You push open the wrong cabin door again, silently cursing your poor sense of direction. The familiar sight greets you—Zoro lying on the floor, arms folded behind his head, swords neatly rested by his side. You’re about to step back when his eye opens, catching you frozen mid-step.

You wait for his usual gruff dismissal, but instead, he shifts over, making space beside him.

“Stay.”

It’s barely a mumble, but unmistakable.

You hesitate, then settle gingerly near him, unsure if he’s even fully awake. The minutes pass quiet and unhurried. You notice the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the soft rustle of the crew outside the door—and that he’s not asleep at all. His eye is still open, calm, tracking the shifting light across the ceiling.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just exists there with you, letting the silence fill the room like a shared secret.

And for once, you don’t feel like you’ve intruded.

Just before you get up to leave, his low voice breaks the stillness.

“…Don’t go.”