- until his eyes caught the clothes he picked out yesterday for this date, which took him almost two hours because he could not decide.
At the end he picked out a blue collared shirt with black dress pants that would give him a hint of a sophisticated look, but not so much as to make him seem uptight. He picked it up and hung it back into the closet; instead, pulled out his waiter uniform to put on.
Sanji looked into the mirror and saw a man with blonde hair with bangs that covered his left eye, and a little peach fuzz on his chin. His bright blue eyes stared back at him. His pathetic self disgusted Sanji.
The blond quickly turned away from the mirror, facing his back against himself.
He grabbed his jacket and gloves before walked out of his apartment. Even though it was still September, the air outside was already chilly. He reached into his pocket and realized that he had forgotten his cigarettes. He craved for some nicotine but was too lazy to go back up to his apartment, so he decided to pick some up from a store on his way to Baratie. As he walked down the sidewalk, the cold wind blowing at his face, he took his phone out of his pocket and called Zeff, who was like a father to him and also happened to be the owner of the restaurant that he was working in.
After about four rings, Zeff picked up. "What is it eggplant? You need some advice for your little date?" He asked, and Sanji could imagine a sly grin on Zeff's face.
"Actually, I don't have that date anymore, shitty old man. So I'm going to the restaurant right now," Sanji tiredly said with a flat tone.
The humor was long gone from the head chef's voice but his sarcasm remained. "Fine, fine, we needed waiters today anyways. Just don't burst out in tears in middle of your shift."
"Fuck you." Sanji spat, but didn't say it with any bite. After all, this was how they got along, by cursing and arguing with another. Actually, that was how the blond best got along with anyone who was male. With females, he'd rather flirt and bless them with compliments.
Zeff chuckled a bit. "I think you should just get another girl other than Nami. It's already been about 11 years, time to get a new crush."
"Mind your own business, old man. I don't tell you to get a wife or anything." Sanji replied with slight annoyance. He started crossing the street but didn't realize that the lights were still red. He was too busy arguing over the phone.
Zeff sighed, "Ignoring advice from your father, eh eggplant?" The tone was weary and actually sounded old, very peculiar indeed.
And not only the tone, but Sanji was shocked by the fact that Zeff actually considered himself his father. Both of them knew well enough that they had the father/son bond from a long time ago, but neither of them actually said the words out loud. Because that would be too... embarrassing... How should he respond now?
Sanji tried to go for a casual outlook but before he could respond, he heard a screech created by a car heading toward him. A black convertible, driving toward him at the speed of light.
Sanji thought out loud when he thought this was it.
This was the end of his life.
However, before he could hesitate any further, his reflexes kicked in, right before the car crashed where he once stood. The blond dove out to his right, but landed on his hands. Fuck Fuck FUCK He thought as the pain shot upwards, streaking its way through his arms. A chef's hands are their treasures and he just might have fractured them. How fucking unfortunate. Did he do anything vile, nasty thing in the past? Or did God simply hate him?
He stayed on the ground to check whether his hands were broken or not. To Sanji's displeasure, they were both turning red, with tinges of green blossoming. This can't be a good sign.
He heard a car door slam, people were starting to crowd around him, and the street lights were green now.
Sanji tried to stand but when he put pressure on his hands, the pain became too much.
He felt a tug at his shoulders; someone was helping him get up. At least my legs are fine. I can kick that person's ass, Sanji thought as the stranger helped him get back on his feet.
The stranger was quite broad, muscular, and tall. But the strangest thing about him, that Sanji noticed, was his hair.
It was green like the grass fields or like that little green plant that was shaped like a ball he saw in Japan with Nami. What were they called again? He kept thinking as he continued observing the man.
He had three golden earrings on his left ear that made him look like a thug; but in contrast of looking like a thug, the man was wearing a suit. What a contradiction, Sanji thought to himself. He might have laughed if the situation at hand had not been so dreadful.
"Are you alright?" asked the man with the green hair, his voice rich and deep. There was also a little accent that Sanji could not pinpoint which language it was. However, he was definitely sure that he had heard it in the past.
When the blonde looked into this man's eyes, he saw hazel brown that contained great concern.
Then, realization took over, Sanji realized that this man might have been the one who almost ran over him. He quickly jerked away from the man and tried to put as much anger and irritation into his next words.
"Asshole, did you do this to me?" He asked.
This was perfect. He could take out all of his frustrations from what happened earlier on this man.
The man's flinched from Sanji's harsh words, and the blond felt slightly guilty from overreacting, but not enough to stop him. "Fucker, answer me" He demanded.
"Yeah," The man replied calmly, which irritated the hell out of Sanji. The blonde felt the need to see anger from someone else other than himself.
"Well fucker, if I find out that my hands are broken, I'm going to beat the shit out of you so bad that you'll wish you weren't born." Sanji growled out with a snarl, stepping closer to the other man and appearing deadly as possible.
The green haired man frustratingly retorted. "It was a fucking accident, and I wasn't the one stupid enough to walk when the street light was red."
Sanji replied fiercely, "What did you say asshole?" His weirdly colored forefinger was threateningly close to the man's eyes.
The crowd around them started to disperse when the cars behind them started to beep impatiently.
The green haired man seemed impatient,"Look. I'll pay for the medical bills. I'll give you my number. I can't deal with this right now. I have somewhere else to be."
"Oh, just going to leave the person you almost ran over to take care of himself," Sanji mocked sarcastically. He could not help it. He felt horrible for being like this, but simultaneously, it was relieving.
"It's not like that," The green haired man groaned as his brows came closer together, looking terribly aggravated.
Something inside Sanji spoke to him. He no long wanted this argument. Although it relieved him, that did not mean he could ruin someone else's day. He heaved a heavy sigh. "It's okay. I should go now." He speedily ran off, to avoid getting hit by a car.
