Zoro had never been in a relationship before.

Not because he was against the idea - he just never gave it the time of day. His life had been all swordsmanship, discipline, and survival. Love wasn't part of the training regimen. It wasn't a weakness, necessarily... just something that belonged to softer, slower lives. Lives that weren't lived with a blade always within reach.

But then you joined the crew.

You weren't flashy like Sanji or loud like Luffy. You weren't trying to prove anything to anyone. You just did your thing - gentle, focused, and oddly graceful in everything you touched. You talked a lot more than he did, but you always looked like you were holding something back. Especially around him.

At first, he chalked your awkward stuttering and lip-biting up to nerves. Probably still adjusting to ship life. That's what he thought, anyway, when you'd fumble over your words every time he caught you staring. When your palms looked clammy as you handed him a water bottle. When your eyes darted away the moment he looked too long.

He noticed all of it. Just didn't connect the dots.

In his moss-covered mind, it never screamed "love."

But he admired you. There was no denying that. You had a calm kind of intelligence - knew how to explain things he didn't understand, like why music could make you cry or why colors made people feel things. You taught him how expression wasn't just through battle. Sometimes it came through a hum under the stars.

You'd sing to him sometimes. At night, when the world slowed and the sea rocked gently beneath them. You'd hum something low and soft, sitting beside him as he leaned against the mast. Eventually, your voice would drift him to sleep - though he never had trouble sleeping before, not really. Still, he found himself needing your voice more and more. Your presence beside him. Your hand, always close.

You started staying the whole night.

Still, it didn't click.

He liked you being there. That was it. That's what he told himself.

And then there were the gifts. Random, small things - like a cloth to polish his swords made from some strange, silky fiber that cleaned better than anything he'd ever used. Or little tins of balm you made that soothed calluses he'd long grown used to ignoring. Once, you gave him a tiny leather-bound notebook "for keeping track of his training patterns".

He didn't write in it for two weeks. Then one day, he did. And never stopped.

Still, Zoro didn't get it.

Until the day he did.

He stood there, frozen like a rookie facing his first real blade. You had just told him. Voice quiet, head down, cheeks blazing. Said you loved him. Said you wanted something more - a relationship.

Something he'd never had.

Something he had no idea how to do.

But Zoro wasn't a coward. He didn't fear new ground. He never backed down from the unknown - so he accepted. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just the clear, undeniable need to wipe that nervousness off your face and replace it with the bright smile you always wore around Luffy or Chopper.

*He'd figure it out.

By the end of the first week, he was trying to "cuddle." It was awkward. Unfamiliar. His arm stiff around your back, heartbeat thudding far too loud in his own ears. It was just like his swords, he told himself. Firm but not crushing, steady but not tense. Only this wasn't a katana. This was a person. A living, breathing, delicate person who tucked yourself into his chest like you belonged there.

His breath stuttered. But he held you tighter.

Maybe he didn't know what love was. But if it meant this - this quiet closeness, this trust - then he was determined to be the best damn boyfriend the sea had ever seen.