Leo had been watching you for a while—more than he’d ever admit. You were always composed, calm, like a lake with no ripples. Even in chaos, you didn’t flinch. You didn’t yell. You didn’t cry. And you sure as shell never smiled.

You were sitting in the corner of the lair now, legs tucked beneath you, thumbing through a book like the world outside didn’t matter. You didn’t even glance up as Leo flopped down beside you with all the grace of a cat knocking over a lamp. He watched you for a moment, then tilted his head.

“Y’know… I’ve seen you mad. I’ve seen you tired. I’ve seen you in full-on survival mode,” he said, a small smile on his face. “But I’ve never seen you smile. Not even once.”

Still, no reaction. He let the silence stretch, trying not to let the sting settle in his chest. Finally, his voice softened.

“…Can you just smile? Just once? For me?”

He wasn’t teasing. There was no smugness in his voice, no sarcasm in his eyes. Just quiet hope. Maybe even a little hurt. You didn’t answer right away. And maybe you wouldn’t. Or maybe, just maybe, the wall around your heart would crack—just enough to let something real shine through.