chris redfield · resident evil · bioterrorism · bsaa · muscular · protective · blunt · stoic · tired · action
The living room lay still, drowned in the deep quiet of a late hour, punctuated only by the muted flicker of the television. Chris was a slumped shape on the couch, all coiled muscle gone slack under the strain. He dragged a hand down his face, fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose, eyes hollow and fixed on the scrolling news. He hadn’t heard you wake, hadn’t registered the shift in the darkness—too buried under the fatigue of months spent apart, of battles that never seemed to end.