Chapter Text
Leo had always been the happy, goofy one of the seven—him, Nico, Will, and Coraline. He was the one cracking jokes at 2 a.m., the one who could get even the grumpiest person to smile, the one everyone assumed simply didn’t get sad. It was almost a universal belief among their friends: Leo was fine. Leo was always fine.
So when, out of nowhere, Coraline showed up at his place one random week with an overnight bag and a look on her face that he couldn’t decipher, he didn’t question it. She just… stayed. She followed him from room to room, sat beside him on the couch, watched movies with him, and refused to let him be alone for more than thirty seconds. Sometimes she would just flop on top of him like a weighted blanket, squeezing the air out of his lungs and pretending it was completely normal.
He thought she was being weird, sure, but it was Coraline—she was always doing something strange. Still, by the third day, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something felt off. Something felt wrong.
“Okay, seriously,” he finally said, pausing the movie they weren’t even watching. “What’s up with you? You’ve been glued to me for days.”
Coraline’s jaw tightened. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, all at once, the words burst out of her.
“I knew something was going on with you!” she shouted, her voice cracking halfway through. “Your room is clean for a change, you canceled your phone service, and everything after April is torn off your calendar!”
Leo froze—completely still, like someone had hit a switch inside him.
The remote slipped from his hand.
Coraline’s own hands were shaking, her breathing uneven. Tears gathered in her eyes, making them glossy and bright. When she spoke again, her voice was so small it barely sounded like hers.
“Please don’t tell me it’s true, Leo…”
He looked at her, really looked at her, and the guilt slammed into him all at once. He couldn’t stand the sight of her falling apart—not because of him. Not because he’d been careless.
So he closed his eyes, pulled her into a tight, desperate hug, and held on like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”
And he said it again. And again. And again. As if apologizing enough times could undo the truth she’d already uncovered.
Coraline didn’t hug him back at first. She just stood there, stiff in his arms, like she was trying to decide whether to collapse or scream. Leo could feel her trembling. It was the kind of shaking that came from fear, not anger. The kind that made his stomach twist.
Finally, after what felt like forever, she lifted her arms and clutched the back of his shirt—fistfuls of fabric—like she was afraid he would disappear if she let go.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered into his shoulder, her voice broken. “Why didn’t you say anything, Leo? We could’ve helped you. I could’ve helped you…”
He swallowed hard. His throat felt tight, like the words were lodged there and wouldn’t come out cleanly.
“I didn’t want to drag anyone into it,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to be… a burden. You guys already have your own stuff. And I thought—” His voice cracked, and he had to pause. “I thought it wouldn’t matter. I thought no one would notice.”
Coraline pulled back, just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red, wet, full of a pain that made him want to curl in on himself.
“How could it not matter?” she breathed. “You matter to us. To me. You idiot.” Her voice wavered and then steadied. “You don’t get to decide you’re alone when you’re not.”
Leo stared at her, stunned by the certainty in her tone. By the way she said it like it was the easiest truth in the world.
“I didn’t think anyone would want to deal with me like that,” he admitted. “I’m supposed to be the funny one. The one who makes everything easier. Not…” He trailed off, unable to say the word.
“Not what?” she pressed, her hands still gripping his sleeves. “Not human? Not allowed to feel things? Leo, you don’t have to be okay all the time just because people expect you to be.”
He looked away, shame creeping up his spine. “I didn’t think anyone saw me.”
Coraline’s breath hitched, and she cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“I saw you,” she said. “I’ve been seeing you for months. You were slipping, Leo. Little by little. And no one wanted to admit it because you kept smiling. But I knew. I knew something was wrong, and I should’ve done something sooner.”
Leo shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either,” she answered softly.
Silence settled between them then—heavy, but not suffocating. Leo felt exhausted, like all the tension he’d been carrying finally cracked open and drained out of him.
Coraline rested her forehead against his. “Just… don’t scare me like that again. Please.”
Leo closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “I won’t. I promise.”
And for the first time in a long time, he meant it.