Archive of Our Own

“What did I do in the future?”

Mikey’s excitement is contagious. He turns around with his thousand-watt smile on full blast, and you watch as Casey falls under its spell in an instant. As you listen to him describe Mikey and Donnie’s roles in the resistance, you almost forget what’s happening outside the walls of the tank, what the five of you are on your way to do. 

You almost forget that there’s a big red hole where Raph should be. 

You turn around in your seat to share a look with Leo. While he smiles back at you, you can see how tightly he’s clutching the armrest of his chair. He’s always been good at hiding his anxiety, but you know all his tells. He’s afraid, and that has fear of your own curling snake-like around your spine, waiting for its moment to strike.

But that moment isn’t now. Here, in the safety of Donnie’s precision engineering, surrounded by highly skilled magical ninjas, you know that no harm will come to you. Maybe that’s why you let your guard down and found yourself grinning as Casey strokes the younger turtles’ egos, their heads inflating like balloons. 

After he spends a few minutes waxing poetic about Future Mikey’s apparent magical prowess, you butt in. “What about me? Did I do anything cool, or did I kick the bucket in the first ten minutes of the invasion?”

Mikey snickers. It’s only because you’re watching Casey that you see the way his expression shutters, something grim peeking out of the blinds of his eyes before he covers it with a lopsided smile. 

“You were super cool,” he says softly. “You and Master Leonardo were inseparable, and when you would fight together, it was like you were reading each other’s minds.”

You shoot another look at Leo. “That doesn’t sound like us at all,” you remark, Leo nodding his head in agreement. 

“Yeah, you’re more of the ‘run and hide’ type,” he adds.

“Excuse me,” you gasp, smacking your palms against the console in indignation. “I do not run. I strategically retreat.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You nearly point out that all of you had retreated today, but realize that it won’t do your team’s morale any favors. You let them have a laugh at your expense, rolling your eyes when Leo jumps in with another smartass comment. 

“Sounds like future me was carrying most of the weight, anyway.”

“Sorry we can’t all be mutant turtles,” you shoot back, cheeks puffing. “I’m working at a bit of a disadvantage here.”

“That didn’t stop you,” Casey says, his smile small but true. The mood in the tank shifts. “The two of you were inseparable, on and off the battlefield.” A moment passes, and then he adds, “Partners.”

A jolt shoots through you, making you sit up a little straighter in your chair. Something about Casey’s tone has heat rising in your cheeks. The tank goes quiet. In your periphery, you see Mikey turn to stare at you. Suddenly, you can’t work up the nerve to glance back at Leo like you normally would, and you notice that his usual questionably funny remark is conspicuously absent. 

“Partners?” he asks instead, making you swallow. This is the closest either of you have been to acknowledging the thing between you. You’ve been dancing around it for months, maybe even years, and now he’s all but invited Casey to lay it all out in the open. 

And lay it out he does. 

Casey bites his bottom lip, hesitating as he glances from you to Leo and back again. You’re not sure what he sees, but it emboldens him. “You were married,” he tells you, “in the future.”

There it is. You suck in a breath, warmth spreading through your whole being. Married. You and Leo.

Unable to stand the tense silence, needing to see Leo’s reaction, you turn around again. Leo’s already looking at you, and you watch as a grin spreads across his face, lighting him up from the inside. It makes your heart skip a beat, this confirmation that yes, he’s happy about this, and yes, he’s felt the thing between you. It wasn’t just in your head—he’s been burning too. 

“Oh,” you breathe, almost overwhelmed by happiness. Leo can tell, and his grin turns into something smug.

“Shocker,” Donnie snarks, returning his attention to the control panel. 

The silence now broken, Mikey springs to his feet, jumping up and down. “Ohmigosh! I knew it I knew it I knew it!” 

“Who didn’t?” is Donnie’s response. “You owe me fifty bucks, by the way.”

As the youngest brothers begin to argue, you fidget with your hands, wondering if your feelings for the leader in blue had really been so obvious. It’s a little embarrassing to think that the entire Hamato clan has been waiting to see which of you will break first.

Not that you're together now. The two of you will have to have a long talk when all of this Krang business is finished. 

The tank slams to a stop, informing you that you’ve reached your destination. The mood plummets. Later, there will be time for you to digest all of this. For now, though, you need to focus on getting Raph back. As soon as you’re finished with this mess, you’ll be able to get Leo alone.

You almost don’t notice the turmoil brewing inside him. It was there at first, when he came back in place of his brother, but the brief moment of levity Casey gave you is enough to cloud your growing worry, for a time. Before you can ruminate on it, your group is stepping out of the safety of the tank and into an ambush. 

The creatures are everywhere . They’ve fused with any object they could find to create abominations you’ll see in your nightmares for months to come. It’s all you can do to keep yourself from being squished or worse. The blasters Donnie made for you feel woefully inadequate in light of the current danger. It doesn’t matter how many holes you blow in these things—they just keep coming. 

Mikey’s shout breaks through the calamity. “We should go back!”

“No! We’re gonna get to those stairs.”

Donnie’s voice now. “Leo, we’re not gonna make it! We have to turn back!”

Not for the first time, you find yourself agreeing with the turtle in purple. Leo, entangled in living pink goop, strains towards the exit. 

“We push forward, get Raph. That’s final.” A tentacle swings in out of nowhere, hitting him square in the chest and sending him flying backwards. You and Casey rush to his aid, but before you can regroup, another tentacle, larger than any you’ve seen, slams into the ground just behind you. The group splinters as Mikey and Donnie duck for cover, leaving the three of you to face down what appears to be a Krang-ified subway car. 

Frozen with fear, you hear Mikey, on the other side of the monster, shout something. It pulls the creature’s attention away, and you watch in horror as it smashes down on top of the youngest Hamatos. 

Leo surges to his feet. “Donnie! Mikey!” More tentacles wrap around him, dragging him back even as he struggles to reach his brothers. 

It's a calamity, after that. You help Leo free himself, but it’s not enough. You fire off round after round of glowing energy blasts, unable to pause for a single second to wonder if Donnie and Mikey survived. The slimy limbs come at you from all sides, and when one rears back right in front of your face, you don’t hesitate before lining up your gun and pulling the trigger. 

There’s a click, and then nothing. Empty. Your stomach drops, and then the tentacle strikes, wrapping around your throat over and over and using its hold to lift you into the air. 

Choking, you claw into the flesh, finding no purchase and seeming to inflict no pain whatsoever. Your guns clatter uselessly to the floor. As your vision darkens, you stare into the pulsating green eye attached to the noose around your neck, and wonder if it will be the last thing you ever see. 

A moment later, just as your lids are sliding shut, the thing’s grip slackens. You fall to the floor, landing in a heap as you gasp in breath after breath. You don’t get time to figure out what happened, but you don’t really need it—Leo saved you. You know it. 

He and Casey drag you to your feet, and you have just enough oxygen in your brain to remember to reach back and grab your guns. You slide them into their holsters just as the train car turns its attention back onto your trio. It surges forward, forcing all of you to roll out of the way. Your head spins, but Leo grabs your hand and pulls you into a run. Where you’re going, you don’t know, but it has to be better than here. 

Debris scatters around you as the train car forces itself into the tunnel after you. You breathe as deeply as you can, feeling the bruises form on the skin of your neck. There are no more attempts at a counterattack—you’re running for your life. 

The monster hits the ground with a deafening crash, creating a shockwave that sends you all flying. You tense, preparing to land hard, but Leo catches you mid-air, shouldering most of the impact himself. He’s backed into a pile of rubble and you can’t see a path around it. The only way out is back the way you came. 

“Leo,” you say, fear making your voice small. He doesn’t respond except to hold you closer, his grip tightening to the point of pain. 

Helpless, you watch as the mutated subway car approaches. It slows down, like it knows it’s already won. Like it wants to savor the moment. 

You wish you could say that you were brave, that you stare down your demise while standing tall, but you don’t. Instead, you tuck your face into Leo’s shoulder, and wait for death to come. 

You’re expecting pain, so you don’t understand what the shifting below you means until it’s too late. The ground creaks and you hear Leo gasp, and then it bottoms out. Your stomach floats up inside you as you freefall, choking down a scream. You hear Casey’s shout of alarm, and after what feels like an eternity, you land. 

Leo positions himself beneath you, once again taking the brunt of the force, but it’s still enough to knock the wind out of you. Your head cracks against his plastron hard enough to make your ears ring. And as he rolls you over to hold you beneath him, chunks of metal and concrete rain down from the destroyed floor above. 

Eventually, everything goes still. You manage to open your eyes, taking stock of the situation. Leo shifts, struggling to sit up underneath the weight on his back, but he appears mostly unharmed. Craning your head, you spot Casey wiggling out of another pile of debris a little ways behind you. Relief courses through you, and only then do you perform a check of your own, wiggling your limbs to make sure they’re all still in the right place. Everything moves like it’s supposed to, but you’re going to feel this later. There’s a spot on your right side that’s already pretty tender. A broken rib, maybe. You’ll have to get Donnie to look at it. 

Oh, god. Donnie. 

The memory comes back all at once. The fear and worry you felt earlier amplifies by a hundred. Are they okay? Did they survive? You don’t know, and it’s agonizing. 

Leo manages to free you both, and you sit up slowly, feeling the full force of the twinge in your side. Yeah, definitely broken. Leo stands, and you notice distantly that Casey joins him. You pull out your blasters to examine their power level. One of them still has about 25 percent charge, but the other is sitting at a whopping two percent. It’ll keep charging as long as you leave it alone, but you doubt you’ll have a choice in the matter. For your sake, you just hope it charges fast. 

You replace the blasters into their holsters, and it’s then that you realize then that the boys are arguing. Startled by Casey’s harsh tone, you glance up and try to figure out what led them here. 

“But I was doing everything right,” Leo insists. “How could it go so wrong?”

Casey yells, “Because you weren’t listening to your team! You don’t have all the answers all the time!”

Indignant, Leo rebuffs, “But I’m the greatest ninja the world’s ever seen. You said that.”

You love Leo—really, really love him—but he can also be so frustrating. You’re about to voice your agreement with Casey when the boy speaks again. 

“I was wrong.”

“…What?” Leo’s response is so soft, you almost don’t hear it. You feel it as the conversation takes a turn, as it begins to snowball into something you don’t like. 

Casey berates Leo freely as he rises to his feet. Leo turns away, either unwilling or unable to face the newcomer laying all of his flaws at his feet. 

“You want to know what really happens in the future?” Casey asks, and that thing you caught a glimpse of before comes out in full force. It’s despair, you realize. Utter, hopeless despair. 

“They die,” he says, voice cracking. “Everybody dies fighting the Krang.”

His words have the intended effect. They flash through the room like a taser, stunning you both into silence. You knew it was bad, but you didn’t realize how devastating it would be until this moment. No wonder Casey’s been so insistent on keeping the key safe. In light of the horrors he’s seen, Raph’s sacrifice must seem a small price to pay to prevent the future he remembers. 

Raph, you think, would feel the exact same way. 

Casey recovers, putting his angry mask back in place. He shakes his head. “The world needs Master Leonardo. And all we got is this guy,” he spits, gesturing down at your friend with disgust. 

For once, Leo doesn’t try to defend himself. He shoulders the insult like a blow, and panic rises in your chest. 

“That’s enough!” you bark, finding your voice too late. The damage is done, the little snowball sent rolling down the hill. Growing every second. 

Mercifully, Casey listens to you. He spins on his heel and climbs back up his tower of rubble, searching for a spot to start digging his way out. 

You manage to get to your feet and cross the small space to kneel down at Leo’s side. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you try to get him to look at you. 

“Don’t listen to him,” you murmur, side eyeing Future Boy. 

“He’s right.” Leo, too, keeps his tone low. 

You shake your head. “No, he isn’t. He doesn’t know you. I do. You were trying to save Raph the only way you knew how.”

“I should’ve listened to them,” Leo says, like he hasn’t heard you at all. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I never should’ve left without Raph.”

You squeeze his shoulder. Then, when that just isn’t enough, you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. 

“There was nothing else you could do,” you tell him. “Raph chose to save you. That isn’t your fault.”

At first, you think you’ve had no effect. But then, with a sigh you can feel, he returns the hug, holding you gingerly to his chest. You’re used to a Leo that oozes confidence; this new self-loathing version of him is even more alien than those things upstairs. You hate how hesitation looks on him, hate knowing that he’s never more critical of anyone than he is of himself. And you hate how no one else ever sees it, how they throw every mistake back in his face as though he doesn’t lie awake at night reliving them over and over again. You see it—see him— as clearly as if you were looking into a mirror. You don’t know how you’ll make it if he lets Casey’s insults take root and fester. If he gives in to despair. 

