Book 2, Chapter 9: Snippet from "Below the Surface (Leonardo x Reader) - Weekly Updates!"
P.S./Warnings: Heavy themes of Angst, Anxiety, Trauma, Blood, Violence. Characters are aged up. Underage drinking mentioned. Suggestive (but no smut ever). PG-13 content. Reader discretion is advised.
Snippet Word Count: 1,606 words
After Mikey and Raph have turned the corner, Leo’s ears perk up to a crinkly sound behind him. You’re already picking up the ripped-open and mostly empty bags of chips and snacks his brothers left behind. He crouches down and collects the last two before you can grab them.
“Hey, I was getting those,” you say, looking up at him.
“You don’t always have to be doing something when you’re here, you know,” Leo says, watching you hop out of the conversation pit and following after.
“I don’t think you do,” he says, catching up with a few quick steps. “You’re always offering to cook for us or clean up after us.”
You scoff. “Like you’re one to talk. Didn’t you scrub the bathroom floor with a toothbrush?”
“To get the grout, I know,” you finish his sentence, a grin spreading wide over your face. Reaching the kitchen, you open up the upper cabinet that houses the snacks, expecting to see it mostly empty. Since Master Splinter passed, you assumed the boys would be hard on cash, which meant less frivolous snacks and more frugal meals. But when you look inside, it’s chock full of chip bags, cracker boxes, and various little treats. You’ve never seen this cabinet so full! You turn around, looking at Leo with a quizzical brow. “Where did all this come from?”
His eyes widen, and his posture straightens, as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. “Oh, that old stuff? It’s probably been up there a while, who knows.” He shrugs.
You make a face, looking back at the cabinet full of unopened goodies. “These are all brand new, Leo.” You turn back to face him, placing a hand on your hip. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Oh, pshh, that’s– you know, probably from April, or something.” He tries to lie, though he’s terrible at it.
“Or something?” You press.
Leo walks up, taking the partial chip bags from your other hand, shoving them all in the cabinet, and quickly shutting it to keep the extra snacks from falling out. He laughs nervously. “Probably, April,” Leo says.
You look at him with stern eyes, but they gradually soften as you realize how close he is. When he leaned over to close the cabinet, you didn’t think to move, and now he has you practically pinned against the base cabinets and countertop. Leo freezes, a nervous energy in his eyes. They restlessly flick from your face to either side of the room, and you’re tempted to take him by the edge of his plastron and place a firm kiss on his lips. You can remember how it felt, his warm breath mingling with yours, his skin always a touch cooler. You swallow thickly, butterflies dancing around your stomach.
In the blink of an eye, Leo’s pushed off the countertop and backed away, giving you ample space as he stands beside the makeshift island.
“S-So,” he stutters out, clearing his throat after. Awkward energy hangs thickly in the air, and a tingling sensation creeps up the back of his neck. “What do you want to do? It’s getting late, you’re of course more than welcome to stay here, but if you need to get home before Donnie’s done with your phone, I’d like to walk you back if–”
“Leo,” you say his name, cutting off the tail end of his sentence.
He turns his attention back to you, his left hand fidgeting with the edge of the island countertop.
You take a breath, mustering the courage to say what you need to. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.” The air stills. All traces of awkwardness replaced with a suffocating layer of worry and insecurity. You become acutely aware of the sound of water rushing through the pipes above and the hum of the ancient, yellowed refrigerator filling the room.
“How do you want it to be between us?” Leo asks. He grips the corner edge of the countertop, digging the sharp point into the palm of his wrapped hand. His eyes are locked on you, desperately trying to read your expression.
You take a shaky breath, watching him study your face, and lean back against the countertop behind you. You cross your arms in an effort to comfort yourself, to try and steady your speeding pulse, but to no avail. You push through the nervousness. “I want to trust you again.” Leo’s mask pinches up. “And I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” Leo says sincerely.
