Work Text:
Leonardo Watch was a mostly regular person in a very irregular city. He struggled in the absurdity of it all sometimes, but he carried on as much as he was able. The city lights of neon signs glowed back at him in the puddles lining the gutters of the streets from recent rains of dubious origins and consistency, so he ignored how the... water(? He hoped it was water, anyway) was foggy and viscous, occasionally partially congealed and twitching. He stepped over a smaller pool of said liquid that had seeped into a crack on the sidewalk, grimacing as it reached for him. He continued on. (Now as he always has.)
The city, in all its strangeness, had a certain appeal to it, in that no matter what the day had in store for him, it wouldn't be the same as it had been. It helped him break out of old habits, of slipping into loops of blurry days and blurrier nights and endless, dreary thoughts. Who had time to hate themself when the people around them hated them even more? He had to live in the moment if he wanted to live at all. (He wasn't sure, sometimes, if he even does want to live. He carries on anyway, if not for his sake then for his sister. Anything for his sister. He ignored the part of him that murmured that if that were true, he wouldn't be able to see right now.)
He's trying to eat better(or actually just eat more), really he is, cuz with how often he's running he doesn't have much weight available to spare before he's even more underweight then he already is, but it's hard sometimes to get the strength, or more often, the cash. It's not that he doesn't like food, he's not super picky actually, it's just... he doesn't really deserve it. He doesn't starve himself, not when he can help it, but he will admit that he's at least a little hungry more often then not. He should eat more. He's trying. (It doesn't feel like enough. It doesn't feel like he's enough. It never does.)
The nightmares... he doesn't even want to start on the nightmares. He's always had them, to some extent, obviously not about. Well. They were just regular, run of the mill nightmares before, but moving to this city definitely didn't help. Seeing what he alone is able to see? Knowing exactly what goes bump in the night down every alley, every apartment, every van? It would be enough to fuel anyone's nightmares. He's just unfortunate enough to be the only one privy to such detail. He wakes up with air starved lungs and tear filled eyes more then he would like to admit.
Usually, he wakes up alone, but on the occasions he falls asleep on the office coach, he'll wake up with a gasping shout and heaving breaths, trying not to feel as pathetic as he knows he looks. On one such occurrence, when he woke up, Klaus was still working, filing some papers, turning to look at Leo. There was no judgement in his eyes, only knowledge and acceptance. It felt foreign. It still does. Klaus carefully brewed some tea, and somehow, the sweetness was just how Leo preferred, and it was at just the right temperature. It tasted like bergamot and vanilla, with a splash of milk for consistency. It tasted like safety. It tasted like it was too much of a luxury to be spent on someone like him. He drained the cup anyway. Few words were exchanged between Klaus and Leo that night, but he found solidarity and he found just a taste of care. (He tried not to feel pathetic. It was just a little easier.)
He got mugged again. He came up with a handful of techniques to make sure that he wouldn't lose what little money he had to begin with, but he still got roughed up and the thugs happened upon one of his stashes of cash on his person, which earned him a black eye and some extra bruises. At least they didn't break anything this time. He picked himself up, slowly, eventually, and he dusted himself off, not that it did much, and he dragged his sorry as* towards the light of the city that glared from the mouth of the alley. He kept moving towards the light. It isn't much, he knows it isn't, and maybe he shouldn't feel like it's such a hassle to exist sometimes, or to move, or to breathe, but it is. He knows the light that's waiting for him is small, and dim, and weak, but it's there, and he's going to keep moving towards it. He will. He has to. He refuses to let his spirit be broken. At least not by street muggers. At least not today. (He'll keep going for as long as he has to. He might have to spend time to recover, but he won't go backwards. He just has to keep going forwards. What else is there to do?)
He was reckless sometimes, he could admit that much. He had a teensy issue with self preservation and all that entails, especially if someone he cares about is in danger. And also when he's in danger. And in his general decisions in his day to day life. Okay, so he had an issue with self preservation, but its not like he's died yet! That has to mean something, right? He's kind of surprised he's still alive, honestly, considering the city he lives in, but he didn't make it this far without help. He would be dead many times over without Libra.
He was just some guy who happened to have good eyes. It's not like he's able to really do anything. He's scrawny, short, awkward, and stubborn in all the worst ways. He tries his best to be better how he's able, but he's still weak and he knows it. He just wishes he was more useful. (He's so tired. He still flinches when people touch his face when he's not ready for it, certain that they're going for his eyes, they always just want his eyes, it's the only thing worth a damn about his entire existence, so he supposes he can't blame them. He's just.. so tired of it all.)
His brain felt more frazzled then usual, today, which of course means that his stupid eyes just have to have twice as much visual input as usual, which is saying something. He's usually pretty good at keep on keeping on, but sometimes everything is just too much and it overwhelms him and all the lights feel like they're burning and he sees every minuscule little thing and it's all he can do not to cry his eyes out when something bumps him that he somehow didn't notice because his eyes decided that the dust mites were the most interesting things about his surroundings as he was trying to navigate what smelled like a fire, because of course there's a fire on top of everything else.