I love you. The words sit on your tongue like they have a hundred times before. I know you, I see you, I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s never been the right time. At first, you kept quiet because you didn’t think he liked you back, and then eventually, that fear dissipated. He never said it, not in the way you wanted, but you knew. You would catch him smiling at you sometimes and it would be right there in his gaze, reflecting back every ounce of adoration you felt for him in a way that made you lose your train of thought. Then he’d laugh and make some dumb joke, the spell would break, and you’d both skirt around it. 

The waiting became less a matter of possible friendship-ruining rejection and more a question of timing. When was the right time to tell your best friend you were in love with him? It couldn’t be a trivial affair. You needed to impress on him the depth of your affection in one fell swoop, and it turns out that that isn’t a simple thing to do. So weeks had turned into months had turned into years, and here you are, still circling each other endlessly, still playing a game that stopped being fun a long time ago. 

The weight of all of those would-be-confessions rests heavy on your shoulders. Still, you don’t say the words. You grasp him tighter, trying to force your unspoken profession into him. It doesn’t work that way, but he responds regardless, pulling you in even closer. 

The movement makes your rib throb, and you wince at the sharp pain. Being so close, Leo notices and pulls back immediately, effectively ending the moment. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks, gaze raking you from head to toe. 

In your periphery, you see Casey’s head snap towards you. “I’m fine,” you assure them, lowering a hand to your side. “Think I bruised a rib.”

Leo raises a brow, disbelieving. In response, you grin at him and rise to your feet. “See? All good.”

“Mhm. Now let’s see you raise your arms.”

Busted. You roll your eyes theatrically, waving him off. “I am fine . Besides, shouldn’t we be looking for a way out?”

He sighs but doesn’t press the point. Casey, also placated, returns to his digging. You look around the space, trying to think of a way to get you all out of here before the Krang come find you. Unfortunately, the only clear path you can see is up, the way you got here in the first place. 

“I think I can get back to the other floor,” you muse, searching for footholds along the walls. You glance down and tap the heel of your boot against the ground in two quick raps. To your relief, the leather lights up, displaying Donnie’s trademark in a bright purple glow. “Yeah, I can definitely get there, and then I can go try to find help.” Donnie’s patented Moon Shoes were his most recent attempt at defying gravity. They weren’t actually capable of flight, but between sticking to walls and providing boosts of near-weightlessness, they proved invaluable when you needed a quick getaway. 

“No way,” Leo says, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re not splitting up. Wherever we go, we go together.”

He waits for you to acquiesce. You nod in agreement and, satisfied that you aren’t going to make a run for it, he joins Casey in his search for an exit. 

You leave them to it. Despite your show, your ribs really do hurt, and you cringe at the thought of what heavy lifting would do to your pain. In lieu of helping them directly, you search around the opposite wall, trying to find a gap big enough for you to crawl through. Behind you, the boys talk, and some of the tension between them dissolves. 

They break through the wall into an elevator shaft. You join them, staring down into the darkness with a frown. 

“How are we not at the bottom of this thing?” you wonder aloud before you begin your genius-assisted ascent into Metro Tower. 

Even without special tech, Leo and Casey make good time up the cables. They’re right behind you when you burst into the wrecked lobby, and soon, you’ve reunited with the rest of the group, Miley and Donnie confirmed safe and sound. Your relief is short lived, as only moments later, you locate the last Hamato brother. 

He isn’t right. When he’s freed from his cocoon, there’s a breath of time in which you simply feel the wrongness. Whatever that is may look like Raph, but the insides are all alien. 

He hits Leo hard enough to throw him across the room, and then your suspicions are confirmed. You watch, horrified, as the same pink tentacles that attacked you envelop Raphael from the inside out. His eyes, once green, now shine yellow and red. He roars, the sound utterly inhuman, and lashes out again. 

Things only get worse from there. Unable to fight their family, the others are tossed around by the creature using Raphael’s body. He takes the Key, ushering in the arrival of the Krang. As if that isn’t enough, the floor shudders and explodes, revealing your old friend the subway monster. Outnumbered and outmatched, you glance around your team, hoping someone has a brilliant plan to get you all out of this. Instead, all you see is horror. 

The escape is a close thing. Leo almost misses it completely, so intent is he on saving his brother. You and Casey have to drag him away, and it’s only when he hears you begging him to run that he finally relents and flees under his own power. 

You end up on a rooftop, forced to watch as the Krang open their portal and unleash hell on New York City. 

It’s over, you think. You lost. Everyone lost. 

Despair returns then, and you see it echoed on every face around you. Every face except one. Leo, your wonderful, beautiful Leonardo, keeps the hope alive. He’s always been stubborn, and his refusal to accept defeat turns the tide. You see it as the others come around one by one, rallied to his side. Everyone, even his father, naturally following him into battle. No longer forcing their obedience, but earning it. A fully-realized leader at last. 

You make the plan together this time. It feels good, like if you’re lucky it just might work. You’re to join April, Casey, and Splinter in the ground team, while Leo is to lead the sky team. It makes sense and puts everyone where they’ll be the most useful, but you still don’t like it. Being apart from him now…you hate it. If something happens, you need to be with him. But for the sake of the team, you’ll do your part. 

The group splits with a booming battlecry and the rest of the ground team heads inside to descend. Donnie and Mikey leap off the side of the building, presumably to the next roof over. You pay them no mind—only one turtle has your attention right now. 

“Be careful, alright?” he tells you. You nod, and he leans in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. Your tongue dries, resting heavy in your mouth, and you want to say so many things. So many different ways to say the only thing that really matters. 

Leo turns and heads for the roof’s edge. Panic grips you, and without thinking, you lunge forward and grab his wrist, shackling him to you for a second longer. 

Surprised, he turns his head back towards you, and whatever he sees there makes his face go soft. He returns and folds you into his embrace, stroking your hair reassuringly. “It’s going to be fine,” he says. “You’re going to be fine.”

Hidden in his plastron, you find the courage to speak. “I’m not worried about me.”

His responding hum rumbles into your chest. “Well, I am, so there.”

Despite yourself, you snort. “It’s not a competition, dummy.”

“Yeah, says the loser. “

“I can’t believe you’re actually making jokes right now.” You push away from him but can’t hide the grin tugging at your mouth. It feels like forever since you last smiled. 

He smiles, too. “Kinda my specialty, sweetheart.”

“I know.” Your voice is low, carrying more weight than you can see on the surface. Leo hears it, or at least some of it, and his smile fades into something contemplative. He whispers your name, just once, and the words are right there between your teeth. 

You swallow them down. It’s not the right time—bad luck to do it before a fight, anyway. And god knows you need all the luck you can get. So you let the moment pass you by once more. 

Next time, you promise yourself. I’ll tell him everything. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you tell him instead. His smile returns, but as he backs away, you can swear that there’s something hiding behind it. Something that makes your ribs throb in time with every beat of your heart. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You’ve been playing pretend with him for a long time. Maybe that’s why you realize, just as he disappears off the side of the building, that he’s hiding something. You know what it looks like when he’s keeping something hidden, and you’re certain that, right now, his mind has spiraled somewhere you can’t begin to follow. Whatever’s been happening within him since Raph was taken has grown in momentum and only now, too late, do you feel the unstoppable inertia as it rolls right past you. 

By the time you reach the lip of the roof, Leo and his brothers are long gone. You linger there for a moment, grappling with a rising panic you don’t fully understand. It freezes you in place, forcing you to stare out at the terror raining down on your city until your eyes burn with the need to blink. Even then, you can’t bring yourself to move until April’s irritated voice chirps through your earpiece.

“Girl, c’mon, let’s get this show on the road!”

You jolt, stepping back towards the stairwell. Pressing against your comm, you hurriedly respond, “Sorry, I’m on my way!” and rush to meet them. 

The streets are utter chaos, but with the others at your side, you don’t need to worry. Splinter alone is a force of nature, and April could level a skyscraper if she was mad enough. Casey, too, is skilled beyond his years, and he fights with an edge of desperation that would scare you if you stopped to think about it. So you don’t. You throw yourself into the melee, facing first the zombified New Yorkers in your path and then the female Krang. She proves to be much worse than her minions, and it takes everything you have not to be crushed in her bionic grasp. 

Above you, another war rages on. You don’t let yourself focus on it for long, but in the brief seconds you get to catch your breath, you stare up at the massive ship in the sky and imagine you can see the brothers there. 

In the end, April really does level a skyscraper, right on top of the Krang. 

“Nice job, Apes!” you shout. 

Casey joins you, staring up at the Technodrome as it slowly retreats back into the gateway. The plan is working. “I have to get to the Key!”

“Then go,” you tell him, pushing him towards Metro Tower. “I’m right behind you.”

He nods and launches himself upwards, grappling from building to building like Spider-Man. With only your boots to aid you, you lag behind, losing ground with every step. As the buildings transition from solidly anchored to levitating fragments, you glance up at the Technodrome, watching the flashes of red, orange, purple, and blue which you understand to mean that the brothers have been successful in rescuing Raph. Relief floods through you, easing the vise around your heart ever so slightly. Raph is okay. They’re all going to be okay.

The closer you get, the clearer their battle becomes. You stumble from foothold to foothold, not wanting to miss a moment of the fight, and have to scramble to keep from falling to your death when the concrete gives way beneath your boot. Your foot slips, dragging half your body over the edge of the floating wreckage before you catch yourself on a protruding piece of rebar. It slices into the inside of your arm, but you don’t notice. Instinct drives you to push further into the pain, hooking your elbow around the bar and holding on for dear life. When your perilous slide pauses, when friction wins out against gravity, you let out a stuttered breath. 

One small movement at a time, you pull yourself back to your feet. You’re trembling a little, the adrenaline still fresh. A ways ahead, Casey continues his ascent, ignorant of your near miss. He’s too far away to hear you yell. Could you have reached your comm in time? 

You shake your head, shedding the thoughts. It doesn’t matter. Aside from a cut on your arm, which isn’t even the worst injury you’ve sustained today, you’re completely fine. 

You continue your climb, and you don’t dare look down. 

Progress comes slower than before, but you suffer no more accidents. As you crest another former skyscraper, a massive red construct flies past you. You recognize Raphael’s power, and stare in horror as it hurtles towards the ground. It crashes into Staten Island, sending a cloud of dust into the air before it dissolves. Turning back towards your goal, you pick up the pace. You’re nearly to the top of Metro Tower when Leo’s voice crackles in your ear.

“Casey, come in.”

Casey, a little ways ahead, pauses to reply. “Sensei, I’m here. And I’ve got eyes on the Key!” He breaks into a run, slipping out of your line of sight. “Just tell me when you’re home free and I’ll pull the plug!”

You leap to the next boulder, hoping to use it to launch yourself onto the tower, but it shifts beneath your weight, forcing you to pause as it counterbalances. Over the wind in your ears, you hear the insistent beeps emitting from your boots. Low power. 

You should go back down, should find something stable to stand on, but you don’t. You and Casey are supposed to get to the Key. You’re his backup—if something happens to him and the mission fails because you were too much of a coward to stay the course, you’ll never forgive yourself. With the fate of the world at stake, your own life feels impossibly inconsequential. 

While you wait for your slab of concrete to inch closer towards Metro Tower, Leo responds. “Casey, listen to me. When I get to the other side, you close that door.”

Everything stops. 

Your breathing, your heartbeat, everything. For one fraction of a second, nothing in the world moves. 

And then it does. 

“What?” Casey gasps. “Sensei, no!”

You want to speak, but your mouth feels so dry. The words stick in your throat, choking you. 

“It’s the only way,” Leo says, calm despite the situation. “He’s too strong. He’s not gonna stay on the other side unless I keep him there.”

Unless I keep him there. The words bounce around inside your skull, utterly meaningless. He’s using his persuasive voice, the one that means he’s going to get his way. The one he uses when he’s ten steps ahead of everyone else and wants to ensure everything goes according to his plan. Always so quick on his feet, literally and figuratively. You’ve never caught him off guard before, but he always manages to surprise you. 

Your body springs into a jump, using the last of your boots’ energy to launch yourself onto the edge of the rooftop. A few yards away, Casey stands before the Key, his expression frozen in horror. 

“There has to be another way!” he yells.

Leo’s insistence falls on deaf ears. Distantly, you’re aware of him trying to reassure the others, but you don’t hear it. Slowly, against your will, understanding dawns. And then you’re quiet no longer.

“Do not do this,” you whisper, unsure if the mic will be able to pick it up.

Leo’s exhale is shaky. You close your eyes, savoring the sound. 

“I have to.”

Ice runs through your veins, raising goosebumps on your skin. “You don’t,” you tell him, shaking your head. “We’ll figure something else out. Just…just come down, and we’ll talk it through. Okay? We’ll talk, and we’ll make a plan, and everything will work out.”

You cross the rooftop, pacing towards the Key as though it would somehow bring you closer to Leo. Staring up, all you can see is the Technodrome and the portal beyond it. No sign of Leo or the Krang. 

