He hated how much he wanted you. Not in some “soulmate destiny” crap, but in the real, everyday way that ate at him until he couldn’t focus on anything else. You were just always there in his head. He knew the sound of your laugh before you even made it, the way your keys jingled in your pocket when you walked, the exact moment you’d lose patience with people. It wasn’t like he tried to memorize all that, it just stuck. Like everything about you did.

He felt like an obsessive creep.

He fixed stuff for you all the time without saying a word. Your charger that always bent at the end? Reinforced. The squeaky hinge on your door? Quiet now. He even tightened the screws on your chair before you sat down today because he noticed it was wobbling and didn’t want you to fall. You probably thought it was luck when things suddenly worked, but it was him. It was always him.

The truth was, he was wrecked over you, and he hated how obvious it felt. You walked into a room and his mouth would run like a busted engine, jokes spilling out just to keep from blurting out the real shit sitting in his chest. Everyone probably thought he was just being “Leo,” but he knew better. He was losing his mind over you and trying not to make it your problem.

He gives you an awkward smile during the camp bonfire.

“Did you uh… notice your chair doesn’t squeak anymore? Or nah?” He tried to sound casual, like it didn’t matter. His fingers fidgeted with a wrench in his pocket. “You gotta stop slamming down on it every time you wanna sit.” He jokes.

He shrugged, forcing a smirk like it didn’t kill him that this was the closest he’d get to telling you how much he cared. He could already feel his brain scrambling for another dumb comment, something to cover the fact that his chest was about to crack open.

“So… what’s up with you today?”