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The empty pit in Leo’s stomach burned, gnawed at her insides like something alive and angry. But she ignored it. It was easy, or at least, it was easier than forcing something down her throat.
Eating had stopped making sense days ago. She wasn’t sure when, exactly. It had been gradual, first, meals started feeling like a chore. Then, they felt impossible. Like a task she physically couldn’t complete, no matter how hard she tried.
It wasn't about weight. She didn’t care about that. Though maybe that would’ve been easier to explain.
No, this was something else.
Every bite felt like swallowing sandpaper. Like her throat was closing up around it, forcing her body to reject even the idea of food. Chewing turned her stomach. The thought of forcing something past her lips made her skin crawl like she was covered in something wrong.
She tried. A few times, at least. She’d sat at the table, food in front of her, watching her siblings eat like it was nothing. Because it was nothing, it was natural. It was a thing you did to survive.
But when she brought a piece of food to her mouth, everything inside her screamed no. Her hands would shake, her jaw would lock, and suddenly her own body felt foreign to her, like it wasn’t hers anymore.
So she stopped trying.
At first, Donnie had noticed. They’d commented, offhandedly, that she hadn’t eaten breakfast with them. Mikey had pointed out that she’d skipped dinner the night before. Raph had asked if she’d eaten at all that day, and Leo had lied so smoothly that she almost believed herself.
“Yeah, I ate earlier.”
“Had something at Casey’s.”
“Not hungry.”
The excuses worked. No one pushed. She was the leader. She had it handled.
But even now, her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish. It was getting harder to focus, harder to think, and she could feel herself slipping into old habits, isolating, withdrawing, tucking herself away where no one would bother her.
The dojo was quiet. Safe.
She sat in the center of the room, legs crossed, hands on her knees, eyes closed. Meditating was the closest thing to peace she could get lately. If she could just tune everything else out—her hunger, her exhaustion, the way her skin felt too tight around her bones—then maybe she could get through this.
She was fine. She had to be fine.
The door slid open.
Leo didn’t flinch. She heard the footsteps, recognized them, even before the familiar voice cut through the stillness.
“Yo, Blue.”
Casey.
His voice was softer than usual, which was already a red flag. He wasn't laughing, wasn't teasing. Wasn’t calling her "Bluebell" in that half-mocking, half-sweet way he always did when he was trying to get a rise out of her.
No, this was something else.
Leo exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. “Casey.”
“Y’been dodgin’ me.”
She didn’t respond. There was no point in arguing, because he wasn’t wrong.
Casey sighed, stepping further into the dojo. “Mikey’s worried. Says you ain’t been eatin’.”
Her stomach clenched. “I’m fine.”
“Nah, don’t do that.” He sat down in front of her, arms resting on his knees. His dark eyes studied her, sharp and serious in a way most people didn’t see. “You ain't fine, Blue. Talk t’me.”
She shook her head.
"Leo—"
“I said I’m fine.” Her voice came out sharper than intended, and guilt twisted in her gut at the way he flinched. She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Casey, I just—I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?"
He was quiet for a moment, but she could feel his stare burning into her.
Then, softer, "You ain't gotta do everything alone, y’know."
Her breath caught.
But I do.
Because she was Leo. Because she was the leader, the big sister, the one who had to be strong no matter what. Because she couldn't keep leaning on him, not after everything he already did for her.
Casey stuck around through everything. Through panic attacks and nightmares, through breakdowns and bad sensory days. He held her when she couldn’t breathe, sat with her in silence when words felt impossible, kissed her scars and called her Bluebell like it was the sweetest thing in the world.
He did so much. How could she ask for more?
She swallowed. Everything inside her felt like it was crumbling, unraveling at the seams.
Casey exhaled hard through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. Leo could hear the frustration in the way he shifted, in the way his fingers curled into fists against his knees. He wasn’t mad, she knew that, but he was getting close.
“Leo.”
She didn’t respond.
"Y’can’t keep doin’ this."
"Doin’ what?" Her voice was quiet, steady. Like she could still convince him to drop it.
"You know what. Shuttin’ everybody out, pretendin’ you’re fine when you ain’t.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Mikey’s worried. Donnie’s worried. Raph’s worried. Hell, I’m worried, but you don’t let nobody in.”
