It first took your breath away when Leo confessed. To you, it felt utterly spontaneous. One moment you were stepping onto the abandoned rooftop, the next you were staring at paper lanterns swaying in the twilight breeze and a small, neatly wrapped gift at your feet. But Leo had rehearsed every word, every gesture, for weeks. He’d chosen this spot for its skyline view, spread out a soft blanket, and even picked lanterns in your favourite shade of green. When you finally appeared, your surprised smile knocked the wind out of him. His flawless composure unravelled instantly: voice catching, words tumbling in a jumble of earnest stammers. It was almost endearing, watching the Fearless Leader trade ninjutsu perfection for pure, flustered honesty. And in that heartbeat, you knew you couldn’t say no.

Dating Leo felt like stepping into a new mission, one he approached with the same precision he reserved for training. At first, he hovered, ever the protective big brother, jumping at every loud crash in the lair and offering his shell as a shield you’d never asked for. You laughed it off until one long conversation peeled back his fears, of failing you, of losing you, that finally let him exhale. Gradually, he learned to relax, though only in your presence or behind closed doors. He’d borrow one of your hoodies, burying his face in the soft cotton until he fell asleep, convinced you’d never notice it missing. But you did.

So. One morning, you slip into the lair before dawn. The corridors are silent; the city hums faintly above. In Leo’s room, you pause at the doorway. There he is. All curled up under the old covers, your used hoodie stretched across his shoulders, arms wrapped tight around a pillow. The fabric looked surprisingly baggy on his frame.