𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅. While he was actively trying to make a change, there were some things that would stay the same, and keeping to himself was just an intrinsic part of his nature. Of course, his keeping to himself back then would be very different than how he kept to himself now—or so he desperately hoped and strove for—but the point still stood that it took a lot for Leslie to put himself out there, and he was more than fine with that.

"Morning," Cecelia called, looking up from where she was adjusting her shoulder bag.

Leslie smiled at her from where he was locking his apartment. This had been a regular occurrence in the mornings, the two leaving at around the same time, and while it had yet to be routine, Leslie was getting more and more used to tugging his lips into a polite smile, something that he was struggling to get used to, but from the way Cecelia smiled at him, it was clear that she understood, at a surface-level extent, that he was trying.

"Morning," he called out, and it was a surprise that his voice didn't come out as unused as it felt; unless he had to take a call at work, Leslie's voice was only ever used to speak to himself in his apartment, or make the occasional pleasantry that didn't require much effort.

"How's the job been?" she asked, because she was friendly and deemed him not a threat, and that was honestly one of the ways he knew he wasn't already failing.

He made a sound in the back of his throat, the two making their way towards the stairs together, and he wondered if this was going to be a regular occurrence, because the greetings he could deal with, the polite conversation making down the stairs would be more of a challenge, but, then again, he wasn't there to make life easy for himself.

"It's a job," he said, then, because he had to make more of an effort, added, "It's pretty nice, the pay is good and they treat me decent, but I haven't really had an opportunity to meet anyone."

Cecelia made a sad sound, giving him a sympathetic look. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

He waved her off immediately, finding that he could smile more genuinely than he was expecting; that was a good sign. "I did it to myself, everyone mingles during lunch, I just sit by myself and eat."

"Aw, you shouldn't do that," she said, and she moved to bump her shoulder against his, only to remember herself and stopped just before she lost balance, "I mean, obviously, do what you want, but I think you should find yourself a Battle Buddy."

He couldn't help his snort, feeling his stomach plummet immediately as he did, and he fought to catch himself, trying to keep his tone curious and light. "Battle Buddy?"

Fortunately, Cecelia wasn't fazed, instead just laughing and nodding, if not slightly embarrassed, but no more than she usually was. "That's what my dad would always tell me, he was in the army. A Battle Buddy is someone you're always with who has your back. Not always in combat situations, even if you're just existing on base, it's nice to have someone and know you're not alone, they'll defend you and stuff."

"Do you have a Battle Buddy at work?" he asked, because he was working on caring about other people and while they were talking about him, he felt it was only fair that he returned the favor.

"I work at a coffee shop," she pointed out, and he let out a laugh; it wasn't a genuine laugh, but it wasn't entirely forced, it was somewhere in between, a laugh of someone who hadn't laughed with someone in far too long and was just remembering how to.

"But," she continued, inclining her head, "I actually do. We've had some weird run-ins at the shop, one of my favorite regulars had brought his niece or something with him and she had smashed a coffee mug into someone's face because he tried to grab her? I don't actually remember, but he and his boyfriend visit a lot."

This was more than Leslie was bargaining to hear and he wasn't quite sure how to react, though it was an interesting piece of information, he wasn't sure how it pertained to him.

Then he mentally berated himself, trying to remember that not everything had to be about him, that this conversation had just much to do with Cecelia as it did with him, and he immediately reacted as such, allowing the slight curiosity he was feeling to rise to the surface, and from the way the young woman was looking at him, it seemed he had stuck the landing.

The two wound up stepping onto the sidewalk in silence, but it wasn't entirely uncomfortable. It wasn't easy by any means, but Leslie wasn't expecting that. He was expecting decent, and that was what he got, and that was more than fine with him.

"Have a good day at work," Cecelia called, starting to walk away, giving him a bright smile, "Find yourself a Battle Buddy. Or at least a friend."