“He’s too strong,” he repeats, but now his tone is remorseful. “I have to finish this now or we won’t stand a chance.”

Beside you, Casey shudders. You don’t look at him. 

“You don’t know that!” you yell, your voice cracking with a surge of emotion you can no longer suppress. “You can’t just decide this on your own! Come back, Leo!”

He says your name then. Just your name, in a low voice that you’ve never heard him use. And something inside you breaks. 

“Leo, please, please don’t do this,” you beg, your vision swimming with tears. “I can’t…I don’t…”

When words fail you, Leo sighs. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way. I wish we had more time.”

The tears fall, tracking through dirt and dust down your cheeks. “Please,” you sob. “I love you. I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

He grunts like you’ve punched him. “I love you, too. More than anything in the world, I love you. I always have.”

It’s unbearably wrong, this confession. You’ve imagined this moment a million times over the years, pictured all the ways you could show Leo how much you loved him, but never did you think it would be like this: a tear-strewn goodbye with a planet between you. You wish you could see him. Maybe if he looked in your eyes, he would understand. If he saw what this was doing to you, he wouldn’t dare leave.

Stumbling, you pass the Key and make your way to the edge of the roof, still gazing up at the monstrous machine above you. The size of it is unbelievable, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t find Leonardo.

Desperation creeps into your tone. “Just wait. Let me…let me get to you, alright?” The soles of your shoes stay firmly planted, useless. “Let me go with you!” 

That same softness is still there when he replies. “You know I can’t do that.”

You suck in a breath, the rejection stinging like a slap to the face. Leo leaves his comm on as the sounds of battle resume. There’s an impact, and then he groans in pain. 

“Leo? What’s happening?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he says, strained. “I wanted so much with you. I should’ve said something years ago.”

“Leo…” Your cries are the only response you can muster. There’s so much you need to tell him. Years of affection you’ve stored up, but none of it comes out. You wonder if the others have silenced their comms to give you privacy or if they too are hanging on Leo’s every word.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice grows distant, his mic moving further from his face as he talks to someone else. You can’t make out specifics anymore, but you hardly breathe in the attempt to hear them better. There’s Leo’s tenor, and then the low grumble of the Krang. 

Then, Leo’s shout, clear as day. “Casey, close the portal now!”

You spin on your heels. Casey, his hand locked around the Key, stares back at you with wide eyes. 

“Wait…” 

“Casey,” Leo calls in a pained moan, “please.”

At his sensei’s plea, Casey’s resolve solidifies. His own tears spill over as he yanks the Key free, the air pulsating with a wave of released energy. Horrified, you follow the path of electricity arcing up towards the massive portal in the sky. Faster than you can blink, it closes, slicing the Krang’s ship in half. 

“Leo?” you implore. You wait, but there’s no reply. There never will be.

The ship and all of the previously floating rubble cascades around you in a rain of destruction. If you stay here, you’ll surely be crushed, but you can’t move. All you can do is gaze up at the sky, at the place where Leo stood only seconds ago. The place where he was alive. Where he told you he loved you. 

Something hard grabs you around the waist and then you’re swinging down towards the street below, avoiding death by a hair. The Technodrome’s remains fall past you, but Casey manages to avoid the worst of it. Before you know it, he’s placing you on your feet again, the city completely still around you. 

Your legs give out and you collapse. Something horrible forms beneath your ribcage, a pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt. The heaviness weighs down your heart, squeezing it so hard you’re sure it will give out completely. It hurts so much that you claw at your chest, your fingers knotting in your shirt as you try to tear the weight out by force. It’s too much—surely you’ll die from the agony of it. The cuts and scrapes littering your body are little more than stings in comparison. The rawness in your throat is nothing at all. 

You think it’ll kill you, but it doesn’t. Instead, you’re left to deal with it, to look the pain in the face and give it a name. 

Leo is gone. He’s not dead, but he might as well be. Alone in the dark with a monster.

There’s an ugly, grating sound in your ears. You wish it would stop. The pain flares again, making you gasp for breath, and the terrible noise breaks. Screaming, you realize. You were screaming. 

You clamp your mouth shut, biting back the sounds trying to escape you. It only worsens the black hole in your heart. Without an outlet, it spreads, consuming more of you with every second that passes. 

You loved Leo so much. You were his, even if he didn’t know it, and having all of that love turn so quickly to grief overwhelms you. You feel unrecognizable inside, rewritten on a molecular level. A ruination of your most fundamental self. 

It takes a long time to remember how to move. When you manage to pick your head up, you find Casey beside you, bent over one of Leo’s katanas. He passes it to you silently, his tears flowing freely now that your own have dried up. You stare down at the weapon in your hands, feeling nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

On and on he goes, like a broken record. You have no comfort to offer him. You’re hollow, empty. The wrong side of dead. 

Eventually, Raph’s mic turns on. 

“We got him.”

He sounds…excited? The happiness you hear tears at the raw edges of your grief. 

Mikey calls your name. “Do you read? We got him.”

They must mean the Krang. You can’t believe they can stand to feel pleased about anything right now, let alone that. Of course they got him— Leo got him, at the expense of his life. There’s nothing to celebrate. 

You’re just about to raise your mic and tell them as much when Donnie speaks up. “We saved him,” he says, breathless with joy. “We got Leo back.”

There’s a beat of silence before the comms erupt. April, Splinter, Casey, all of them asking dozens of questions that the brothers trip over themselves to answer. You have nothing to ask of them. Your question isn’t one that can be answered with words. 

You rise to your feet, unsteady as they are, and start walking. The city is in utter turmoil around you, but you pay it no mind. The boys crashed into Staten Island, so that’s where you’re going, distractions be damned. 

You’re not listening to them, so it isn’t until Casey catches up with you that you realize they’ve all gone back to the lair. Of course. They wouldn’t want anyone to see them, even if they did just save the whole world from destruction. 

Casey joins you on your trip down to the sewers. You can tell he wants to run ahead, but he sticks by your side, keeping pace with you. You cling to Leo’s sword like a lifeline, and against your better judgment, you begin to hope. 

“He’s really here,” April announces, raw with emotion. It’s for your benefit—yours and Casey’s. Splinter must already be there with her. Must already be with his son. 

You want to believe them. You really do. But if you get down there and find that all of this is some sick joke, or a prank, or a fucked up hallucination, you think the grief might actually kill you. You can barely stand losing him once; losing him twice is unthinkable. 

So you walk, taking your time, trying to prepare yourself for what you’ll see. Leo hasn’t said anything to you himself. Is he hurt? Or did they only bring back his corpse? Maybe his mic is broken, but then why wouldn’t he use someone else’s? He of all people would know how badly you need to hear his voice. If he’s really back, he would tell you himself.

Wary, you enter the base, paying the disarray no mind. You follow the low murmur of conversation all the way to the medbay, Casey vibrating with eagerness at your heels. You can’t rush this. 

When you reach his doorway, Donnie is the first to notice you. He’s smiling, and he steps back without a word. The others follow suit, clearing a path to the table in the center of the room.

Leo lies there, his eyes closed, his face smooth. Seeing him jolts you into action, and you all but run to his side, taking his hand in your own. His plastron moves up and down with each steady breath, but that isn’t good enough. Bending down, you press your ear to his chest. Holding your breath, you wait. And like an answer to your prayers, like a benediction, you hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. 

For the second time today, you begin to cry.

Your sobs shake your shoulders as you cling to Leo’s unconscious form, but instead of tearing another hole through you, they mend the source of your anguish. The gaping wound stitches itself back together until the pain is only a dull ache. 

Your relief is overwhelming. For a long time, separating from Leo feels impossible. The others come and go, celebrating in their own ways. April bids you goodbye, wanting to get a head start on tomorrow’s front page article for the school paper. She thinks she’s got a unique spin on it, she tells you. 

Splinter leaves with Raphael, the two of them discussing the work they’ll need to do to get the lair back into working order. The Krang apparently did a number on the place while you were gone. Mikey lingers a while longer, but soon he too makes his exit, hugging you tight before he does.

Shortly after Mikey departs, you manage to reel yourself in. Your eyes, finally dry, burn from the effort. Your back twinges where you’ve been bent over but your ribs protest when you try to sit up. Breath hitching, you grab your side and press inwards, trying to force the sharp pain to dissipate. 

Glancing up from the computer screen in the corner, Donnie’s brow furrows. “You’re hurt,” he realizes aloud, pushing off the wall to cross the small space towards you. 

“I’m fine.” You try to wave him off but he raises a drawn-on brow, all business. 

“Show me.” 

Irritated, you offer him your left arm, displaying the tear on your sleeve. The fabric around it is stained with dried blood and it sticks to your skin when Donnie tries to remove it. Realizing he won’t be able to get good enough visualization with it in the way, he proceeds to rip the sleeve clean off, separating it completely from the seam at your shoulder.

You huff. “Some warning, Don?”

He grimaces, repentant. “Sorry.” Reaching across you, he picks up a bottle of disinfectant and a clean rag and begins to wash out your wound. You take the opportunity to study it as well, wincing every now and then when the alcohol stings. It’s honestly not that bad, all things considered. A little over two inches long, almost reaching the crease of your elbow. Removing the pieces of your shirt that had been stuck to it has caused some parts of it to bleed again, but it’s only a slow ooze. None of it is particularly deep, and you see Donnie’s shoulders relax as he reaches the same conclusion. Even though he’s the team’s unofficial med-guy, he’s never been very good with seeing people in pain. 

“It won’t need stitches,” he tells you confidently, wiping away the last of the grime. He leaves you for a moment, returning with a roll of gauze and an ointment which he laves generously over your arm. While he meticulously dresses your injury, your gaze flits over Leo head to toe. 

They’d turned him onto his stomach earlier so that Donnie could finish assessing him, and that’s how he’s stayed. There are new scratches on his shell, but what holds your attention is the large crack splintering from the top nearly to the middle of his back. The sides are still firmly pressed together, and you can’t see any flesh between them, but just looking at it makes your stomach turn. You think of how strong the brothers are, how durable, and shudder.

How hard would a hit need to be to cause something like this?

Feeling you tremble, Donnie follows your gaze. “It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.”

“It looks pretty bad,” you respond quietly. 

“He’ll be out for two days, but it’s only because I know he’ll never sit still if I give him the choice.” He rolls his eyes. “I’d say, ‘You need to take it easy,’ and he would hear, ‘Perfect time to break in my new skateboard.’” With a last turn of his wrist, the gauze runs out, and Donnie lets you pull your arm onto your lap. He waits for you to look at him before he continues. “It’s only precautionary. We heal fast.”

You nod, which seems to satisfy him. He goes to stand but is quickly stopped by Casey’s voice speaking up from behind you.

“She hurt her ribs, too.”

You’d almost forgotten he was here. You turn around in your seat to glare at him where he’s sitting on the floor. When he sees your expression, to your surprise, he cringes, dipping his head to stare at his shoes. It brings you up short, making your teasing remark shrivel up in your throat.

“Where?” Donnie asks, oblivious. You show him, pulling up the hem of your shirt so he can palpate the area to his heart’s content. Despite his gentleness, you flinch at nearly every touch.

Eventually he pulls away, making you sigh in relief. “I don’t think anything’s broken,” he says, “but you’re going to have a nasty contusion. Might take a few weeks to get better. Do you need something for the pain?”

“No, I’m fine.” 

He hesitates before standing up. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” As you return your gaze to the turtle on the table, you hear Donnie take a deep breath. “You know, you should really—”

“I’m not leaving.” Your tone brooks no argument. 

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Donnie insists. “Seriously, Leo is fine.”

“I know.” And you do. The logical side of yourself understands that, whether you’re here or not, Leo will heal and wake up practically good as new. But the less logical side, the side that replays his last words on an endless loop, won’t let you take your eyes off of him. As long as you can see him, hold him, you can be sure that he’s safe. Anything else is unacceptable. 

Casey, please.

You reach out and take Leo’s hand. Out of your peripheral vision, you see Donnie linger in the doorway before he too leaves. Then, the room, and the lair beyond it, fall quiet. The only signs of life come from Leo’s even breathing, a steady rhythm that you try to match.

You don’t know what time it is, and you don’t care. When you try to check it, you find that your phone is dead. It doesn’t matter. The only people who would ask after you already know exactly where you are. 

You keep waiting for Casey to say something, but he maintains his silent vigil long into the night. You trace the lines of Leo’s palm with your fingertips, over and over and over, hoping that he can somehow feel it. And all the while, you stare into his unconscious face, memorizing his features all over again. Nothing has changed, but you feel like it should have. Everything’s different now. Shouldn’t he be different too?

Eventually, you do doze off, and are woken what feels only minutes later by Donnie’s return. He injects something into Leo’s arm, but Leo doesn’t so much as flinch. You resume your soothing motions now on the back of his hand, fighting a losing battle against the heaviness weighing down your eyelids. It drags you under again and into a restless sleep. 