Leo inhaled slowly, letting the breath steady her. "I don't need anyone to worry about me."
Casey scoffed. "Too late."
"I can handle myself."
“Yeah? ‘Cause it don’t look like it.”
Her jaw tightened.
Casey sighed again, dragging a hand down his face. "Blue, c’mon. Just tell me what’s wrong. You ain't gotta—"
"There’s nothing to talk about, Casey."
"Bullshit."
She finally looked at him, eyes sharp. "I said I’m fine."
"You ain't."
"I am."
Casey groaned, falling back onto his palms. "Jesus, Leo—why d’you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Act like you don’t need nobody." His voice wasn’t raised, but it was firm, full of a frustration she could tell he was trying to keep in check. "Like you ain't got people who wanna help you."
Leo’s hands curled into fists in her lap. "Because I don’t."
Casey stared at her. "You don’t—Leo, are you hearin’ yourself right now?"
"Yes."
"Then listen t’me." He shook his head, like he was trying to piece his words together without making her shut down more than she already had. "You ain’t gotta do everything alone, Blue. Y’think you do, but you don’t."
Leo clenched her teeth. "I never said I did."
"No, but you act like it. Like you gotta be the strong one all the time, like you can’t let nobody take care’a you." His voice softened, just barely. "That ain’t how this works, babe. We look out for each other. That’s what we do."
Leo looked away. She couldn’t do this.
Casey wasn’t supposed to push. He was supposed to let it go, trust her to handle it. That’s what she needed. But instead, he just kept digging, like he could pull the truth out of her with nothing but stubborn determination.
"I don't need to be taken care of." The words came out sharper than intended.
Casey’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Leo—"
"I mean it."
She looked at him, and there was something in her expression that made him falter.
She could see it, his hands twitching at his sides, his mouth pressing into a tight frown. Like he was trying so hard to keep his temper in check, to not let this turn into something worse.
He took a breath, slow and measured. "Blue."
But Leo shook her head, shifting to stand. "Don’t."
"Leo—"
"Just drop it, Casey."
She turned away before he could respond, shoulders stiff, hands shaking. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not tonight. Not when the weight of everything was already crushing her from the inside out.
Leo’s knee ached with every step, a sharp, persistent pain that pulsed behind her brace. She ignored it. She had bigger problems.
Casey was still watching her from the dojo, and she knew he wanted to follow. She could feel it, the way his body was half-tensed like he was trying to decide if pushing her any further was worth the fight.
It wasn’t.
She just needed to get to her room. Shut the door. Be alone.
The lair was quiet, aside from the faint sounds of a video game coming from the TV in the pit. The blue glow of the screen flickered against the walls, casting shadows as she limped through.
She barely made it past the couch before Mikey popped up from where he was sprawled across the cushions, controller in hand.
“Yo, Leo! You wanna play Mario Kart?”
She shook her head without stopping. She couldn’t, her throat was locked up, words stuck behind a thick, invisible wall in her head.
Mikey’s smile faltered just a little. “You sure? C’mon, one round. I won’t even pick Rainbow Road.”
Leo didn’t respond. She just kept moving, trying to get past him.
One step. Another.
Then the ground lurched.
Her vision blurred, dark at the edges, static creeping into her thoughts like a radio tuned to the wrong station. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea clawing its way up her throat.
The world spun.
Her legs wobbled beneath her.
And then—
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—"
Mikey caught her before she could hit the ground, his arms strong around her shoulders as he held her up against himself.
"Leo?" His voice was right next to her ear, soft but urgent. "Hey, you good?"
She barely heard him. Everything was too much. The sounds, the lights, the weight of Mikey’s arms around her, it all crashed into her at once, too loud, too bright, too close.
Another voice, deeper, rougher.
"Blue—"
Casey.
She flinched, heart hammering, breaths coming too fast, too shallow. She was trapped between them—Mikey on one side, Casey on the other. Their hands on her arms, their voices overlapping, pressing in, pressing down—
Too much. Too much. Too much.
Her chest constricted, lungs burning. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.
With a sharp, frantic movement, she shoved herself away.
