more trouble than it's worth || ripley & leo

She's fractured crystal, letting them break her over and over again. It's more than biting back frustration as he watches blood seep from in between stained glass, he splits his lip on his teeth before he finds it in him to meet her eyes. He knew this was dangerous, letting them into his space and growing careless as they started trying to peel back his skin. Maybe he was cocky, too sure of titanium walls to worry that some of them could worm their way past it.

He's a hypocrite. Feeling the sting barely healed bruises as he moves, made of the same mistakes that now sit like poison between them. Ripley's eyes shine like mirrors and it's so fucking hard to keep pretending he hasn't noticed.

It's obvious when she speaks that this is all a game and she expects them to keep playing.

So, fuck it. Leo does.

A feather-light touch as he swipes his thumb across her knuckles to wipe away some of the blood, clicking his tongue as he does so. "If you didn't win I don't want to hear it." His voice trembles in his chest, a lingering adrenaline high. "You're not an idiot but you're always picking stupid fights. Come on."

He lets his hand wrap around her broken one, pulling her toward his bedroom.

"Sit." His hand leaves hers so fast you'd think it burned. Maybe it did. That kind of intimacy has always been forbidden, even to those he considered close. It's convenient he decided to keep bandages in his nightstand, kneeling in front of her as he readies his supplies.

"You know, I truly despise cleaning up messes." Especially his own.

Leo knows that he is, in some way, fundamentally broken. It is not poetic nor is it pretty, he does not shatter like stained glass but cuts just as deep. It's not that he wants them to hurt, he needs them to scar. To leave something gnarled and angry in his wake so that he might finally make himself unforgettable. Leo once found peace in holding his head underwater and waiting to drown, but he's grown bored of that monotonous agony.

Ripley's pulse thrums along the inside of her wrist, pleasantly frantic as it always is coming off an adrenaline high. He doesn't bother wondering how or why Ripley Sloane came to be, he couldn't care less.All that matters is that she burns him from the inside out, she ruins everything she touches and that is so fucking close to hurting enough.

He doesn't really look at people. She's made up of fair skin and light hair and is always stained with someone else's blood. That is all that makes her beautiful to him, little details that have started to stand out every time his eyes gloss over her silhouette. None of them were supposed to become this familiar, least of all the girl made of ash and iron who is so fucking capable of loving someone that is not him.

"You're right," He hums in agreement, gaze fixed on the blood drying crimson on his fingertips instead of her skin. Leo doesn't mention that the bandages were meant for her, nestled in his nightstand past the door he'd named his boundary. So-called friend or not, no one was allowed into his bedroom unless he was getting something out of it.

He doesn't like to yield, he hates that she's made him without even meaning to. "You're not my fucking problem." He emphasizes the words with bandages around her knuckles, touch achingly gentle and far too careful. He feels trapped, like he's peeled his skin back from his bones and forced her to look at something he'd never meant for anyone to see.

"But let's pretend you are. Just until I'm done with this." Leo Pierce will never say what he really means.

Instead he looks up at her, careful to avoid her eyes. If there's a ghost of a smile caught on his lips? That's her secret to keep.