- in which she has her ways, and he has his. two worlds apart but together all the same.
or
- in which they both seek freedom, and find it in each other.
[⚠️some mentions of ptsd-like symptoms and reference to a car crash]
hallelujah- leonard cohen
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➸
LEO FOUND HIMSELF GRINNING wildly as he put the boys to bed. A sleepy Mateo cling to his neck, the boy who was approaching two years of age nearly fast asleep but refusing to let go of his father. The footballer allowed it for some time, cherishing the time he got to spend with his son.
The night had been wonderful. They had arrived home from Gerard's around an hour ago, and since then had watched an episode of a children's TV show, before he carried two tired boys up to bed. From there, Thiago had demanded a story, leading Leo into a tale about a dragon and a trapped princess - something entirely made up that he just ran with.
Leaving Gerard's, he felt happier than ever. Their night had gone smoothly, even if Geri was concerned at first. Cordelia seemed to enjoy herself, and when Leo had left, she had been accompanying Sasha to his own bed.
"Papa!" Mateo whined, his limited vocabulary causing Leo to grin. The boy didn't want anything, his sleepy state just made it difficult to differentiate between dreams and the present.
His father who, although wouldn't have been opposed to cuddling with his son for a while, knew he should leave the boy in peace managed to peel his arms from around his neck. Leo pressed a soft kiss to Mateo's head as he pulled the covers up to his chin. He watched his son as he fell almost immediately into a deep sleep, pride overcoming him and his heart fluttering in his chest.
It was a rare occasion he ever got to spend time with his boys, and he took the opportunity to take a seat by Mateo's bedside - just watching him in his slumber.
He could see himself in the boy; in his eyes and his smile. That was unlike his brother, who Leo had always said looked like his mother. He had the same gentle features as her, so approachable and innocent, you could never picture them doing a bad thing.
Of course, it was never Antonella that committed any wrongdoings. She was the ideal woman.
And Leo let that go.
In turn, he lost access to what kept him going. He lost every beautiful thing he ever had, in the click of a finger.
Leo wondered why his brain let this happen. Every time he had a good moment, a good night, it was as if he was thrown back into that cell his thoughts kept him trapped in; thrown back to the wolves as he fought against his own emotions for survival.
