Sometimes, I get a feeling that I'm not good enough for him, and I never will be. He's perfection whilst I'm destruction. He has small, fading bruises marking his body, earned from battles he fought to protect his family, and I have scars that I carved into my paper-like skin, ridding myself of all innocence.

When he's sleeping, he's at ease. His sapphire eyes, speckled with drops of cerulean rain, are sealed shut. His breaths are even. The tips of his fine lips are lifted slightly at each side.

I grin at my husband, admiring his slumbering form. He doesn't snore—thank god, I'd probably go mad if he did. Instead, he sleeps blissfully, silently. I swear, it's all of the ninjutsu that's made him like this. Most of the time, you wouldn't know he were in the room unless you saw his broad form. Sometimes he uses this to his advantage, by sneaking up on me. Most of the time, though, because he knows how much his stealth irritates me, he tries his hardest to move with loud, heavy foot steps. It's the little things in life that make it worth living.

It's one in the afternoon, but I have no intentions of leaving this bed. It's uncomfortable, yes, with its thin sheets and pop-up springs. But it's warm under the covers with him. I wrap my arms around his body, scooting as close as I can.

Shortly after the surgery was finished, Leonardo asked if he could sleep. I lifted him off of the medical bed and carried him to one of the many guest bedrooms. He was already asleep when I laid him down and pulled the blankets up and over the two of us.

Leonardo wakes suddenly, disturbed by my sudden movements. He makes no effort to push me away, in fact, he nuzzles me, rubbing his nose against my neck.

"'Bout time you woke up, Sleepy Head," I tease, a faint chuckle underlining my words.

My husband pulls back a bit, just enough for us to make eye contact as we converse. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I say. "There's nothing wrong with being tired. Especially after surgery." I kiss Leo's forehead blissfully.

The two of us sit up together. He leans back against the head board, crossing his legs over each other as I made myself comfortable in front of him. I hold his hands in my lap.

Leonardo's eyes poured into mine, and he did exactly what I always wanted somebody to do; read me. Like a Nicholas Sparks book, he inhaled every emotion my simple, emerald eyes broadcasted. He didn't stare at me because he wanted me to be aware of his presence. He stared at me in a way that made our souls kiss like our lips would.

I swear, he could see every thought I'd ever processed in my twenty two years of living. Anger, sadness, defeat, despair, vulnerability; everything I am was there for him to see—only he didn't just see it, he felt it with me, drowned in my emotions. What was in my head became what was in our heads. I liked it better that way.

There was a question perched on his lips, looking like a chore that was yet took be taken care of. I didn't give him the chance to ask—are you alright?—instead, I shook my head.

I didn't want to open my mouth and explain what was wrong, because in truth, nothing was. I was just having another down day. There was nothing but my depression to pin the blame on. This happens often.

Leonardo reaches a hand up to my face. He doesn't caress my cheek like I'd prefer him to do. Rather, he trails his thumb over my lips and cheeks and snout. He slips the tip of his finger under my mask, then does the same with his other thumb. Slowly, he lifts my mask off of my face. He gifts me with a kiss between my loosely shut eyes.

I wrap my arm around his shell and hastily tug him onto my lap. Leo gets to work on pressing more and more kisses on my delicate skin; on my shoulders and neck and jawline. I massage his upper thigh, tracing my fingers over the bottom of his plastron.

"Are you hurting?" I ask in a whisper when Leonardo withdraws from kissing me, bobbing my head towards the area holding his new set of ovaries.

Shrugging, Leo says, "A little sore, but nothing a couple of Advil's won't help."

I smirk as I murmur in a seductive tone, "Good, because I am not holding back tonight."

"Better not," Leo places a hand behind my head and pulls me towards him. He grins as our foreheads come to rest upon each other. "Because I'm not gonna rest until I'm pregnant with our child."


"Love is a meeting of two souls, fully accepting the dark and light within each other, bound by the course to grow struggle into bliss."

— Unknown