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Leo loved Calypso. He loved her dearly.
She was his girlfriend, of course he loved her! And he knew she loved him because she said it and why would she say it if she didn’t mean it?
Well, sometimes he said things he didn’t mean, but not that often! And she told him she loved him pretty damn often so he didn’t think she was lying.
So why did he feel so confused?
It had started with Piper. Perceptive Piper, who was the first to frown when Calypso started lecturing him at the campfire one night at camp, who asked him if he was okay because he’d gone silent, just staring into the fire while Calypso did all the talking, who asked if he was okay with the way Calypso had been ignoring him all day.
He’d brushed her off. He was being stupid and making a mess of his marshmallow, he could have gotten it on her clothes, so it was understandable she was lecturing him. He understood. It was the way all of his actions came with their own consequence, their own criticism and lecture, a lesson he’d learned a long time ago and he was now used to.
He’d gone silent because he’d gone off on a tangent, something pointless and nonsensical, and he’d noticed Calypso roll her eyes that’s how he’d known it was a tangent nobody cared about and that it was time to shut up and let his friends have a meaningful conversation. He’d upset Calypso, yet again, so of course she didn’t want to be around him until she’d calmed down.
If anything, Calypso was an understanding girlfriend. He’d told her early on that he couldn’t do shouting - she could debate with him or bicker but if she raised her voice with him, he’d just shut down. It was a once useful skill he’d picked up in foster care that had become more of an inconvenience now.
But Calypso didn’t shout at him, if she had something to say she didn’t need to raise her voice to get her point across to him.
And when she did lose her temper (after he annoyed her one too many times, though he could never quite place how he’d managed to annoy her) she’d take a step back.
In all honesty, he’d rather be ignored than shouted at.
He told all of this to Piper and she seemed sceptical. She’d nodded her head and backed off but he could tell she was still keeping a close eye on him and his girlfriend, doubt still in her mind.
That was fine with Leo, she was only trying to keep him safe and it wasn’t like she’d find anything wrong with their relationship. Alright, they argued sometimes but that was just the way with people. Leo argued with Piper plenty and there was no problem there.
So it was fine.
He tried not to be hyper focused on his every interaction with Calypso.
But it was difficult.
Now that Piper had shown her concern, the cracks began to show. Just small cracks at first, but those soon gave way to bigger ones.
Did he enjoy it when she snapped at him? Even if it was fair of her to do — he was bothering her after all, ‘purposely getting on her nerves’, as she insisted he did — it still didn’t feel nice.
Did he enjoy always getting into arguments? Having to defend his every action while she broke down all the little things he did wrong so he knew why he needed to do better. ‘You eat too loud, you never stand beside me, take those stupid gloves off so I can hold your hand, stand up straight, stop fiddling with that, look me in the eye, you never stop moving, gods, stop making that sound!’
But Calypso was his girlfriend and he didn’t want to lose her now that he’d finally gotten something nice. The gods knew he’d never be this lucky twice.
He’d put up with worse anyway, he could handle all the shit stuff if it meant having his girlfriend in his life.
He loved Calypso
And she loved him too.
And he knew that because one evening she sat down beside him on his bed and said, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
And he’d said, “Oh. Okay.” Even though he hadn’t really felt like it at first because he thought it was sweet she wanted to kiss him, and it was cute that she’d come to find him just for that.
She leaned forward and kissed him, placing her hand on top of his where it rested on the edge of the bed. He managed a small smile as a warm feeling flooded his chest at the small gesture.
Leo wasn’t a very good kisser but neither was Calypso so actually, it was one of the few shortcomings she didn’t hammer on at him for which he was thankful for. He’d probably die of embarrassment if she started dissecting the intricacies of his kissing skills.
She shifted closer, letting go of his hand to instead rest hers on his shoulder, pulling him closer. He wasn’t sure what to do with his own hands but he felt he should reciprocate so he let one sit on her arm.
She seemed to be satisfied by this? In fact, she treated it like a back and forth, now moving her hand to rest on his thigh. He froze a little in surprise before gaining his composure and continuing to kiss her and she giggled, thinking she’d flustered him.
Now, he wasn’t sure what she wanted out of this. Did she intend to go further?
He wasn’t five years old. He knew that eventually, their relationship might get to this stage. That she might want more from him and that he’d have to decide how he felt about that.
At first, his answer had been no. He would have to draw the line there. Then it was maybe, just for her, he’d move the line a little. Then it was no again, out of fear. Then it was maybe again, because surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to put up with.
Now it was still sitting on maybe.
But when she reached up and fiddled with the top button of his shirt, he froze. As if she’d suddenly shouted at him, he shut down and this time she noticed it. She stopped, pulling away and gave him a questioning look.
Now, it could entirely have been his own imagination, playing on his insecurities, but he could have sworn he saw impatience in her expression.
“What is it?” She questioned, her hand falling back in her lap.
For a painfully long moment, he was just stuck. He just sat there and stared at her and the longer he did, the more weirded out she seemed.
“Leo?” She pushed. He finally snapped out of it.
“Sorry…” He muttered, trying to find something else to add but that was the only word he could find.
