Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was 7:00 AM when Leo's alarm went off. "Nope, not today," he mumbled, fumbling blindly for his phone without lifting his head from the pillow. When Leo felt his phone he grabbed it and hid it away under his pillow. Five more minutes, he bargained with the universe, already drifting back into that perfect warm cocoon of sleep.

But apparently the universe wasn't in a negotiating mood, because those muffled beeps kept going like the world's most annoying cricket.

Annoyed, Leo opened his eyes slightly and squinted at the ceiling, letting his ears hear the soft alarm going off. With a dramatic sigh that would've made his brothers roll their eyes, he fished his phone back out. "Fine, fine, you win this round, technology." He finally silenced the alarm with perhaps more force than necessary. "There. Happy now?"

"Oh shit, I should get ready now," Leo mumbled.

Ever so slowly, like he was moving through molasses, Leo peeled himself off his mattress one limb at a time.

He shuffled to his bathroom with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own execution, finally dragging himself in front of his mirror. Off came the bonnet—"There we go, beautiful"—and he paused to take in his reflection.

His shoulder-length dark brown locs were somehow still perfectly intact despite being cramped up all night. Light caught his warm brown skin just right, highlighting the vitiligo that spread across his eyes like some kind of cool face paint.

After giving himself a satisfied nod—because honestly, who else was going to appreciate this level of morning perfection?—he grabbed a hair tie. "Time for the signature look," he announced to his reflection, pulling his locs up into his usual style: half up in that perfectly messy updo, half cascading down.

Now fully awake, Leo washed his face and brushed his teeth.

He shuffled over to his closet and threw the doors open like he was revealing some grand treasure.

"Alright, wardrobe, what are we working with today?" Leo stared at the explosion of clothes before him, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He had about seventeen different outfit combinations running through his head, each one more incredible than the last.

He was thinking of going casual, an outfit that said 'Oh this old thing? I just threw it on' but also 'Yeah, I know I look amazing.' Leo wanted to hit that sweet spot between 'I didn't even try' and 'I definitely tried but you can't prove it.'

It made perfect sense in Leo's head, and honestly, that's all that mattered.

After what felt like browsing through his own personal boutique, he finally landed on the winner.

He pulled out a blue hoodie—because blue was obviously his color—some perfectly baggy jeans that said 'comfortable but make it fashion,' and his trusty Air Forces. He held the outfit up to himself in yet another mirror he had next to the closet and nodded approvingly. "This is it. This is the look that's gonna make today a good day."

"Leo! Hurry up, we're going to be late!" Raph yelled with his usual brotherly tone.

From somewhere else in the house, Donnie's voice chimed in with scientific precision: "Technically, we have approximately 4.7 minutes before we reach the threshold of 'fashionably late' and enter the danger zone of 'Dad's disappointed face.'"

"Nobody asked for a countdown, Dee!" came Mikey's cheerful holler. "But also, Leo, bro, I already made you a Pop-Tart! It's getting cold! Well, room temperature! Which is basically cold for a Pop-Tart!"
Leo rolled his eyes and yelled back, "IN A MINUTE, BIG BRO!" adding just enough dramatic flair to make it clear he was being deliberately annoying.

Leo ran to his dresser where his gifted jewelry box from Raph was. "Just thought you'd want somewhere to put all your... shiny stuff," Raph had mumbled, but Leo knew it was because his older brother actually paid attention to what he liked.

This was one of Leo's fond memories from Raph. Leo doesn't always get along with Raph. They're just too different in Leo's eyes.

They butted heads constantly, usually over Leo's tendency to showboat or Raph's need to control everything. But for every argument they had, every time Raph got on his case about taking things seriously, there were moments like this that reminded Leo why his big brother was actually a pretty good brother.

The jewelry box wasn't just some store-bought thing either. Raph had made it himself in his workshop class, spending weeks getting the hinges just right and sanding it until it was smooth. He'd even carved a tiny turtle on the lid, though he'd gotten all embarrassed when Leo noticed it. "It's not a big deal,"Raph had grumbled, but his ears had gone red, which meant it totally was a big deal.

Leo smiled at the memory as he pulled out a pair of silver earrings, sliding them in with practiced ease. He added a couple of bracelets for good measure—because if you're gonna accessorize, you might as well commit to the bit. "Perfect," he murmured, checking himself out in the dresser mirror.

"LEO!" Raph yelled once again.

"Oh my fucking—for the love of pizza supreme in the sky," Leo muttered under his breath, because honestly, you'd think the house was on fire with how Raph was carrying on. "I'M COMING! Just hold on a hot minute!"

He could practically hear Raph's blood pressure rising from here. Leo grabbed his phone, checked himself one last time in his dresser mirror—because priorities—and then rushed out of his room and down the stairs.

"Coming through!" he announced as he bounded down the stairs. "See? Told you I'd be down in a minute. Well, okay, maybe it was like three minutes, but who's counting?"

From the bottom of the stairs, he could already see Raph's exasperated face, and Leo couldn't help but flash his most innocent smile. "What? I'm here, aren't I?"

"Leo, catch!" Mikey called out, throwing a Pop-Tart in Leo's way.

Leo spun around just in time to see the frosted projectile flying straight at his face. "Whoa!" But naturally, because he was Leonardo and catching things mid-air was basically his specialty, he snagged it with one smooth motion. The Pop-Tart crumbled a little in his grip, but hey—still edible.

"Thanks, Mikey," he mumbled through a mouthful of strawberry goodness. "You're the only brother who truly understands my needs."

"Anytime, dude!" Mikey beamed, looking ridiculously proud of his Pop-Tart throwing skills. "I even warmed it up for exactly thirty-seven seconds—that's the optimal Pop-Tart temperature according to my very scientific research!"

"Your 'scientific research' was eating twelve
Pop-Tarts yesterday," Donnie called out from wherever he was lurking.

"Exactly! That's called field work, Donnie!" Mikey shot back cheerfully.

Leo couldn't help but grin. Leave it to Mikey to turn breakfast into a whole production.

"Guys, come on, we need to get going," Raph tried to get everyone's attention. "Dad isn't taking us to school again—he overslept, again—so we have to go on our skateboards."

"Seriously? Again?" Leo threw his hands up dramatically, nearly dropping his Pop-Tart in the process. "What is that man even doing at night?

Like, for real, what kind of thirty-something-year-old has a worse sleep schedule than a bunch of teenagers?" He shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Pops is out here making us look responsible, and that's just tragic.”

"Maybe he's fighting crime!" Mikey suggested cheerfully. "Or binge-watching those weird Japanese game shows again!"

"Statistically speaking," Donnie chimed in, "Dad's sleep schedule is completely illogical. Based on my observations, he's either become nocturnal or he's discovered some form of late-night hyperfixation. My current hypothesis? YouTube algorithm trap.

Classic dopamine feedback loop keeping him awake until 3 AM watching... I don't know, probably videos about pizza."

