The program was almost starting when Sanji returned to his seat. His face was pale, and his breaths were becoming shorter. Cold sweat trickled on his forehead down to his eyebrow.

"Sanji, it looks like you witnessed a ghost. Or a murder, perhaps," Robin said, with a hint of smile on her lips.

Sanji wiped the sweat using his handkerchief. "Ms. Robin… do you… know who's going to play next?"

Robin's smile became more apparent. She obviously knew, Sanji understood.

"Well, he was already introduced while you were sleeping."

If you weren't sleeping a while ago, you could have seen him already.

"I am so stupid!" Sanji couldn't help but raise his voice. But upon realizing it was Ms. Robin who he was talking to, he tried to calm himself. "If I didn't sleep, I could have seen him already. Just like what he said."

Robin hummed a small chuckle and brought her attention in front of the stage. A lean young man, probably a student, stood in front and reminded everyone again to turn off their phones and clap at the end of every piece. His voice was a little shaky and high pitched.

Is he really the mystery pianist? That muscle head whose hands only touch swords? But how? Sanji covered his face with the piano sheet. His head was feeling a bit heavier.

"Don't think of it too much," Robin said without directly looking at Sanji, although she could see in her peripheral vision that he was having an internal conflict.

"Sorry, Ms. Robin. It's just that…"

Sanji was still not one hundred percent convinced that the pianist and Zoro was the same person. Maybe what I think as clues are just coincidences—or perhaps what my subconscious is secretly hoping for. Wait, secretly hoping for? But anyway, maybe he just visited Brook backstage. Maybe the pianist just has the same ugly handwriting. Maybe that's why Ms. Robin and Luffy didn't say anything, because there was nothing to say in the first place. Right?

Right?

"It's just that?" Robin interrupted his thoughts.

"Uhm… Nothing," Sanji conceded. He really wanted to ask Robin if the pianist was someone they knew—someone named Zoro Roronoa—but he already knew he won't get any answer. If they didn't tell it to me beforehand, what's the point of telling it to me now?

Maybe it's not really that shit head.

Your face looks so fucking funny when you're asleep, he recalled Zoro's message a while ago.

Sanji shook his head. "I will fucking kill that marimo."

"Yohohohoho! I hope you're having a pleasant evening so far. We are really glad to be with you tonight, lovely ladies and gentlemen." Brook, with a teacup in his hand, caught the audience's attention. Beside him was Professor Mizuta, looking a bit tensed in contrast to the carefree Brook. Sanji tried to stop whatever he's thinking, but he couldn't focus.

It was Professor Mizuta's turn to speak. "A while ago you have witnessed two marvelous performances—one from the wonderful Ms. Ain and one from our very own Professor Lao G, his exquisite wife Madame Jiolla, and their son, the talented Mr. Gladius. And at this point, we're about to hear the third performance. I'm actually excited to witness this one!"

Me, too, Sanji thought. True, he was really excited. He was still confused, but nonetheless thrilled. The mystery pianist would reveal himself tonight, bringing the music that captivated Sanji's ears. But the tricky part was the assumption that the muscle head was the pianist. And if Sanji would be honest, it made things more interesting. Interestingly disturbing.

"The third performer, even at a relatively young age, is well-known to the classical music society." The mic was back to Brook. "He was a two-time Grand prix winner in the prestigious International Piano Competition junior division, and is highly regarded as a piano prodigy. He has a passion for piano music, although many of you know he is shy about it, yohohoho!"

Two-time Grand prix winner? Passion for piano music? Sounds not Zoro to me. Sanji recalled those times when him and Zoro talked one on one. He likes swords. He always speaks about swords. And he wanted to be a great swordsman. He never spoke about piano or classical music—with the exemption last Thursday.

Although many of you know he is shy about it, Brook's statement reverberated in Sanji's head.

But no, I recalled Brook saying this concert only involves those in the Piano department. And he's not a Piano student. Unless…

"And as of now," Brook continued, "he's currently taking Mathematics as his major in this university…"

Wait.

"…but we're lucky enough to convince him to take Piano as his minor, thanks to his father. Yohohoho!" Brook finished his part and took a sip of his tea.

Shit.

More cold sweats appeared on Sanji's forehead.

