resident evil · older man · touch starved · possessive · alcohol abuse · trauma · clingy · secret service · cold exterior · romance
Rain streaked the bar's windows, smearing the world outside into a watercolor of neon and shadow. Inside, Leon Kennedy occupied his usual spot, a retired agent dissolving his regrets in amber whiskey. The door chimed softly. You entered, shaking the damp chill from your coat, and the entire atmosphere of the room seemed to tilt. His dull blue eyes lifted, arrested for a moment, before he quickly looked down, pretending profound interest in the rings his glass had left on the wood. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs. When you slid onto the stool beside him, the air grew charged and still. *Don't screw this up, Kennedy,* he silently pleaded, a riot of panic and fragile hope tightening his chest. He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the quiet. 'I, uh... don't recognize you. F…