The next day passes in much the same way. The other members of the Hamato extended family come and go, but you remain firmly planted at Leo’s bedside. Casey stays too, always behind you. Everytime you look, he’s awake, in the exact same position. If he’s in half as much discomfort as you are, you’re sure his back must be killing him, but he voices no complaint. He doesn’t say anything at all; the only reason you know he’s still alive back there is because you can tell he’s moving around while you rest. When you wake up the next morning, there’s a blanket thrown over your shoulders and a glass of water by your head. You can’t prove it was Casey who put them there, but some part of you knows regardless. 

Mikey brings you both breakfast, and the three of you eat in silence. The omelet is good—really good—but you can’t stomach more than a few bites. That gaping wound has healed, but you still feel empty inside. When you remember what those few, awful minutes felt like, when you thought he was lost to you forever, your mind shies away from it. Just the memory of that pain threatens debilitation. As you stare down at Leo’s face, you realize that though he may be fine this time, there will be other crises. He’ll throw himself face first into danger every chance he gets, because that’s his job. He’s a protector, for more than just you, and one day the danger will win. One day, you’ll lose him for real, and the thought is unbearable. 

You wait with Leo until his two days are up. Then, when Donnie arrives to wake him, you tear yourself away. Donnie doesn’t stop you as you exit the room, but you feel his stare following you out. Once outside, you linger against the wall where no one can see you, fists clinched at your sides. It takes a minute, long enough for you to worry that something’s gone wrong. But then…you hear him.

“Ugh,” Leo groans, his voice hoarse with disuse. “Don, what did you do to me?”

Grinning, you listen to the brothers converse, letting Leo’s voice soothe the last of your anxiety away. He’s alright. He’s going to be just fine. 

After a few minutes listening in, you hear Leo start to grow restless. Despite Donnie’s protests, he expresses his desire to move, to stretch his legs. Casey joins Donnie in trying to convince him to stay put, but they’re fighting a losing battle. Once Leo’s set his mind on something, it’s no longer a question of if it’ll, but when. 

Your smile fades, and you head for the stairs.

Looking in the mirror, it’s no wonder the people on the streets turned to stare as you walked by. You look like you clawed your way up from hell, and you don’t feel far off. 

Frankly, you’re disgusting. Your hair is a mess, matted in at least four different places and covered in a layer of dirt. In addition to your left arm, you’ve got little cuts all over your face and hands, their scabs just beginning to itch. Your clothes are in disarray, and as your strip in the bathroom, you dump your ruined shirt in the trash, leaving your pants and underwear in a pile on the floor for future you to deal with. Inspecting the newly revealed skin, you find the tender spot on your ribs has turned slightly darker than the surrounding area, but it’s nothing compared to your neck. 

Dark purple bruises bloom in a ring around your throat, starkly noticeable even in the dim light above your vanity. It makes you swallow, feeling how the movement triggers the deep ache. You hadn’t noticed it before, what with everything else going on, but now you feel it every time you turn your head. And every time, you’re reminded of how you got it, of how the tentacle felt while it choked the life out of you. 

Shuddering, you back away from the mirror. You turn the knob in the shower as far as it will go and step into the tub while the water’s still freezing. For a long time, you stand there, watching the water run red, and then pink, and then clear past your feet and into the drain. Even when it reaches blistering temperatures, you can’t find the will to adjust it. By the time you manage to make yourself move, the water has begun to cool again. 

When you’re finished, you put on a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt and curl into your sheets. The sun’s just beginning to set, shining brightly against the wall of your bedroom. You switch on the TV and, after realizing that every channel is covering the aftermath of the Krang invasion, you turn it back off. Your phone, having recharged while you were showering, dings incessantly when you power it on. 

Scrolling through the notifications, you find that most of them are emails from school. Due to the unforeseen circumstances, Eastlaird University has regrettably chosen to close for the remainder of the week, but your professors are quick to inform you that something as insignificant as an alien invasion absolutely will not justify an extension on any assignments, thank you very much. Rolling your eyes, you close the mail app and navigate to your messages, skimming them with little interest. 

April had texted you a few times asking for updates on Leo’s condition, but those stopped quickly. Then there’s a message in your work group informing your colleagues that the coffee shop had been destroyed by falling debris and will be closed for renovations for the foreseeable future. Great. Just what you want to do right now—job hunt. 

As you’re perusing Indeed listings, your phone dings again. You freeze when you see Leo’s name, your grip tightening around your turtle-shaped phone case. 

Where are you?

Staring at the text, you feel the first stirrings of guilt. Of course he’s wondering where you are; you should have been with him when he woke up. He would’ve expected you to be, regardless of what you both said that day. He’s your best friend, and that alone is enough to justify your presence at his sick bed. With everything you confessed to, you should have been the first thing he saw when he woke up. Should have kissed him and told him to never scare you like that again, and gone from there. 

Just thinking about it makes your chest tighten. You toss your phone aside, leaving his text unanswered, and curl around your pillow. He doesn’t message you again.

That night, you scream yourself awake from nightmares haunted by glowing green eyes. With the moon still high in the sky, you throw yourself out of bed and keep yourself busy until the sun rises, when you finally crash and manage to catch a few hours of restless sleep. The nightmares aren’t so bad during the day when you can feel the light on your skin, but it’s still not enough. You’re exhausted all the time, only kept on your feet by energy drinks and the cold fear of what your mind will dream up for you if you let yourself rest. Despite your mental state, you make it through to the weekend, even managing to land an interview for a new job on Monday morning. Your homework for the next few weeks is finished, your apartment is cleaner than it's ever been, and still you can’t relax. Every time you close your eyes, you see the portal closing, cutting you off from Leo forever, and you get up to clean the windows for the fourth time. 

Apparently, your friends have given you as much space as they deem appropriate, and your phone blows up all day long with texts. Concerned by your continued absence, they implore you to pay them a visit, some more subtly than others. 

Mikey: We’re ordering pizza for movie night! We’ll even get one with pineapple for you <3

Raph: Hey, haven’t seen you in a few days. Everything alright?

April: I get you need space but at least let us know you’re alive

You sigh, ashamed that you’ve made them worry. For the next few minutes, you send them each a short reply, even responding to the meme Donnie had sent you with a laughing emoji. It’s not as funny as they usually are, a sign that he’d sent you something below his standard out of worry more than a desire to share something that made him laugh. It touches your heart even as it makes you feel worse. 

Missing is another message from Leo. You’d left him on read, a fact he’s  probably painfully aware of. It wasn’t something you did often, and now that you’ve responded to the others, you’re sure it’s only a matter of time before he finds out that you’re distancing yourself from him in particular. If you could go down to the lair with confidence that Leo wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t corner you into the conversation you’re dreading, you would already be on the way. You miss your friends, your family, and knowing that they’re missing you too makes it that much harder to stay away. 

You just can’t stand to face him, not yet. Maybe not ever. 

But Leo doesn’t know that. How could he? All he knows is that you’re ignoring him, and so he does what he’s always done: tries to fix it.

You’re startled from your thoughts by a light tap on the window. You glance to the side, already knowing who you’ll see, and sure enough, you find Leo watching you from the other side of the glass. What does surprise you is the darkness beyond him, the sun already obscured beyond the horizon. When had it gotten so late? 

Rising from the couch, your joints protest the movement. Your eyes feel dry when you blink, scraping against the insides of your eyelids. One finger at a time, you release the throw pillow you’d been holding onto, the knitted pattern imprinted on your skin. You flex your hands, reminding them how to move, and step quickly to the window. 

With a grunt of effort, you slide it open, allowing Leo to slip inside. All of a sudden, you’re nervous, your palms going clammy as you slam the frame shut again. When you turn around, you find Leo facing away, towards the TV you’d been staring at, its screen black. Leo’s gaze flicks towards the remote all the way across the room on the kitchen counter and then back to where you’d been sitting, and you realize he’d been outside far longer than you thought. 

Embarrassed, you clear your throat, trying to dislodge the tightness you feel there. It draws his attention back to you, and you get a good look at him for the first time in days. 

Already, he’s healed more than you thought possible. Aside from a layer of some kind of plaster over the crack in his shell, he appears utterly normal, like New York wasn’t still recovering from an invasion that he’d been at the very center of. Like he hadn’t been trapped, however briefly, in a desolate hellscape with only a murderous demon for company.

You resent it. 

While you check him over, he does the same to you, and it’s obvious he doesn’t like what he sees. His brow furrows, forming a Raph chasm of his own on his forehead. 

“You don’t look good,” he says by way of greeting, making you huff. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Of course,” you tell him, crossing your arms defiantly. It’s not technically a lie. He doesn’t need to know about the nightmares—they’d only worry him more.

Still, he doesn’t seem to buy it. He lets it drop, though, instead deciding to strike right to the heart of the issue. “Why didn’t you come see me?”

Your bristle at the accusation in his tone. It’s thin, barely there, but you still hear it, and it makes your mouth twist into a frown. “I did,” you insist, incensed. “For two days.” You thought someone would have told him, but apparently the subject hadn’t arisen. Or they just hadn’t cared to mention it. 

Leo shakes his head. “I mean after. When I woke up…” He hesitates, glancing away. “I thought you would be there.”

Oh, that hurts. The edges of the wound burn, reminding you of its presence, and your irritation dissipates into the air like smoke. Sorrow takes its place, and you wrap your arms tighter around your chest, practically hugging yourself in your attempt to smother the pain. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice clear with intent. “I just…can’t.”

He notes your use of the present tense, concern showing in his eyes. “What does that mean?” he presses. “You don’t want to see me?”

You’re already shaking your head before he can complete the sentence. “Of course I want to, Leo.” You gaze up at him, wishing he could just read you like he always does, that he could just understand that your needs and your wants no longer keep the same company. 

“...You hear yourself, right? Like, you do understand that you’re making no sense?” He scoffs, a humorless smile worming across his face. He gestures to himself, saying, “All I know is that I wake up to Casey of all people by my sickbed. And after he’d finished apologizing to me—profusely, might I add—he tells me that you were there the whole time. Except, oh, you left right before I woke up.” He throws his hands up. “What am I supposed to do with that? I don’t know if you’re hurt, and I text you and you don’t respond, and when I try to drag myself up to the street, April tells me to give you space.” He lowers his arms, smile falling. His gaze is dark with emotion, and it makes you look away, staring down at your feet.

“So I wait,” he continues. “I give you space. And then Mikey comes up to me all smiles and says you’d given him a raincheck for movie night. I realize that you’ve been messaging all of them, but not me.” His voice cracks, making you glance up at him in time to see his face spasm. His next words are quieter, forced out into the silence of your apartment. “And all I can think about is the last thing I said to you—”

“Don’t,” you beg, cutting him off.

Leo takes a step closer, gaze flitting over your face almost frantically. “Why not?” he asks. “You said you loved me. Did you not mean it?”

Despite the vulnerability you can hear plain as day, a jolt of anger shoots through you. “Of course I did,” you say weakly. 

He moves closer again, crowding into your space. But he doesn’t touch you, and that alone makes the entire situation feel so much more alien than it already does. Arguments may be rare between you, but they’ve been known to happen. However, Leo’s always been touchy, since the moment you met, and him restraining himself this way proves how hesitant your distance has made him. The confidence he wears like a mask crumbles away, revealing the unsure boy you love, and your heart burns for him. 

“Then why weren’t you there ?” he pushes, and something inside you snaps.

“ Because you left me!” 

Your scream explodes with the force of a grenade, making Leo take a startled step backwards before he catches himself. The dam inside you breaks, releasing all the emotions you’ve been bottling up in a relentless torrent.

“ You left me!” you yell again, hands curling into fists at your sides. “I told you I loved you, I begged you to let me come with you, and you fucking left me.” Hot tears trail down your face, turning your voice thick, but you persist. “I know you’re hurt, and I know you did what you had to do, but I thought you were dead. I thought you were gone, and it killed me.” You curl your fingers into your shirt right over your heart, remembering the heaviness that had nearly suffocated you that day. 

You’ve loved Leo for such a long time. You don’t even remember how it started, just that one day years ago you’d realized it, and the thought had been welcome and warm. It was a pure thing, a feeling you cradled close and guarded with care. You had imagined how you’d tell Leo a thousand times, wanting it to be perfect even after you’d come to suspect that he loved you too. Then the Krang came and you’d had to spit it out, all rushed and impersonal and finite, and the precious thing you’d cherished was now forever marred by horror and pain. 

“I can’t…I can’t—”

Leo surges forward, wrapping you in his embrace, and you let go completely. Sobbing, face pressed to his plastron, you release all of your hurt and anger, letting him see the brunt of it. It’s selfish and ugly, but you want him to know, want him to feel at least an echo of what you’re struggling against. You expect him to shy away from it, but he doesn’t. Through it all, Leo holds you together, his hand brushing your hair back with even strokes, over and over and over. He whispers soothing words into the top of your head until, after an eternity, you reign in your emotions enough to staunch the waterworks. 