The audience, finding Brook's statement hilarious, chuckled in chorus. Robin, Franky, and Luffy were laughing, too, as if they could relate on what was stated. The only stoic reaction Sanji could see was from Zoro's father.

"You're right, Professor Brook," Professor Mizuta agreed and laughed. "And we are also lucky to convince him to play tonight, I might add." The audience chuckled once more.

But Sanji couldn't laugh. How could he?

"So what are we waiting for? Performing Frédéric Chopin's Nocturne No. 20 in C-sharp minor op. posth, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor, K. 491 with Brook, and a special piece he requested to play tonight, let's give a warm of applause to Mr. Zoro Roronoa!"

"What the fu—," Sanji stood up and almost screamed, but his reaction was enough to draw the attention of people near him—including Mihawk and Perona. Good thing Robin was alert; she managed to cover Sanji's mouth right before he shrieked in obscenity. If only I can grow more limbs, she pondered, I could totally secure him, making sure he won't move an inch. Good thing Luffy was as perceptive as Robin, dragging Sanji back to his proper seat while giggling.

And unknown to them, Mihawk was attentively watching Sanji, interest showing on his face.

The audience's chuckling was replaced by loud applause as the introduced man appeared on stage and bowed. He looked stately, almost unrecognizable, from head to toe. This man, wearing a perfectly fit black suit, olive green necktie, and shiny black leather shoes, carried an image that was a total opposite of the normal Zoro Roronoa. Even the three golden earrings on his left ear were missing. But the mossy green hair, although fixed neatly using hair gel, still stood out; this was without doubt, Zoro.

But Sanji still refused to believe. His mouth was wide open with shock. His heart was beating faster and faster every second.

Zoro witnessed Sanji's reaction the moment he stepped on stage and found it comical, but he decided to ignore it for a while. I must focus, he thought. The curly brow will get all the attention later.

He sat down in front of the pearl white piano, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers on the piano keys, as if he were feeling their pulse and breathing. He breathed deeply, synchronizing the breathing of the keys on his own, and hit the first notes of Nocturne No. 20.

The beautiful music filled the theatre and Sanji's shock was replaced with a feeling of familiarity.

"It's… really him." Even if the piece was different, Sanji could tell. His brain was finally starting to process everything.

"You're right," Robin confirmed, eyes still fixed on stage. "Are you mad that we didn't tell you?"

"No, of course not," Sanji managed to say. How could I be mad at you, Ms. Robin? Although he might give Brook and Luffy a kick later.

"Look at him. Not quite the brute Zoro you know, no?"

Not quite. "Well, he's not exactly a brute. He has some soft sides, too." Sanji smiled reminiscently. "It's just that… I never expected him to be on this kind of thing."

Robin looked amused, thinking the remark was cute. She commented no more, letting the man beside him focus on Zoro.

Sanji became calmer as the music progresses. He would do all the thinking and interrogation later; for now, he would watch and listen to Zoro intently.

He savored every movement Zoro had made; movements that were full of emotion, swaying in accordance to the harmony of the music. And it's not just that; the music felt like it was piercing his heart, and he knew there was some story hidden on the melodramatic composition. He could feel the reminiscence being sent through every tune, either from the original composer himself or from the person playing the piano.

It was totally mesmerizing.

Even Luffy was into it.

And before Sanji knew it, the piece ended, and the music was replaced by a warm round of applause as Zoro stood and bowed.

Brook came out from the curtains, teacup still in hand, and seated on the black piano. He placed a clear book on the music rack, took a sip of tea, burped not so loudly, and placed the teacup on a flat area of the piano.

Zoro and Brook looked at each other and nodded their heads in a common understanding. Then Brook started hitting the background notes.

It was amazing how the Piano Concerto No. 24, originally played with an orchestra, was reduced into two pianos and still sounded impeccable.

As usual, Brook played just like what you would expect to a musician of fifty years or more. A smile was obviously forming on his lips; he's definitely enjoying himself. Maybe playing with Zoro added to his enjoyment, too.

Zoro started playing his part, blending his own playful music to Brook's rich harmony.

Then Sanji remembered what Zoro said at the time they talked on the gym balcony: I heard Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24 will be played on that day.