Mikey let go immediately, stumbling back, hands raised. "Whoa—"
She hissed through her teeth, body tense, barely keeping herself upright as she wobbled toward her room.
She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.
Leo barely made it to her room before her legs gave out beneath her.
The floor was cold against her skin, but she couldn’t move. Everything felt too heavy. Her limbs, her head, even her thoughts, too many and not enough at the same time.
Her stomach churned violently.
She barely had time to reach for the trash can before she gagged, her body heaving, trying to expel something that wasn’t there.
Nothing came up except bitter acid, burning the back of her throat as she coughed, eyes watering. Her stomach clenched again, desperate for something— anything —to get rid of the gnawing emptiness inside her.
Then it growled.
A cruel reminder.
She squeezed her eyes shut, panting through the nausea. She couldn’t eat. She wouldn’t.
It wasn’t like she wanted to feel like this. She knew she was running on empty. Knew she was getting weaker, slower, struggling to focus. Knew it wasn’t sustainable.
But she needed this. She needed to be in control of something. It was better than the alternative.
Leo curled into herself, pressing a hand to her stomach, trying to will it to stop twisting, to stop hurting .
This was fine. This wasn’t that bad. Not compared to before.
She traced a finger over a faded scar on her arm, barely visible under the dim light of her lamp. There were others—old and new, scattered across her skin like little secrets.
She used to count them when things got bad.
It had been worse before. When everything got too loud, when she felt like she was suffocating under the weight of leadership, of expectations, of failing everyone who needed her, she had needed a way to make the pain real .
Something physical. Something sharp, something controlled.
A blade against her skin was predictable. It hurt exactly how she wanted it to. Nothing more, nothing less. A clean, simple exchange.
But she didn’t do that anymore. Not as often, anyway. Not eating wasn’t as bad as cutting.
It didn’t have the same sting, the same burn, the same immediate relief, but it was something . A slow kind of pain, an ache she could sit with, a quiet punishment she didn’t have to hide.
And unlike a blade, this was easier to excuse.
She wasn’t hurting herself.
She was just forgetting to eat.
Just not hungry.
Just not feeling well.
No one had to know.
She pulled her blanket off the bed and curled up beneath it, arms wrapped around her middle, nausea still rolling through her in slow, sickening waves.
Control.
That’s what it came down to.
Leo had spent her whole life being responsible. Holding things together. Being the leader. The big sister. The one everyone counted on. And most of the time, she was fine with that.
But the thing about control was, she never really had it.
She couldn't stop her siblings from getting hurt. She couldn't stop Splinter from dying. She couldn't stop the nightmares, or the panic attacks, or the way her hands still shook when she thought about the pressure of command, of making the wrong call, of leading them straight into another disaster.
She couldn't stop her brain from shutting down, or the way her stomach twisted at the thought of talking, or the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.
But she could stop herself from eating.
She could choose this.
It was a compromise, better than before. Safer. She didn’t need a knife, or a fresh scar, or another excuse to wear wraps around her brothers.
This was just hunger. It was quiet. Manageable. A pain she could sit with, control, own. She wasn’t hurting anyone but herself. And that was fine. She could handle it.
She must have drifted at some point—not asleep, not really, but caught somewhere between consciousness and nothingness. Time didn’t feel real anymore. The edges of her thoughts blurred together, her head light, her limbs numb and heavy at the same time.
Her door creaked open.
She blinked sluggishly, but she didn't move. Footsteps, slow and careful. The shift of weight as someone sat on the edge of her bed.
Then—warmth.
A hand, rubbing slow, firm circles over her shell. Leo exhaled shakily, and before she could stop herself, she churred. Quiet, instinctive, soft. Casey said nothing at first. He just kept rubbing her shell, grounding, steady. She focused on that. The pressure. The warmth. The steady rhythm of his touch. Everything was still spinning, but the noise in her head faded, just a little.
"You back with me, Bluebell?" His voice was low, careful.
Leo swallowed, blinking up at him. Her throat was still raw, her stomach still twisted up in knots. But the buzzing in her skull had settled a little, enough that she could think again.
She inhaled through her nose, exhaled slow. "M'fine."
Casey let out a short, tired breath. "Yeah. Sure you are."