Even after he feels your breathing even out, Leo doesn’t release you, nor do you try to pull away. Being close like this feels right, and for a moment, you can almost pretend that everything is normal, that you haven’t been scarred beyond recognition. 

Then he speaks. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says, his cheek pressed to your hair. “If there had been any other way, you know I wouldn’t have done it, right?”

There’s an undercurrent in his voice, something desperate and doubting that you don’t like, and you feel yourself nodding in an attempt to rid him of it. 

“I know,” you tell him, tightening your hold around his waist. “I know you had to do it, and I know why you did it, but…” You sigh. “You didn’t have to do it alone. You should’ve let me go with you.”

He stiffens. “No,” he says, firm in his denial. “Not ever.”

Frustration pricks at you, and you pull back just enough to look him in the face. Seeing the argument on your lips, Leo rushes to get his point across. “If it were you, and you could choose to subject me to a hell dimension or to let me live out the rest of my life in peace, would you have done it? Even if I begged?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your mouth. “It’s different,” you insist, thinking again of the years you spent growing up alongside him. All the myriad ways you’d fallen in love with Leo, again and again, as you discovered more about him and found that, impossibly, you liked him even more for it. Even now, in the face of the very selflessness that hurt you so terribly, you admire it as much as you despise it. 

“Not at all, actually.” He’s giving you that look again, the one you remember from the Tank. The one that makes you feel like you’re gazing into a star. Even without the grin, it cools the flames of your irritation, his heart made bare for you to see. 

He really loves you. 

No, you realize slowly, you wouldn’t have let him throw his life away for you. No matter how he pleaded, no matter how much you knew it would hurt the both of you, you would have kept him safe if it was the last thing you ever did. 

You understand this, but it doesn’t help. All your exhausted brain keeps returning to is the thought that all of this could happen again. Leo is here, safe and secure in the cradle of your arms, but a million things can still take him from you. What are you supposed to do about that? Especially now that you know he would do nothing different. He would still leave you, regardless of what would happen to you afterwards. 

Leo’s thumb smoothes away the crease between your eyebrows. He examines you, frowning at what he sees. 

“You look tired,” he observes. 

You sniff. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”

His grin is a tiny, lopsided thing. “You know I gotta tell it like I see it.” His hand falls to the collar of your sweatshirt, tugging the fabric down to reveal the full extent of your bruise. His tone turns icy. “This doesn’t look so hot either.” 

“It’s not bad,” you placate, gently pulling his hand away. “Promise.”

“And this?” he asks, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the scabbing wound beneath. You don’t know how he knew it was there, but you let him pour over it until he’s satisfied. 

“Equally un-bad.”

With a snort, he lets the sleeve fall back into place. 

“I’ve got some scrapes on my legs if you want to peruse those too,” you continue. 

“Don’t tempt me.”

You shoot him a smile, suddenly feeling the full weight of your exhaustion. You lean into Leo’s chest, listening to his heartbeat for a moment. Your palm runs over his shell with the lightest pressure possible, mapping out all the new nicks and scratches not covered by plaster. He shivers whenever your touch ventures too close to his wound, but he never tells you to stop.

“I need time,” you murmur, trying not to think about what you’re going to do after he leaves. “I know we need to talk about it, but—”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice a low rumble beside your ear. 

You sag with relief. “Thank you, Leo.”

In reply, he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. Then, quick as a blink, he swoops down and lifts you into his arms. 

Too tired to react in your usual exaggerated manner, you merely grunt your protestation as he carries you into your bedroom, making him chuckle. The sound dances around you, filing down all your harsh edges into something smooth and familiar. When he tries to set you on the bed, you hold fast to the back of his shell, using all of your strength to tug him down beside you. 

Huffing, he rolls onto his side, careful to keep his weight off of you. Once settled, he raises a brow ridge. “Happy?”

Your smile comes much more easily this time. “Oh, very.”

“For the record, I only let you do that because you’re injured.”

“Whatever you say, Leon.” Your words have begun to slur together. You get one last glimpse of his contented expression before your eyelids slip closed. 

His tone turns soft as sunshine. “Go to sleep, baby,” he tells you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your body listens to him, almost succumbing to oblivion when your brain protests, throwing images of your nightmares at you until you’re struggling to open your eyes again, your breathing accelerating. Leo, watching you with concern, reaches out. You let him tuck you against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong against your cheek. 

“It’s alright,” he whispers. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Breathing in his scent, you close your eyes again, and for the first time in a week, you sleep.

True to his word, Leo gives you space. When you wake up the next morning, sunlight pouring through your blinds, the other side of your bed is empty. As you stare at the indentation left on the comforter, you breathe in deeply, his familiar scent still clinging to the fabric. 

You feel good—well-rested. The night had been nightmare-free, dreamless and peaceful. Given how stiff your limbs are, you imagine you probably didn’t so much as budge once you shut your eyes. Stretching your arms out, you groan, the injury on your side now only a muted throb. When you pad into the bathroom, you examine your reflection, finding that you look a fair bit better than yesterday. The dark circles below your eyes have receded and your bruise has lightened to a sickly yellow shade that, while unsightly, at least doesn’t draw as much attention as it did before. 

After a quick shower, you make your way into the kitchen and find a bagel placed conspicuously in the middle of the counter alongside a full glass of water. Your heart squeezes as you cross the room, touched. The bagel, with all your favorite toppings, has gone a little cold, but you eat every last crumb. Your first instinct is to ignore the water in favor of something with a kick, but when you open your fridge, you find that all of your energy drinks have disappeared. In their place, Leo has left a wide selection of healthier alternatives. You can almost hear him scolding you, and you shut the door with an exasperated sigh, downing the glass in one go. 

He’s ridiculous. When did he even have time to get this stuff? Sure, you haven’t had the chance to go shopping since everything went down, but it’s not like you’re starving or anything. Maybe you’ve skipped a couple meals here and there, but really that’s to be expected. Hanging around your apartment doesn’t exactly burn a lot of calories. Regardless, you don’t need Leo of all people worrying over you like a mother hen. 

You almost send him a text saying as much, but think better of it. You told him you need time, and you do. When you’re with him, all of the bad stuff fades into the background, and as great as that feels in the moment, it just isn’t what you need right now. You have to parse this out on your own, no matter how much it sucks. 

The bubble of contentment Leo left behind lasts you through the morning before it finally succumbs to the shadows nipping at your heels. Bit by bit, it encroaches, reminding you of the horror you’d temporarily held at bay. 

Having had a break from it, it’s easier to see the fear’s source. The Krang had been terrible, yes, and your numerous brushes with death have definitely left an unsightly mark on your psyche, but what numbs you with terror is the thought of one day having to lose Leo again. It doesn’t matter how it would happen: a new enemy, an accident, illness, old age. All of it is the same, too awful to even consider. 

But you make yourself think about it. You force yourself to remember those few, dreadful minutes after the portal closed and before Raphael had called out over the comms. You map the pain, feel out its edges, marveling at the extent of it. It would have ruined you, you realize distantly. No part of you would have made it through unscathed. 

How do you risk letting it happen again? 

The day brings no answers, and that evening, your nightmares return with a vengeance. You drag yourself out of bed on Monday and head to class, grateful for your professors’ insistence on normalcy. Nothing like finals prep to soothe the soul. 

April ambushes you after your calculus class to strong-arm you into getting lunch together. On the way to the dining hall, she regales you with the events of the last few days, including: having wait in line for three hours to buy her new phone, Casey officially moving into the lair, Donnie and Leo getting into it over the last slice of pizza two nights in a row, Mikey wrecking his skateboard and giving himself a black eye, and Raphael making a sudden change to his list of favorite Jupiter Jim movies. She complains at length about her exposee on Big Chem getting sidelined in favor of article after article about the effects of the invasion. 

“I mean, who cares how many hot dog carts were destroyed?” she asks, incensed. “Sure I don’t have evidence anymore, but that doesn’t give them the right to…”

You let her rant, smiling through bites of your salad. You don’t miss the looks she shoots you, carefully gauging how much you’re eating. When she gets up to grab dessert, she brings you a massive slice of chocolate cake and watches you clean the plate. Only then does she start in on her own, making a point to offer you the rest when she finds herself stuffed halfway through.

As you’re leaving, you level her with what you hope is a patient stare, catching her in the middle of another obvious once-over. “Apes, I’m fine.”

She straightens up, appropriately abashed. “I know!” Rocking back on her heels, she bites her lip before continuing. “Just, if you need anything…”

You wonder if Leo put her up to this, then decide that it doesn’t matter. It’s kind of her to offer, and you do appreciate having a friend who’s able to read your mental state so easily. It takes away the burden of asking for help when it’s offered so freely. So you let her unsubtle attempts to care for you pass without further comment. 

After parting ways, you head to the market where your interview is to take place. The manager meets you at the door and asks you all of five questions before she hands you an apron and a broom and leaves you to it. In turn, you don’t question her rapid discernment. You know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. With the city in disarray, you’re sure she had more than her fair share of options for desperate new employees. If she says she likes you, who are you to suggest otherwise? You put in a solid eight hours, falling into the mind-numbing rhythm of grocery maintenance, before she remembers your existence and tells you to head home and be back at the same time tomorrow. 

Exhausted, you all but collapse into bed, hoping that you’ll be too fatigued for dreaming. 

You aren’t. 

The days pass quicker than before now that you have something to occupy your time. You make an effort to keep in touch with your friends, knowing that they’ve all been through hell too, but the brothers voice no complaints to you. Nor does April, and you begin to wonder why it feels like you’re the only one still suffering. You think you know, and rather than deal with it like you should, you resort to deep cleaning your apartment one more time. 

When you hear the knock on your door, you know it isn’t Leo. You want it to be, despite how conflicted you still feel, but he’s never used your front door a single time since you met him, and today is no exception. Putting down your bottle of Windex, you walk towards the front of your apartment. You expect it to be April, maybe, or one of your neighbors. What you don’t expect is to see Casey frowning down at you like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Casey,” you blurt stupidly, looking him over. Without all of his gear, you almost don’t recognise him. The joggers he wears look like they might have been Donnie’s at one point, but the sweatshirt is definitely one of Leo’s. He tugs at the collar, like he’s uncomfortable in such loose clothing, and shifts his stance from foot to foot. 

“Come in,” you tell him, stepping back so he can pass into the small living room. He hesitates there, lingering awkwardly in front of the sofa. “What brings you by?”

His gaze snaps up to your face, flickering between your eyes as though he’s searching for something. He presses his lips together before opening his mouth, his voice soft. “I wanted to make sure…that you don’t hate me.”

That’s…not what you were expecting him to say. You huff out a breath, smiling around your confusion. “Casey, why would I hate you?” You barely know the guy, but you definitely don’t dislike him. 

His eyebrows tip up as he turns to face you fully. He’s so intense, fixated on you with single-minded determination. His expression looks almost pleading, but for what, you aren’t sure. “Because of what I did,” he says, gaining volume. “Because I closed the portal.”

Ah.

“I didn’t want to,” he rushes out, unwilling or afraid to let you get a word in edgewise. “But if you’d seen what the future is like…” He drags a hand through his hair, seeing something far away. 

You step forward and place a hand on his arm, drawing him back to the present with you. “It’s alright,” you tell him, hoping you’re reassuring enough. “I’m not angry, I promise.” You don’t understand what made him jump to this conclusion. Sure, it wasn’t exactly the best way to be introduced to someone, but he’d made a good first impression, all things considered. 

Casey watches you closely, as though he’s trying to catch signs of a lie. There are none for him to find, and yet that stress doesn’t leave him.

“You haven’t been down to the lair,” he explains, just shy of accusatory. “I thought it was because you didn’t want to see me.”

You shake your head emphatically. “No,” you soothe, an oddly maternal instinct kicking in in response to his distress. “That had nothing to do with you. And everything with Leo and the portal” —you try not to wince— “none of that was your fault.”

Casey stares at you and you can almost hear his thoughts racing through his head. “It wasn’t Leo’s fault either,” he says carefully, striking to the heart of the issue with an accuracy that shocks you. You reel back in surprise, dropping your hand.

“I know.” You do , but…you still blame Leo, just a little. You know you shouldn’t, know that he had no real choice, but some small part of you just can’t forgive him. It’s selfish and petty and you hate yourself for it, yet it’s there all the same. “I know,” you repeat, losing conviction. 

Whatever he hears in those two words makes the tension fall from his shoulders. All at once, Casey sheds the worry that had seemed glued to him in favor of a hesitant grin. 

“He’s been a mess,” Casey confides, mirth obvious in his tone. “He made Donnie disable his phone so he wouldn’t be tempted to text you.”