"Or," Leo said, taking another bite of his Pop-Tart, "our dear father just has the time management skills of a caffeinated squirrel. But hey, at least we get to look cool skating to school while everyone else gets dropped off by their parents like kids."

"Come on, guys, we really have to go now," Raph sighed. "If we don't go right now, we'll be late."

"Ughhhhh, school," Leo groaned dramatically, throwing his head back like he was in a tragic Shakespeare play. "So boring. So mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly boring. Why do we even need to learn about the Revolutionary War when I could be perfecting my kickflip technique?"

But despite his complaining, Leo was already moving toward the door, grabbing his skateboard from where he'd left it propped against the wall. He tucked his board under his arm and headed for the door. "Time to grace the halls of education with my presence. They're so lucky to have me."

He paused at the doorway and called back, "Last one to school buys lunch!" before disappearing outside, because if he was gonna be dragged to school, he might as well make it interesting.

All the brothers scrambled for their skateboards in a chaotic rush of limbs and complaints.

"Oh, you think you're slick starting early!" Raph shouted, already pushing off hard to catch up.

"That's cheating!" Mikey called out cheerfully, but he was grinning as he ollied off the front steps.

"Technically, he never established official start parameters for the race," Donnie muttered, but he was already calculating the most efficient route while weaving between trash cans.

Leo, already at least two blocks ahead, felt the morning air whip through his locs as he carved down the sidewalk. The cool breeze hit his face just right, and he couldn't help but smile. This was it—this was the vibe he needed. The sun was shining, his hair looked amazing, he'd nailed his outfit, and he was absolutely crushing this impromptu race.

"Today's gonna be a good day," he said to himself, pushing harder on his board and feeling that familiar rush of freedom. Nothing—and he meant nothing—was going to mess with his good mood today. Not boring classes, not pop quizzes, not even if Brad from his second period decided to be extra annoying.

Leo was feeling unstoppable, and the day was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

Leo could almost see the finish line. Leo looked behind him to check if his brothers were close by, but there was not a soul in sight.

Unfortunately for Leo's brothers, Leo saw that they had taken a shortcut to try and beat Leo, but little did they know they took the much longer route, so now they'll be late. It doesn't matter much to Leo though. Now he had some time to show off with his skateboarding.

The skateboard wheels hit the asphalt with that perfect thwack-thwack-thwack rhythm that Leo lived for. Washington Irving High's parking lot stretched out before him like his personal concrete playground, and with fifteen minutes before first period, he had just enough time to nail the trick he'd been working on all week.

"Alright, beautiful," he murmured to his board, setting it down and taking a few steps back like he was preparing for some grand performance. "Let's show these Honda Civics what real style looks like." The kickflip to manual combo had been absolutely destroying his ego for days now—every attempt ending with him either bailing or landing it but looking like a baby giraffe learning to walk. But today? Today he could feel it in his bones. He pushed off hard, building speed as he carved smoothly around a couple of parked cars. The world seemed to slow down around him as he found that perfect rhythm, that sweet spot where everything just clicked. This was his meditation, his therapy, his church all rolled into one beautiful, flowing moment.

"Come on, Leo," he whispered to himself, setting up for the trick. "You got this. You're literally the coolest person on this entire block—probably this entire city. Physics is just gonna have to deal with it."

The wind was perfect, his balance was perfect, even his hair was cooperating. This was it. This was his moment.

He then popped the board just right, watched it spin beneath him in slow motion perfection, and—

"Yooo, Leo! Sick moves, bro!"

The shout from Marcus Chen, one of his most dedicated fans, really broke his concentration just enough that he landed a little wobbly, but hey, he still stuck it. A small crowd of early-arriving students had gathered around him, because apparently Leo had become the unofficial pre-school entertainment committee. Which, honestly, he wasn't mad about.

Someone had to bring some culture to this place.
"Please, please," Leo said with an exaggerated bow, sweeping one arm dramatically while balancing on his board. He paused for effect, flashing his most charming grin. "Actually, no—don't hold it back. Let the applause flow."

Sarah from his History class started clapping, and soon a few others joined in. Leo ate it up like he always did, because honestly, if you were gonna be good at something, why not let people appreciate it?

"Dude, you should totally try out for that skateboarding club Casey's trying to start," Marcus called out, still looking impressed.

"Please," Leo scoffed, kicking his board up and catching it in one smooth motion that was probably way cooler than it needed to be. "Casey should try out for my skateboarding club. I don't join things—things join me." He adjusted his hoodie with his free hand, making sure he looked appropriately nonchalant. "Besides, do you really think someone of my caliber needs to 'try out' for anything? That's like asking Michelangelo to audition for art class."

He glanced around at his impromptu audience, soaking up their attention like a plant in sunlight. "But hey, if Casey wants to bask in my presence and learn from a true master, I might consider gracing their little club with my expertise."

The group laughed, and Leo felt that familiar warm buzz of being the center of attention. This was his element, his natural habitat. Washington Irving High might be an academic prison, but at least he ruled his little corner of it.

The first period bell rang, scattering his impromptu audience like startled pigeons, and Leo grabbed his backpack with a theatrical sigh that belonged on Broadway. "And thus ends the morning show, folks. Remember to tip your skateboarder. I accept cash, compliments, and those little bags of Goldfish crackers."

School passed in its usual blur of mind-numbing monotony. Leo managed to sneak in a few paper airplane launches during History, Mrs. Patterson never looked up from her lesson plan. Then during PE, he convinced Tommy Rodriguez that Coach had announced a "surprise uniform inspection," and watched Tommy frantically tuck in his shirt and check his shoelaces for ten minutes before Leo revealed the joke. It was absolutely worth the detention threat he got.

By the time Drama class rolled around, his favorite class, if Leo didn't say so himself, he was ready for some quality entertainment time.

————————————————————

Drama class was Leo's sanctuary, his kingdom, his personal stage where he could truly shine brighter than a disco ball in direct sunlight. Mrs. Garcia had them working on improv exercises today, which was basically just an excuse for Leo to demonstrate his natural comedic timing and devastating good looks while everyone else fumbled around trying to be half as entertaining as him on his worst day.

"Alright, Leo," Mrs. Garcia called out with that long suffering tone teachers developed when they knew they were about to unleash beautiful chaos upon their classroom. "You're up. The scenario is: you're a customer trying to return a clearly stolen shopping cart to a grocery store."

Leo cracked his knuckles and stepped into the center of their makeshift stage area. "Oh, this is too easy. You might as well have asked me to breathe attractively—which, for the record, I also excel at."

The class chuckled, and Leo felt that familiar rush of being exactly where he belonged. He cleared his throat, got into character, and launched into what was definitely going to be his most Oscar-worthy performance yet.

