#queertmntzine

Now, maybe for the first time in his life, he's a little grateful for it. The shapes and swirls where the different paints bleed into one another gives him something to trace with his eyes, busy his mind.

His dad had called him into the kitchen five minutes ago, told him to sit, and they've been lingering in the tensest silence he's ever experienced since.

He's not entirely sure what this is about. There are many things he wishes his dad would never find out, and just as many he probably will anyway.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks and immediately cringes, digging his nail into the soft wood. He's nineteen now and the words make him feel impossibly childish.

(art by @/djcarnationsblog) Splinter's face does a complicated thing, like he's not sure himself, which doesn't make Leo feel much better.

“No,” he says anyway. “No, it's not- I just wanted to...” He looks into his cup for a moment, like he's trying to read the tea leaves for answers. Leo wonders if he should tell him you're supposed to drink it first. “I just wanted to ask how you're doing.”

Leo blinks. He watches his dad stir his drink, the leaves sticking to the spoon.

“Good?” He finally says, unsure.

Not because he's uncertain about the answer, but because he still can't imagine where this is headed. Conversations with his dad often feel like a strange sort of dance, and he never knows the right steps.

“Good, good.” Dad nods, a little too quickly. “And how is that, uhm... Usagi-boy doing?”

Leo stops tracing the lines in the wood, frowning.

“Good,” he repeats.

Usagi has been a part of his life for six months now, quickly squeezing his way right into the tight and warm spot under Leo's heart.

None of his siblings questioned him when he first brought Usagi down to The Lair, or when he started coming home just a little later than usual, or when their hands started to find each other under tables and blankets. And it wasn't until some weeks had passed that Donnie looked up at him from his phone, clearing his throat.

“Is your boyfriend coming over?” He asked.

There was a second, silent question woven into that sentence, and Donnie's face was neutral in that particular way of his that always let Leo know how hard he was trying to keep it that way.

Leo said, in answer to both of them:

“Yes.”

And that was that.

(art by @/sariphantom) In all of this, his dad has remained rightfully uninterested in the lives of his children's friends, giving them the wide space they needed to finally start breathing on their own. Thinking about it, Leo's not even sure he ever saw him and Usagi talk about anything other than the weather, so the question makes his brain tick nervously, like a broken clock going over the same hour again and again.

“Do you... Want to talk about him?” He asks, unsure. Then his face hardens a little, his shoulders tense. “I told you he's not a bad influence, that thing at Hueso's was my idea-”

Dad waves his hand, vaguely annoyed at just the mention of that whole ordeal.

“Well- Yes, I suppose this is about him, too,” he sighs.

Leo frowns, sucking on his teeth.

“Okay?”

“I mean, you're...” Dad starts, then pauses for a moment, staring down at his own hands. “Good friends, right?”

Leo stills.

It's pure instinct, making him pause before he even fully registers what threw him off. The word 'friends' echoes in his mind like the swing of an axe, splitting him right down in the middle.

He racks his brain, looks for any scraps of conversation, any moment they might've previously shared that would've clued his dad in, let him know that 'friends' was putting things lightly – and comes up empty handed.

To Leo, being gay always felt integral. Almost physical, like a core part of his being that was always there and always would be.

Something that he'd never get rid of. Something so intertwined, rooted in everything that he was, that he’d need to tear himself hollow if he ever wanted to try. It was always close, tucked away somewhere between his ribs, and it felt so natural, so plain and simple that mentioning it in any way almost seemed redundant.

He never came out. There wasn't anything he was hiding behind to begin with.

The way he and his brothers grew up, so intertwined with each other, often left Leo feeling like he didn't need to tell them anything at all, which was an idea both foolishly sentimental and vaguely dangerous. But it rang true in this case.

Now, sitting at the world’s ugliest table, he starts to realize that maybe, maybe, his assumptions were lacking in a few major details. A few major people.

“Right,” he says slowly, testing the words on his tongue. “It's- Yeah.”

He's not sure why he says it. But there's something hanging in the air between them, like a smell he can't quite identify, and it makes him want to stall.

“I mean, it just seems like you're really... Close.” Dad finishes, lamely, like he's cringing a little at his own words.

Leo knows what this is now. It's a wave crashing down, something he didn't even realize had been looming over them for the longest time, and he's entirely unprepared for it.

It leaves him confused, unsure of his footing. His dad was never the one for this sort of honesty, raw and open, and the fact that he seems to be now makes Leo wonder if this is something that needs it. If it's anything other than a simple fact, something to glance over and nod along with.

That makes his muscles tense, his guard raised.

“Well, yeah,” he bites, harsher than he intended. “What's wrong with that?”

He knows the idea is absurd. The idea that out of everything – this would be the one thing that would prove his family's love conditional. He wishes the knowledge would make the nagging fear in the back of his brain feel at least a little less real.

Dad raises both hands defensively, something panicked etched into his face, and that makes Leo breathe a little deeper.

“Nothing, nothing, of course, I'm not- It's not-” Dad sighs, putting one hand to his face to rub his eyebrow. “I'm not good at this.”