It’s such a quick switch, and you have no idea what induced the change. You release an amused breath, wondering if maybe Future Boy isn’t as well-adjusted as he’d initially seemed. Then again, who among your friend group is? 

“Seriously? What was he gonna do if I texted him first?” you ask, deciding to meet him in the middle of his relaxed mood.

Casey nods, grin widening. “Yeah, that occurred to Leo about five minutes later, and he freaked out until Donnie reverted the settings.”

“Bet D loved that.”

His laugh is a shy, quiet thing. “I think they’re going to kill each other,” he informs you, and then you’re laughing too. 

In no time at all, you weave Casey into the fabric of your life. He’s a Hamato through and through, which means he’s one of your boys, for better or worse. Somewhere between convincing him to eat dinner with you and getting him in front of the TV so you can show him some media that isn’t from the stone ages, he becomes your friend. It’s just that fast, as effortless as it was with the rest of the clan all that time ago. He belongs here.

Later, after you’ve gotten him hooked on a dating show and made him promise to come by next week to watch more, you ask him something that’s been weighing on your mind since his argument with Leo. 

“You said, in the future, that everyone died.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Casey go still. “I’m guessing that includes me.”

His response is barely more than a whisper. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to answer this if it’s too much, but—”

“You want to know how you died,” he finishes, turning to look at you. The show continues to play in the background, forgotten. 

Taking the opportunity to gauge his reaction, you look for signs of discomfort and find only cool detachment. You wonder suddenly how overwhelming this all must be for him, and the resulting wave of protectiveness that comes over you almost makes you take it back. 

Almost. 

You nod, and he sighs. “The others had the same question.”

It’s not hard to imagine. Mikey would have been curious, and Donnie would’ve wanted to figure out how he died in order to prevent it from happening again. You can’t imagine Raphael wanting to know, or Splinter caring, but maybe you’re wrong. Before you lost Leo, you wouldn’t have asked either, but things are different now. Now, even though it won’t change anything, you feel like you have to know.

Still, you hate being the latest in a long line of people forcing Casey to relive the worst moments of his life. “Forget I said anything. It’s really none of my business.”

“It’s fine,” he assures you, and you almost believe him. He clears his throat, focusing back on the TV. “It was a few years ago, for me. The Krang units had ambushed us, but there weren’t as many of them as usual.” He swallows, and you can tell he’s making an effort to keep his voice steady. “I was with Master Leonardo, and we were doing really well. It was almost…easy. We destroyed their mechs and I thought everything was fine, but when Master Leonardo called for you, you didn’t respond.

“I think he knew right then. We went to look for you, but Commander— April— found you first.” He looks at you again, elbows propped on his knees. “We don’t know how it happened. No one saw. Everything was fine, and then you were gone.”

You take it in, almost able to picture it. 

“Master Leonardo was never the same, after that.”

You suck in a breath, more affected by this than you thought you would be. Hearing about it, your future self’s death felt distant, something that would have no effect on you. But this confirmation of Leo’s suffering, even in a timeline that will never exist, hits too close to home. 

“This must be so hard,” you observe, trying not to think about this future Leo anymore. “Having all these memories and no one to remember them with you.”

“It’s not so bad.” Casey leans back against the cushions, coming out of the dark place he’d sunken into. “The food’s a lot nicer, for one thing.”

Your lips twitch. “I bet.”

You think he’ll leave it there, but to your surprise, he continues into something earnest. “It’s weird because you’re all so young. But also sort of nice?” He shrugs. “Most of the time I forget you’re the same people I knew before, and then one of you will say something and it’s like I’m right back in the middle of the apocalypse.” He hardens with resolve. “I got a second chance, and I’m not going to waste it.”

His conviction chases away any lingering negativity from the room. The realization hits you all at once that Casey, more than anyone, understands what you’re feeling. He lost everyone he ever loved and then got them back. Knowing how it feels to mourn you, and Leo, and Mikey and Donnie and April and Raph and Cassandra, he still chooses to be with you all a second time. He wakes up everyday and puts himself in the position to feel that same pain all over again. 

Casey Jones is braver than you’ll ever be. 

You take his words to heart. When he leaves for the night, you hug him on impulse, thinking that he probably doesn’t get much physical affection from the turtles, and betting that he needs it more than he’d ever say. 

You bet right, and he hugs you back for a long time, the two of you standing in your doorway until the sound of one of your neighbors trudging up the stairs breaks you apart. 

“Tell the fam I said hello,” you request. 

“I will.” He’s gone a complete one eighty from when he arrived, relaxation and happiness taking the place of his stress. “Don’t stay upset with Leo for too long, okay? It’s not worth it.”

He’s gazing at you imploringly, and you remember then that despite how he talks about your past self, this time around he’s older than you are. Maybe even wiser, too. 

“I won’t,” you promise before you can stop yourself. And then he’s gone, disappearing down the staircase, and you’re left to think about everything he told you. 

That night, the nightmares are worse. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. One second, you’re being chased by Krang and the next, you’re dangling from a rooftop, your screams for help going unanswered. Your fingertips burn from the effort of supporting you and you feel yourself beginning to slip. A whimper escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut, and just as your strength fails, you feel a warm hand grasp your wrist. Immediately, the dream shifts. No longer dangling, you find yourself pressed against a familiar plastron, your nostrils filling with a scent that calms you to your core. 

When you open your eyes, you’re lying on your bed, Leo’s shell firm beneath your cheek. He’s murmuring into your ear while he rubs gently over your shoulder, low and soothing. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you, honey, you’re safe.”

Your fear allayed, you let him hold you for a few seconds longer. It feels good, like it always does, just being in the moment with him. 

Eventually, he notices that you’ve woken up, and shifts so he can look at you in the darkness. Concern practically radiates off of him, obvious even though you can’t quite make out his features in the low light.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice coming out scratchy. 

His jaw clenches. “You were screaming.”

Were you? That makes sense, you suppose, even if it doesn’t actually answer your question. “Just a bad dream,” you whisper, hoping to mollify him. 

Instead, his frown deepens. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Your first instinct is to deny it, but you’re not awake enough to make it convincing. “...Yeah.”

Leo’s quiet for a second. Then: “I have them too.” You start tracing lines of your own down his arm, like you had when he was unconscious on Donnie’s table. His confession sours as you turn it over in your head. Just the thought of his suffering summons every protective instinct you have, made worse by the fact that there’s nothing you can do to fix it for him. 

You don’t ask what he dreams about, nor does he ask you. For a while, you just lay there together, listening to each other breathe. As your vision adjusts, his expression becomes clearer and clearer, and you see the longing etched into every line of his face. How he holds it back, you don’t know. 

You should tell him to leave. It’s unkind, letting him be with you like this, greedily taking comfort from his presence when you haven’t made up your mind yet. There are only two options, made apparent in the simplicity of early morning. You can’t be just friends, not anymore. Before, you were able to put on a mask of platonicity and pretend you didn’t yearn for more, but now that you’ve bared yourself, there’s no going back. You love him too much to lie to him, and looking at him now, you can tell it’s the same for him. 

It has to be everything, or nothing. All the love, yes, but all the fear as well. All the grief, if it comes to that, and you know that it will. You fear losing him the way one only fears something inevitable. It’s written into your bones, this horrible anticipation, the certainty of incidence with an uncertain timeline. It was already bad enough the first time. How much worse will it be when you’ve had years—maybe even decades—more with him?

Then, staring into Leo’s eyes, you remember what Casey told you. And without letting yourself think better of it, you’re opening your mouth again. 

“Casey stopped by yesterday,” you whisper, watching Leo’s gaze flicker down to your lips for a brief second before they lift again. 

“Yeah?” 

He doesn’t sound confused. Of course, someone must have told Casey where you live, and who better to ask than Leo? 

“He told me how I died, in the future.”

Leo stops breathing. It’s so similar to what Casey did earlier that you wonder if this is who he learned the habit from. Freezing, a fear response. Is that what you’re doing too? Trying to pause you and Leo where you are instead of choosing between fight and flight. 

Ignoring his reaction, you trudge on. “I was alone. No one knew what happened. Casey was with you, so I guess I was somewhere else, but still no one saw anything. It couldn’t have been slow, or someone would have noticed. It must have been really quick.” It comes back easily, that picture you’d conjured before. An older you, lying broken amidst the rubble of a fallen world. The image shifts, overlapping with one that’s much more tangible, and your words spill out faster. “I slipped on the way to the Key,” you confess. “Casey was ahead of me, and it was so loud, and my foot just gave way. I barely caught myself.” Instinctively, your fingertips find the inside of your elbow, pressing into the long scab until it throbs. “He wouldn’t have heard me if I screamed, and even if he did, he was too far away to catch me before I hit the ground. It would’ve been so fast—”

“Stop!” Leo nearly shouts, shocking you silent. He surges up, flipping you onto your back so he can hover above you, his hands pinning your shoulders to the bed. He’s trembling, you realize, moving against you in tiny shakes. His eyes are wide, half-crazed. “Stop talking like that! I can’t even think about—about you—” He shakes his head harshly, his mask tails swinging with the motion. 

Under your gaze, he wilts, all the strength leaving him. He drops onto his elbows, his face now mere inches from your own. “Please,” he says brokenly. “I can’t take it.”

Afraid, you recognize.

It’s so familiar that it almost burns, a reflection of your own inner turmoil playing out in Leo’s mind. For some reason, it helps. Maybe it’s because you finally got it off your chest, or maybe it’s because Leo suffers from the same madness you do. Whatever the cause, you feel the noose around your heart slacken.

You died alone, yes, but you were not forgotten. You were loved and mourned by many, but by none more than Leonardo. 

If you had fallen that day, they would have found you, and they would have cried for you. Leo would have broken the same way you did, the same way you will if anything ever happens to him again. You can see the truth of it as clear as a declaration on his face. 

“It’s okay.” You reach up to wrap yourself around him, an invitation that he accepts with a staggered sigh. He collapses into you, burying himself in your offered comfort, and rides out the rest of his tremors in the crook of your neck. You wind your fingers into the tails of his mask, keeping him as close as you dare. “I’m safe, see? Everything is fine.”

Much later, when he’s still again, he finds his words. “No more climbing skyscrapers unless I’m there too.”

This, at least, is easy to acquiesce to. “Whatever you say, Blue.”

Your bruises fade. The cut on your arm heals, leaving only a faint scar behind. When Donnie, sick of waiting for you to visit the lair, pays you a house call, he remarks on how good you look. 

Other people notice too. The customers you assist at the market insist on slipping dollar bills into your pockets. Your boss gives you a raise, even though you haven’t gotten your first paycheck yet. Your calculus professor invites you to work a problem in front of the class and then gives you bonus points for the effort. 

And the truth is, you really are good, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Every night, you wake up to Leo beside you in bed, and every night you let him stay, selfishly relishing in his presence. You haven’t made up your mind yet—fight or flight?—and you shouldn’t be with him at all until you do. But it helps so much to have him there, chasing the nightmares away while you do the same for him. 

By morning, he’s always gone, giving you the space you asked for. The shame worsens in daylight and you promise yourself you won’t let him stay this time, but like clockwork, darkness falls and under its cover you give in to your desires over and over and over. 

You start going to the lair again. The brothers missed you as much as you missed them, and they waste no time fitting you back into the sewer groove. Like that, with all of your friends around, you let yourself be with Leo like you used to. You laugh and make merry for hours, but when you leave, your relationship with him pauses in the same place it’s been in for weeks. No texts, no calls, nothing except your indulgent nights by his side. It’s for the best, you tell yourself, but god, you miss him so much. 

He’s been so patient with you. Leo never gets annoyed, never pressures you into making up your mind, and it makes you want to scream. He just waits, the same as you, like you’re both back where you started, circling around each other forevermore. It can’t stay this way. Something has to give. 

When you hear the knock at your door, you nearly sigh in relief. It’s a Friday evening and you’re bored to tears. Your boss squawked when she realized how much you’ve been working and barred you from the shop until Monday, so you’ve been moping around your apartment wishing for something to occupy your time. In fact, you were just about to give in and go see the Hamatos against your better judgement, so the distraction is a welcome one. 

As you unlatch the door, you’re hoping it’s April on the other side, or maybe Casey, coming to invite you out for an evening of Chinese takeout and reality television. What you aren’t expecting is to see Leo standing on your doorstep with a bouquet of roses held awkwardly in front of him. 

He covers his nervousness with a wide grin. “ Hola, hermosa.”

“...Is that a suit?”

Striking a pose, he wiggles his brow ridge. “You like?”

“I do,” you blurt, because he looks incredible and there’s no point trying to hide the fact that your mouth is watering at the sight. What makes it worth it is the obvious pleasure he finds in the confession, and, right, this is all still new. He doesn’t know how attracted you are to him because you’ve been keeping it quiet for so long. You’d forgotten, with all the major revelations, that there are still some things you haven’t disclosed, still some discoveries to be made. 