Leo shifted, forcing herself to sit up. The room still tilted dangerously, but she ignored it.
"You wanna tell me what's goin’ on, or you just gonna keep lyin’ to my face?"
She didn’t answer.
Casey sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. " Leo. "
She looked away. "I don’t wanna do this right now."
"Yeah? Too bad. We are doin’ this." His tone was gentle, but firm. "Talk to me."
Leo clenched her jaw. He was giving her space—enough to breathe, to think—but he wasn’t backing down. He never did.
She swallowed, throat tight. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"How ‘bout the truth? Y'know, instead’a the same ‘m fine’ bullshit. Let me help you."
Leo let out a breath, shaky and slow. She couldn’t do this. She wanted to, somewhere deep down. She wanted to let Casey in. But the words wouldn’t come.
She closed her eyes. "Maybe I don’t want to be helped."
The silence stretched between them.
Casey shifted, the bed creaking under his weight. "The hell does that mean?"
Leo’s fingers curled into the blanket beneath her. "It means I can handle it."
"Handle what?" His voice was still patient, but there was an edge to it now, frustration creeping in. "Leo, c’mon—"
"It’s not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Casey let out a rough, disbelieving laugh. "*Babe, you damn near collapsed out there. You ain't been eatin’, you ain't been drinkin’, you ain't been talkin’. You been hidin’ out in here, just—just shuttin’ down. How the hell is that not that bad?"
Leo squeezed her eyes shut. "Because it just isn’t."
"Leo." His voice softened again, gentle but firm. "Whatever this is, you ain't gotta go through it alone. Y’got people who care about you. Who wanna help you."
She shook her head. "I don't need help."
"Yeah, ya do."
"I don't."
Casey exhaled hard, rubbing at his jaw. He was trying to be patient. She could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers twitched.
"Why?"
Leo blinked, confused. "What?"
"Why don’t you want help?" His voice was quieter now. "What’re you so scared of?"
She stiffened. She wasn’t scared. Was she?
She swallowed hard, looking away.
Casey studied her for a long moment. Then, voice low, "You don’t think you deserve it, do you?"
The words hit something raw, something buried deep. Leo’s breath caught. She turned her head away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
Casey let out another slow breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than ever. "Bluebell," he murmured, "you deserve to be taken care of too."
Leo closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she believed that.
Casey stopped pushing. He just sat with her, letting the silence settle, rubbing slow circles over her shell again.
Leo’s breathing had evened out, but everything still felt wrong . The room was still too bright, the air too heavy, the noise in her head still clawing at the edges of her thoughts. She wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet.
Casey seemed to realize that, because when he finally spoke again, his voice was even, careful. "Alright. New plan."
Leo blinked, glancing up at him.
"You ain't gotta talk," he said. "Just nod or shake your head, yeah?"
Leo hesitated. She didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to let him in any further, but he was being careful. He wasn’t demanding anything from her. He was just… asking. And for some reason, that made it easier.
After a long moment, she gave him a small nod.
Casey huffed, relieved. "Okay. Good." He shifted, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "Didja eat today?"
Leo shook her head.
His lips pressed into a thin line. "Yesterday?"
Another shake.
He frowned. "At all?"
Leo hesitated, then held up one hand, all her fingers up. Then her other, holding up two.
Casey stared. " Five days?"
She nodded.
He inhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
"Jesus, Leo…" He took a second to collect himself, exhaling slowly before asking, "You doin’ this to lose weight or somethin'?"
She shook her head immediately.
He nodded, like that confirmed something for him.
"Okay." He thought for a moment, then asked, "Is it a sensory thing? Like, food makin’ it worse?"
She hesitated. Then shrugged.
Casey studied her carefully. "Sometimes?"
Another shrug.
He exhaled. "Okay."
Leo glanced at him. His jaw was tight, his hands clasped together, but he wasn’t angry. Just… thinking. Trying to piece everything together without pushing too hard. Then he went again.
"You feel sick when you try to eat?"
Nod.
"You feel hungry?"
Hesitation. Then a nod.
Casey frowned. "So you wanna eat, but somethin’ stops you?"
Nod.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. Okay."
