Trigger Warnings: Character Deaths, Buried Alive, Suicide,

Zoro furrowed his brows irritably, slowly coming out of rest. Damn cook. He would never fully understand why he was such a fan of closeness during sleep, this swordsman just wasn't a cuddle type of person. But if Sanji insisted on doing it anyway - which, although Zoro would complain about usually, he'd secretly enjoy it to a certain extent - the least he could do is not lay so awkwardly, his chin pressing in on the Marimo's chest.

It was just too fucking hot for that. Was their AC even on? Not that opening his eyes and gazing into the darkness of their room would give him that answer, but it did for a moment clarify where they must be. But why didn't he remember getting here? He had often gotten drunk, but even then he could remember at least dragging himself to bed or being with the cook before waking up. What had happened last night, why were their clothes still on?

Trying to be gentle, but rough enough the cook could get the message even in his hard sleep, he nudged at the cook's body that was close to his side, his arm weighing down Zoro's chest intimately and let out a grunt for him to move. Except, of course only confusion followed where there wasn't even the tiniest bit of response. He was deathly quiet, no doubt extremely exhausted. But still, as much as Zoro would've liked to just patiently lay there and fall back to sleep and deal with it for him, it was an extremely uncomfortable position - he was breaking a sweat and it was starting to feel like he was trapped, if not by Sanji's weight then by the oddest sensation his space was getting smaller.

"Cook." Zoro muttered out almost breathlessly, turning his face to kiss at the blond's hair, his arm moving over to gently shake him. "Get off, come on."

Nothing. Zoro nudged at his arm a little more, in fact even tried pushing him off to no avail. It was as if something was on the other side of the cook he couldn't see well in the dark, keeping him so close.

"Oi," he growled out, more irritated than before. Possibly cranky as well, by this point.

Zoro just didn't understand it. It wasn't like Sanji was a heavy sleeper or anything, he was the one that would wake up at the softest of noises no matter what. Well, fine, if he was going to be such a sleeping beauty like that, what was a Marimo left to do but something unnecessarily cruel, at least in Sanji standards. He'd pinch him.

Except, the moment the swordsmen went to try, it became beyond obvious something here was very wrong. Without realizing it, in nearly a fraction of a second he was swallowing thickly, demanding his eyes to focus and his hand moved higher, to the cook's neck and face. He was so cold. How could he be so cold when Zoro was burning up? That wasn't all and certainly wasn't what gave the man chills. He was stiff and not in any way he'd felt him before. Or, hell, like he'd felt any living thing before. It was almost like he was a maniac. This was Sanji, wasn't it?

He clamped his jaw shut and moved his ear closer, waiting and holding his own breath to try and hear Sanji's. Nothing. His fingers danced along ice skin but found no pulse, no warmth. This wasn't happening. Fuck no, this couldn't be happening - it would never happen. Fuck all of that. His hand, in the dark and going in blind clamped at the blond's jaw, shaking it a bit with little protest from the other side. He could physically feel his mind slip into a panic.

"Sanji!"

Reacting fast and going to reach for the lamp on the nightstand, Zoro flung his arm back with the intention of stretching it over, only for his knuckles to clash against something very rough and hard. There wasn't time to speculate it, but Zoro's mind was over processing everything and all outcomes. But it could find no reason to which something like that would be above their bed. He pushed his hand out, palm against the material. Wood. Why wood? He moved his hand frantically along it.

How wrong he'd been in the slight absence of his mind that came with waking up unplanned. They weren't even in their room, safe in bed at home, at all. They were in a box of some sort and with the frightening reality coming clear, it didn't take long for Zoro to suspect what it actually was. A coffin. He wanted to yell out in his frustration and the confusion that literally impaired him from thinking straight, but his breath only hitched at the possibility of them stranded six feet under somewhere in some freak circumstances and Sanji wasn't even breathing.

No, he couldn't accept that as fact. Sanji was breathing, he had to be, or simply this wasn't Sanji. Just because it was familiar to something they did in more intimate settings did not mean that it was Sanji here against his chest, a heavy arm keeping him in place. Zoro, knowing now the coffin's tiny interior was the reason he couldn't move the cook, quickly tried shifting himself to the side. But with his luck, the inside of this resting chamber was not tall enough to accomplish it. The wasted effort only had a lifeless body nudging up against him as he tried.

Accepting that fact, Zoro moved on to the next pressing matter at hand. The only god damn matter at hand that actually mattered. He had to know, was this Sanji? Forcing himself to remain at least somewhat collected, his hand found its way back to the blond's face, caressing it for any sense of familiarity - resting at the bottom of the nose and quickly flinching away at the lack of exhale. The silence besides Zoro's harsh and alerted breathing was becoming eerie and he moved over the eyes, his fingers pausing at the distinct difference in eyebrows than would be found on the average person. Sanji.

There was no more need for pride or dignity, none of that mattered and Zoro couldn't help the anguished sound that left his lips. Why. What was happening? Why Sanji? Why was he here, cold like he'd been on ice? Why were they in some kind of coffin? Zoro's hand moved around his neck, roughly grabbing the corpse and dragging it close, burying his face back into the blond hair of the deceased. He was beginning to shake.