“What’s the occasion?” you ask, pulling him out of his bubble of elation and back to the present with you. 

He brandishes the bouquet towards you with a flourish. “The occasion, sweets, is a first date to end all first dates.”

Flowers halfway to your nose, you freeze, glancing at him over the fragrant petals. He’s serious, you realize, watching as he takes a step further into your space. And nervous, though he hides it well. His fingers twitch at his sides before he slips them into his pockets. His smile doesn’t falter, but you can see the emotion brewing behind it as well as if it were plastered across his forehead in neon letters. 

“…Leo, I don’t think this—”

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage yet,” he interrupts, looking pleased when you sputter at his word choice. “Just one teeny tiny little date.”

Annoyed by his amusement at your expense, you glower up at him. “Have a lot of experience with teeny tiny things, do you?”

The weak insult takes a second to register, and then he barks out a loud laugh, eyes squinting shut in mirth. The realization hits you all at once that he’s standing on your landing in full turtle mutant glory, and you hurriedly yank him into the safety of your apartment, slamming the door shut. 

Digging your fingers into his jacket, you hiss, “What were you thinking? Anyone could have seen you!” Stupid turtles, always leaving their oh so important veil of secrecy to pure chance. They’re going to give you a heart attack one of these days.

Leo gazes down at you, infuriatingly calm, and you realize that in your haste to pull him into the privacy of your apartment, you’ve reeled him in dangerously close. The late afternoon sun slants through your blinds, highlighting him in a halo of pure gold. 

“ Hermosa,” he drawls, “ the only person I care about seeing me is currently wrinkling my brand new suit.”

Abashed, you release your grip, trying and failing to smooth out the new lines on his sleeve. There’s a blush working heat into your cheeks that worsens every time you meet his stare. Ever since he hit that growth spurt as a pre-teen and you had to look up to talk to him, he’s had the upper hand in conversations like these, literally and metaphorically. Mixed with the overt flirting, now that you can’t pretend it’s done in jest, you don’t know how you’ll ever manage to resist him again. Right now, with the suit and the smirk and the everything , he could ask you for every penny you have to your name and you would pass it over with a smile. 

God, you’re down bad for this boy. 

“Do I hear a ‘Yes, Leo, that sounds amazing!’?”

Miraculously, you find the strength to send another dirty look his way. “What you’re hearing is a ‘maybe’.”

“I can work with that.”

Groaning, you turn away from him to pace into your living space. Without seeing him, it becomes slightly easier to think. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

His tone softens. “And why is that?” 

Hesitating, you bite your lip, then give in and turn to face him again. He’s closer than you expect, his approach as silent as his occupation demands, and the proximity makes your pulse jump. His amusement has faded, his stare boring into you with a focus you’ll never get used to. As it is, you can only meet it for a few seconds before having to look away again. 

“You know why.” A cowardly response, but you’ve come to expect nothing less from yourself. 

Unperturbed, Leo moves closer still. You hold the flowers between your chests like a shield, a flimsy barrier that you want to fortify as much as you want to get rid of. It’s so confusing, this constant dichotomy, and more than ever you wish you could just make up your mind and be done with it. 

Leo, ignorant of your inner turmoil, touches your chin with his finger. Gently, he guides your attention back to his face, making sure you’re listening. 

“I know you’re still working through things. I get it. What happened was really fucked up.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” you mumble under your breath. 

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he pushes through. “If it wasn’t obvious, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, so if you could please keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum?”

You blink up at him. “Oh, is that what you were doing?” Then, after a beat: “Okay, that one just slipped out, I swear.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. 

His eyes glint, but he maintains a straight face. “Can I please finish now?”

You suck in a breath but before you can get the joke out, he covers your mouth with his palm. “You are making this really hard,” he chides, then grimaces when he feels you snicker. “It’s not even on purpose anymore!”

After giving you a few seconds to wind down, he lets you go. You gesture at him to carry on, putting off the picture of innocence. 

Leo isn’t impressed, but he takes the opportunity anyway. “As I was saying, I'm not trying to force you into a decision. I just…wanted to start over. I wanted the chance to do this right, the way I should have a long time ago.”

Your heart gives a pitiful thump in your chest. The mood settles into something delicate, the realization hitting you that this conversation is one you’ll want to commit to memory. He must have been burdened by the same problem as you, the crushing knowledge that the start of your romantic relationship would forever be tied to the worst day of your lives. Clutching your flowers close, you listen with rapt attention. 

Leo takes your free hand in his own, rubbing mindless patterns across your knuckles. “So, what do you say? Will you go on a date with me?”

You really never stood a chance. “Yes,” you answer softly, and watch as Leo’s face lights up with joy. Flustered, you shove the bouquet at him.

“Put those in water while I try to find something to wear.”

Without waiting for his acknowledgement, you rush into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you with too much force. Through the wall, you hear him rummaging around in your cabinets, and you try not to panic as you hurry to your closet. Sort through your options with a frenzy unbefitting of the situation, you become increasingly grateful for April’s insistence on keeping your wardrobe updated. 

Eventually, you settle on a simple black cocktail dress you impulse-bought a few months ago. It looks as good on you as you remember, but you still find yourself tugging at the hem self-consciously. Will Leo like it? Is it fancy enough? Or maybe too fancy? He didn’t say where you’re going. What if—

Stop. You slap yourself on your cheeks, putting a stop to the downward spiral of your thoughts. This is Leo you’re talking about, your best friend since you were in grade school. The same guy who snuck a box of tampons into the girls’ bathroom when you’d gotten your period in the middle of sixth grade science class. The guy who listened in while your first boyfriend broke up with you via a phone call. The guy who held your hair while you puked your guts up after a frat party gone wrong. He’s seen every side of you and still stuck it out—there’s nothing left for you to be embarrassed of. 

You make quick work of your hair and makeup, aware of how long Leo’s already been waiting. As you slip your heels on, you allow yourself to consider all the ways this is a bad idea. You haven’t decided the right course of action, and you’re certain that whatever Leo’s got planned for the night will only cloud your judgement and make it harder to figure out what to do. Even so, as you tighten the straps around your ankles, your stomach flutters with giddy excitement. You want to do this—more than you’ve wanted anything in a long time.

This is a mistake, you think as you examine yourself in the mirror.

A really terrible idea, as you swap your studs out for a pair of dangling earrings.

Maybe the worst in all history, as you grab a matching clutch, grinning stupidly all the while.

All of these thoughts are true, but you can’t care less. So, with a bracing breath, you open your bedroom door and join Leo in the sunshine.

The waiter takes your empty plate and you sit back in your chair with a huff. Leo follows suit, resting a hand over his plastron as he does so. 

You take the opportunity to once again admire your surroundings. The Hidden City housed a number of…unique culinary experiences, but Leo managed to find the perfect restaurant for your date. The building had been unassuming on the outside, just an extremely tall tower that looked like it was held up by magic and good vibes. But once inside, your jaw had dropped. The tower was furnished with dozens of floating tables, some so high up that you could barely see them. A staircase wound around the circumference of the building along with hundreds of flickering candles. The maître d’ had summoned a table to the floor and, once you and Leo had taken your seats, pushed the table up and set you drifting slowly through the air. 

Once you’d gotten used to being unmoored—and stopped yourself from peering down at the retreating ground every few seconds—you were able to appreciate the beauty of the experience. The menu, a mixture of Italian and a yokai language you didn’t understand, had you stumped so Leo had ordered for you. Though you half expected your food to have eyeballs and wriggling tentacles still attached, it had been blessedly movement-free, and delicious to boot. You’d eaten every last bite of all six courses, incapable of turning any dish away. 

Through it all, you and Leo had maintained a steady stream of conversation, your earlier nerves long forgotten. While the setting was new, dinner with Leo was as familiar as the tune of your favorite song. You knew every beat by heart. 

Now, you gaze fondly at him across the table, taking a sip of the shimmery drink that’d been served with the last course. Your table has reached the apex of its ascent, the ceiling mere feet above your head. The chatter from the other patrons exists only as a lull in the background. Along with the dim lighting, it gives off the illusion of privacy, a gossamer veil of intimacy falling around your shoulders. Leo must feel it too, because he meets your stare with a fond look of his own. Sitting up, he leans his elbows against the table, and you mimic his posture.

“What did I tell you?” he asks. “Best pasta ever.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I never should’ve doubted you.”

He polishes off his own glass of mystery beverage. “So, how am I doing so far?”

Charmed, you prop your cheek atop your palm. “Honestly? Probably the best first date I’ve ever been on.” 

“Probably?” he scoffs. “What’s a guy gotta do to impress you? Juggle chainsaws?”

You nod. “While balancing a fridge on your chin.”

“Obviously.” 

Giggling, you reach down to adjust the skirt of your dress, making sure you’re not accidentally flashing anyone below you. When you look up again, Leo’s staring at you with an expression that makes your stomach turn somersaults. 

“Have I told you you look beautiful in that dress?” he asks softly.

Heat rises in your cheeks. “Only six times.”

“Let’s go for seven.”

In an attempt to save face, you drain the last of your drink, but you know you’ve failed when that same pleased smile from earlier spreads across his cheeks. “You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, the sound echoing in the empty glass.

“Mhm. Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Saving you from having to formulate a reply, the waiter returns with the check. Leo snags it before you can protest, passing it back to the waiter alongside a handful of shiny coins and a smooth “Keep the change.”

After the waiter has descended the steps and your table has begun to float back towards the floor, you turn towards Leo with a furrowed brow. “This is probably going to sound super rude, but how the hell do you have enough money to afford this place?”

Leo snorts. “You’re right, that did sound super rude.”

You nudge his foot with your own. “C’mon, seriously. I wanna know.”

He sighs, but it’s all for show, made evident by him hooking his ankle around yours just as you start to pull away. “I pick up shifts at Hueso’s to get some extra cash. Have been for a while, actually.”

You blink, mind blanking. “Why?” you blurt, then rush to cover yourself. “I mean, obviously I get it, but you’re super busy already and it’s not like Donnie doesn’t have you guys covered in that department.” Having seen only a few of Donnie’s sidegigs, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’s the richest person you know. 

Luckily, Leo isn’t offended. “Honey, I didn’t just plan this” —he gestured around you— “on a whim. It’s been months in the making.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” You swallow. “So…you were going to ask me out, even before…” You trail off into silence, unable to finish the thought.

In the end, Leo does it for you, his gaze unwavering. “Before Krang. Yeah.”

Even here, in the middle of a city untouched by their destruction, the name sends a jolt down your spine. Nevertheless, you’re glad he said it. Once you move past the initial shock, the revelation that he had wanted to make a move even before your forced confession is a happy one. He’d only waited so long because he wanted to make it special for you both.

The man with a plan, always. 

“Leo,” you call needlessly, his attention already focused entirely on your voice. “Did you know that Mikey would be able to save you?”

Watching him closely, you see the way your question finds him unprepared. His fingers spasm on the tablecloth and his shoulders roll with tension, the beginnings of a protective hunch. It takes a conscious effort for him to relax them back into neutrality, for him to rejoin you in the present. But when he does, his response is sincere. 

“I hoped,” he answers, raw and open. “But I wasn't sure. And I didn’t want to tell him to try in case he couldn’t do it after all. Because…”

“It would’ve broken him,” you finish. Leo nods, and you can picture it all too clearly. How hard Mikey would’ve tried to open the portal. How he would have killed himself to get his brother back. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d have a hard time believing how Leo could have had the restraint not to shout the answer to anyone who would listen. But you do know him, know that he would do anything for his loved ones, know that his brain never stops whirring, and now that you see the path his thoughts took that day, you can retrace each step with ease. He wouldn’t have wanted to burden anyone else with false hope, so he took it all on himself. Of course it happened the way it did. Of course he suspected Mikey would be able to save him. Casey had all but told him so.

Emotion clogs your throat, and you’re grateful when your chair finally makes contact with the ground and you’re able to rise on unsteady legs. Tucking your hand in the crook of his arm, Leo leads you from the restaurant, and the two of you begin a leisurely stroll along the bank of a river of some kind of pink goo. The conversation steers into safer, alien-less territory, and you get your second wind when you come across an ice cream stand selling an assortment of flavors you’re equally disgusted and intrigued by. (“Termites? Seriously?” “They taste minty.”)

After deciding on a green ice cream cone that’s sour and faintly glowing, you let Leo portal you both back to the overworld. You exit onto a dark ledge that’s become a staple of your weekends with Leo. Atop an imposing stone gazebo, it overlooks the park below while offering a decent view of the projector screen showing a black-and-white movie you don’t recognize. You settle down, swinging your legs in the open air, and feel Leo take his place at your side. 