A few beats of silence.
Leo curled further into herself, waiting.
Then—
"This about control?"
She froze.
Casey watched her carefully, waiting for any kind of response.
She didn’t move. Didn’t nod. Didn’t shake her head. Just stared at the floor, her breathing a little too tight, her fingers curling against the blanket.
Casey exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "That’s what I thought."
Casey let the silence stretch for a moment, watching her carefully.
Leo kept her gaze locked on the floor, breathing slow and measured, like if she just stayed still enough, the conversation would disappear.
But Casey wasn’t going anywhere.
"Alright," he said, voice softer now. "Let’s talk about that, then."
Leo swallowed but didn’t move.
Casey adjusted his position, sitting a little closer, resting his arms on his knees again. He kept his voice even, steady, like he was trying not to spook her.
"This about control over your body?"
Leo hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.
Casey nodded with her, like he was taking that in, letting it settle. "’Cause it don’t feel like yours sometimes?"
Another pause. Then another small nod.
Casey exhaled slowly. "That ever happened before, or just recently?"
Leo hesitated again, then lifted one hand and made a small so-so motion.
Casey watched her carefully. "A while, then."
A nod.
"Before the food thing?"
Nod.
He licked his lips, rubbing his hands together like he was thinking through his next question carefully.
"This ‘bout—" he waved a hand vaguely, "—the, y’know, trans thing?"
Leo blinked, glancing at him in surprise. She shook her head.
Casey nodded again, not pushing, just filing that answer away. "Alright."
A pause. Then—
"You doin’ this ‘cause it’s somethin’ you get to control?"
Leo tensed. Her fingers curled into the blanket again, her throat tightening. She didn’t answer right away. But she didn’t need to.
Casey was patient. He just waited, letting the question settle, giving her time.
And when she still didn’t move, he sighed through his nose.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Figured."
Casey didn’t say anything right away. He just let the weight of the last question settle between them, like he knew she needed time to sit with it.
Leo focused on breathing. On keeping herself still, steady. But the air in her lungs felt sharp, the silence pressing too heavy against her skin.
This was too much.
But Casey was patient. And for some reason, that made it easier.
He still rubbed slow circles into her shell, grounding, steady. Then, when enough time had passed, he spoke.
"That the only reason?"
Leo hesitated. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
Casey nodded, like he wasn’t surprised. "Figured."
Another pause. Then—
"You punishing yourself?"
Leo stiffened. Her breath hitched just slightly, fingers twitching where they rested against the blanket. She didn’t move. Didn’t nod. Didn’t shake her head. Just sat there, still as stone.
Casey exhaled through his nose. "That a yes?"
Nothing.
"Leo."
Still nothing.
His hand stilled on her shell. "…That a yes?"
Her chest rose and fell, slow and deliberate. Then, after a long, shaky moment—
She nodded.
Casey cursed under his breath, rubbing his hands over his face.
"Ain't no reason for that," he muttered. "You know that, right?"
Leo didn’t answer.
Casey sighed, collecting himself before going again.
"This ‘cause of somethin’ that happened recently?"
A shake of the head.
He frowned. "Somethin’ from before?"
A pause. Then a nod.
His brows furrowed. "Like, how before? Splinter?"
Leo stiffened again.
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she gave another nod.
Casey muttered another curse.
He shifted, adjusting his position so he was fully facing her now, elbows on his knees. "This about the way he treated you?"
Another nod.
Casey sucked in a slow breath. "‘Cause he put too much pressure on you?"
She hesitated again. Then—
Nod.
"‘Cause he made you feel like you had to be perfect all the time?"
Nod.
"Like if you ain’t, you’re—" he exhaled sharply, "—lettin’ everybody down?"
Her fingers curled tighter into the blanket. She swallowed hard, her throat burning. Then, barely perceptible—
Nod.
Casey let his head drop for a second, hands clasped together like he was trying to keep his frustration in check.
Not at her. Never at her.
At Splinter. At the way he’d made her feel. At the shit he’d left her with, even after death.
Casey took a slow, careful breath before speaking again. "This about your siblings?"
Leo blinked. She considered it. Then nodded.
"You feel like they expect too much?"
A small shake.
