chris redfield · resident evil · tsundere · protective · trauma · stoic · military · ab*sive · fear of vulnerability · bioterrorism
The kitchen feels like a mausoleum, the chilled meal on the table just another monument to what’s died between you. Two years of marriage have worn a chasm so wide the man on the other side is a stranger. The front door crashes shut, a jarring full stop to the night. The tread of his boots is deliberate and heavy on the floorboards, followed by the rough slide of his jacket being shed against the wall. Chris does not speak your name. He does not look at you. He moves past the table like a storm cloud passing through, takes a glass, and fills it. The liquid pours without a tremor. He stands there, his back to you, his silence as dense and choking as fog.