"Excuse me, sir," he began, addressing an imaginary store manager while miming pushing a shopping cart with the most ridiculously innocent expression he could muster—wide eyes, slight head tilt, the works. "I'd like to return this shopping cart. I have my receipt right here—" He started patting his pockets with increasing desperation, checking every conceivable hiding spot. "Well, I HAD my receipt. It must have blown away in that terrible windstorm we had... last Tuesday... at 3 AM... when I definitely purchased this cart through completely legal means."

The class was starting to lose it, and Leo could practically feel Mrs. Garcia trying not to laugh. He leaned in conspiratorially toward his imaginary manager.

"You see," Leo continued, really getting into it now, "this cart and I have formed a deep spiritual connection. We've been through so much together: grocery runs, midnight snack adventures, that one time I used it as a chariot to race my brothers down our street..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Surely you wouldn't want to separate two souls who've found each other in this vast, cart-filled universe?"
He was just hitting his stride, really getting into the ridiculous backstory he was creating, when the classroom door opened.

And then everything just... stopped.

Leo's words died in his throat mid-sentence. The laughter from his classmates faded into this weird, suspended silence. Even Mrs. Garcia looked up from her notes with a confused expression.

The person who opened the door, who now walked in, didn't just enter the room, they commanded it, like they had their own personal spotlight following them around. Leo's carefully crafted performance died mid-gesture as his brain completely short-circuited.

The guy was stunning in that effortless way that made Leo simultaneously want to hate him and also maybe stare at him forever. His hair was perfectly medium shoulder length with layered fluffy hair that appeared to be dyed silver-white. His hair was messy like he'd rolled out of bed, but he somehow looked like a magazine cover. His skin had this warm glow that made Leo wonder if he'd been personally blessed by some sort of skincare deity. And his eyes Jesus, his eyes were this incredible dark, soft brown color that was lined with red eyeliner.

But it wasn't just that he was pretty, though he was devastatingly, unfairly pretty. It was the way he moved, all confident and fluid like he owned every space he walked into. He was wearing a perfectly fitted black t-shirt and baggy jeans that somehow managed to look both casual and effortlessly stylish, and Leo's brain was having a complete meltdown trying to process how someone could make such a simple outfit look so good.

"Sorry I'm late!" the new student called out cheerfully, and even his voice was unfairly perfect, warm and friendly with just a hint of an accent Leo couldn't quite place. "I got completely turned around trying to find this room. This school is like a maze designed by someone who clearly had a grudge against new students."

He straightened up with a sheepish smile, adjusting his organized backpack. "I hope I haven't disrupted anything important. I was told this was Drama class? I'm looking forward to learning from all of you."

The entire class turned to look at him, and Leo watched in something approaching horror as every single person in the room seemed to perk up like flowers turning toward the sun. Even Mrs. Garcia, who usually looked like she was perpetually counting down the minutes until retirement, broke into a genuine smile.

"No worries at all," Mrs. Garcia said, and was she actually blushing? Leo had never seen their teacher look anything other than mildly exasperated or caffeinated. "Class, this is Yuichi Usagi. He's an exchange student from Japan."

"Just call me Yuichi," he said with this easy, genuine smile that somehow managed to be both humble and confident at the same time. Leo felt his stomach do some kind of weird flip thing that he absolutely did not want to analyze right now. "And please, I hope you won't expect me to be some kind of martial arts expert just because I'm from Japan. I mean, I do practice kendo, but I'm much better at getting lost in new places than I am with a sword."

The class laughed, actually laughed, at his joke, and Leo felt something uncomfortably close to panic rising in his chest. That was supposed to be his thing. He was the one who made witty observations and charmed everyone with his natural charisma. He was the one who commanded attention the moment he walked into a room.

"Yuichi, perfect timing," Mrs. Garcia continued, gesturing toward Leo, who was still standing in the middle of the classroom holding his arms out like he was pushing an invisible shopping cart, probably looking like a complete idiot. "Leo was just in the middle of an improv exercise. Why don't you take a seat and we'll get you caught up?"

Leo tried to recover, tried to slip back into his performance, but his usual quick wit seemed to have completely abandoned him. The confident, spotlight-commanding Leo from thirty seconds ago had apparently packed up and left the building. "I was just, uh..." He gestured vaguely at his frozen pose, his brain scrambling for something—anything—clever to say. "Explaining the deep spiritual connection between man and shopping cart. Very profound stuff. Oscar-worthy, really."

That's it? his internal monologue screamed. That's the best you can do? You literally had them eating out of your hand two minutes ago!

But Yuichi wasn't just politely smiling like most people did when Leo performed. He was looking at Leo with this genuinely interested expression, like he was actually invested in whatever ridiculous scenario Leo had been creating. And then, and this was the part that made Leo's brain completely blue screen, Yuichi started applauding.

"That was amazing!" Yuichi said, and he sounded like he actually meant it. "Sorry, I saw and heard your performance by the window on my way over to the door. The way you built that whole backstory about the cart? Chef's kiss. I'm already emotionally invested in this shopping cart love story."

Leo blinked, completely thrown off his game by the genuine enthusiasm radiating from Yuichi. Most people laughed at his jokes, sure, but this felt different. This felt like Yuichi was actually appreciating the performance—like he was seeing something artistic in Leo's ridiculous shopping cart bit instead of just being entertained by the class clown.

It was... weird. And kind of nice? But mostly weird.

"I mean," Leo managed, scrambling to find his footing again while his brain was still doing whatever the fuck it was doing, "when you're naturally gifted at everything like I am, it's really just a matter of choosing which talent to showcase at any given moment."

He tried to inject his usual cocky confidence back into his voice, but even to his own ears it sounded a little forced. Like he was trying too hard to convince himself as much as everyone else.

Yuichi found an empty seat near the back, and Leo tried to continue his improv, but he kept getting distracted by the way Yuichi was watching him, not with the usual mix of amusement and mild exasperation Leo was used to, but with what looked like genuine interest and appreciation. It was unsettling in the best possible way.

"So anyway," Leo said, desperately trying to wrap up his scene before he completely embarrassed himself in front of the entire class, and more importantly, in front of the annoyingly perfect exchange student, "that's why I believe this shopping cart and I are meant to be together forever. It's basically a love story for the ages. Romeo and Juliet, but with more wheels and significantly less poison."

He threw in a dramatic flourish, placing one hand over his heart while the other remained on his imaginary cart handle. "And they said retail romance was dead."

The class applauded, but Leo barely heard it over the sound of his own internal screaming. He was too busy trying not to look directly at Yuichi while simultaneously attempting to gauge his reaction through his peripheral vision like some kind of awkward ninja.

Did he think it was funny? Stupid? Was he impressed? Does he think I'm an idiot?

"Beautiful work, Leo," Mrs. Garcia said. "Very... creative interpretation of the assignment."

For the first time in his life, being the center of attention felt weird and uncomfortable, like he was performing for an audience of one and desperately hoping he was good enough. Which was insane, because Leo was always good enough. More than good enough.

