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To preface, Leonard Mitchell had never fallen in love before. Oh, he had had some flings, here and there, and he was not above flirting with people for information, but he had never quite fallen in love before.
Klein Moretti is an easy man to love, Leonard thinks.
Klein is soft in all the ways Leonard isn’t, empathy and compassion in his every move that Leonard cannot hope to replicate; sharp where Leonard is, quick to catch on and even quicker to play along. Even the Old Man grudgingly approved when faced with Klein’s sharp tongue.
Oh, but Klein was also caring , in a way that even Captain and Rozanne weren’t, noticing things like Captain would and remembering them like he wouldn't, cheeky in the way Rozanne was but bantering where she wouldn't.
It was no mystery to anyone who knew Leonard Mitchell that he had not been the biggest fan of Klein Moretti at the start, perhaps paranoid or wary but not unjustly so.
Leonard still did not trust Klein Moretti fully, did not quite think he would be able to, but somewhere along the way he had stumbled headfirst into friendship and then past that into something more.
Loving Klein Moretti was like falling, Leonard thought.
Loving Klein Moretti was like stumbling and tripping down the stairs and catching himself on the railing. Loving Klein Moretti was easy, like Leonard was made for it, like it was his destiny.
Leonard didn’t mind. Loving Klein Moretti was falling, and Leonard Mitchell had never quite had a fear of it.
Leonard did not have a lot of friends. In fact, he could count the number of friends he had on one hand. Two fingers, if he had to be specific.
The Tingen Nighthawks were a dash between colleagues and family. The Old Man hardly counted for anything, and Captain was more like his father than he was a friend.
Leonard had grown up in an orphanage, and orphanages did not really encourage friendship. Not when children competed to be the ones to catch the eye of curious adults, hellbent on ruining each other’s reputations when they weren’t, so the head matron would not recommend anyone but them.
Leonard had always been good looking. Had been handsome, charming, and he wielded it the same way any other child would have in his position. Perhaps he had never been adopted, far too many adults put off by his behaviour, but he had never been treated badly, either.
That did not correlate with friendship, though.
Rozanne had been his first ever actual friend, which was mildly embarrassing to admit. They got along well, and Rozanne took care to notice his quirks and what he liked to drink and bought him gifts and he did the same for her, but he had always regarded her as more of a sister-like friend than what Klein did to Leonard.
Leonard has two friends, which is not a lot to compare to, but he knows that a friend is not meant to make your heart race and your cheeks flush and is not meant to make you flustered to interact with and desperate to impress them and yet that is what Klein Moretti does to him all the same.
Leonard thinks he can understand a few people back in the orphanage better now.
Leonard loves Klein. Perhaps “love” is too strong a word, not when they had only met recently, and yet there was no other word for it than perhaps “infatuation”, because somewhere along the way Leonard had stumbled down the flight of stairs named “friendship” and into one that he could not see the end of but knew was safe all the same.
Loving Klein was like stumbling down a flight of stairs when he did not know what lay at the end of them, and yet Leonard could tell you it was something precious at the end. Leonard was walking down a flight of stairs named “love” one step at a time, and there was only a slight desperation to run down it before something, anything ended.
And perhaps he might trip, perhaps he might skip a step or two, but that was what the railing was for.
Loving Klein Moretti is something new, and Leonard Mitchell was not afraid of it.
Loving Klein Moretti was different, Leonard thought. Klein was quick witted and amusing and perhaps a threat, but also not really. Loving Klein Moretti was the willingness to leap down flights of stairs to keep up. Loving Klein was knowing that, whatever Leonard did, the next flight of stairs would be there. Loving Klein Moretti was taking a risk and throwing away the railing because if he didn’t, Leonard didn’t think he would be able to catch up. Loving Klein Moretti was trusting something would be there in the end, and Leonard thought he would not get mad even if there wasn’t.
Klein Moretti had that effect on him, Leonard thought.
Klein was a nice guy. Now that they had gotten over the “being-suspicious-of-each-other” part, it was easier to read Klein when Klein wasn’t purposefully putting up as much of a wall.
Klein was many sharp edges combined into one, an edge that would not hurt if you pressed against unless you sliced.
Klein was hard to read, hard to pull hobbies and likes and dislikes out of when he was so concerned with face, yet it was a task both he and Rozanne were doing their best to tackle. Rozanne had managed to extract from Klein what his favourite bakery was within the street of Blackthorn Company and Leonard had realized that Klein preferred his drinks sweet and cold.