She hesitated before leaning forward slightly. “Can I continue…?”
He forced himself to nod and she forced herself to smile, leaning back in to reconnect their kiss.
This time was a lot more stiff but he tried to relax. It just so happened that relaxing meant going still and Calypso ended up doing a lot of the work but she didn’t complain about it so he tried to focus on getting himself to feel normal again.
Every time she’d slip her tongue between his lips, he’d get the unconscious urge to spit it out, a few times he nearly did before he caught himself and forced himself to swallow back his uncomfortable feelings.
Thankfully, she seemed to be letting him keep his shirt but the palm she’d rested against his chest felt like it was burning through the fabric and scalding his skin (which would be an impressive feat considering he was immune to burning).
Ants crawled against his skin wherever she touched him and he shuddered at the sensation. She seemed to be taking them as good shivers though as they encouraged her to continue.
It made him feel silly. He should be enjoying this as much as her, there was really no reason not to yet still, his dumb brain got in the way.
Calypso seemed to be enjoying herself at least. She leaned forward even further and gently pushed him backwards until his back hit the bed.
He tried really hard not to freak out.
Keeping his eyes closed had become terrifying and when he couldn’t handle the uncertainty anymore he had to open them.
It’s Calypso, he told himself, reassured himself. His girlfriend was kissing him and it was okay. It was fine.
Out of pure instinct alone, his gaze flickered over to the door. He just needed to check, even if he had no reason to, deep down he knew he just had to.
It’s fine. I can stick it out. I’ll let her do it for her sake.
He was surprised she couldn’t feel him shaking right now, he’d stopped reciprocating entirely but she carried on, probably thinking about how she’d lecture him for not pulling his weight once she was done. The thought made him nauseous.
He needed it to stop, he realised. He really couldn’t take it anymore; her tongue in his mouth, her hands on him, it was all too much. He was wrong, he couldn’t put up with it and he couldn’t care less right now if she was offended, he just needed it to stop.
He pursed his lips together and that had the desired effect. Calypso pulled back, giving him a questioning look, and that’s when they both noticed he was crying.
Her face flashed with concern and she sat up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t even know how to tell her, he couldn’t find a single word, never mind get them out. The longer she stared at him, waiting for him to explain himself, the more frightened and stressed he got.
She wanted an answer and he knew he had to give her one but he didn’t even know where to start.
In what was probably an attempt to comfort him, she placed a hand on his cheek to cup his face but it just so happened to be the final straw. Whether or not her nail digging into his skin was unintentional, the sharp jab of pain sent him into a panic.
Without thinking he shoved her off and scrambled to sit up. He heard her yelp and in the midst of his blind panic he felt a sharp pang of guilt but while he was too overwhelmed to properly realise what he’d done, the emotion only stressed him out even more.
All he could think about was getting away. He slid off the bed and sat on the floor, tucking his knees to his chest and ducking his head low so he couldn’t be seen from over the bed.
His heart was hammering in his chest. I need to hide. I need to hide. If I hide he won’t find me. He’ll leave me alone tonight and I can sleep. I just need to hide so he doesn’t get me. I need to hide.
The ants crawling on his skin were everywhere now, swarming him, and he frantically itched them away. Maybe if he scratched his skin enough he’d tear the layers away and he’d be clean again.
His chest burned and his breath wheezed, it felt like being choked, he groped at his throat but there was nothing there but he could swear he felt a hand, crushing his windpipe.
A hand — a very real hand this time — grabbed one of his own and he made a noise he’d probably be very embarrassed by if he could actually think straight. Someone screamed — way too close to his ear — and it was only when he reached up to cover his ears that he realised his hand had burst into flames.
It occurred to him that he’d just hurt someone — just burned someone — and that didn’t help his panic at all.
He started to sob into his knees — much to his own embarrassment which only added to the pot of not very nice emotions that were currently bubbling over and making him have a breakdown. Yay.
Another wave of fear washed over him when he heard the door creak open and he sunk his teeth into the fabric of his sleeve to shut himself up.
He could hide under the bed but his limbs were locked in place and he couldn’t move so he made sure to duck down a bit further to stay hidden. He just wanted to get some sleep tonight.
When he felt a hand touch his arm he flinched and failed to suppress a sob. He couldn’t do this again, not right now. He was far too lightheaded, he wouldn’t even be able to do anything! He didn’t want to… not again…
But the hand didn’t move. It didn’t go away, but it also didn’t try to advance… it stayed where it was and gently, the thumb rubbed circles into his skin.
A wave of comfort washed over him, something that if he were to look back on, he’d realise was probably magic, but in the moment all it did was dull the panic slightly so he could think a bit more straight.
“C’mon, bud. Deep breaths.” Somebody was talking to him. Their voice was gentle and familiar and it filled him with just as much comfort as the magic had.
“Jo…” He managed to say between hiccups and sharp inhales.
“There you are.” She said softly, a hint of relief in her tone. She sounded as if she’d been searching for him, thankful to have finally found him. “That’s right. It’s just me.”
He fought to process what her words meant, repeating them in his mind to try and grasp what she was trying to tell him. In the end, he trailed off and his mind helpfully latched back onto the idea of being in danger.