"They ain't expectin’ it—you’re just puttin’ it all on yourself?"
Nod.
Casey let out a rough breath. "You feel like if you let go’a that control, shit’s gonna fall apart?"
Leo clenched her jaw, looking away. A long silence. Then, so small, so hesitant—
Nod.
Casey was quiet for a second. Then he reached out, rubbing at her arm gently. "Blue," he murmured. "That ain’t on you."
Leo swallowed. She wanted to believe that. She really, really did. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
Casey didn’t push. He just squeezed her arm, grounding her again before asking—
"You scared?"
Leo hesitated. She thought about lying. About shaking her head, brushing it off, insisting she was fine like she always did. But she didn’t. Because he already knew. She just exhaled shakily. And nodded.
Casey sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is there other ways your punishing yourself?"
Leo didn’t move for a long time. Then—
A small, barely-there nod.
Casey’s jaw clenched. "How?" he asked, voice quieter now.
Leo didn’t answer.
Casey watched her. Waited.
Then, careful—"Cutting?"
Leo flinched. Her breath hitched, body locking up instinctively. She should have known he’d figure it out. She should have known. Her hands tightened into fists in the blanket. She stared at the floor, body still, lungs burning—
And didn’t move. Didn’t nod. Didn’t shake her head. Just froze.
Casey inhaled through his nose. Then, after a long moment—
"Still do?"
Leo shut her eyes. Tried to keep her breathing even. Tried to ignore the way her heart hammered against her ribs. And when she still didn’t move—
Casey let out a slow, measured breath.
And said, just as quiet, just as careful—
"That’s a yes."
Leo’s fingers twitched. She didn’t want to answer.
She did .
She didn’t.
Her body had already locked up, breath coming in tight, controlled inhales, trying to hold herself together. Trying not to panic . But Casey was watching her. Carefully. Patiently. Waiting. She exhaled shakily, then lifted her hand and made a small so-so motion.
Casey’s brows furrowed. "Not often?"
A pause. Then a nod.
He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "Still too much," he muttered. Not to her. More to himself.
Leo swallowed.
Casey sat forward again, voice low. "When’s the last time?"
Leo hesitated. Then held up two fingers.
Casey frowned. " Two days? "
A tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Casey cursed under his breath.
Leo curled in on herself slightly, shoulders drawn up, hands tightening in her blanket.
He noticed. He softened.
"Okay, okay," he murmured. "It's alright, Bluebell. Ain’t mad."
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Casey was quiet for a second. Then—
"You been doin’ this a long time?"
She swallowed, then nodded.
Casey clenched his jaw. "You ever tell anyone?"
A shake of the head.
"You ever think about tellin’ anyone?"
Pause. Then another shake.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Why not?"
Leo hesitated. Then lifted her hands, signing out, Didn’t want them to know.
Casey nodded, taking that in.
"‘Cause you thought they’d be mad?"
A pause. Then— so-so motion.
"‘Cause you thought they’d pity you?"
Another so-so.
"You thought they’d try to stop you?"
Leo hesitated. Then—nod.
Casey sighed, his leg bouncing now, like he was holding something back. "Is that why you stopped tellin’ me stuff?" he asked, voice softer now.
Leo blinked, caught off guard. She looked at him for a long moment. Then shook her head.
Casey frowned. "Then why?"
She bit the inside of her cheek. Her throat burned, her hands trembled against the blanket, but she forced herself to lift her hands again, slow and careful.
Didn’t want to be a burden.
Casey inhaled sharply. "Leo—"
She shook her head again, quick and tight, cutting him off.
Casey clenched his fists against his knees, sucking in another slow breath like he was trying to be patient, even though everything about his body language said he wanted to argue.
Instead, he just asked—"Does it help?"
Leo blinked. She didn’t know how to answer that.
Did it?
Didn’t it?
Her fingers twitched. Then, slow and small— so-so.
Casey studied her carefully. "How?"
She swallowed again, hands trembling, forcing herself to sign, Hurts the way I want it to.
Casey exhaled sharply through his nose.
" Jesus, Blue…"
Leo’s chest was too tight. This was too much. But Casey wasn’t letting up.
"‘Cause it’s something you can control?"