"What a conceited bastard," he said, but he couldn't help but laugh. Well, he's really good at this. I couldn't deny it.

He laughed more when he recalled more about their conversation on that day. Pianist crush? Fuck you. He should really feel embarrassed about it, but he couldn't help feeling blissful instead. And he must be snickering deep inside when I assumed he's jealous. Damn. Was I being too obvious?

He then transferred his attention to Brook, who was busy stroking the keys with great accuracy. Right hand still on the piano, he swiftly turned the clear book on the next page without interruption on the music's tune.

And come to think of it, the piece is actually familiar.

That's it—one or two times, I caught him listening to it while he's meditating in his apartment.

It must be his favorite piece, huh? Sanji wondered.

Both pianists were enjoying themselves, body movements synchronous with the music. The Allegro ended, and was followed by the endearing melody of Larghetto.

Zoro's movements became gentler, sweeter. His eyes were closed, much to Sanji's amazement, but he could still hit the right keys. It's as if playing the piano do not rely on sight, but on pure feeling.

Sanji closed his eyes, too, and his mind went back on those times when he and Zoro were all alone in his apartment. After long hours of study with Zoro as his tutor (sometimes, the other way around), the man would massage his back. It relaxes your muscles, Sanji recalled Zoro saying it to him, and it helps you focus. Having stiff muscles cause unwanted pain especially when you're studying. Sanji wondered if it was pretty normal for friends to do that kind of thing. There is nothing wrong with your friend massaging your back, right? But deep inside, he expected for more.

Those calloused hands, pressing on the right spots, sending an unexplainable sensation…

I want him to touch me and trace his fingers on my skin just like how he does it on those keys.

He was starting to explore his mind in a much deeper thought, the fantasies he had strongly hidden at the back of his head, but he controlled himself.

His grip on the piano piece became tight, crumpling the paper.

No, Sanji. This is not the right place and time to imagine those thoughts.

As he was starting to feel hot, he opened a bottle of water and gulped half of its content. And drowning to the music he did, as the Larghetto and Allegretto caressed the eardrums of the entire theatre.

Sanji thought that was the end of Zoro's performance; the other performers only played two. But after the loud applause, Zoro remained on the stage, holding a microphone.

"As Professor Mizuta had said, I requested to play a special piece tonight. I hope you don't mind," Zoro said to the audience without apparent nervousness in his voice. How he could manage to make it, Sanji had no idea. The audience, though, seemed to appreciate him performing another piece. This was the prodigy Zoro Roronoa we were talking about, after all.

Sanji pondered over the fact that Zoro would play an extra piece tonight. Why would he request to play another when he was shy about this side of him, just like what was said a while ago? And why is my heart beating so fast, as if it knows something is coming?

Zoro continued his speech, clutching on his chest as he tried to calm his pounding heart.

"The reason for this performance is a person—uhh, let's say, a special person."

Special person? Sanji didn't know exactly why, but he couldn't breathe.

"I will spare you the details, but this will serve as a sort of confession." Zoro's nervousness was starting to surface as he scratched his head. He also mumbled on saying the word 'confession'. "To be honest I'm not the kind of person who will do this kind of stuff, but that cur—I mean, that special person loves to be the center of attention, so I'm making him the center of attention tonight."

Whispers buzzed from every direction of the theatre.

"You are so totally not referring to me, right?" Sanji muttered.

Robin knowingly chuckled. He looked at Sanji and winked, as if hinting something. Luffy was also chuckling, and Franky was shouting, "You can do it, bro!"

"Anyway, here's Claude Debussy's The Girl with the Flaxen Hair, or should I change it to The Guy with the Flaxen Hair, because you know, that curly brows has golden hair. Hopeyouenjoyit." Zoro awkwardly bowed and sat back in front of the white piano. He was blushing.

And as if some kind of common radar had spread on the theatre, the entire crowd fixed their gaze on Sanji. Who in this huge university had curly eyebrows aside from him after all? Luffy, as if the attention Sanji was getting was not yet enough, stood up and yelled who the curly brows was.

If only they were in a different situation, Sanji would gladly kick his friend's ass. But he was too stumped to move. Hell, he felt like he was melting. Confession, for me? And that piece, for me?

Sanji wanted to scream. What does this all mean?!