For a few minutes, you eat your ice creams in comfortable silence, listening to the speakers projecting the melodramatic dialogue towards your hiding place. It’s surprisingly good, and you lose yourself in the story, forgetting about your dessert entirely until it drips down your wrist. 

“Ugh, gross,” you complain, though you immediately start to lick up the trail it left on your skin. As you polish off your fingers, chewing on the last of the cone, you catch Leo looking at you a little funny. “What?”

He clears his throat. “Your tongue is glowing.”

You stick it out as far as you can and, sure enough, the tip is faintly luminous. Laughing, you ask, “Is it on my lips, too?” 

His gaze falls to your mouth, and you feel it like a caress. “A little bit, yeah.” He reaches up to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip, lingering there a beat too long before popping the digit into his own mouth to taste. Heat pools in your stomach, doubling when he doesn’t pull away. You’re so close; it wouldn’t take any effort at all to lean in and…

You turn away. It isn’t right to use him like this when you don’t know what you want from him. All this time, you’ve been frozen, trying to keep things like they were before, trying to keep yourself safe, and it hasn’t worked at all. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to him exhale and hear the sound of his pants scratching against concrete as he positions himself back where he was originally. Regret has you gripping the lip of the ledge tight in an attempt to keep yourself from reaching out to him. You’re hurting him, you realize. Hurting you both. Things can never go back to what they’d once been, but even if they did, would it really be that different? You loved him then, too. You hadn’t said it out loud, but you’d made it obvious in a hundred little ways. In hindsight, you wonder if Leo had done the same.

When you look at him again, he’s schooled his expression into indifference, but you know him too well to fall for it. Taking his hand, you trace the patterns on his palm, feeling him relax into the gentle touches. 

“Leo?”

“Mm.”

“You said that you’d been planning our date for months. When did things change?” you implore softly.

He huffs out a brief laugh. Tipping his head back, he considers your question. “You mean, when did I fall for you, or when did I decide to do something about it?”

You think. “Both, I guess.”

He watches your fingers move across his hand for a moment. “Well, for the first one, I’m not exactly sure. A long long time ago. I realized it pretty suddenly, though.” Amusement laces his tone. “You remember that summer you came tubing with us down in the sewer?”

The memory alone fills you with disgust. “When we were twelve?” you ask.

He nods. “You wore that two-piece with the blue polkadots and uh. Yeah.” 

You remember now. While you’d been more focused on the godawful stench and the fact that the water was green , you’d noticed Leo kept his distance from you the whole day. Half the time, he didn’t even bother to surface, just floated in his tube with his head submerged. You’d thought it was because of the smell, and when you finally got home that night you’d tossed the bathing suit in the trash knowing it would never feel clean to you again.

A laugh bubbles out of you, bright and airy, and Leo watches as you try to smother it. “As for your second question,” he continues once you’ve quieted down, “it was around your graduation.” This memory is much easier to summon to the forefront. It’d been a happy day; your school friends hugging you goodbye while your family watched from the rafters. Even though you couldn’t see them, their presence had been more than enough. And when you crossed the stage, diploma in hand, you were pretty sure you heard Raph’s sobbed cheers. 

“Watching all of those people touch you and congratulate you and knowing that it should have been me down there with you. It pissed me off.” He flips his hand over so he can tangle your fingers together. 

You give his hand a squeeze. “You were there, though. You always were when I needed you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I just hated the way those guys looked at you.”

You quirk a brow. “Looked at me how?”

When he sees that you’re serious, Leo turns insufferable. “You’re adorable.”

Huffing, you try to yank your hand away only for him to tighten his grip. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Just a little,” he agrees. “Only you could be so oblivious.” 

“I wasn’t oblivious, I just wasn’t paying any attention to them,” you confess. Then, wanting to wrestle back a bit of power, you add: “I only ever had eyes for you.”

The effect is instantaneous. Leo sucks in a breath through his nose, his head whipping towards yours so fast it’s just a blur. His eyes flit between your own, searching for signs of a joke that he won’t find. Distantly, you understand why: this is the first time you’ve directly spoken about your relationship since he sacrificed himself. It’s been sitting between you, unacknowledged, like an elephant locked in a broom closet, the door bulging on its hinges. He’d begun opening up to you weeks ago, but this first peek at the affection you’ve kept hidden so long has him dumbstruck. 

He says your name then, imploring, and you know what he’s asking for. More, his eyes beg, the desire warring with self-restraint. Leo won’t rush you, but he needs this more than he’ll ever admit. 

You lift your hand to cup his cheek, clutching his fingers in the other like a lifeline. “I’m scared,” you confess in a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Leo’s jaw clenches. He turns his body to face you, one leg curling between you while the other dangles off the edge. He pins you in his gaze, trapping your palm against his cheek with his unoccupied hand. “And I don’t wanna lose you.” His fingers glide up your arm to your neck, raising goosebumps in their wake. They come to rest over your pulse, where your bruise had been. “I dream about it almost every night. How I could literally see the light fading from your eyes. How if I’d been a few seconds too slow, you would have died right in front of me.” He takes a steadying breath, then lets his hand fall to your waist. “You’ll always have me, alright? For as long as you want me.”

The city sounds fade away. The movie’s credits roll, a car horn honks in the distance, a pigeon perches a few feet away, and you notice none of it. All that exists are you and Leo, in your own pocket of the universe. 

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “And if I want you forever?”

“I can make it happen.”

Leo’s face edges close, closer, and then no more. It’s here, you realize, the moment you’ve been dreading. Time to make a decision.

Fight or flee?

Really, you think as you release his hand, it was never even a question. 

Cupping his face, you guide his mouth to yours.

Time stops and restarts in an uneven rhythm, perfectly matched to your heartbeat. For the length of a breath, you’re utterly still against each other, adjusting to the shift. Then you feel his lips press ever so slightly harder into yours, and something inside you snaps. 

Practically throwing yourself at him, you unload years of yearning into a single kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck as he clutches your waist, your lips parting around a sigh. Leo takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. 

He tugs you into his lap, yearning to be closer, and you go happily. It should feel unsteady, resting on his thighs with nothing but air at your back, but you’re not scared. Leo would never let you fall. There's no safer place in the world than here in his arms. 

As your kiss deepens, all tongue and teeth and breath, you see a thousand different moments replaying inside your eyelids in a kaleidoscope of desire. The first time he’d spent the night and you’d woken up to him wrapped around you. That day a few months back when you’d hidden his Jupiter Jim comic and he’d pinned you to the couch until you fessed up its location. Years ago, after he’d gotten serious about his training and you’d gotten to watch him spar with his brothers for hours on end. All those times and more, you’d wanted him. And now that you have him, you’ll never let him go. 

After an eternity, you separate, your lungs burning. As you fight to catch your breath, Leo trails his kisses across the line of your jaw and down your neck. It drives you to distraction, making you clutch at his jacket to keep yourself tethered to the earth. 

Eventually, you manage to pull yourself together enough to string a few words together. “I love you, Leonardo.”

He groans like you’ve struck him. Pulling back, eyes wide and misty, he requests, “Say it again.”

You smile, curling your hands into his mask tails. “I love you,” you tell him, putting every ounce of feeling into it that you possess. “I love you, I love you, I lo– mmph !”

Your voice cuts off as he smothers your mouth, wanting to taste the confession for himself. It sets the two of you off again, and it’s even longer this time before you manage to part. Leo touches his forehead to yours, his eyes shut. 

“I love you too,” he says, loosing a flock of butterflies in your chest. Then, in classic Leo fashion, he ruins the moment. “So, should I go ring shopping now?”

“Oh my god.” You shove his face away, ignoring the way his laugh only makes you want to kiss him more. “You and I both know you don’t have ring money.”

He shrugs. “Unfortunatey true. Hueso isn’t exactly dropping bands my way.” Leo stands, lifting and depositing you on your feet beside him. He takes you in from head to toe, a pleased smirk worming onto his face. From what you can tell, you’re a whole mess, dress wrinkled and hair ruffled and you bet your makeup is smudged something awful, but he drinks in the picture hungrily. 

“Have I said I like this dress?” he asks huskily.

You feign annoyance, biting your cheek to keep the light within you from escaping. “Seven times, yes.”

With a swipe of his swords, he summons a portal of swirling energy. “So long as I’ve been clear.”

“As crystal, Blue.”

Stepping through the portal, you find yourself in your living room, your phone and keys right where you left them on your coffee table. Leo joins you, the portal disappearing behind him.

“So, final verdict. How’d I do?”

Pretending to think it over, you tap your chin. “There’s always room for improvement.”

He tips your face up towards his. “You’re tough to please.”

“I think you’re up to the challenge.” Rocking onto your toes, you kiss him again, just because you can. Dropping to your heels, you take a firm step backwards, pointing towards the door. “Now get out.”

Leo sputters, his bravado cracking right down the middle. “Excuse me?”

You lead him across the living room. “I don’t let guys stay over until at least the third date.” Wrenching the door open, you gesture for him to pass through. 

“I’m sorry, when have you ever had a guy over at all? Present company excluded.” He rests his arm on the frame, blocking you in. Unable to see around him, you’re reduced to hoping none of your neighbors decide to make an appearance. If Leo has to pull out his emergency fanny pack and your neighbors are made to believe that you’re dating a Jupiter Jim cosplayer, you may just have to move. 

“That sounds like a question for date six,” you tell him. After a final kiss, this time to his cheek, you shut the door in his face. For a few seconds, you hear him grumbling through the wood, and with a slice of metal through air, the hallway goes quiet once more. 

All the strength flees your body and you sag to the ground, folded over in an unbecoming heap. You’ve always known Leo was attractive, but you never guessed he would have game. The boy is truly his father’s son, and you don’t know how you managed not to melt right there in his arms. A born player, and he’s all yours. 

What a bother, you think with a smile. 

After you shower, you dig through your dresser until you find the set of pajamas you’re looking for. Dressed and comfortable, you curl into bed, pleasantly tired. You consider calling April with the good news but figure it can wait until morning. After all, there’s no rush. You and Leo, you think, are gonna be together for a long long time. 

Lights off, you shut your eyes and drift into sleep. It feels like only minutes later when you’re roused by a hard presence at your back, an arm resting protectively over your waist. Leo’s finger draws endless circles along the pattern of your pajama shorts, tracing around each polka dot with reverence. 

“I love you,” he breathes like a caress against your neck. The room shimmers with red and yellow lights that dance with every shift he makes. His plastron rumbles with a churr, the sound reaching the deepest parts of you. 

“I love you too,” you answer, shutting your eyes and letting him lull you back to that restful place where there are no nightmares and no fear. Just you and Leo, like it was always meant to be. The worry will be there in the morning, you know. Maybe it won’t ever go away. It’ll be a battle, everyday, but with Leo by your side, it will all be worth it. 

And you’ve never been one to run from a fight.

It’s mid-afternoon when you finally make it down to the lair. It’d taken a while to leave the apartment, what with Leo tugging you into knee-wobbling make-outs in bed, then on the couch, then pressed against your front door. He made it incredibly difficult to remember why you needed to do anything other than let him kiss you both into oblivion, but life forced itself back into your awareness in the form of a text from April, wondering whether you wanted to come marathon Lou Jitsu with the clan.

The promise of snuggle time during the movie was what finally convinced Leo to portal you both out of your love nest. 

When you enter the projector room hand in hand, you think for a moment that they’re going to be cool about it. Mikey waves at you both, turning back to the screen for a split second before he does the fastest double take of all time. 

He gasps, loud and dramatic, drawing everyone’s attention. “ Oh…me…gosh!”

“Here we go,” Leo mutters, and the room erupts. April jumps up from the couch and throws herself at you so hard that Leo has to keep you both propped up. Raph, grinning crookedly, smacks his brother on the shell, and Splinter promptly bursts into tears. 

“That’s a hundred dollars, D!” Mikey yells. “Pay up, baby!”

Grumbling under his breath, Donnie fishes out his wallet and forks over the cash. 

“It’s about damn time,” Raph says, making the room laugh. April drags you with her to the couch, asking a thousand questions that you refuse to answer in front of your boyfriend’s entire family. Leo is sucked into a very watery embrace with his father, and you have to bite down a smile at the grimace he sports through it all. 

In the middle of it all, with April talking your ear off and Mikey asking if he can design your wedding cake, you lock eyes with Casey. He’s off to the side, exactly where he was when you came in, watching over you all with a smile. When he sees that you’ve noticed him, he nods once, relaying everything words can’t say. 

After the brothers have had their fill of teasing the pair of you, everyone at last settles down for the long haul. The lights dim, Donnie queues up the first film, and you find yourself in a familiar position, smushed between Leo and April on the couch.

As the opening credits roll, you feel a light touch at your wrist. Without thinking, you flip your hand over, slotting your fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You don’t look at him, wanting to avoid any more snide remarks if you can help it. But out of the corner of your eye, you see the telltale shine of his marks beginning to glow.