It was fun, watching the way that Klein would try to hide his surprised expression or flustered smile when he and Rozanne saved him a cup of coffee or Captain ruffled his hair and told him he had done well. It was freeing, bantering with Klein, talking and teasing and being teased in turn in a way that none of the other Nighthawks would.
Loving Klein Moretti was easy, in a way that was different from anything Leonard had ever done before. Loving Klein Moretti is the joy of leaping down flights of stairs at a time as though he was still young, feeling the rush of wind against his face before the strain of his feet from hitting the next steps, and then leaping off once again.
Leonard thinks he would choose this path again and again, even if he did not know where it would end.
Klein is kind and caring and he banters with Leonard and he doesn't mind Leonard, doesn’t mind all his imperfections or carelessness and doesn’t take him seriously when he flirts and Leonard isn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry.
Klein had become a constant in Leonard’s life at this point, with the missions they had completed together. Klein could keep his secrets– Leonard had his, and Leonard was respectful enough not to act as a hypocrite in front of a colleague and friend.
It was strange to think that there was a time where Klein was not sitting on the couch drinking coffee or that iced tea he so enjoyed, or chatting with old Neil about money, or nagging Captain about something he forgot again.
A time where Klein was not part of the Tingen Nighthawks was alien to Leonard now. Klein had been a part of Leonard’s life for the last month or two, had been pleasant to chat with and tease and poke fun at and Klein would startle and snap back, his clever mind turning quickly and Leonard would find himself falling in love more, somehow.
Klein was special. Someone who was bound to be the main character in a novel series, a true protagonist of the era like he was. If Klein continued advancing this quickly, Leonard mused, then Leonard would have to do his best to catch up.
Klein was someone bright and vibrant against the murky backdrop named Tingen, and loving him was a part of Leonard’s routine at this point.
Loving Klein was like falling, Leonard thinks. He has stumbled down the flight of stairs of friendship-love-friendship and reached the bottom and then went deeper into his own heart, somehow, until he could no longer see the bottom step, could no longer even tell if it was a flight of stairs, but Leonard would fall anyway.
Because loving Klein is falling. Loving Klein is falling and feeling the wind around him and gazing at everything as he falls and indulging in the vibrant scenery and the joy Klein brings. Loving Klein is falling through the sky and the clouds and seeing everything. Loving Klein is the vibrancy of colors and the saturation of everything he sees and the brightness that Leonard associates with him.
Loving Klein is freeing.
Leonard loves it.
Loving Klein is freeing, Leonard thinks, flashing a wry grin at Klein as the both of them departed to find a man named Lavenus.
Loving Klein is a duty, Leonard thinks, standing at his funeral. Loving Klein is falling through the void, unsure of which direction you’re going. Loving Klein is feeling the wind against your skin and yet feeling no movement. Loving Klein is a shackle, Leonard thinks, and he finds that he hates it much less than he loves it. Because Leonard would forever be tied to this memory, to this failure. It was Leonard’s duty to make sure that Captain and Klein were remembered, that even if the world forgot Leonard would not forget them.
Loving Klein must be fate, Leonard thinks, rubbing away the tears in his eyes as a man with Klein’s face gave a short speech. Because Leonard was the one alive, he must carry Klein’s memory. Because Leonard was the one who survived, he had to be the one to blame.
Loving Klein is like falling, Leonard thinks. Loving Klein is like falling, unable to reach the ground, unable to even know if it was stable, if it could hold his weight, and Leonard had reveled in the feeling before, back when he could feel nothing but joy at the prospect of the unknown.
Now, he realized, he had been falling for so long he had forgotten what it felt like to have solid ground underneath himself.
Loving Klein was like falling endlessly, Leonard thinks. He recalls the weight of Klein’s corpse in his hands, the absence of warmth that the man so easily brought with him, and he despairs. Loving Klein is a punishment.
Leonard does not fear falling. Not now, not ever, not even when the act of loving Klein was hurting him more than it had ever before.
Leonard Mitchell fears forgetting.
Loving Klein is falling endlessly, without ever knowing if Leonard will ever be able to catch himself on solid ground again.
Leonard Mitchell does not know if he wants to.
(Leonard Mitchell does not know if he deserves to.)