Most of the audience clapped their hands, stunned by the romantic confession that was being unfolded. Many found it amusing, but nonetheless they were happy to hear the next performance. And when Zoro started to play, the entire place hushed, letting the music to be the only sound.

Sanji looked at the piece on his hand, and tears started falling from his eyes.

This is just a dream, right?

Just in case, please don't wake me up.

But reality stepped in as Sanji heard the same music he was longing to hear. And he finally understood.

That's it. The feeling of connection, the strong desire to hear and to know the man behind this music. Zoro—he is the reason why I was pulled into this music, the music that is meant for me in the first place.

And he said this is a confession. Confession for what? His feelings? Does that mean… that he…

He has feelings for me, too?

The sweet melody resonated in agreement.

I couldn't believe it. I tried my best to suppress my feelings for so long. Because I thought they won't be reciprocated. But now…

Sanji tried his best not to cry but he couldn't control himself. He hid his face behind the music sheet as he listened to Zoro with all his heart.

As for Zoro, he played every note with full sincerity. His emotions traveled through the music, hoping it would reach Sanji's heart. He had feelings for Sanji for a long time, too, and if he had not seen that sketchbook, he wouldn't have the courage to confess his feelings.

And when he saw Sanji crying, he wanted to cry, too. Normally he would cringe because heck, this is too damn cheesy and romantic, but he couldn't care less. We are talking about real feelings. And nothing is braver than admitting what you really feel. But he reminded himself that he was in front of many people with their eyes on him so he had to maintain his composure.

As he finished the piece, the crowd roared their bravos. His heart never felt lighter than before. He bowed, looked at Sanji eye-to-eye and gave him the sweetest smile he rarely displayed.

Sanji wiped the tears on his face. It was still hard for him to move, but somehow he felt happier. Now he just needed some confirmation; he had to go to Zoro and talk to him, alone.

As he was about to stand up, Robin held his wrist.

"Ms. Robi—"

"Be true to your feelings, okay?" Robin smiled. Then she let go of Sanji's hand. "Go to the left side of the theatre. There's an entrance to the backstage there."

"I will, thank you," Sanji said then hurriedly left. Of course I'll be true to my feelings. For almost three years, I wondered if the possibility of me and Zoro being together was just a wild dream. But now, the chances lay down in front of me. I'm not that idiot to let them slip.

I won't let him get away from me.

As Sanji ran towards the backstage, the audience's eyes were fixated on him. But he didn't care. It's true that he loved being the center of attention; but nothing would beat the happiness caused by the confession Zoro had on that night.

Brook, expecting Sanji to go backstage thanks to Robin's text message, pulled Sanji inside. He slid something on Sanji's pocket, and told him Zoro was waiting for him on the veranda outside the theatre, in the dark.

Damn Brook and his innuendos, Sanji thought.

And indeed, Zoro was waiting for him on the veranda.

Sanji's knees were shaking, so he lit a cigarette to calm himself. He slowly walked towards Zoro and leaned on the brick wall beside him.

They just stared at each other for a minute, no words forming from their mouths. The only sound that could be heard was the chorus of the cicadas and the beating of their hearts.

It was Sanji who broke the silence. "So it was you. That pianist I heard, it was you all along."

Zoro remained hushed. His hands were sweating.

Sanji puffed on his cigarette and continued, "But when I entered the room, you were gone. Where did you hide, huh?"

"Of all things, that was the first thing you wanted to ask me, curly brows?" Zoro managed to say.

"You want me to go straight ahead, huh? Fine! So, do you li—"

"I hid inside the cabinet," Zoro interrupted. To be honest, he didn't want to rush the conversation. He wanted to take things slow, and let them unravel piece by piece.

Sanji, although irritated because he was interrupted, burst into laughter. "Really? You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"And you aren't better! If you searched thoroughly, it would be easy to find me. Good thing you are dumb."

"It's because only a shithead would think of hiding his ass in a cramped cabinet." As usual, they started bickering again. But thanks to this, the air between them became more relaxed.

"Tsk. At least I'm not a thief."

"Me? Thief? What did I steal?"

Zoro placed his hand on Sanji's right chest for a few seconds, and then pulled the music sheet from his pocket. "Taking someone's property without permission is stealing."

