16 & 22
response to this ask thing:
"Describe your perfect day."
“I think... I don’t know about perfect, but my best days are the ones where I know I’ve met expectations, where I know that I’ve done well. Not just because I’ve been told I’ve done well, but at the end of the day, Luke, or, uhh, whoever is holding my contract,” he corrects himself, but his hands ball up, “is relaxed, and happy, and proud of how I’ve served them. At the end of the day, we can sit on the couch together and read a book or watch a movie and there’s no question of if I’ve disappointed them. I don’t really care, beyond that.” He’s talking faster now, fumbling through his words. Then, his tone weaker and his eyes downcast, he adds, “Those days are my... my favorites.”
There’s a prolonged pause before Luke arranges his features into something of a sad smile.
“I don’t know,” Luke says. There’s a pained undertone to his voice. “I don’t think I know what a perfect day is anymore.” He hazards a glance at Leo and takes a breath. Eyes that search his anxiously. Hands that squeeze each other tightly. Luke tries to insert confidence into his next words, keeping his tone even and his expression as light as he can. It’s futile, though. Leo knows his body language well enough to see through it by now. “You didn’t say anything wrong, Leo. It’s just... it’s just a hard time right now, you know? I promise, I’m not upset with you.”
"What’s the easiest way to flirt with you?"
They both sit silently, still trying to get through the bitter aftertaste of the last question. Leo shrugs, the familiar heaviness of despair is weighing on his expression. “I don’t know,” he says softly.
Luke nods. “Me neither, anymore.” Then, to Leo, he says, “You understand that I’m not upset with you, right?”
“I know. It’s okay, I know you’re not.” Neither of them buy it.
