Leo walked slowly into his room, closing the door silently behind him. He leaned his shell into the wood, striving to keep his control for another minute. As soon as he was sure no one had followed him, he sank to his knees on the floor and dropped his face into his hands. He felt the warm tears well up in his eyes and the soundless sobs begin to rack his body. He held his breath as he shook, refusing to make any sound that would alert his family to his suffering.
Leo wiped the tears from his face angrily, shamed by his weakness. Further proof that he was not fit to be a leader. He leaned back against the door, knees drawn up to his chest, as the tears started up again. He closed his eyes and let out a weary sigh.
His arms fell limp to the floor, and his plastron heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His face contorted and he groaned softly, biting his lip to suppress a cry of turmoil. He clenched his left hand into a fist and slammed it into the floor. His breath caught and the tears came stronger; he began to hyperventilate with the exertion of crying silently.
Leo shoved himself to his feet, drawing his swords and beginning to move through a difficult kata, trying to relieve the pressure building in his chest. After several failed attempts, he dropped his swords and ran to his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He screamed hoarsely, letting out all of his pent-up frustration and disappointment. He screamed until he was out of breath, then lay on his shell, panting and feeling the oppressive emotions melt away.
This had happened to him increasingly often ever since their last encounter with the Shredder; he would bottle his feelings up until they erupted, usually after a fight with one of his brothers or a disappointed look from his sensei. Then all the guilt, anger, and disappointment he had felt came rushing back and he would be forced to let it out, no matter how hard he strove to hold onto his control.
As soon as Leo caught his breath he stood to his feet, pulling off his tear-soaked mask and replacing it with a spare. He rubbed the salty remains of tears from his cheeks and straightened his shoulders, leaving the room. No one would ever know what had passed in his room. He may not have been able to hold in his emotions, but he could conceal them. If he had to let them out it would be alone, in secret. Whenever he cried, it would be behind closed doors.
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Um… I really have no idea where this came from. There's not really any way to explain it…. Thanks for reading!