desperate lonely leon, calling you while on a mission, it’s three am, you’re asleep
his voice hoarse on the other side until he hears yours, and he melts
leon who calls you even though you’re not together
leon who just needed to hear your voice anyway, to hear something soft and good in the middle of all this tragedy
you who humors him even though it hurts, physically, even though every time you entertain this emotional limbo with the worlds most unavailable man, you sob for days after, feeling wrung dry of every bit of love you’ve ever held
leon who knows the guilt will eat him alive for dragging you into this again, who does it despite this, who is too selfish in this regurgitated moment of weakness he keeps living again and again, whenever the time spent away from you gets too long
you’re both quiet on the line, everything you know but don’t, a cacophony in the silence
“please, i,” he breaks it, but then fails, in the same way he always does, getting one step away from the edge, one dive away from the water, one breath away from the kiss
you listen to the sound of his breathing, laboured, you ask him if he’s safe, and he doesn’t answer
leon who knows why you ask him, when you both already knew he wasn’t, you ask to state, to draw a line in the dirt, to clearly say the same thing he had said all along, his lifestyle did not fit you
so he called, at three am, just to hear something soft and good in the middle of all this tragedy.
xxx