Big red mental alarm bells were going off, screaming at him to run. It was what he always did when he felt trapped, the urge that had followed him through every foster home, no matter how hard he tried to settle down and fit in.
I need to escape. I need to run.
He must have said one of the two (or both) out loud because Jo replied. “No, you don’t kiddo. You don’t have to. It’s safe here. The waystation is safe.”
The waystation… Right, that was it. He was at the waystation. And…
“Jo…” he mumbled, reminding himself of who he was talking to.
“That’s right.” She agreed, “I’m right here kiddo.”
As he lifted his head from his knees, waves of dread, strong enough to send him into another panic, washed over him but he forced himself to look up either way.
Jo was in front of him, her face showed concern but also shone with pride, as if the mere act of lifting his head was enough to celebrate. His gaze flickered left and right as he took in the familiar landscape of his bedroom at the waystation.
He caught sight of figures in the doorway: Calypso eyeing him wearily while Emmie asked her questions, Georgie hugging her leg and shooting curious looks over at Leo.
The embarrassment of being witnessed by all these people while he had a dumb breakdown over something stupid was enough to force his head back down so he could bury his face in his knees and ignore the looks he was getting.
His heart sped up again and he suppressed the urge to gasp. His state was only made worse when Jo ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t know… she was just trying to help him and make him feel better. Really, she was a kind woman and he did not deserve even an ounce of what she offered.
He shuddered as her blunt nails scraped his scalp. He pursed his lips shut at the phantom sensation that something was there. Nausea made his stomach feel like it was on a rollercoaster.
This is disgusting. You know it is. And you know he’s going to brag about it, show people. Trust you to be so oblivious you don’t notice the phone shoved in your face when you’re too occupied with that.
He’s not here, he reminded himself. It’s safe. He’s gone.
The fingers got caught in a tangle, pulling slightly. The jolt of pain and the familiar tug made the nausea spike.
He couldn’t breathe, it hurt, it wouldn’t stop, he needed to breathe.
He lashed out and slapped the hand away. Finally, the feeling went away. He replaced it with his own hands in his hair and bit down on his tongue until blood filled his mouth.
Arms enveloped him and he wanted to scream but before he had a chance, the same wave of comfort from before washed over him. His jaw unclenched, the joints in his fingers unlocked and stopped tugging his hair.
Jo hugged him like he was shielding his body with her own. That thought relaxed him (or maybe it was just the magic).
“There we go.” She said softly, like he was actually making any progress.
“He’s gone?” He asked. It was meant to come out as more of a statement than a question but his uncertainty seeped in.
“Yeah, he’s gone.” Jo replied, with all the confidence he hadn’t been able to muster. “It’s safe.”
He peeked out from Jo’s hug to check the doorway and sure enough, it was empty and the door was now closed. He watched the light under the door and waited for any shadows but nothing moved.
He’s gone, he told himself, like a sigh of relief.
Jo’s hug was strong but strangely, not oppressive. He could tell with ease that she had no intentions of trapping him, if he wanted to leave, he knew she’d let go. She was just trying to comfort him. He sunk into her arms.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, slumped in her arms as she traced circles on his back and they waited for the adrenaline to wear off. Once it had, it was unfortunately replaced with nausea.
Without much of a warning, his stomach decided it didn’t want its contents anymore and he threw up all over himself, Jo, and the floor.
He mumbled apologies, too worn out to even panic but Jo didn’t recoil in disgust. She helped him to his feet and walked him down the hall to the nearest bathroom so that when the second wave of vomit came up, he could lean over and throw up in the toilet.
She helped him kneel when his legs went out so that instead of falling face-first into his own vomit, he merely slumped forward a little.
Throwing up was not a nice feeling. Honestly had to be up there on his top ten worst feelings. But Jo rubbing his back, smoothing his hair out of his face and wiping him down with a cool wet cloth made it a bit less horrible.
The rest he didn’t really remember. He threw up for a while then Jo cleaned him up and helped him into clean jammies. She walked him back to his room and someone (probably Emmie) must have dealt with the vomit while he’d been making more of it because his bedroom was now clean and smelled faintly of cleaning supplies.
Jo helped him lay down, tucked him in all cosy and placed a kiss on his forehead like he hadn’t just had a major freak out to top all freak outs, thrown up all over her, then gone catatonic.
She stood up to leave and selfishly, he grabbed her hand. The thought of laying there alone, watching the door all night made the nausea come back ten times worse.
Jo was a very kind woman and he really didn’t deserve her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gave his hand a small squeeze.
She stayed with him all night, even when he finally closed his eyes and went to sleep after staring at the door for hours, she didn’t slip away and leave him. When he woke up in the morning she was still there.
It was a little (very) embarrassing waking up with a clear head after having a huge meltdown over basically nothing and not even getting the chance to either a. hide until everyone forgot about it or b. run away.
Jo was understanding though, she didn’t bring up what had happened. She went to the kitchen and brought back breakfast for them both and they ate and talked about their latest mechanical projects until his mind was too full of equations and new problems to solve to dwell on anything else.