So why did his chest feel tight? Why did his usual post-performance high feel more like a crash?

As he walked back to his seat, he had to pass right by Yuichi's desk, and Leo swore he could feel those dark brown eyes following him. He tried to play it cool, throwing in a little extra swagger to his walk, but halfway through, he realized he was probably just making himself look like he was having some kind of medical episode.

Smooth, Leo. Real smooth. Why don't you trip over your own feet while you're at it? Really complete the whole 'disaster human' look you've got going on.

"Nice job up there," Yuichi said quietly as Leo passed, and Leo nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Thanks," Leo managed, hoping his voice sounded more casual than it felt. His usual effortless confidence seemed to have temporarily malfunctioned. "Just another day at the office, you know? Being naturally amazing and all that."

It was his standard response, the kind of cocky one-liner that usually got eye rolls or laughs and kept people at that perfect distance where he could be charming without being vulnerable.

But then Yuichi laughed, actually laughed, and the sound did something weird to Leo's chest. It wasn't the polite chuckle he was expecting, or even the kind of laugh his jokes usually got. It was warm and genuine, like Yuichi actually found him funny instead of just entertaining.

"I can tell. You've got serious stage presence."

Leo made it to his seat without further incident, but he spent the rest of class trying to figure out why his hands were shaky and why he kept glancing back at the new kid who'd somehow managed to throw his entire carefully constructed universe off its axis in the span of like three minutes.

This was a problem. A big, pretty, brown-eyed problem that Leo had absolutely no idea how to handle.

Chapter Text

Leo's brain was still doing that weird short-circuiting thing as he walked out of Drama class, his usual post-performance swagger replaced by something that felt uncomfortably close to uncertainty. The hallway buzzed with the typical between class chaos, locker doors slamming, sneakers squeaking against linoleum, the distant echo of Mr. Peterson yelling at someone to stop running, but Leo barely registered any of it.

What the hell was that about?

He'd performed in front of crowds before. Hell, he'd performed in front of actual crowds, not just classrooms full of teenagers who were forced to watch him. He'd done improv bits that had people genuinely rolling on the floor. He'd made the entire football team laugh so hard during lunch that Tyler Morrison had actually snorted chocolate milk out of his nose.

But one genuinely interested comment from some exchange student with stupidly perfect hair and suddenly Leo was forgetting his lines like an amateur?

"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his backpack strap with more force than necessary. "I don't get thrown off by people. People get thrown off by me. That's literally how this works."

He rounded the corner toward his locker, still mentally replaying every second of his interaction with Yuichi, the way he'd looked at Leo like he was actually seeing something worth watching, the way his laugh had sounded so genuine, the way his eyes had—

"Leo!"

The shout snapped him out of his spiral, and he looked up to see Donnie practically bouncing toward him, his purple hoodie slightly rumpled. His twin brother had that particular gleam in his eyes that usually meant he'd either discovered something fascinating or broken something expensive.

"There you are," Donnie said, slightly out of breath. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You will not believe what happened in Chemistry. Mr. Nakamura actually let me redesign the entire lab setup because apparently my suggestions for improving efficiency were 'surprisingly insightful' and—" He paused, squinting at Leo with that analytical look he got sometimes. "Are you okay? You look weird."

"I don't look weird," Leo said automatically, though he was pretty sure he probably did look weird. He felt weird. Everything felt weird. "I look devastatingly handsome as always. It's just the fluorescent lighting in this place, very unflattering to us naturally gorgeous people."

Donnie raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And that's why you're standing in front of your locker having a full conversation with yourself?"

"I was not—" Leo started, then realized he absolutely had been muttering to himself like some kind of madman. "I was just... practicing. For my next performance. Very advanced acting technique. You wouldn't understand."

"Right." Donnie leaned against the locker next to Leo's, clearly not buying it for a second. "So it has nothing to do with the fact that Mikey texted our group chat about seeing you'completely malfunction in front of some ridiculously hot exchange student in Drama class?"

Leo's hand froze on his combination lock. "Mikey was in Drama class?"

"No, but apparently Sarah Martinez was, and she sits next to Mikey in English, and you know how gossip travels in this place." Donnie grinned, and it was his particular brand of evil genius smile that meant Leo was absolutely screwed. "So tell me, dear brother, what exactly happened that turned the great Leo Hamato into a stammering mess?"

"I did not stammer," Leo protested, finally getting his locker open with more violence than strictly necessary. "I never stammer. Stammering is for people who lack confidence and natural charisma, neither of which apply to me."

"Uh-huh." Donnie was definitely enjoying this way too much. "So you're saying that when this mysterious exchange student walked into your class, you maintained your usual level of smooth, devastating charm?"

Leo grabbed his textbooks with enough force to probably damage his shoulder, but he was too busy trying to figure out how to salvage his reputation to care. "Of course I did. I was literally in the middle of my best performance of the week. I had the entire class eating out of my ass."

"And then?"

"And then nothing. I finished my scene, got my usual standing ovation—well, sitting ovation, but you get the idea, and went on with my day like the composed, unflappable person I am."

Donnie was quiet for a moment, just watching Leo shove books into his backpack like they'd personally offended him. "So if you're so unflappable, why are you currently flapping?"

"I'm not—" Leo started, then caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror stuck to the inside of his locker door. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes had that slightly wild look he got when he was trying too hard to convince himself of something.

He looked exactly like someone who'd been completely thrown off their game.

"Shit," he said under his breath.

"There it is," Donnie said with satisfaction. "So who is this guy, and why has he managed to accomplish what two years of high school have failed to do—namely, making you question your own irresistible charm?"

Leo slammed his locker shut, probably harder than necessary. The metallic clang echoed down the hallway, earning him a few curious looks from passing students. "He hasn't made me question anything. I'm just... processing."

"Processing what, exactly?"

"I don't know!" The words came out louder than Leo intended, and he lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "I don't know, okay? He just... he walked in, and suddenly I couldn't remember how to be funny. Which is insane, because being funny is literally my default setting. I don't have to think about it—it just happens."

Donnie's expression softened slightly, losing some of its teasing edge. "Maybe that's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe you're so used to performing for people that you forgot how to just... be yourself around them." Donnie adjusted his glasses, which was his nervous habit. "And maybe this guy made you want to be yourself instead of just being 'on' all the time."

Leo stared at his brother, feeling something uncomfortable twist in his chest. "That's ridiculous. I am myself. This is me." He gestured broadly at his own person. "Charming, confident, irresistibly attractive Leo. There's no performance here, this is just who I am."

"Is it, though?"

The question hung in the air between them, and Leo felt that weird tightness in his chest again. Because the truth was, he honestly wasn't sure anymore. When was the last time he'd just... talked to someone without thinking about how to make them laugh, or how to get their attention, or how to make sure they walked away thinking he was incredible?

He couldn't remember.

"This is stupid," he said finally, shouldering his backpack. "I'm overthinking this. He's just some guy."

