do you feel love?

It'd been a long week. Monday, your car broke down on the highway, making you an hour late to work. Tuesday, one of your coworkers ate the lunch you brought in for work, throwing off your plans. Wednesday was shockingly uneventful. Thursday, your allergies flared up and bothered you all day long, even after taking medicine. Friday, you finally got the call back for your car from the repair shop, and had to pay 2k just for some shit you could've had Leon fix. Today, you reached a breaking point.

Coming home around 5 p.m., you tried to shower to relax and unwind. You ran out of shampoo, so you had to use Leon's. Not a bad thing, just a slight inconvenience for your routine. You ran out of moisturizer for your face, meaning you had to cut open the bottle and scrape out the last bits, and it wasn't even enough to feel comfortable on your skin. Your laundry hadn't dried when you put it in the dryer earlier that morning, so it smelled of wet mildew, making you restart the washer. It all built up until you realized you'd run out of your favorite snack, which was what you'd looked forward to all day because it was a comfort food for you.

In a flurry of overwhelming frustration, you found yourself struggling to breathe steadily. Being in an apartment meant that you couldn't scream and cry the way you felt like you needed, so you sank to the floor and curled up in the corner of the floor cabinets, pulling at your hair and the neck of your sweater. Your body heated up from the anger. You ripped the sweater off, throwing it aside and pressing your back against the cabinets to try and ground yourself.

The efforts were useless. Your head felt tight, your throat squeezing with every breath. Like a boa constrictor found its way around your neck and head, consuming every bit of you in the worst ways. Your hands clawed at the hardwood flooring, tears working their way down your cheeks as you choked on your own heaves and cries. You couldn't focus on anything, not even yourself.

When Leon came in, he froze at the sound of heaving and crying. He barely kicked the door shut before rushing to the source. He found you on the floor, and immediately checked you for physical injuries, kneeling in front of you. He didn't get to finish checking as you used your leg to push him away in the least aggressive way you could at the moment. You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut.

"Hey, hey, baby," he stopped himself from reaching out. He knew how overwhelmed you got in moments like this. He hated to see you like this, but when you needed to just scream or cry, or both, he never interrupted. He just sat with you. You squirmed in place, uncomfortable and angry with yourself. Your hands came back from the floor, arms crossing over your chest. Your nails, some broken and jagged from the scratching, dug into your skin and subconsciously clawed at your biceps, like you were trying to find a less 'pathetic' reason to cry.

Leon reached out, grabbing your hands. You tried to pull away, stifling a scream as his hands felt like a searing hot pan. It wasn't his fault, you both knew.

"You're scratching, angel." He warned, his grip tightening around your clenched fists. "You're hurting yourself." He murmured, thumbs gentle as they eased over the skin of your wrists.

Soon, your breathing leveled out just enough to sputter out an explanation to him.

"It's too much." You sobbed. "I'm so tired. I don't know why I'm crying so much." You hiccuped, chest heaving with a shaky inhale. "I'm so, so tired. Of everything."

Leon frowned, upset with himself at how little he'd noticed the build up to this moment, but listened nonetheless. His hands worked their way to intertwine with your fingers, and now that you'd eased out of anger and fell into guilt and sadness, you accepted his touch.

"I hate having a job. I hate having to drive. I hate having to buy things. I hate it. I hate all of it. I just wanna stay home." You sniffled, voice shaking. Your words slurred together slightly due to the tears, and the way your spit built up around your lips. Leon reached up to the counter for a paper towel, gently wiping it over your lips.

"I know, angel. I know." He whispered. "I know, but you're okay. It doesn't feel okay right now, and that, in itself, is perfectly fine." He soothed.

Slowly, almost with caution, he reached out to cradle the back of your head, getting you to stop pressing your head into the cabinet, which was definitely causing the headache you felt coming on. Your head pressed into his palm, seeking the pressure it provided.

"I paid two thousand for a stupid repair that you could've done for a quarter of the price." You sniffled, another sob ripping from your throat as your nails dug into your palms.

"Things like that happen. Those people are dickbags, most likely. We just won't go back to that repair shop, okay? No reason to beat yourself up about it. Things like that are why we have our emergency funds." He soothed, gently threading his fingers through your hair.

As his voice soothed the anger and frustration, you were left with the sadness and self-pity stage of your meltdown. His touch felt cooler now, so you leaned in, finding yourself slotted in his lap, hiccuping and sobbing against his chest.

"I've got you. I'm right here." He whispered, his lips pressing to your head as he rubbed a hand over your back and played with your hair.

The crying continued for a while. Incoherent apologies left your lips, but he just soothed you through the entire thing, letting you cry. He rocked your body back and forth, patting your back. It'd seem childish, but the vibrations of the patting was always soothing, combined with the fluid movements of his rocking.

Once you grew quiet, he reached up and grabbed another tissue, handing it to you. You took it and used it to wipe your cheeks and blow your nose. He handed you another, which you used to wipe the spit that had accumulated around your lips.

