November 5th had come and gone and with it his first year in the city. Le Grande Bleu was still in business, which in itself was a great success but it was far too early to relax and Sanji found himself working around the clock to perfect an already perfect system or adjust a menu that few restaurants could ever hope to compare with. To say that business was thriving might be a bit of an overstatement but they were doing really fucking well and several critics had praised his fresh look on the fruits of the sea. With the Holiday season in full swing business was more than booming and the young chef barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep.
Even so it was plain to see that there was something else behind this manic fervor. He'd always been a hopeless micromanager but a year with most of the original crew intact should mean less work for the boss, not more and still he seemed to be in the restaurant even more now than when they first opened. He still flirted with the female customers, occasionally managing to sneak a date or two but the upstairs apartment remained silent and empty and as far as the staff knew the owner never spent a night away. Something was on his mind, that much was clear, but any attempts to pry were met by a sharp glare and an acid remark about gossiping old crones.
Truth was something - or rather someone - was very much on his mind, as much as he tried to deny it. It had been months now, close to a year since he last saw the damn mosshead but he still couldn't get him out of his head. At first he'd been worried, especially upon discovering that his cellphone was disconnected but the concern had quickly been replaced by pure anger and a promise to kick the bastards ass all the way to Iowa as soon as he came back.
But he didn't come back. Spring moved on to summer and suddenly it was autumn and Thanksgiving and Christmas and he still wasn't back. Not a word, as if he'd vanished into thin air.
It shouldn't affect him but it did. They'd grown so close in virtually no time at all and the last twist in their relationship just made the vanishing act that much worse - had he changed his mind? Had it been a mistake to cross that distinct line even though both of them had seemed so very pleased with the outcome? If anything Sanji had suspected that it'd be he who would carry regrets, not the damn swordsman but here they were. He was still here and Zoro... gone.
And that was why he drowned himself in work. The previous year had been bad and by the end of the holidays he'd been decked out with a nasty cold for days but this time Christmas wasn't even over before he was hit with a high fever - not that it stopped him. He simply drugged up, gritted his teeth and kept going as the temperatures dropped and snow piled up around the brick building, making a pristine white nest for the restaurant that he lived and died for. This was all he had, his work, his dream and passion and everything else, everything that had been or could've been or never was - it wasn't important. Or at least that was what he told himself as he struggled to keep up the pace while avoiding the more concerned members of his staff and it wasn't until his sous chef cornered him in the freezer and threatened to lock him in if he didn't take a break that he finally agreed to step away for a moment.
Ten minutes. Fifteen tops, just enough to grab a smoke and a breath of fresh air. So he bundled up and headed out the back to stand on the freshly shoveled stoop, cheeks flushed from fever and hot stoves and hands shaking slightly with fatigue as he lit up. A deep inhale, shaky exhale... blue eyes sliding close.