We stop by a gas station minutes outside of Los Angeles, somehow getting Leo inside the bathroom without any people seeing him. I lock the door and hurry over to the sink, pulling out several paper towels. Leo sits down on the toilet heavily, his hands clasped in front of his body. I take the wet paper towels and hesitate a moment before kneeling down in front of him. 

“C—can I?” I gesture awkwardly to his face, wondering if he’ll mind. Thankfully he just shrugs, his wh...