"Feel okay?" He asked gently, brushing your hair from your face. You didn't respond, just leaning deeper into him. "It's okay. You don't have to feel okay. Are you hungry?" He asked. You nodded. "Good. I found a little food vendor down the street who was selling small packs of the snack you like, so I grabbed you a couple. They're in my work bag." He said, watching you look up at him. Tears welled again, but this time, it was tears of appreciation. It was moments like this that reminded you of how much Leon truly knew you. Whether he knew you ran out or not, he picked your snack up just because he knew you liked it.

He picked you up and carried you over to the couch, laying you down and grabbing the snacks from his bag before he disappeared down the hall and came back with your nail kit, laying down with you. Usually, you'd lay above him, but today, you maneuvered yourself to where he laid on top of you. The weight of his body provided the pressure that you needed to de-stress now that you'd stopped crying.

"You wanna fix your nails?" He asked as you opened up one of the small snack bags. You looked at your nails, nodding softly. He took your free hand and began cutting and filing the jagged nails, taking the utmost care to keep as much safe length without it becoming an issue for anything you did. He fixed each nail with care, and soon, they looked good as new. He laid his head on your chest as he surfed through TV channels, deciding on some rerun of an old romcom that you'd mentioned in passing.

"Yknow I love you, right, angel?" He asked. You nodded. "I'll always be right here. No matter what happens." He pressed a kiss to your chest, looking back up at you. You nodded. Words were always hard after a meltdown, so you resorted to touches. You reached for his hand and squeezed it three times. He nodded in understanding, laying his head back down.

"I love you, too." He murmured.

Meeting you helped that. Something about you helped him a lot, helped him find safety in a person for what he felt was the first time. Over the first year of being with you, his body naturally let the tears flow when it got bad. The first time, he apologized through sobs, trying to hide from you as he fought to stop the flow of hot tears. You never told him to calm down, to stop, to get a hold of himself. You just held him once he stopped running from you. You let him fal against your chest, curled against you as he cried into your shoulder and gripped onto you like you were going to leave if he didn't hold you like you were his lifeline.

Leon still didn't cry often. You cried a lot, much more emotional than him, often crying over movies or books or how small and cute an animal looked. Leon found it adorable and so human that you felt so deeply. You rubbed off on him over the years, and now, with everything piled up from Spain, Leon came home around 6 p.m. with tears staining his cheeks, eyes puffy and red, breath uneven and shaky as he dropped his keys and bag, barely making it to the couch before he collapsed.

You heard the door open and close, so you rushed out to greet him, only to have your heart squeeze when you found him, body shaking from exhaustion and crying. You stepped carefully to the couch, kneeling down next to it before you reached to gently press a hand to his back. He looked at you, a small hiccup leaving him.

"Hey," you whispered quietly, offering a gentle smile as your other hand brushed hair out of his face. "Gotta cut your hair soon, 's gettin' long again." You observed quietly.

Leon sniffled, blinking some tears away so his vision would clear up momentarily to look at you and take in your features. He reached out, shaky palm touching your cheek. You pressed your cheek into his touch, kissing the spot where his palm and wrist met. It stayed quiet as his tears slowed, comforted and relieved by the reassurance that you were still here, still loving him, still his.

"I almost died." His voice shook. Your heart squeezed, but you let it sit in the back of your mind as you stood and gestured for him to sit up. He was dirty, very much in need of a shower, but his emotional comfort came first. He sat up, and you took your spot next to him. He didn't hesitate to crawl to your lap, head burying into your chest. He was like a large dog that never understood how big he was, never getting rid of his lapdog habits. You liked it. Especially in moments such as these.

"I'm glad you made it home." You whispered softly, hand brushing through his hair.

"I almost didn't." He seemed to dwell on how close he'd come to death, how close he'd come to that goddamn parasite being the reason he almost never saw you ever again.

"Lee," you lifted his head, making him look at you so you could cup his cheeks. "You made it, baby. You're home. You're safe."

"I was so scared." Another sob bubbled from his throat, and you let him hide himself, holding onto you tighter than he ever had in the past. "I was so fucking scared. I wasn't sure I'd make it back to you, and it was so late when I left, you were barely awake a-and the last thing I would've done with you was leave you behind in the middle of the night while you were barely awake to hear me say goodbye." He practically heaved, clutching you tighter as his fingertips dug into your clothes.

You let him rant, sob, and squeeze you for as long as he needed. It took another twenty minutes for him to calm down, to realize that all of the 'almost' and 'what if' scenarios weren't reality. Once he eased out of his panic, he melted against you, beyond exhausted and drained.

"Just close your eyes." You muttered softly, laying back on the couch. He shifted, laying his head on your belly. "I'll be here. Just rest. Take your time and breathe." You brushed through his hair, fingers gently massaging his scalp.

"Will you shower with me when I wake up?" He asked, looking up at you with glossy eyes.

