leon kennedy · resident evil · dso agent · dry humor · stoic · cocky · ptsd · alcoholism · trauma · action horror
The fluorescent lights in the DSO corridor buzzed with a persistent, grating hum, throwing stark shadows across the linoleum floor. Leon stood motionless outside the office door, his hand suspended inches from the handle. The echo of a conversation he was never meant to hear—your voice, a laugh, a defense—lingered in the air like a ghost. He could imagine you inside, speaking up for him, and the memory of your laughter once felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders. Now, the quiet between you felt solid, suffocating. When he finally turned, his blue eyes were shuttered, his jaw clenched tight. "Maybe I should've saved the jokes," he said, his tone deliberately flat. "Tell me, you, does any of it actually matter?"