He somehow manages to get to the office after an embarrassing amount of time, so now he's on the verge of a mental breakdown AND he's late to work! Great! Fantastic! He heaves a breath full of air that's somewhere between a laugh and sob and collapses on the couch facedown. He tries to block out the composition of the molecular structure of the fibers that made up the fabric of the couch, and all the nasty bacteria from god knows what, and he decided to get his face off the couch not at all rapidly and definitely without yelping and he absolutely didn't immediately burst into tears at just how awful everything felt.
His regular sensory input was just too much on top of his heightened vision and he felt so helpless and pathetic and frustrated that he just sobbed into his hands, and even through his eyelids he could see his muscle and bone and tendon flexing as his clenched hands pressed against his eyes and the auras of everyone else in the office strobed violently in vibrant pulses and all the things he could usually tone out of his sight and mind flared. He keened loudly, almost yelling as the more agitated he got the more his eyes increased their sensitivity.
In some part of his mind he was vaguely aware that he had accidentally hijacked his coworkers sight as well, but he could barely tell as his own comprehension of what he was seeing was so far gone that he could barely tell what was actually in front of him. He passed out.
When he woke up, his sight more or less back to normal, Zapp was in his face, hollering unintelligibly until Chain kicked him from some indeterminate area around them. Stephen was rubbing his eyes wearily but he didn't look too ruffled, and Klaus was waiting with a kettle and a cup as Gilbert lurked behind him with a tray of cream and sugar.
Guilt hit him like a tidal wave as he remembered what happened, and he sighed putting his head in his hands. Stephen spoke up, "Hey, Leo, what happened? Is something wrong? I don't think I've ever seen you that shaken up before. There some monster we need to get?"
Zapp piper up from the floor as Chain finally stopped standing on him, "Yeah, pipsqueak, you were being even more neurotic then usual, which is saying something." Chain slapped him upside the head, making him yelp. Leo tried chuckling, but it was half-hearted and unconvincing.
"Uh, yeah, sorry about.. all of that." He put his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. "I don't really know what happened. I just woke up in the morning and my brain was more nervous then usual, which I guess caused my eyes to be hypersensitive to everything around me. It just kept getting worse and worse and, well.. I'm sorry for freaking out, haha."
Klaus said, "Do not worry, Leonardo, we're just glad there is no threat. Would you like some tea?" Leo hesitated a moment, before nodding his head. As Klaus began preparing the tea, ignoring Leo's attempts to do it himself as he didn't want to bother Klaus, Chain looked at him imploringly. "So what we all saw, when you were panicking, you shared what you were seeing with us. I... didn't know it could get that bad."
Leo froze, before rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Ah, yeah, on bad days it tends to be.. like that. Usually it's mostly fine, as long as I keep my eyes closed, but it can get overwhelming easily. I'm just grateful that's mostly all I have to deal with, but sometimes even that's just too much."
Chain raised an eyebrow and said, "Well, maybe, but it still sucks. I can't even imagine having to deal with seeing all of that all the time." Stephen nodded absently, scratching his chin idly. "I guess I never really thought about what having eyes that can see virtually anything would be like to have all day, every day. That sounds exhausting."
Klaus finished stirring in the sugar for the tea and handed it to Leo, who took it gratefully, letting it warm his hands as he took a sip cautiously. It was the perfect temperature again. He didn't even want to question how Klaus did it. Klaus looked at him, really looked at him, and Leo felt like he was being looked at under a microscope. He wondered idly if this is how people feel when he looks at them with his eyes open.
"Leonardo bears a burden that seems incomprehensible to us, but do not forget it is his burden to bear. We can help him carry it as we are able, but he is strong for having been able to manage it on his own for as long as he has," Leo opened his mouth to protest, "even if he does not believe that." Leo's mouth snapped shut awkwardly.
His fingers tightened around his teacup, trembling slightly. "Really, guys, it's not that bad. You guys have seen so much worse, I know you have. I've seen some of it, and these eyes help me see more of it then I would like, but-" ('I'm still the one who's able to see,' is what he couldn't bring himself to say.) "-it's my own weakness that prevents me from being able to handle it. If I were just stronger-" "What are you talking about, squirt?"
Leo's head jerked up at the unexpected interruption. Zapp had an eyebrow raised at him and was sneering. "Man, you may be a scruffy little scrotum, but you're part of Libra, dammit! Stop being so dumb all the time, underestimating yourself. You're still standing here, and you're still breathing. That's all there is to say on the matter."
Stephen sighed deeply and said, "Well, I hate to admit it, but Zapp's got a point for once. No matter how weak or cowardly you claim to be, you haven't run away, and being alive in this city is a feat on its own. You're one of us for a reason. Don't sell yourself short." Leo hunched over, the tea sloshing gently as his hands started shaking more noticeably. "..yeah. Yeah, you guys are right. I'll just- I'm gonna lay down for a bit, if there's nothing you guys need me for. If that's alright." Klaus nodded, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, Leonardo. Rest easy." Leo reclined on the couch, turning to face the backing of the cushions. He was such a coward. He couldn't even handle a conversation, much less facing the truth. He didn't even know what the truth was anymore. (If only they knew what he knew. If only they could see what he sees. He knows what lives in his mirrors. Weakness dwells within his every movement. He just wants to sleep.)