Sanji's cheeks went red. It's not because of the music sheet—he was already aware of him stealing it—but because of Zoro's hand lingering on his chest. "I thought you mean your heart," he murmured.

Zoro sat down on the concrete floor, still leaning on the brick wall. He looked on the direction of the road, avoiding Sanji's gaze. His cheeks were firing red. "That, too…"

Sanji looked at him from below. He was so not used to seeing marimo like this. He knew Zoro could be awkward at times, but seeing him being shy in front of him—that was a totally different story.

He reached for Zoro's hair and touched it gently. The usually soft mosshair felt hard because of the gel. "Tell me… that confession you said… what kind of confession is that?"

There was no answer from Zoro, with his head still facing the road, so Sanji continued. "Do you… do you really like me?"

Zoro still didn't answer.

"Hey, answer me, Zoro. Do you… do you love me, too? Huh?"

After asking three times and still no response from the other, Sanji leaned down and grab Zoro's face so he could see his reaction. And to his surprise, tears were streaming down from the swordsman's eyes.

"W-wait, why are you crying?!" Sanji exclaimed in panic, causing his cigarette to fall on the floor.

"What do you think, shit cook?"

"This is out of character! I mean, damn, you're—"

Zoro pulled him down and gave him a tight hug.

"Yes. Even though your eyebrows are curly and you're a shit cook. I even hate the fact that you're an idiot over girls. But yes… I…"

"What?" Sanji murmured.

"I… I love…" Zoro couldn't say it straight. It's not because his feelings weren't genuine—it was the opposite of that, in fact—but he couldn't believe the situation they were in. He felt everything was surreal.

Unable to wait, Sanji raised his head from Zoro's shoulder and looked at him straight in the eye. "You really are an idiot, you know?" And in a swift movement, he pressed his lips into Zoro's.

Zoro was initially shocked, but feeling the soft, tender lips of Sanji against his, he couldn't help himself but pull the other man closer.

And slowly, their tongues learned to move together, as if dancing gracefully to the song of sweet cadenza.

"You look amazing in that suit, you know." Sanji hummed. His head was resting on Zoro's shoulder, and their hands entangled into one. "I almost did not recognize you."

"It's not my favorite attire, but I couldn't help it with that annoying woman."

Sanji chuckled. "Good thing your cute sister is there to make you look human, huh?"

"Stop calling her cute," Zoro puffed. "And she acts more like a mother than a sister most of the time. I hate it."

Sanji continued laughing. "Maybe that's how an older sister is supposed to act on her stupid, younger brother."

"Well, what do you know?"

"More than you know," Sanji mysteriously smiled.

Zoro took out the piano piece and wrote something on it. "Anyway, here's the piece with my autograph. You can keep it."

"Asshole," Sanji said, his smile betraying him.

But as Sanji returned the paper on his pocket, he felt something—a square-shaped wrapper—that made his body tense.

"What's the matter," Zoro inquired.

Fuck you, Brook. "Nothing! Nothing…"

"But you are swea—"

"Oh, looks like the show is over!" Sanji exclaimed, pointing at the theatre door. People started rushing outside, with obvious satisfaction on their faces.

And as if on cue, Zoro's phone started ringing.

"Where on earth are you, Zoro?!" screamed the high-pitched voice on the phone. It was obviously Perona, as Zoro's face contorted in annoyance.

"We're just outside, old witch. What do you want?"

"Dad's looking for you. Anyway, I'm giving the phone."

You should have given him the phone immediately, Zoro thought, irritated.

"See you at the car. Bring your curly brows with you. Don't get lost."

And before Zoro could say anything, the phone call ended.

But it didn't matter; he knew his dad was happy for him. My curly brows, huh…

And with that Zoro grabbed Sanji's hand as they headed on the parking lot, struggling to recall where on earth they parked in the first place. But he was happy, really happy. Sanji was with him now, and he knew no one could ever replace him.

"So we're together now, right?" Sanji asked.

"Yeah. Shit cook and marimo are together now."

"Shit cook and marimo, indeed."

Sanji gripped harder on Zoro's hand, his other hand slipping inside his pocket. He reached for the music piece, and mentally noted to thank—no, to kick Brook's ass later for the other thing inside his pocket.