"Some guy who made you forget how to function in front of an audience," Donnie pointed out helpfully.

"Some guy who caught me off guard for like thirty seconds," Leo corrected. "It won't happen again."

"Because you're going to avoid him?"

"Because next time I'll be prepared." Leo straightened up, trying to summon his usual confidence. "I was just surprised, that's all. Nobody walks into Leo Hamato's domain and throws him off his game twice."

Donnie looked like he wanted to say something else, but the warning bell rang, signaling five minutes until next period. Leo used the interruption to make his escape, calling over his shoulder as he headed toward his next class.

"I'll see you at lunch. And don't you dare tell Raph and Mikey about this conversation, or I'll convince everyone at school that you're the one who wrote that My Little Pony fanfiction that went viral last year."

"That was research!" Donnie called after him, but Leo was already disappearing into the crowd.

 

By the time lunch rolled around, Leo had almost convinced himself that the morning's weirdness was just a fluke. He'd gotten through AP History without incident, managed to make the entire back row crack up during his spot-on impression of Mr. Franklin's dramatic reading voice, and had successfully convinced Jessica Chen to let him copy her notes from the class he'd missed yesterday.

See? he told himself as he grabbed a tray in the cafeteria, feeling some of his usual swagger returning. Back to normal. Back to being absolutely irresistible to everyone I encounter. That weird thing in Drama was just a fluke. Probably low blood sugar or something.

The cafeteria was buzzing with its usual chaos, underclassmen trying to navigate the social hierarchy, upperclassmen holding court at their designated tables, and the eternal mystery of what exactly the lunch ladies were serving on any given day.

Leo surveyed his options between the mystery meat sandwich and the potentially radioactive pasta when someone bumped into him from behind.

"Oh, sorry!"

Leo turned around to find himself face-to-face with Madison Torres, who was in his English class and had the kind of bright smile that could probably power a small city. She was cute in that wholesome, girl-next-door way, shoulder-length brown hair, freckles scattered across her nose like constellations.

Under normal circumstances, this would be prime Leo territory. Cute girl, perfect setup for some harmless flirting, opportunity to showcase his charm.

"No worries," Leo said automatically, flashing her his most charming grin. "Though I have to say, if you wanted to get my attention, there are less violent ways to go about it."

Madison laughed, and it was exactly the kind of response Leo was used to getting. "Oh, is that what I was doing? And here I thought I was just trying to reach the pizza."

"The pizza's terrible," Leo said, leaning against the counter in what he knew was his most casually attractive pose, one elbow propped up, head tilted just so, this kind of stance usually made people think he belonged in a magazine instead of a high school cafeteria. "Trust me, I'm something of a connoisseur of finding good pizza. It's one of my many talents."

"Really? What are your other talents?" Madison asked, and there was just enough flirtation in her voice to make Leo's confidence surge back to its normal levels.

This was more like it. This was the Leo Hamato experience, effortless banter, mutual attraction, chemistry that made everything feel easy and natural.

"Well," Leo said, pretending to consider the question seriously, "I'm an excellent skateboarder, a devastatingly talented actor, and I once ate an entire large pizza by myself in under twenty minutes. Also, I have perfect hair." He ran a hand through his locs.

"That's quite a resume. Are you accepting applications for admirers, or is there a waiting list?"

Leo felt that familiar warm buzz of successful flirtation, the same feeling he got when he nailed a particularly difficult skateboard trick or when he had an entire classroom hanging on his every word. This was his element. This was what he was good at.

"For you?" he said, leaning in slightly with his practiced charm that had never failed him before. "I think I can fast-track your application."

Madison's cheeks turned slightly pink, and Leo felt his confidence fully return like a surge of electricity. See? This was proof that he was still the same irresistible Leo he'd always been. Whatever weird, off-balance moment he'd had in Drama class was clearly just an anomaly, maybe he'd been dehydrated or something.

"Actually," he said, riding the wave of his restored self-assurance, "are you doing anything Friday night?"

The question tumbled out before he'd really thought about it, but once it was out there, Leo committed to it. This was perfect, actually. A date with a cute, funny girl who actually appreciated his charm would be exactly what he needed to prove to himself, and to his brothers, and to anyone else who might be wondering, that he was still the same irresistible Leo he'd always been.

Madison's eyes widened slightly. "Are you asking me out?"

"I am indeed asking you out," Leo confirmed, giving her his most winning smile. "Dinner and a movie? I promise to let you pick the movie, even if you have terrible taste."

"Hey!" Madison protested, but she was smiling. "My taste in movies is excellent, thank you very much."

"We'll see about that," Leo said. "So is that a yes?"

Madison pretended to consider it, tapping her finger against her chin. "Well, I suppose I could clear my schedule for someone with perfect hair and pizza-eating talents."

"Excellent. I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Make it seven-thirty. A girl has to maintain some mystery."

Leo grinned. "Seven-thirty it is."

They exchanged numbers, Leo making sure to add just the right amount of playful commentary to the process, and by the time they parted ways, he was feeling completely back to his normal self.

He found his brothers at their usual table in the far corner of the cafeteria, but the most weird thing was that April wasn’t there. She must be at home then, doing whatever April does at home. Knowing April she’ll be back sometime later this week. He slid into his seat with confident swagger that announced he had news.

"Gentlemen," he said, setting down his tray with a flourish, "you are looking at someone who has a date this Friday night."

Mikey looked up from his attempt to build a tower out of tater tots. "Wait, really? With who?"

"Madison Torres," Leo said, trying not to sound too smug about it. "You know, the girl from my English class with the great laugh? She's funny, she's cute, and she clearly has excellent taste in men."

Raph raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she the one who wrote that essay about sustainable farming that made Mrs. Peterson cry?"

"The very same," Leo confirmed. "Brains and beauty. I really know how to pick them."

"That's great, Leo," Donnie said, but there was something in his tone that made Leo look at him more closely. His twin was wearing that expression he got when he was analyzing data that didn't quite add up, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that had too many missing pieces and the pieces he did have weren't fitting together the way they should.

"What's that look for?" Leo asked, suddenly feeling defensive without really knowing why.

"Nothing," Donnie said quickly. "I'm just surprised, that's all. This morning you were all weird and confused, and now suddenly you're asking girls out? It's a pretty quick turnaround."

Leo felt his defensive walls slam back up. "I told you, I wasn't confused. I was just caught off guard for like two seconds. There's a difference."

"If you say."

"I do say so." Leo took a bite of his sandwich, chewing more aggressively than necessary. The bread tasted like cardboard, but he wasn't about to admit that his food choices were as questionable as his brothers apparently thought his dating choices were. "Besides, what's wrong with asking someone out? I'm a catch. Madison clearly recognizes quality when she sees it. It's a win-win situation."

"Nobody said there was anything wrong with it," Raph said, though he was giving Leo the same analytical look that Donnie had been wearing. "It's just... fast, you know? Like, didn't you just meet her this semester?"