Leslie watched her go for a moment, his lips tugging up into a fond smile, humming to himself as he looked towards the street, taking a moment just to think. He hadn't done any of this to make friends, but considering everything, maybe it would be good if he did.

But that would involve him knowing how.

º º º

Leslie's job wasn't too taxing, but it was enough to keep his attention. This wasn't the kind of job he ever expected to have, but it was available and not such a downgrade that he would be struggling to make ends meet—though he did have enough savings to help pad himself. There had been a learning curve when he first started, but after about a week things were getting much easier, and he didn't have to deal with any people, instead just making sure that everything went well, sending emails and inputting files. Of course, he would soon need to start dealing with phone calls like everyone else, but that wasn't going to happen until they deemed him ready.

Of course, with the way he was interacting with everyone, he wasn't sure how they were going to deem him ready to interact with customers.

Leslie sighed softly as he pushed his chair away from his desk, not quite out his cubicle but enough to give him some room, raising his arms above his head and stretching, groaning as his back popped, a realization popping into his mind: He was getting old.

He fought back another groan, instead raising his hands up to his eyes, rubbing his face in an attempt to give himself some reprieve from the constant glare of the screen, taking a few steadying breaths, reminding himself that he had to do this, that there was a reason, that it was beyond him to even make the decisions, in a manner of speaking.

If someone took a look into his mind, they would be shocked at what they would find, but it made sense to him and, at the end of the day, he didn't even have the right to say that his opinion on his situation mattered, not anymore.

His lamenting was interrupted by the sounds of sniffling coming from the cubicle to his right.

He frowned, raising his head from his hands, straining to pay closer attention. At first, it simply sounded like someone was sick and trying their best to push through, but the more he listened, the more the muffed sobs pierced through the clicking of the keys around him.

Now, Leslie kept to himself—or, at least, he tried to—so it wouldn't be out of character of him to simply go back to work, maybe put on some music as he saw his other co-workers do and push the knowledge of someone crying out of his mind; after all, it wasn't his business.

But he was supposed to be trying, so he couldn't help but wonder about whether or not they were going to be okay, because like it or not, it wasn't up to him to decide whether or not he could just let things slide and try other times; this was all or nothing.

He wracked his brain to remember the people around him and, catching sight of the person on his left standing up to head to the bathroom, he realized that the person to his right was the kind woman who had given him a smile and offered to help him, being interrupted by Dan who explained to her that he was in charge of helping out "the new guy," and Leslie hadn't been able to catch her name on account of focusing on the way the younger man was staring at the woman who politely sat back down, but not before giving Leslie a quick look, the two sharing in their exasperation, Leslie just barely able to give her a polite pursed smile before she disappeared from his sight and never reappeared, at least not where he was paying attention.

He sighed softly to himself, trying to come up with something to do. He had a feeling that drawing attention to her and asking her what was wrong wouldn't help, it would just make her more self-conscious about crying in public, and any attempt to give her tissues or offer help would render the same effect.

So, with a feeling of guilt that he didn't usually feel, he just resigned himself to go back to work, making a mental note to pay closer attention and see if there was any way he could help her later on; he doubted it, but he had to try, it wasn't his choice anymore.

As he went back to work, he thought back to Cecelia's words and, with a glance towards the wall separating himself and the crying woman, he wondered if she had a Battle Buddy of her own at the office; who knows, maybe that Battle Buddy could be him.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 06.27.19 )

I apologize for the shorter chapter, but hopefully the next chapter will come out sooner since it leads right into the next one, but this is a set up for things and mainly just showing ya'll Leslie's relationship with others and the reasoning for the choices he's going to be making later on, things are gonna be picking up next chapter, I promise.

Also! For those wondering, Cecelia is the gal who works at the coffee shop Rhett and Steve would meet at, the situation she was referring to was from a chapter of Past Lives, someone had asked if she was the same girl and I figured I'd do that.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!