"I'll do that and whatever you need." You nodded. Leon snuggled closer, holding tight around you like it was the only thing regulating his nervous system right now. It was, and you both knew that. Leon laid there, dozing off over a twenty minute stretch of time, your fingers soothing through his hair and massaging his shoulders and shoulder blades, his body finally going limp as he let himself slip into a much needed sleep, finally realizing he was safe, you were safe, and you were still here for him to come home to, for him to love and take care of for the rest of your days together. That's all he wanted.

He didn't wake up until the clock ticked just past 10 p.m., long past dinnertime. He should've stayed asleep, and you hoped he would've, but he heard a car revving their engine a little too loud outside the apartment building, causing it to give that backfire sound that sounded far too similar to a gunshot. Leon grasped onto you, heart dropping as he shot upright, only to be dizzy with how quickly he'd rushed to try and stand. You eased him back to lay over you, letting him groan.

"It was just a car. They've been doing it all week." You reassured him.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"Don't be." You slid a hand over his forehead to hold his hair back, making his brows furrow.

"That's my forehead." He looked up at you.

"I know." You hummed, scanning his temples and face for any bruises. You noticed a cut on his cheek, clearly not taken care of. You found another bruise at his cheekbone opposite of the cut. "Let's get you in the shower so I can make sure you're not hiding any cuts or anything from me."

"I'm not." He huffed, but he followed your lead as you stood up with him, tailing behind as you went straight to the bathroom and reached for the first aid kit beneath the bathroom sink, readied for once he was cleaned off.

"Do you want a bath or a shower?" You asked.

"Shower then bath?" He asked, quiet, almost shy.

You nodded. "We'll wash the yuck away, then we can just soak and talk."

You let the shower warm up, helping Leon out of his clothes to avoid having him hurt his muscles further. It ached to move, to stand. You gave him a scan, only finding a few scratches and bruises along his body. You helped him into the shower, letting him soak in the hot water. He tilted his head back, wetting his hair. You scrubbed it with shampoo, and he rinsed it. You ran conditioner through the ends of his hair, letting it sit as you washed yourself. Usually, Leon would wash you in return, but you refused to let him pamper you when he needed your pampering more. Once you were both clean and rinsed fully, you let the tub fill with water. Leon had to hold onto you to ease down, muscles of his legs burning with the slow descent.

"The water will help you feel better." You reminded him, reaching out to gently massage the tense muscles of his achey thighs.

"I know." He whined, leaning back. He let you massage him, allowing you to help him stretch his arms and torso to relieve some of the ache.

After about 15 minutes, you let some water drain, refilling the tub with hot water. You knew baths weren't the best for water bills, but he needed it. Once you finished your gentle massage, he turned around and leaned back into you, head laying against your shoulder. You played with his hair as it dried. Having such short hair made his hair quick to dry, combined with the lack of thickness. He had a lot of hair, but it wasn't thick or thin, just normal. Before he dozed off again, you coaxed him into getting out of the tub. He reluctantly agreed, letting you guide him to stand as you dried him off gently. Once he was dry, you cleaned the scratches and scrapes, placing a bandaid or bandage over some. You applied some ointment to the bad bruises, being extra gentle to not apply pressure to the ones that made him stifle a hiss.

Leon knew you'd always take care of him, but he was still not fully used to the routine of your love. Despite being together for a few years now, he was always a little awkward with you taking care of him. Now, he wanted to thank you, but you hated it. You didn't want him to feel like he needed to show gratitude for the bare minimum of being loved. So once you finished caring for his bruises and scrapes and scratches, he pulled you close. Both of you were still unclothed, but it didn't mean anything. The skin-to-skin helped, if anything. Leon held you close to him, and you returned his embrace.

"I love you. So much." You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, just below where you'd placed a small bandage over the cut on his cheekbone.

"I love you so much more." His voice shook, but he wasn't crying this time. Just the sheer love and gratitude making him a little emotional.

"You wanna lay back down? Or are you hungry?" You asked softly.

"Can we go back to sleep?" He asked, still holding on.

"Yeah. Let's get to the bedroom." You nodded, letting him lead to the bedroom. Neither of you bothered with clothes, unconcerned with temperature with how warm Leon stayed 24/7. It was nothing new, especially after missions. Leon just needed to feel you to realize that it was all real and not a dream. He'd even have you pinch him sometimes.

You two laid together, blankets loosely draped over your bodies. "I'll make us some breakfast in the morning."

"Can we just order something? I don't wanna get up til we have to.." He asked quietly.

"'Course we can. We'll order breakfast and I'll cook for lunch and dinner. Sound okay?"

"Okay." He curled his head to lay lower against your chest, tugging your waist closer to him to feel as close as humanly possible.

"You're home. You're safe. And I'm still here, forever and always." You gently soothed over his back, tracing scars along his back, arms, and chest with your nails, coaxing his body to relax just with your touch.

He'd definitely need to request a real vacation soon.