my angel, how i’ve longed for you
Leon’s a good friend; he always has been. He picks you up in his car, he buys your lunch, and he listens to you ramble about whatever’s on your mind. It’s a relationship that time has only made stronger.
Which is why you started casually dropping the L bomb.
Little “love you’s” after he does something nice. Like when he gets you a gift because it ‘reminded him of you,’ or when you hang up the phone as a parting.
He’s never said it back. Not until now, when you’re crying in front of him about feeling alone.
content: close friendship, references to loneliness, some yearning
song: Angel - Alice Phoebe Lou
Leon’s car was warmed up, resting in the parking lot of his apartment complex as you two sat there after dinner.
On this day, you were feeling particularly emotional. Perhaps it was because Leon had been away on a mission and only returned in recent days.
To put it simply, you were lonely.
When you turned your body to face his, you pouted a little. “Leon… I really missed you.”
His eyes raked over your face. Without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the center console to pull you in for a hug. With his hand around your shoulder, he leaned his cheek into your hair.
You wrapped your own arms against him, hand moving soothingly up and down his back.
He didn’t say anything else as you two embraced. It was firm, able to be categorized as one between two trusting individuals.
You closed your eyes as he ran his fingers through the strands of your hair. Breathing him in, you could smell the cedar of his cologne and the leather of his jacket.
“I’m just glad you’re home safe,” you whispered.
He never spoke of the weight of missions—of the near-death experiences he constantly faced. Not unless it was in a debrief.
With you, though, he could exhale as if he was finally home after a long day.
The two of you finally parted after a few long moments, opting to enter his living space. It wasn’t the largest, but it was his. Worn books on the coffee table, a collectible from his favorite film, and a framed photo of you two at whichever work Christmas party he dragged you to.
He kicked his boots off by the door, and you followed, leaving your shoes behind as he began towards the closet.
Not needing to ask, he tossed you a hoodie. Your top was thin, and you smiled. You began peeling it off, aching to replace it with the clothes permeated with his scent.
He didn’t stare, no, but he gave you a soft look. A flicker of the eyes, because it was so natural for you to be so comfortable around him. He was appreciative of it. Your love ran deep.
He gave you space, turning into the kitchen to get the kettle going. It might have been late for coffee, but Leon was a drinker nonetheless. He prepared you a tea, though. The kind he kept in his cabinet because he knew it was your favorite.
You sat on the couch, listening to the hum of his fridge and the late D.C. traffic outside.
He returned within minutes, carrying the two steaming mugs. You took yours with an appreciative smile and leaned back against the cushions.
He sank down beside you, not close enough to invade your personal space. He’d always been thoughtful like that.
He took a slow sip of his black coffee, eyes slightly drooping as exhaustion began to make way over his body. This mission wasn’t as bad as other ones, but he’d still lost sleep. Still lost another tiny piece of himself.
You never asked, because you knew it wasn’t your place to.
Instead, you distracted yourself by blowing on the steam atop your mug. Your face scrunched when it hit you back, and Leon smiled. Just barely.
You snuck a glance at him, fingers still cradling your mug. “What?” you asked, your own smile forming.
“Nothing,” he mumbled. Yet, the adoration lingered in his eyes.
“Yeah, okay,” you said, unconvinced. And then, you teased him, just because you could. “You weirdo.”
He huffed under his breath, head tilting forward as he shook it. He faced you a bit more. With his free hand, he poked your cheek using his index finger.
You smiled, enough to make your eyes crinkle at the corners. “Stop,” you giggled, swatting him away uselessly.
He did, but didn’t retreat. He shifted a little closer on the couch, and rested his shoulder against yours.
You didn’t need to talk as you sipped on your drinks. Speaking wasn’t necessary anymore, not when the air could fill itself with your shared history. With all the late night hang-outs, uncontrollable laughs after dumb jokes, and every small touch given.
Leon finished his beverage first. He leaned forward to set it down on the coffee table and when he leaned back again, his arm draped itself behind your shoulder. Not yet pulling you in, but it was an invitation for you to come closer.
And you absolutely did. Gladly, your side pressed against his. The side of your head, where your hair brushed his cheek, was his favorite spot. He did the same thing then, face smushed against you.
He exhaled slowly, his thumb rubbing circles into the hoodie.
Eventually, you finished your tea. When you set it down, you finally broke the silence.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” you said quietly. Unsure.
He pulled back enough to look at you, to show you had all his attention.
You sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Sometimes… I feel like, I don’t know… I need— I need more. Not from you, but in general.”
Leon never interrupted. He couldn’t, given what you were implying. His hand remained on you, grounding you into continuing.
“Sometimes I feel so alone,” you admitted. Your eyes glassed over, and you avoided his gaze. Crying was something you rarely allowed in front of others, even Leon.
“Like no one— no one understands the emptiness that I always carry with me.” You finally looked at him, sniffling with a tiny smile. “Except you, maybe.”
He softened, and he pulled you into a hug. A quiet understanding passed between you, and the proximity lended itself as a balm to you both.
You cried as you held onto him, fingers gripping his jacket. “I missed you so much,” you confessed. It was much more raw than when you had said it earlier. Realer, more pained. It came from the soul, where you’d been crumbling. Where you’d been scared for him and his life.
He cracked, feeling his heart getting torn apart for worrying you. He pressed a kiss onto your head, and again, and again, until he felt that it was enough. But really, nothing would make up for the time he was away.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
Your breaths were uneven, catching like that of a frail child.
But to Leon, you were so strong. Brilliant where it mattered, and so understanding of all his secrecy. You smiled through your hurt and loved him so deeply, even though he felt like he didn’t deserve it.
He held you tighter, rocking you back and forth until you soothed.
You pulled back after a while, wiping at your eyes clumsily. “Sorry,” you said, smiling at yourself for crying. “I’ve just been extra sad lately.”
He helped you wipe your tears, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Don’t be sorry,” he returned.
“You don’t think I’m being dramatic?”
He frowned at the mere idea. “No, not at all.” He paused before adding, “I think you’ve been carrying too much for too long.”
You frowned, face morphing like a little baby’s. “But you do too,” you argued.
He felt like smiling, thinking your expression was the cutest he’d ever seen. He didn’t. Instead, his eyes narrowed lightheartedly. “This isn’t about me.”
“I still feel selfish,” you said quietly.
He sighed, more in understanding. He kissed your forehead and took your hands in his. “Wanting comfort, or wanting me here isn’t selfish.” His eyes looked into yours, firm and genuine. “I want to be the person you lean on.”
You cried a little more then, still frowning. You leaned into him, pressing your face into his shirt. “I love you.”
Tears came out faster, because he’d never said those words back to you. Not until now. You realized that, but you didn’t point it out. The moment felt too frail.
‘I love you,’ is sacred to Leon. They’re words he’s rarely uttered to another person. To you, though, how you say them so freely to him… it feels right to return them.
Looking at you sleep in his grasp, he wasn’t sure why it took him so long. Maybe because it made it too real.
The feeling you brought him ran much deeper than a casual friendship; it was a soul-tie. That was enough to terrify him.
Seeing you feel like you have no one—like you’re missing a piece of yourself—hurts him. It hurts him so much, because he wants to be that last piece for you.
Maybe, someday, he’ll work up the courage to tell you.