𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃; ʳᵒᵗᵗᵐⁿᵗ ♡

𝐈𝐕.

leo is nothing if not cheesy. but you don't mind, it's charming. charming like the pale light of the refrigerator glowing off the tile of the floor. one hand of your own on his shoulder whilst the other is holding his. the kitchen window is open, allowing the silver light of the moon to drip out upon you two like milk and honey. slow dancing to nothing but the sound the wind makes as it blows through the curtain.

it's late, and you both should be asleep.

well, to be fair, you were asleep. until you awoke with the deep feeling in your chest that something was missing. the fabric of soft sheets bundling into your fingers before you opened your eyes. the room was dark, lonely, and empty.

your senses now awake and longing. longing for that feeling of comfort, your breathing that was once relaxed and synced with his. your back melded softly to his plastron. the warm zephyr of his breath curled along your neck, limbs tangled with your own.

but he wasn't there, not in bed. you grasped onto the blankets as you breathed in deeply, letting go as the air left your lungs. you left the bed to check the bathroom, which was empty. down the hall, in the kitchen, there he was.

his silhouette surrounded by light from the fridge. and when he heard your steps, a grin cracked up to the moon of his cheek, visible even in quarter profile from behind as he lazily reached back for you. inviting you into his arms, as if silently apologizing for not being there when you woke up.

"what are you doing up oh, so very late? ain't it past your bedtime?"

leonardo can sound like a million things, but his voice is always lighthearted. a southern drawl that gets heavy when he is sleepy, which is often. it's rough like velcro yet scratches that one itch you never knew you had. when you're with him, you k now everything is going to be okay. there's a familiar, familial gruff.

but sometimes, like tonight, there's an unspoken sorrow in the back of his throat, like a poets last love letter. it tastes like past regret on his tongue, and is salty lies trying to be sugar with his words.

you wish to take that pain away from him, even if it's for a moment. even if it's just a little.

"i could ask you the same thing, you know."

despite your words, you melt into him. his hand clinging onto your waist in a gentle grasp. you sigh, burying your face into the keratin of his plastron. your own fingers gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the scent of him.

and you stay like that for a few moments. it's quiet between you two. no other words are said, they don't need to be. it's a mutual understanding.

he likes it whenever the both of you do something, like, just anything, it could just be you two going to take out the trash and it'd be a core memory for him. he likes sharing his routines and his life with you.

really makes you appreciate the smallest of things, these moments do. how lucky he is, he thinks.

you lift your head up and look up at him for a few seconds, to explain your gaze with anything else other than pure, absolute adoration would be an understatement. you take his one hand with your own and hold it tightly. your other hand placed upon his shoulder. you take one step, and he takes the other. it's as if you've done this a million times over, smooth steps blended into the silk of the moon.

and time seems to fly by like summer days, and the world seems so quiet. so serene. it's as if the Gods themselves stopped to admire your reunion. his lips are soft, dangerously so. and you have to force yourself to pull away for air.

"we should go to bed soon," you murmured against his lips.

"just...just a few more minutes."