thirtyseven
Leo's POV
I wake up slowly.
Not from noise.
Not from sunlight.
From warmth.
Her warmth.
Soft, steady, pressed against my chest.
For a second, I don't open my eyes.
I just feel her-
Her hair against my throat.
Her breath on my collarbone.
Her fingers curled into my shirt like she was afraid I'd disappear in the night.
I lift a hand carefully, brushing a curl away from her cheek.
She shifts.
And murmurs-
"Leo...?"
My heart does something stupid in my chest.
I open my eyes.
She's blinking up at me, sleepy and messy and beautiful in a way that makes my chest squeeze.
Her voice is tiny:
"...You're still here."
I swallow.
Of all the things she could say-
that one destroys me the most.
"Of course I'm here," I whisper, brushing my thumb along her jaw.
"I wasn't going anywhere."
She rubs her face into my chest like she's embarrassed.
A smile pulls at my mouth.
"Don't hide from me," I murmur.
She peeks up.
Her cheeks warm.
"I wasn't hiding."
"You were absolutely hiding," I tease softly.
A little laugh escapes her-barely audible.
God, I missed that sound.
She looks down-
And that's when she realizes what she's wearing.
My shirt.
One of my favorite ones.
The soft black one.
It's huge on her.
Falling off her shoulder.
Bare legs under the hem.
I grip the pillow behind me to keep from groaning out loud.
"Sorry," she whispers, tugging the collar up. "I didn't mean to steal-"
"Don't apologize," I cut in immediately.
"It looks better on you. Keep it."
She freezes.
Blushes.
Hard.
My stomach flips like I'm a teenager.
She leans into me again, cheek on my chest.
For a moment, it's quiet.
Soft.
Then she whispers:
"Last night felt like... everything."
My eyes close.
Careful, Leo.
Don't ruin this.
Don't overwhelm her.
I run my fingers down her spine slow, gentle.
"Yeah," I murmur. "It did."
She takes a breath.
"Can we... talk for a minute?"
My throat tightens.
"Anything."
She shifts so she's angled on her side facing me.
I mirror her.
Her eyes search mine.
"I needed last night," she says quietly.
"I needed to know I could trust you again."
My chest aches.
"And did it help?" I ask softly.
She nods.
"Yeah. A lot."
I breathe out slowly-relief flooding my veins.
"But," she adds, and my heart stops again.
"I also want to understand you. Like-you went quiet for days. You shut down. You panic-spiral. And I want to know why."
I swallow hard.
Because this-
this is the thing I avoid.
But she deserves the truth.
So I nod slowly and let it out.
"When shit goes wrong," I say softly, "I don't react like normal people. I get angry. I get in my head. And I don't want anyone near me because I'm scared I'll screw up worse."
Her eyes soften.
"And when you ran from me at the apartment..."
I inhale shakily.
"It felt like losing you in real time."
Her lips part.
"So I went into that old version of myself. The one that fights or shuts down or breaks shit to feel something else."
She touches my cheek gently.
I close my eyes at the warmth.
"I don't want to be that guy around you," I whisper.
"Ever."
"You weren't," she says.
"You came after me. You fixed it. You... chose me."
I open my eyes.
She's looking at me like I'm something she's not afraid of anymore.
"I'll always choose you," I say quietly.
Her breath hitches.
She shifts closer-until her forehead rests under my jaw.
We lie there in silence, our breaths in sync.
Finally, she whispers:
"I don't want to lose you either."
Something inside me breaks open.
I tilt her chin up gently.
"Come here," I whisper.
Our lips meet-
soft, slow, full of leftover emotion from last night.
Not hunger.
Just relief.
Just closeness.
When we pull away, she smiles lightly.
"I'm hungry."
I grin.
"Stay here. I'll make you breakfast."
She protests weakly.
"You really don't have to-"
"I want to," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I want to take care of you."
She melts.
Actually melts.
I get out of bed, tugging on sweatpants.
She sits up with the blanket wrapped around her, drowning in my shirt, smiling sleepily.
I swear-
I swear-
I've never wanted to take a picture of something so badly.
"Don't look at me like that," she laughs softly.
"Like what?" I ask, smirking.
"Like you're... obsessed."
I walk toward her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
"Maybe I am."
Her breath catches.
And I head to the kitchen, feeling her eyes follow me-warm, soft, wanting.
The morning light hits her.
And all I can think is:
I never want another morning without her.