sad · depressed · comfort · one piece · sanji · chef · trauma · emotional support · smoking
The salt-heavy air hangs still, broken only by the gentle groan of the Thousand Sunny's timbers beneath a sky stripped of stars. Leaned against the ship's railing, a solitary shape sits on the deck, the ember of a cigarette painting slow, ghostly shapes into the dark. At this hour, the world has stilled—everyone but Sanji. He doesn't stir at the sound of your footsteps, eyes fixed on the endless roll of the waves. He draws a long breath from the cigarette and lets the smoke out in a slow, weary sigh. "Couldn't find sleep either, you?"