Leo laughed, but it sounded forced even to his own ears. "Please. I've been flirting with Madison for weeks. This was just the natural progression of our inevitable romantic connection."

That wasn't entirely true.. Leo had barely noticed Madison before today, beyond the occasional joke during English class, but his brothers didn't need to know that.

"Right," Mikey said slowly. "And this has nothing to do with whatever happened in Drama class this morning?"

Leo's fork clattered against his tray harder than he'd intended, the metallic sound echoing louder than it should have in the cafeteria chaos. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up? Nothing happened in Drama class. A new student walked in, I finished my scene, end of story."

"A new student who apparently made you 'completely malfunction,'" Raph said, making air quotes. "According to Sarah Martinez, anyway."

"Sarah Martinez is a known exaggerator," Leo said firmly. "I did not malfunction. I had a minor pause in my performance, which is completely normal and probably not even noticeable to anyone who wasn't looking for it."

His brothers exchanged glances, that subtle eye-contact thing they did when they thought they were being sneaky but were actually about as subtle as a neon sign. Leo felt that familiar surge of irritation that came with being the subject of their collective psychoanalysis.

"Look," he said, setting down his fork and fixing them all with his most serious expression, "I don't know what you guys think happened, but I'm fine. More than fine. I'm exactly the same devastatingly charming person I was yesterday, and I have a date with a beautiful girl to prove it."

"We're not saying you're not charming," Donnie said carefully. "We're just saying that maybe—"

"Maybe nothing," Leo cut him off. "I'm going on a date, I'm going to have an amazing time, and Madison is going to fall helplessly in love with my irresistible personality. It's going to be perfect."

He pushed back from the table, grabbing his tray. "I'm going to go find Madison and finalize our plans. Try not to overthink my love life while I'm gone."

As he walked away, he heard Mikey whisper, "Is it just me, or is he trying really hard to convince himself of something?"

Leo pretended not to hear.

 

Leo managed to avoid thinking about Yuichi for exactly thirty-six hours.

Which was honestly impressive, considering the guy seemed to have enrolled in half of Leo's classes. Wednesday morning, Leo strolled into AP History with his usual confidence, only to spot Yuichi sitting three seats ahead of him, taking notes in what looked like actual calligraphy.

"Okay, that's definitely showing off," Leo muttered under his breath. Because seriously, who writes like that in the twenty-first century? What is this, ancient Japan? It was suspicious how yesterday the seat had been empty, but now suddenly Mr. Perfect Penmanship was there, probably dotting his i's with little cherry blossoms or whatever. Leo chose to ignore this obvious attempt to impress everyone and moved on with his life, thank you very much.

Except he couldn't stop staring at the way Yuichi’s pen moved across the paper in smooth, controlled strokes, the kind that probably took years to master. And when Mr. Franklin asked a question about the Industrial Revolution, Yuichi’s hand shot up. His answer was thoughtful, precise, and worst of all, interesting. Half the class actually looked up from their phones.

Leo crossed his arms. "Unbelievable." The guy didn't just ace the assignment; he made everyone else feel like they'd been phoning it in since kindergarten. And the worst part? He didn't even seem to notice. Thursday, he showed up in Leo's lunch period, sitting quietly with a book while eating what appeared to be a homemade bento box that made the cafeteria food look even more tragic by comparison.

Leo stabbed at his mystery meat with unnecessary violence, watching from across the cafeteria as Yuichi delicately ate what looked like actual food—rice that wasn't somehow both mushy and crunchy, vegetables that retained their original colors, some kind of protein that hadn't been processed beyond recognition.

His fork clattered against the tray.

Every time he caught sight of Yuichi, chopsticks poised just so, eyes scanning the page of his book, Leo felt that same weird flutter in his chest. An itch. An urge to—what? March over there and crack a joke? See if he could make that stoic face crack into a laugh again? Demand to know what book was so fascinating that Yuichi would choose it over, well, people?

He scowled and shoved a bite of mystery meat into his mouth. It tasted like regret and cafeteria-grade salt.

The worst part was that Leo could feel his brothers watching him.

Donnie, with that infuriatingly calculating look, Mikey, stealing glances between bites of his sandwich, grinning like he’d just stumbled onto the juiciest gossip of the century. And Raph, worst of all—occasionally following Leo’s line of sight across the cafeteria, one eyebrow raised in silent, judging question.

They knew.

Somehow, without a word, they all knew that Leo Hamato, master of charm, king of confidence, the guy who could talk his way into (or out of) anything, was currently glued to his seat, obsessing over an exchange student.

Leo jerked his attention back to his tray, stabbing his mystery meat once again. He had a date with Madison this weekend. A good one. Plans. Control. No room for distractions.

So what if Yuichi’s handwriting was stupidly elegant? So what if he read books like they were lifelines? So what if he had effortless confidence? So what if he made everyone laugh so easily and nature, even when the guy was new and nobody knew him but manage to make his whole drama class—

He cut the thought off, shoving his tray away. "Focus, idiot." Madison was funny, smart, and—most importantly—not a walking enigma who made Leo’s brain short-circuit every time he so much as turned a page.

But his traitorous gaze flickered back toward Yuichi’s table anyway.

Leo stood up abruptly, the scrape of his chair against linoleum loud enough to make Mikey jump. "I'm going to the library," he announced to no one in particular, grabbing his backpack. Leo had decided not to focus his attention on Yuichi and instead think about his next skateboard trick. He didn’t want to think about Yuichi any longer, he just wants a normal day today and then tomorrow he’ll have the perfect day.

This did not in fact happen. Friday morning, everything changed.

Chapter Text

Friday morning arrived, and Leo was, of course, running late to Drama class. Again. Because he’d spent too long in the bathroom, meticulously styling his hair in the mirror, making sure every lock was perfectly placed.

He slipped through the door just as Mrs. Garcia clapped her hands, her voice ringing out over the chatter: "Alright, everyone! Today’s assignment— partner scenes from Romeo and Juliet," she was saying. "I've randomly assigned pairs, so no complaining about who you're working with."

Leo's stomach dropped as he scanned the room, realizing he'd missed the pairing announcements entirely.

Perfect.

He was probably stuck with Jessica, who treated every line like it was the climax of a Tony Award-winning monologue, or worse, Tyler, who thought Shakespeare was "like, old English or whatever" and pronounced every word like he was reading it phonetically for the first time.

Mrs. Garcia looked up from her clipboard, spotted Leo hovering by the door like a deer caught in headlights, and smiled

Ah, Leo!" she chirped. "Perfect timing. You’re with Yuichi."

Across the room, Yuichi didn’t even blink. But Leo could’ve sworn the universe let out a quiet, mocking ohhh, this is gonna be good.

"Great," Leo muttered, dragging his feet toward him. "Just great."