He heard the man behind him shouting something, words that seemed like a faint buzz when Sanji was so far away. It was also drowned by the beeping of other cars, impatiently waiting for the green haired man's car to start moving. The blonde continued to walk. He tried moving one of his fingers. It hurt like a bitch with every small movement but at least he was able to feel them.
That's a good sign, right? He attempted seeing the optimism in this miserable situation.
Sanji glimpsed over his shoulder and saw the man getting back into his car. And feeling strangely disappointed, he continued his way over to Baratie. On top of his terrible day, seeing Nami with her new boyfriend will top everything off, with a cherry on top.
He entered through the backdoor of Baratie, leading him straight into the kitchen.
Sanji groaned. He didn't feel like listening to that obnoxious tone of voice. He saw Patty stumbling across the kitchen, toward his way. "I thought you weren't coming today because of a date?" The large buff man asked, unpleasant loud to his ears. That stupid face of his was already grinning slyly.
"Shut up, shithead. You're hurting my eardrums. It got cancelled, alright?" Sanji seriously regretted bragging about his date to everyone.
"I bet you got dumped, idiot." Patty's grin grew larger.
Sanji wanted to beat the shit out of him; instead, he walked past Patty, heading towards the dining room, where all the customers were.
"Hah, I bet he's just pissed cus he couldn't get a girl for once," Patty noisily yelled with a snort, followed by laughter, and the cooks who heard him laughed along, hysterically making fun of the blonde idiot cook.
"Shitty cooks," Sanji mumbled under his breath.
He took orders, went back to grab plates, but the pain shot up again. "Ah," he sounded as the plates slipped out of his grip. Sanji felt immediate irritation at himself for wasting food.
"Oi, don't waste food!" Another cook named Carne told Sanji. "I made that."
"What food? More like garbage," Patty, yet again, nosily commented, causing the whole kitchen to laugh alongside with him.
"What did you say? Like your food is edible!" Carne shot back angrily.
They kept on bickering. The blond ignored the two since this was the usual occurrence.
He bent down on one knee to pick up the broken pieces. His hands were still aching, but it was no big deal. It was Sanji who was experiencing this pain. He had dealt with death before and kicked its ass all the way back to hell. This pain was hardly a mosquito bite to him.
"Why is it so loud in here?" A voice rang, like the church bells, cutting silence into the kitchen. Carne and Patty immediately shut their mouths. "What the hell are you doing down there, shitty eggplant?" Zeff asked, creating a clucking sound on the tiled kitchen with his wooden leg.
"What do you think I'm doing, old man? I'm cleaning up after myself."
Zeff's eyebrow rose, "I thought you got yourself into an accident."
Sanji did not want to give the old man any unnecessary stress, nor did he want any unnecessary sympathy. As he had done before, a lie slipped through his tongue. His expression calm with composure. "Well, I didn't."
"Then, why did you hang up right after a car screech?" The head chef asked, plainly seeing through the blond's curtain of lies.
When he had jumped sideways, he had accidentally released his phone from his grip. Who knows where it is by now?
Today was soooo not his day.
Sanji realized that he must have been making some strange expressions, because Zeff released the topic. "Whatever, shitty eggplant. Just get back to work and try not breaking anymore shit. It's going to come off of your paycheck." Zeff warned him as he walked away.
Sanji felt grateful, for Zeff have decided not to press further.
As he started his waiter duties again, his lips continuously twitched, because of his strong cravings for nicotine. He had completely forgot to buy any because of that incident; and with this, the frustration and the crankiness amplified.
The blond continued to overexert himself but used his hands only when it was truly necessary. Working relaxed him, though he hated waiter duties and rather be cooking instead, he was able to forget about smoking for awhile. Time passed by quickly, and soon, the darkness overshadowed the light. Customers were starting to increase, but the condition of his hands were worsening, swelling up and burning like crazy.
He hid his hands from customers by pulling down his sleeves.
Few more hours, he thought to himself. He will see a doctor afterwards.
The lack of nicotine in his system forbid him from interacting with any of the chefs, not that he has ever wanted to; but today especially, he would snap over the smallest things because his anger was spiraling out of control.
I'm going to kick the fucking shit out of that fucking moss head if I ever see his fucking face ever again.
Every time the door opened and a new customer walked in, he would feel simultaneously happy and sad that it wasn't Nami.
I can handle this. I saw Nami with tons of other guys before. He tried to make himself feel better. However, dark gloomy peeked its way, murmuring, but she sounded so happy over the phone. She never sounded like that with any other guys. His optimism and pessimism constantly tried to overwhelm one another. I'm going crazy. I need some cigarettes.
Sanji headed for the door, deciding on his own terms that buying cigarettes was the right choice, when his eyes caught a lonely beauty, sitting by the windows. He spun dramatically, in a suave fashion, before delicately taking her hand into his. "Oh, my beautiful delicate flower, I am but a poor incompetent painter, for the stroke of my brush is incapable of replicating your radiance, thus my canvas shall never be enough to capture your beauty madam." Sanji slurred with a little French accent, he knew women liked their men from foreign countries.
He puckered his lips to land a peck upon the back of her hand.
"Stop," demanded the woman, who appeared awfully frail.
At first, he didn't believe that she was rejecting him; but in her eyes, there was the clear sign of rejection.
Sanji stood up and apologized. He repeated that his action had been too haste, but if she would like to be accompanied by him, he would not mind...
"Hey waiter, don't be flirting with my girlfriend," a voice from behind called out.
The blond waiter turned his body around, ready to be annoyed by whoever this lucky fucker was. However, that green hair of his managed to stun him once more, shoving his words back into his throat.