“No,” you shake your head, squeezing your arms to hide how your hands are trembling. “You don’t trust me. At least, you didn’t trust me. If you trusted me, trusted my abilities, you would’ve never left me behind as you did.” It feels like you’ve run a marathon and you’re chasing your words with your breath, but you hold firm. As nerve-racked as you are, each sentence that comes out of your mouth soothes a broken part of you. A part that once wanted to scream these words at his face, try to make him understand, make him see you for who you are.
“(Y/N),” Leo says your name, his voice tense, but intentionally gentle. He takes a hesitant step forward, but stops before crossing the line drawn between you. He wants to say more, tell you how much he’s changed, how he sees how strong you are, but his tongue is too heavy, and it refuses to listen to his heart.
You sigh, wishing he would say more. You push off the counter slowly, dropping your hands to your sides. As you walk past him, he grabs your wrist gently. You stop, but don’t turn around. If I turn around, you think, I won’t be able to walk away.
“(Y/N),” Leo says earnestly. “I can’t express to you how sorry I am for what I did.”
“I know,” you say, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “But I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t… I don’t know what to do here, Leo.” You grit your teeth, fighting the urge to cry. The touch of his hand is familiar, soothing, and your hand flexes as he slowly lets go, his hand brushing against your open palm before withdrawing.
“Will you look at me?” He asks quietly.
Those few words pull at your heartstrings, remembering him begging you to look at him back at the farmhouse, after he had to face what he had done. Hesitantly, you turn around with glossy eyes.
His heart twists seeing your stricken expression. A tear slips out over your cheek, and his breath catches. Leo reaches out and brushes the tear away. “I promise you,” he says, holding the side of your face, “I will make it up to you. If it’s the last thing I do, I will make it right.”
You lift your hand and pull his from your face, placing a soft kiss on the side of his palm before quickly removing yourself from the kitchen before anything else can happen. You wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling to clear your nose and gain composure again. It’s late, you think. I need to get back to the warehouse. You grab your bag from the conversation pit, slinging the backpack over one shoulder, and when you look up again, Leonardo is standing near the edge of the conversation pit, his shell facing the pool of water you once fell into.
“Can I at least walk you home?” He asks, his voice soft.
You hesitate, gripping the backpack strap tightly, looking off toward the turnstiles before back at Leo’s striking blue eyes.
“I won’t be able to sleep without knowing you made it home safely,” Leo says. “And without your phone, you won’t have a way to let any of us know.”
“I rode Karai’s bike here,” you say.
“We can load it in the Shellraiser,” he suggests.
You pause, considering it, then nod your head. “Okay,” you say, relaxing your grip. You step out of the conversation pit, following Leo up the steps into Donnie’s lab to get through to the garage. You say goodbye to Donnie as you walk through, but he’s so engrossed in working on your phone that he gives an unintelligible mumble in response. Donatello’s wearing a sort of headgear with multiple gadgets around the band, a large magnifying glass adapter stretched out in front of him on an arm, honed in on the circuitry in your shell-shaped phone. His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses.
The drive home is quiet, despite the loud thumping of your heart in your ears. Where do we go from here? You think of asking Leo. How can you prove you won’t leave me behind again? You cling to your black backpack in your lap, watching a few late-night drivers pass by the Shellraiser without giving it a second glance. Once you reach the warehouse, Leo walks you to the front door. He stands at the bottom of the few concrete steps, watching you grab the spare key and unlock the door before placing it back in its hiding spot.
“I know I’ve broken promises before,” Leo says, “but I won’t break this one. I won’t ever make another promise to you again if I can’t keep it.”
You turn to look at him, one hand on the doorknob, the other holding onto the strap of your backpack. You give him a slight nod of your head. “Goodnight, Leo,” you say quietly.
✨A/N: T~T I love them both so much, why do I torture them so?! If you'd like to read the rest of this Fanfic, you can check it out at: Quotev Link Here
