How he looks at you.
Leo: He looks at you as if you are the moon to his endless night, it would be the sun but considering how he isn’t outside much during the day and the sun is too bright to actually look at, he looks at you as if you are the moon. To him you are glowing and radiant and mythical, he looks at you as if poets have spent eons describing you yet never fully capturing the feeling that grasps the heart when his gaze falls upon you. You have him captive and with each passing moment of time your mysteries although solved still ignite that fire of wonder and coat his mind with a fog of magic. You pull him in and control him as easily as the moon controls the tides, with such ease that you are not even aware of it.
Donny: You, you magnificent creature of atoms and energy. His eyes drink in every iota of your being because you are biological perfection. He looks at you as if you were a computer, honestly. The genus spends hours analyzing building and designing gadgets, but you are the most amazing creation he never made. From self repairing skin cells to blood vessels to neurons, he could spend years looking at every atom of yours under a microscope and still exclaim how amazing it is, your body, your genetics, and how much more special it is because it is yours. Your eyes were the monitors that he gets lost in, your beating heart is the electric buzz that keeps you in motion, and honestly while Donny isn’t a poet or a traditional artist, you are far more than a fleshy machine because he loves you, and it shows in how he looks at you.
Raph: You hold his gaze captive like a flower, he’s not good with the names of flowers, but they are always beautiful and fragrant. The bright colors the soft petals, how could he not see you as such a fragile thing? Him a large bulky monster and you soft, sweet, delicate yet brimming with life, love, and determination. He is afraid that with one touch he would hurt you but you, like many other kinds of flowers, always come back. You’re always growing, flowering, and always you turn his stomach to butterflies. How could he not look upon you and see anything less than the beautiful resiliency that nature gave you. To him you are the flower blooming after a harsh winter, he is both surprised that you survived in such harsh conditions but also filled with hope that he too could flourish and bloom. Yes to him you are a flower and he would do anything to protect you, much as the little prince would to protect his rose. You always wonder why his nicknames for you were flowers.
Mikey: Some days he looks at you as if you are the best meal he had ever seen, other days you are paint upon a canvas that he longs to fall into. Either way he would never articulate just how your every move is a stroke of a brush on the canvas of his life, how you are the water keeping him from thirst, the proverbial statue beckoning him towards a better tomorrow, because every day that he has with you is better than the last. You, his muse, confidant, friend, and lover, you the ocean that he would shamelessly drown in. You are art, not so much that you are beautiful, because to him you are more beautiful than anything trapped in a museum in all the world, but that you make his heart cry out with emotion. After all, he will tell you on the bad days, art is not meant to be beautiful, it is meant to make people feel, and boy oh boy does he feel when he looks at you. He doodles your eyes and nose and blemishes on every scrap of paper, paints you on the walls, cooks up the flavors that reminds him of you, probably why he keeps putting a lot of toppings on pizza, like jellybeans. You are art and sustenance for him, and it shows in the admiration of his eyes.