when pietro died leorio decided to carry his light inside him, it was safer, saner, then to let the most solid part of him outside his being, yet it escapes anyway because he doesn't know how to hide things, he doesn't know how to conceal, and he flows too much.
is there a river inside him or is he the river?
it seeps out, he can't control it, even when he grabs at it water escapes him trickles from the crooks of his fingers.
his knuckles are too bloodied he spent the afternoon punching a tree. passersby laughed but he didn't care. "don't think of how stupid you look don't think of how stupid you look don't think-" and he stops thinking.
the apartment is cold and he's utterly lonely. he wants to cry but he doesn't. there's no point there's no point he cried too much already, years ago. he cried while he darted away like a prey escaping the bloodthirst of a predator. death was close death was everywhere and he can't die not yet. pietro died but leorio can't die. it's not an option it was on the plate before him he flipped the entire dinner table and ran away.
he hurts like a child like children wounded by small things. he's not a child anymore.
call don't call call don't call "they all don't need you." yeah maybe but he should call anyway, just in case. he tosses the phone under the bed he's not going to cry tonight not on the phone not with them.
small things hurt the most small things leave scars. he was kinder with himself what happened. it's your fault you forgive yourself too much you shouldn't forgive yourself so many times one more time and forgiveness will lose all meaning. stop fucking up but he fucks up so much, sometimes consciously but he'd never admit it. he's water he's drowning but he can breathe, for some reason. that's good he can breathe. it comes as a surprise every time he can breathe and it's difficult but he manages. he manages like he does with everything else there are no options he'd rather die then let that murky pond inside him expand to rot. to his heart. rot everything. there are corners there he no longer visits it's too dark and the light within him does not shine over them. he lets them rot. the waters don't move the ugly things wreathe when he's alone he stands under the arch but doesn't enter. there's no point. there's a tombstone but there's no point, so he never enters. not anymore. he learned to leave the dead behind the dead serve you none.
there's a boy wailing in his memories and sometimes leorio speaks with him sometimes he doesn't. most times he leaves him to his own tears but the boy doesn't stop crying and leorio has no patience. no patience for that boy in particular. that boy needs to shut the fuck up that boy needs to smother grief needs to learn when he's cried enough. his words only make the boy cry harder. his mouth speaks in lies but no voice comes out you can't tell lies here. the boy knows your lies before you utter them you can't fool him. he's small and he's crumbling all over himself and he won't listen so leorio leaves him. don't dig too deep didn't you do that already? you dug and you refilled all the holes with soil you know what's there. what's there is still there nothing changed there's still a pond there's still an empty grave there's still a boy weeping. don't go there anymore.
there's no blood there's only polluted waters.