Leo thinks there's some truth in that.

In so many ways, his dad always seemed to see right through him, like there were some parts he remembered from a long time ago that Leo never quite managed to get rid of – old down feathers that never shed. And in just as many ways they were strangers, like only people who cared about each other so deeply it hurt could be.

Leo felt like his moon, sometimes. Lost without him and never able to bring himself to reach closer.

“Can you just tell me what this is about?” He asks, even if he already knows.

The worst possible thing, Leo imagines, would be for things to feel different afterwards.

Like his dad would look at him after and it wouldn't be the same, like someone had swapped Leo out for a nearly identical copy, but slightly to the left. That he'd never be able to fit into the old image he had of him.

He never even entertained this idea before, but now it sticks in his mind like a needle.

“Is there something I should know?” Splinter says, finally.

Leo feels the mug warm his fingers; his knuckles angled in a tight grip. He thinks it's the only thing keeping his body from going completely numb. They linger there for a moment, both silent and still, and Leo closes his eyes until stars bloom behind his eyelids.

“I don't know,” he says. “Yes? I mean, I guess?” He puts a hand to his forehead. “Oh, gee.”

There's a difference between 'something I should know' and 'something you want to tell me', and Leo feels that difference in each of his bones.

“Yes.” It sounds far too much like a question, soaking with hesitation, but it's a start.

“Yes?” Dad puts his mug down on the table, but he doesn't let go of it, his fingers tense. He seems just as nervous as Leo, which makes him feel a little better.

Leo looks down into his own mug, like he's staring over the edge of a deep, deep ravine.

No turning back now, he supposes.

“He's uhm...” He swallows, hard. “Yeah. He's my boyfriend.”

The word leaves his mouth and it's like something heavy spilling from his heart, and he's almost numb with how light he feels now. Leo lets his words linger, soak into the air, and when he finally looks back at his dad, he almost sits up a little straighter with surprise.

There's something new and unexpected on Splinter's face, something like desperate relief, and he leans back against the chair, heavy with a sigh.

“Oh,” he says, all casual. “Good.”

Leo raises a hand to his face, unable to swallow down a rather hysterical giggle.

“Good? That's all you're gonna say?”

Some of the tension lifts from his shoulders and he breathes, feeling rather foolish for riling himself up. There's something familiar in all this now, the desperate fear of a misstep. It's sweet, in a way, the carefulness his dad seems to have approached all of this with, even if it feels wildly unnecessary and needlessly stressful.

Leo picks up his cup, swirling the tea around, before holding it up to his face.

“You know,” dad says, “when I had a boyfriend-”

Leo's cup slams back onto the table so hard it makes the bones in his hand rattle. He keels over, throat rippling with a sudden cough.

He feels his dad reach out, a hand patting his back until he's able to straighten once again, his nose sore.

“What?” He manages, hoarsely. “What do you mean boyfriend?”

Dad gives him a look, like he doesn't quite understand what he's talking about, which is weird, because Leo is supposed to be the confused one.

He clears his throat, trying again:

“You're gay?” He says, then quickly corrects himself. “Or, like-” He wants to say 'queer' but doesn't, suddenly unsure if his dad will even recognize the word in this context. “... Something like that?” He finishes, lamely.

Dad looks at him like he thinks he's being stupid but in a cute sort of way, like a small child or a kitten, fumbling their way through life.

“It was the 80's.” He laughs softly, like he's remembering a fond memory, bringing his mug closer to his face. “Everyone was gay back then.”

For a moment, Leo just watches him drink his tea, silent and unmoving. He feels heavy and a little hazy, like he just woke up to find the floorboard next to his bed missing. The last fifteen minutes dragged him all over the place, like a wild roller-coaster he did not sign up for, and he feels like throwing up, just a little.

“I don't think that's how this works,” he says, because he has to say something.

Dad waves his free hand.

“It was a different time back then.”

He sounds so sure of himself that Leo almost nods out of pure instinct.

“Okay,” he says, a little defeated.

His dad still looks deeply pleased with himself.

“I just thought, you know. Maybe I could give you some advice and all that.”

Leo's face twists, like he just bit into a lemon.

“Oh, please don't.” He already knows a little too much about his dad's past love life, and he's not very keen to learn more.

Dad frowns.

“What? Why not?”

Leo blinks at his tone.

“Is this-” He hesitates for just a moment. “Is that why you're making such a big deal out of this?”

Dad looks away quickly, suddenly flustered.

“Well, sorry for trying to share some wisdom,” he mutters under his breath.

The world clicks back into place.

“You just wanna talk about yourself,” Leo laughs, crossing his arms over his chest in mock offense. “What, you think you’re an expert in this?”

“No,” Splinter lies.

“You've already stolen my moment.” Leo leans down, nudging his dad's knee under the table with his foot. “Cruel and selfish father.”

Dad makes a face, like he's starting to regret the years he put into raising him. Leo doesn't mind. His heart feels lighter – that familiar, undeniable spot between his ribs blooming with something warm.

He takes a breath, the air light.