As he stood beside Yuichi, Leo caught a whiff of something that definitely wasn't cafeteria mystery meat or teenage body spray, something clean and subtle, like cedar and rain. Which was ridiculous, because who even smelled like that? Leo tried to focus on literally anything else, but Yuichi was already flipping through his copy of the play with those stupidly graceful fingers, and when he looked up to meet Leo's eyes, there was something almost amused in his expression.

"I am looking forward to working with you. Your performance on Tuesday was quite impressive."

Leo’s brain short-circuited. "Yeah, well. That was just a warm-up. You ain’t seen nothing yet."

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, riding on pure instinct and bravado, because when Leo Hamato didn't know what else to do, he defaulted to cocky charm.

Yuichi tilted his head just slightly, those dark brown eyes glinting with something Leo couldn’t quite pin down. "I am sure," he said, voice smooth as ever, but there was an edge to it. A flicker of something. Amusement? Sarcastic? Leo couldn’t tell, and that only made it worse.

"Wait—" Leo squinted. "Are you messing with me?"

"Not at all," Yuichi replied, but his eyes were definitely amused. "I simply find your confidence... refreshing."

Leo stared at him, trying to decode whether that was a compliment or the most polite roast he'd ever received. Because Yuichi's expression was completely neutral, but there was something in his tone that suggested he was absolutely, one hundred percent messing with Leo, and somehow managing to do it while looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It was infuriating. It was also kind of impressive. And maybe, possibly, a little bit attractive, which was a thought Leo immediately shoved into the deepest, darkest corner of his brain where it could hopefully die a quick and painless death.

Before he could spiral further, Mrs. Garcia swept in, distributing scene selections.

"Act II, Scene II," she announced, handing Leo a packet. "The balcony scene. Twenty minutes to read through and block it out, then we'll have performances. Then we’ll see what you’ve got."

Leo blinked down at the script. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"Um, Mrs. Garcia? This is Romeo and Juliet. As in, Romeo and Juliet. As in, the most romantic scene in all of Shakespeare."

Mrs. Garcia didn’t even look up from her clipboard. "Very observant, Leo," she said, "Your point?"

Leo’s mouth opened. Then closed until it opened again.

"My point is that traditionally, Romeo and Juliet are played by, you know, a guy and a girl. For obvious thematic reasons."

Mrs. Garcia slowly raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from amused to dangerously unimpressed. "Are you telling me," she said, voice deceptively calm, "that you’re not capable of finding the emotional truth in a scene just because your scene partner happens to be male?" She crossed her arms. "Because that would be very disappointing coming from someone who claims to be such a talented actor."

Leo’s brain short-circuited, once again.

He felt heat creep up his neck. Around them, other students were already diving into their scenes. Leo soon realized that he was making a scene about something that was probably not a big of a deal. "No, I just—I mean, it's not that I can't, I just—"

Yuichi’s voice cut through the noise, quiet but steady. "We can do the scene."

Leo turned to look at him, caught off guard by the lack of judgment in Yuichi’s tone. No smirk. No teasing. Just a simple, "If you are comfortable with it. It is just acting."

Something in Leo’s chest loosened.

Just acting. Right. Leo was an actor. He could act. He'd acted in dozens of scenes, with dozens of different people, in dozens of different situations. This was no different.

Except it was, and Leo couldn't figure out why.

His fingers tapped restlessly against the script, the paper warm under his touch. He could feel Yuichi’s presence beside him, steady and unshakable. The air between them hummed with something Leo couldn’t name, something that made his pulse kick up a notch, and his thoughts scattered like marbles.

"Right," he said finally. "Of course. It's just acting."

They found a quiet corner of the classroom and sat cross-legged on the floor, the script spread out between them. Leo forced his eyes to the page, but his focus kept fracturing by the way Yuichi read—carefully, thoughtfully, his voice low and measured, as if he were uncovering layers no one else could see.

Leo swallowed hard.

"So," Leo said, clearing his throat, "I guess I'm Romeo?"

Yuichi didn’t even look up from the script. "If you prefer," he said, voice even. "Though we could alternate. See how the scene feels from both perspectives."

Leo blinked. In all his years of doing scene work, no one had ever suggested switching roles mid-scene. "That's... actually a really interesting idea."

"My old drama teacher used to have us do that," Yuichi explained. "She said you could not truly understand a scene until you had seen it from every angle."

Yuichi finally looked up, meeting his gaze with quiet intensity. "My old drama teacher used to have us do that," he explained. "She said you could not truly understand a scene until you had seen it from every angle."

Leo exhaled, something shifting in his chest. "That’s... kinda brilliant, actually."

Leo said, and meant it. "Okay, let's try it your way."

They started with Leo as Romeo, launching into the famous balcony speech. But something was different this time. Instead of just delivering the lines with his usual dramatic flair, all charm and no substance, Leo found himself listening. Really listening. To the way Yuichi’s voice softened on certain words, the quiet intensity in his replies, the way his eyes flickered with something unreadable when Romeo’s lines grew bolder.

For the first time, the words didn’t feel like a performance. It felt like a conversation.

When Yuichi spoke Juliet's lines—"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"—there was something wistful and longing in his voice that made Leo's chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the scene and everything to do with the person sitting across from him.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name," Yuichi continued, voice low and steady, "or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet."

Leo’s breath hitched.

Yuichi wasn't just reciting lines; he was finding the real emotion underneath them, the desperate desire to be with someone even if it meant giving up everything.

"What's in a name?" Yuichi asked, looking directly at Leo. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

For a heartbeat, Leo forgot they were in a classroom. Forgot the hum of other students’ voices, the scrape of chairs, the rustle of scripts. Forgot this was just an assignment, just a scene, just acting. There was only Yuichi—close enough that Leo could see the way the light caught in his eyes.

"So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called," Yuichi finished softly, "retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title."

Leo realized he’d been staring. His pulse hammered in his throat, and he forced himself to look down at the script, fingers tightening around the edges. "That was... that was really good," he managed, voice rougher than he intended.

Yuichi didn’t look away. "You sound surprised."

"I am," Leo admitted before he could stop himself. Then, quieter: "I mean—you just—" He gestured helplessly. "You made it sound natural."

For a second, the air between them was electric, heavy with something unspoken. Then Yuichi’s lips quirked, just slightly. "Thank you”

“Yea. No problem.”

"Guess it’s your turn to try Juliet's lines?"

“Oh, right.”

They switched roles, and Leo found himself in the strange position of playing the romantic heroine to Yuichi's Romeo. It should have felt weird, or uncomfortable, or emasculating.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, something unexpected happened: it didn’t.

Instead, it felt natural.

Yuichi delivered Romeo's passionate declarations with a quiet intensity that made Leo's skin prickle. When he got to the part about love's light wings, about climbing walls to reach his beloved, there was something in his voice that made Leo believe every word.

And when Yuichi’s eyes met his—steady, unblinking—Leo actually got it. The lines weren’t just words anymore. They hit different.

"Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear," Yuichi said, and Leo felt genuinely breathless.

"O, swear not by the moon," Leo shot back before he could overthink it. The words slipped out easier than they should have, laced with something real. "The inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb..." He hesitated, then finished quieter: "Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

For a second, neither of them moved.

Yuichi’s expression shifted, his face unreadable, before he said, quiet but clear, "You’re good at this."

Leo’s pulse jumped. "You really think so?" The laugh that followed was short, nervous, and he immediately wanted to take it back. "I mean—yeah. Obviously. I am good at this." He cleared his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were. "Just... not used to playing this part, is all."

Yuichi leaned in—just a fraction, but enough to make Leo’s breath hitch. "Well," he said, voice low, "you’re playing it quite well."

Leo’s stomach flipped. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no heat in it. Just a flush creeping up his neck and the desperate need to not look away.

Yuichi’s lips quirked. "I’m just messing with you."

“I know that!” Leo exhaled internally, torn between relief and disappointment. "Yeah, well. Still nailed it."

Yuichi’s smirk deepened. "Obviously."

Leo rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his lips.

————————————————————
They worked through the entire scene, switching back and forth, finding new layers each time. Leo discovered that playing Juliet made him understand Romeo better, and vice versa.

But more than that, he realized something else: acting with Yuichi was nothing like acting with anyone else.

There was no performance anxiety, no pressure to be the loudest or the funniest or the most impressive. With Yuichi, Leo didn’t have to prove anything. He could just... be. Present in the scene. Honest in the words. No posturing, no pretense—just the raw, unfiltered truth of the moment.

"Time!" Ms. Garcia called, and Leo jolted, blinking as if waking from a dream. Twenty minutes had vanished like smoke. It had felt like five.

"So," he said, the old nervousness creeping back in, "which version do we perform?"

Yuichi considered this. "What feels most natural to you?"

Leo hesitated. The truth was, both versions had felt natural—and that was maybe the weirdest part of all. "How about we start with me as Romeo," he said slowly, "and if it feels right, we can switch midway through?"

"That works," Yuichi said, and his smile was warm and genuine.

They were the fourth pair to perform, and Leo felt unusually nervous as they took their places. Normally, he thrived on being in front of an audience, but something about this felt more vulnerable than his usual performances.

Yuichi climbed onto the platform serving as Juliet’s balcony, and Leo stood below, tilting his head up.

Yuichi climbed onto the platform serving as Juliet’s balcony, his movements effortless, and Leo stood below, tilting his head up. For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other. The noise of the classroom faded. There was only the space between them, charged and crackling, the same electric connection from rehearsal snapping back into place—stronger, now.

Leo swallowed hard.

Then Yuichi began to speak, and Leo forgot about the audience entirely.

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."

The words flowed out of Leo, and he found himself moving without thinking about it, reaching up toward Yuichi like Romeo might actually reach for someone he loved.

When they switched roles midway through—Leo climbing up to join Yuichi on the platform, their positions reversed—there was a moment when they were standing very close together, close enough that Leo could see exactly how Yuichi did his red smokey eyeliner.

"What’s in a name?" Leo heard himself say, voice softer than he intended.

Yuichi’s gaze locked onto his, dark and unreadable. "That which we call a rose—"

Leo’s pulse roared in his ears. He was hyper-aware of everything: the heat radiating off Yuichi, the electric silence of the classroom holding its breath.

"—by any other name would smell as sweet," Yuichi finished, and Leo swore he felt the words like a touch.

Yuichi smiled, and Leo felt something shift in his chest, something warm and terrifying and completely unexpected.

They finished the scene to genuine applause from their classmates, and Leo realized he'd been holding his breath. As they stepped down from the platform, Yuichi touched his shoulder lightly.

"Thank you," Yuichi said quietly. "That was... great."

Leo’s throat tightened. "Yeah," he managed, voice rough. "It was."

As they returned to their seats, Leo caught sight of the clock and realized class was almost over. In a few minutes, he'd have to go back to his regular schedule, his regular life, his date with Madison tonight.

But his mind was still stuck on the balcony.

On the way Yuichi had looked at him, like Leo wasn’t just playing a role—like he was seeing him. The real him. Not the class clown, not the over-the-top performer, not the guy who always had a joke or a smirk ready. Just Leo. Raw and unfiltered.

And for the first time, that didn’t terrify him.

It terrified him more that it didn’t.

"Hey," he said impulsively as they packed up their things, "do you want to maybe run lines sometime? For future scenes, I mean. You're really good to work with."

Yuichi paused, looking up from his bag. For a second, Leo was sure he’d made a mistake—overstepped, revealed too much. But then Yuichi’s expression softened, something bright and genuine flickering in his eyes. "Yea, sure, I would like," he said, voice quiet but certain.

Leo’s chest loosened, just a little. "Cool," he said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing completely. "Yeah. Cool."

They exchanged numbers, and as Leo added Yuichi's contact information into his phone, he tried to ignore the way his heart was beating just a little too fast.

It was just friendship, he insisted silently. Just two actors who worked well together.

But as Leo stepped out of the drama room, the weight of his own thoughts pressed down on him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to himself—and for someone who prided himself on brutal honesty, especially when it came to his own bullshit, that realization settled in his gut like a stone.

He rubbed the back of his neck, the hallway noise fading into a dull hum.

————————————————————
"So how was your day?" Madison asked as Leo walked her to her front door that evening.

They'd just finished dinner and a movie—a romantic comedy that Madison had picked and that Leo had spent most of not really watching because his mind kept drifting back to the balcony scene with Yuichi.

"It was good," Leo said automatically. "You know, the usual. Classes, lunch, trying to avoid getting trampled in the hallways."

"Anything interesting happen?"

Leo’s throat went dry as he thought about the way Yuichi had looked at him when they were standing close together on the platform, the way his stomach had flipped when Yuichi smiled at him.

"Nah," he said, forcing a grin. "Same old, same old."

Madison smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodnight. It was a perfectly nice kiss—soft, sweet, exactly the kind of kiss Leo should have been thrilled to receive from a pretty, funny girl who clearly liked him.

Instead, he felt... nothing.

Not nothing, exactly. Just a dull, gnawing guilt, sharp enough to make his chest ache. Because the truth was, his mind was still back in the drama room with Yuichi.

"I had a really great time tonight," Madison said as they pulled apart.

Leo swallowed hard. "Me too," he lied, and the words tasted like ash.

As he skated back home, Leo's phone buzzed with a text message.

Yuichi: Thank you again for today. I look forward to working together more.

Leo stared at the message for a long moment, then typed back:

Leo: Same here. See you Monday?

Yuichi: See you Monday.

Leo tucked his phone away, but the weight of it in his pocket felt different now. He skated the rest of the way home with his jaw clenched, the wind whipping at his face, and one thought circled his mind:

He was in trouble.