TMNT 2012 - Boyfriend Scenarios

Texting/Talking Until You Fall Asleep: Leonardo

The rain picked up a bit on your way back home. As the skies darkened and the sun set, the heavy clouds above you went from misting to almost downpouring water all over you. You hadn't thought to bring an umbrella.

You'd finished off the Chai Tea Late that Leo had left behind, the better of your two drinks (though you'd never admit it), and left your too-strong espresso drink behind. You dropped a couple of dollars into the tip jar on your way out, hoping that it made up for what you'd wasted.

Crossing Lexington Avenue in a haste, you made your way to the Sixty-Second-Street bus stop, shoulders hunched against the rain that was gradually getting heavier. You waited underneath the tiny shelter between a ragged-looking woman and a lawyer-type dude that looked like a real asshole to you. Inside your jacket pocket, your good hand was always clenched into a fist, just in case you had to start swinging; with Leo gone, you didn't feel as at-ease as you had been. You still trusted no one.

By the time you make it back to your apartment, your clothes are damp, your hair is sodden and heavy, and you're freezing.

You take the elevator to your floor and resist the urge to wring your ponytail out in front of the passing custodian on the way through. When you make it inside (after an irritating battle with your keys), you peel your jacket off immediately, relishing in the feeling of dryness. You drape the jacket over a barstool and sit at the free one for a moment, letting yourself think. The day had gone by much quicker than you'd expected; it had turned out to be a good day, even after Noah basically banned you from training until your body "healed better", whatever that meant.

You choose not to think about that part too much.

What you really want to think about is the intriguing pinnacle of serenity that waltzed into your life: Leonardo. He's probably occupied your mind seven times over on your way home, not that you'd admit it. Those deep blue eyes, his laid-back smile, that stupid accent he pulled.. why can't you stop thinking about him?

You hadn't texted him back since he left the coffee shop. That was hours ago. But, what would you say?? "Aye, you're a dork an' I like that"??

Heat rises to your cheeks and you push yourself up from the counter, hearing your keys clatter onto the tile floor. Did you just- what the fuck (y/n)!?

Refusing to entertain that train of thought any further, you march around the counter that, more often than not, serves as your dining room table and snatch a bag of popcorn from the cabinet above the microwave. You're starving, and you realize that you haven't eaten a morsel all day.

Cold, dark, rainy? Perfect movie-watching weather.

Or show-binging weather.

While your popcorn cooks, you make your way towards your room. You pause. Do you really want to go in there and deal with your carefully rearranged furniture? The very arrangement currently hiding that impressive hole in your wall??

The answer is no, but you really need to get out of these jeans. You push open the flimsy door and refuse to look to your right, changing clothes quickly. The rearrangement bothers you deeply. It doesn't feel like something you did; it feels like someone came in without your consent and messed with all of your things, and that infuriates you. Except.. you're the culprit.

Eventually I have to plaster that wall.

You don't want to think about that right now, either.

You close the door behind you as your microwave calls out four short beeps, and grab your popcorn from its radioactive confines. Feeling as though you'd rather not get your fingers too greasy, you dump the movie-watching snack into a large bowl that you remember purchasing for just this occasion. You don't go into work until late afternoon tomorrow, and it isn't too late yet, just dark. You have a night to yourself.