"I swear to god, Cook, if you don't wake up..." he choked out. Empty threats, of course, meant nothing at this point, but what was there to say anyway.

Sanji wasn't breathing. They were in a coffin buried who knew where and Sanji wasn't breathing. Infuriated, Zoro turned away and with great force kicked up at the top of the coffin, listening to the way the wood quickly responded with its creaks and dirt came rushing in at the opportunity of access. Of course, was he even surprised to find the bottom half of this thing was already broken? There had once been a cook in here with a devilish kick - it would've been more unexpected to find it not crumbling. But that only brought more horrific thoughts to light. How long had they both been here? Had he slept through Sanji's last breaths or was this just some kind of game to a master mind?

Zoro wasn't the smartest guy around, but he knew enough if they were buried - which the dirt was enough indication for - having it all tumble inside on them wouldn't be of any use. He wanted to get Sanji out of here, take him somewhere else, out of this god damn coffin - he was too young to be in a coffin. Both of them too young, they weren't supposed to be here! What kind of fucked up nightmare was playing out here?

He shifted around again uncomfortably, but still clinging to Sanji. He wasn't losing all of him just yet. When he did, there was a jab into his hip that caught his attention almost immediately. Not from the feeling so much as the realization of what it was. Patting down and feeling the Cook's stone like body, he found the pocket to his suit pants and slid his hand inside, rejoicing at the bittersweet moment to recognize its shape in his hand.

It was Sanji's lighter. Zoro let out a dark laugh rather bitterly at its discovery. Leave it to Sanji to never leave home without this stupid thing and a pack of smokes, even up to the point of death- No. He wasn't even going to associate that word with him. It was far too early to write it off as that, he'd have to see it with his own eyes and, for god's sake, he would. The Marimo wasted no time trying to ignite the damn thing. Once, no luck. Twice, it was fucking laughing at him as well. Third was, of course, the charm.

Sanji's appearance was so haunting. He seemed so peaceful. Fuck, well everyone was supposed to when that time eventually came, right? But damn, there was so much emotion just bubbling up in the swordsman he would've never expected to feel or to react with, staring at his face in the light, noticing his more than average pale appearance - his lips that were already turning blue. Sanji. His name just kept appearing and sounding off inside the Marimo's head. Why Sanji?

Minutes probably passed and several times Zoro burnt his finger, but he just kept staring at him, watching the way nothing changed. His cook was frozen. His cook was gone. And in that instant of realizing, he had to force himself to look away. It didn't matter what he focused on, be it the dirt trickling in at their feet or his own damn eyelids, just had to be something different. His eyes settled on straight ahead where he wished he hadn't even pondered.

Sticky and a dark crimson there was blood on the backside of this coffin's lid. His eyes must've had the skill of flash lights in CSI television, he didn't need much to just know it was Sanji's. He'd written him something, which was an unbearable thought to think Sanji had been alive here at one point, most likely alone, making himself bleed to write him something. And it wasn't even something that important like the answer to why they were down here being left to die. It was just one word that Zoro shouldn't even have such a distressed reaction to.

'Bastard.'

Just like some horror movie, which Zoro was completely willing to forgive if that's what this was, the letters were a bit off and blood was trailing from going at it possibly in the dark. Idiot, probably was conserving oxygen or something instead of using the lighter. That would be the smart thing to do, wouldn't it? Zoro looked toward the flame. Well too damn bad, it wasn't like he was expecting to leave Sanji here and try and sift his way back to the surface. He didn't need air anymore. The thing he needed was long gone.

He used the lighter's flame to look at the arm across his chest and the hand limply following it. His nails were butchered, he'd risked in his last moments his precious hands to send Zoro that word of all things? Why that, it was just an insult, wasn't it? No, but of course not. Nothing between this pair had ever been said without a real legit meaning or feeling behind it. Sanji knew that more than anything, he fluently spoke their unique language of insults to one another. Calling him a bastard spoke a thousand words. For one, it was the equivalent of an I love you, minus the cheesy shit that came with that. Or even, I forgive you.

Was that what he was getting at? He'd been waiting in here for hours dying without Zoro, conserving his air hoping he'd be smart enough to come and find him and rescue him before time ran out? Then he just what, realized that help wasn't coming, that Zoro couldn't help him yet wanted to forgive him anyway? Zoro was probably putting too much thought into this, but what did he have left to do but to speculate? Sanji was dead and here he was, trapped in the coffin, his body up against his and he was in mourning. Everything, absolutely every part of his being, begged to make sense of it or rationalize, but could not.

Zoro banged his head back against the wood and closed his eyes painfully tight, letting the lighter fall back onto his chest. What was he even supposed to do now? What could he do? This all wasn't supposed to happen, it didn't make sense and it went against everything that he knew. Fuck, he and Sanji were equals, they were supposed to be able to withstand everything, especially together. There wasn't a thing one couldn't make up for that the other lacked and they understood everything going through one another's minds regardless of the subject or if words were even used at all; body language spoke volumes to them. Yet here was Zoro, a yin without his yang, cut off from everything he thought he'd understood. Maybe it was the depression and mourning, no, it definitely was, but he felt empty and worthless there without Sanji.