A small, hesitant nod.
"Like the food thing?"
Another nod.
Casey was quiet for a second.
Then he asked, voice careful—"You ever… y’know. Try to go too far?"
Leo’s breath hitched. She shook her head immediately.
"Never?"
She swallowed. So-so.
Casey’s face fell.
"Leo—"
Didn’t mean to, she signed quickly, like she was trying to get the words out before she lost her nerve.
Casey inhaled sharply, but didn’t speak. Just clenched his jaw, hands tight against his knees.
Leo’s breathing picked up, tears burning the edges of her vision. She shouldn’t be telling him this. She shouldn’t.
But she wanted to. She wanted to let him in. Even though it hurt. Even though it made her stomach twist and her skin crawl and her whole body shake.
She forced herself to lift her hands again. I don’t want to die.
Casey’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and intense.
She swallowed, signing again, slower. I just want it to hurt.
A long silence.
Then—Casey let out a rough, uneven breath.
"…Okay."
He reached out, slow and careful, resting a hand against her arm, rubbing his thumb over her skin.
"You ain’t alone, Blue," he murmured. "You hear me?"
Leo let out a shaky exhale, nodding weakly. But the tears were still there. And Casey saw them.
He sighed again, then shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him.
Leo tensed for half a second. Then she melted.
She let herself lean against him, let her forehead press into his shoulder, let the tears spill over even though she hated crying. It made her feel weak .
And even now, curled against Casey’s chest, her body trembling with the force of the emotions she’d been holding in for years , she still wanted to stop, to force the tears back down where they belonged.
But she couldn’t.
She didn’t want to.
Because Casey wasn’t telling her to stop. He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t trying to make her explain or justify or do anything except feel.
He just held her. His arms were firm but gentle, one wrapped around her shoulders, the other rubbing slow, steady circles over her shell.
Leo tucked her face into the crook of his neck, squeezing her eyes shut as she sucked in another shaky breath.
Casey shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm so proud of you, Bluebell."
Leo stiffened slightly. She almost pulled away. Instead, she let out a choked, disbelieving laugh and signed. Why?
Casey huffed softly, shifting his hand to rub the back of her neck. "‘Cause I know how hard that was for you." His voice was steady, even, warm. "And you did it anyway."
Leo squeezed her eyes shut, throat burning. I shouldn’t have told you.
Casey shook his head, pressing his lips against her temple. "Nah. You should’ve—way sooner than this, even." His grip on her tightened slightly. "I want to know this shit, Blue. I wanna be here for you."
Leo sucked in another breath, her shoulders shuddering. I didn’t want you to know.
Casey didn’t hesitate. "I know."
Leo swallowed hard, still trembling in his arms. I didn’t want you to look at me different.
Casey frowned, pulling back just enough to look at her. Leo didn’t meet his eyes. Casey exhaled slowly. "Blue," he murmured, voice low and sure. "Look at me."
Leo hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she lifted her head. Casey’s gaze was steady. Strong. Unwavering.
"You really think I’d look at you different ‘cause’a this?"
Leo swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze. I don’t know.
Casey shook his head, his hand coming up to cradle her face, thumb brushing away a stray tear.
"Still my Bluebell," he murmured. "Still my badass, brilliant, stubborn girl." He kissed her forehead. "This don’t change that."
Leo bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back another wave of emotion.
Casey shifted, keeping her close, resting his chin on top of her head. "This stays between us, yeah?"
Leo exhaled slowly, pressing against him again. Yeah.
"You ain’t gotta tell nobody else if you don’t wanna."
I don’t.
"Then you don’t gotta." He rubbed her shell again. "Ain’t nobody’s business but yours."
Leo let herself relax, just a little. I love you.
Casey kissed her temple again. "Love you too, Bluebell."
Another silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t heavy like before. Just quiet. Calm. Casey let out a slow sigh, his hold on her firm, steady. "We’re gonna figure this out, okay?" Leo tensed slightly, but he didn’t let go. "You ain't gotta do this alone," he murmured, rubbing circles into her back. "Not anymore."
Leo swallowed hard. She wanted to believe him. She really, really did. And maybe, just maybe—
She was starting to.