𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃; ʳᵒᵗᵗᵐⁿᵗ ♡

𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘍𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰; ♡

tw; descriptions of gore, death and peepaw leo angst :3 does this count as a one-shot?

𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼. . .

leonardo is awake tonight, his arm draped over his forehead. he is completely alone. exception to the low glow of a lamp on his face. complex emotions are unfolding unbidden.

he can hear thumps and cracks from outside the room, familiar to the strong workings and sharp pains of his heart. the ash still rustles, patters, and sighs. it's a taunting echo of your footfall, every light step a second he won't get back. leo's chest pounds louder. the ash storm buffets, his breath colliding rhythmically with the booming of his migraine. it's loud. like an agitated heart. pains and aches everywhere. he hears a snort of laughter. it's not real. it's not... real.

"you're getting old..."

a man filled with delirium from lack of sleep can't help but dream of his lost lover. his vision is blurry, but in the corner of his eye stands a figure, leaning against the frame of the doorway. it's not you. it's not you.

"you haven't been sleeping again, i see."

he doesn't answer, and the blurry figure moves in front of him, ghosting it's fingertips over his jaw like how you used to. cradling his face, running a thumb over his lips.

"what happened to needing your beauty sleep, leo?"

you are long dead, he should not be able to feel these sensations, but his body intimately remembers your touch like a phantom wound. he closes his eyes. and even if he was talking to himself, he couldn't help but respond this time. his voice is broken, it's so sad.

"i'm so sorry..."

"it's okay, leo. you're okay."

it's okay. it's... okay. he's—his eyes open wide, and he jolts up as if he had just been shot. your figure vanishes away like a wisp. and leo is once again forced back into reality. the reality that he will never be able to feel your true touch, and he will never wake up beside your forgiving gaze again. the feeling of you in his arms is something on the list of many things he will never have again. you're dead. and you're gone. it's not real. he has to remind himself. and his mind flashes to the night where he couldn't save you. against his will it replays in his head. flashbacks of you falling granted by some unknown force as an unholy gift.

a fate which made you beg for death. after feeling pressured by the eyes of a true monster peering through you and festering underneath your skin, writhing like worms through your sinews, rippling through your veins and kissing at each inch of the intricate maze under your skin until it threatened to break and face the sun. overcoming you to a madness. it laid itself where it could. your organs. behind your eyes, in your brain. in the deep layers. pulling your limbs apart with the power of a village, gnawing at your flesh to take as its own. with a smell that had made you want to vomit. it was dizzy. you wanted to scratch at your skin until it escaped.

eventually, you were unable to feel it after a sharp stab through your chest. your last heartbeat, your last breath. you began to see hallucinations. unable to see the world for how it really was. you lived in a blissful hallucination for a few moments. living in a distant dream, where none of this happened. a little world where you got to start a family, make a home. where you were safe. safe, because he was there. safe, he always was, leo. it didn't hurt, this dream. you knew it wasn't real, and perhaps it was selfish to feel so... so accepting of death, but fuck, did it feel nice. for once, you weren't in pain. were you smiling?

it was bitter sweet. it was beautiful. your skin split open, blooming outward like petals. blood sparkling like rain as it returned to the dirt. to be consumed by fungi that would continue the decomposition cycle with your marrow in its veins. eyes that were carefully embedded into your skin screaming as leo's ōdachi went right through your heart like cupid's arrow. they all looked at him. taunting. so, so taunting. it was like the kraang was laughing right at his face as it ripped you away from him.... you. you were gone. he felt his limbs go numb, he couldn't breath, he couldn't breath. he—oh, God. he couldn't fucking breath. donatello had to drag him away, but he was yelling the whole time.

and donatello, in an attempt to comfort his brother, he called your death something strange.

he called it... mercy.