Work Text:
His fist felt heavy, like rocks at the end of his arms. His feet numb and overworked but they continued to carry him to his bedroom. This feeling wasn't unfamiliar. After years of being broken and remade, this was exactly what he was designed to do. His displeasure meant he served his purpose.
There was no room for complaints so Leo pressed forward.
A weapon. Leo was burned, melted, and broken into a mold. Remade from boy to tool. His personal feelings mattered little to his efficiency, or so he was told for years.
So those questions and comments were still unfamiliar.
"Are you alright, Leo?" Someone asked. It wasn't clear who, his vision was blurred and hearing was fuzzy.
"You good, Leo?"
"Leo?"
The voices of his companions blurred into a puddle. His feet continued to move and their own. The only noise that registered was the sound of his door slamming shut.
Then Leo was seated on the floor.
Everything hurt.
He never allowed himself to acknowledge that.
But now, everything hurt. Everything was so heavy. His fingers burned and every muscle within his skin felt ready to melt.
His head swayed and his breath was hot. Was everything spinning?
His bed was right there, he was looking at it. Why did it feel so far away?
Did he push himself today? No, of course not. He never gave enough so how could he do too much?
But his body fell to the ground and his breathing became more spaced. Then everything was sideways. The hard wood floor against his body was no doubt awful compared to the blurry view of warm blankets just paces away. Yet Leo was convinced the floor was the greatest luxury he could ever earn.
The door was against his spine and with his ear pressed against the ground, he occasionally heard steps pass him room. It the best thing his friends could do for him, a reminder that time kept marching on and he was still alive and breathing.
Leo laid, a pile of heavy limbs on his bedroom floor. The wood was hard and his joints began to ache but Leo didn't move an inch. One would think he had been planted there, still as a statue.
The moon shined past the empty bed just steps away and instead bathed Leo in it's low, cold light. How good it wasn't the sun, Leo didn't deserve Eona's warmth.
His head panged and his hair fell to cover his eyes. If tears fell, they were hidden and silent.
Leo slept in all the comfort he deserved.