Again, he brought the Cook's corpse close and melted against it the best he could manage. He didn't care if he was cold and stiff to the touch. None of this had a point anymore, the way Zoro saw it. He was just torturing himself staying here and thinking about these same things over and over again. His options now were simple and pretty damn clear. Either he died now, quickly to be with Sanji in some other kind of way or hell even selfishly to not have to endure the second option of waiting until all the oxygen was gone and he too suffered the same fate as Sanji.

No, Zoro had a choice Sanji didn't have, he knew what he was going to do, not only for himself but in the memory of Sanji. It was probably stupid beyond compare or some shit, but he really didn't have the tolerance to care. It wasn't like anyone would be seeing and judging them while they were down here. The rest of the world was absolute. It was just him and Sanji.

Zoro's hand patted down Sanji's frame until it found his jacket, where it slipped inside to find a certain inner secret pocket. He really did know his cook too well to know there were a few cigarettes hidden here, but he was actually happy and acknowledged their existence thankfully, rather than the annoyed reaction he usually had when he found Sanji's secret stashes of the cancer sticks. He felt very guilty and hypocritical all the time he ever bad mouthed these things or gave Sanji shit over them. They used to comfort the cook and give him much needed release, now surely they could give Zoro his.

Using the lighter to see, he fumbled out what was left in the carton. This would shrink his oxygen even more and grant him the opportunity to meet his maker head on. He lit one, watching as it began to burn and brought it to his lips, taking the first drag before dropping it and allowing it to roll off to who the hell knew where to smoke off while he began on another one. His throat went dry and he tried avoiding a coughing fit just yet. He'd use all these sons of bitches and put Sanji's money to good use if that was the last thing he did. But he wouldn't waste all of them. Two he kept for a different use. He lit one of the last and brought it between his lips, giving in finally to coughing almost instantaneously by this point. It really wasn't a taste he liked on his own buds first hand versus an aftertaste occasionally found on Sanji. It, and the rising smoke in the coffin, were making his throat burn scornfully.

But all that mattered still was the objective. He forced the damn thing back into his lips, trying to breathe mostly from his nose to avoid it to no avail, and moved on to focusing on the last one. This one was extra special and held another purpose. This one was for his main man, definitely the guy he'd share a last smoke with and surely believed it the feeling would be the same from Sanji. They only would have these last moments together, wouldn't they, since Zoro wasn't so optimistic for what happened next, so why not make the most of it the best they could, at least a tiny bit sinful?

Carefully, coughing as he tried, he moved to maneuver the cigarette into Sanji's mouth, cursing lightly at how it, of course, fell out. But Zoro was quick to bring it back and manage to keep it in. A last smoke. If that wasn't the best sending away ceremony, he didn't know what was, nor did he want to know. Zoro dropped the lighter and moved to take his cigarette out of mouth, moving so that his hand caressed Sanji's face in the dark and his fingers tangled in soft locks one more time.

His voice was hush, though a bit muffled compared to his hard breathing, but the swordsman took comfort in muttering the first bullshit that came to mind out to Sanji, despite if he was or wasn't there anymore. Now that death was very much a reality and he didn't know much to think, it was better to cover all basics just in case some sort of curly spirit was around to listen or not, yeah? He managed his feelings and frustrations and a few apologies himself before his eyes became considerably heavy and he could barely make a word out between coughing fits.

It wouldn't be long now, but there weren't any regrets. There was no turning back and, to Zoro, that was okay. He would live every day from here on out regretting not doing this if he even tried to leave Sanji behind for himself. Sanji probably would have told him to, probably would've been infuriated he didn't, but in that regard, Zoro didn't care. They were equals, but ultimately also different, thus their ability to truly bond. If, and it was a strong if in Zoro's mind, there was a next life or a reincarnation, he hoped for a similar mix between them, if possible. If any entity would hear such a plea.

Slowly, Zoro's thoughts became more delayed and his grip around Sanji softened. It was easier with his eyes clenched so tight to almost picture it again. Their bedroom on a late night, Sanji's arm across Zoro's chest while they slept, cuddling just like that dumb cook wanted. And for once, like he liked to do to spoil Sanji on occasion, he held him back in return and buried his face in his hair, leaving delayed kisses and nuzzles of affection until sleep finally claimed him and he allowed it to. There was no greater resting place Zoro could have ever, would have ever imagined, than with Sanji.

Author's Notes: Did somebody order zosan in a box? ./shot Okay I will just show myself out now.. sorry OTL XD

A huge thank you to my beta reader MyLadyDay for reading and betaing this over for me despite if it made her a little uncomfortable! You really didn't have to do it but you did it for me anyway and that means a whole lot. Thank you so much hoe xoxo. She also helped me come up with the title!