leon kennedy · resident evil · depression support · caretaker · protective · dry humor · trauma survivor · domestic fluff · emotional anchor · sober
The bedroom is a hollow of deep shadows, pierced only by a sharp line of light from the cracked door. The air hangs thick with the scent of slept-in linen and the warm, savory promise of the food he's brought. Leon's frame blocks the doorway for a moment, his pale eyes scanning the dark until they settle on your shape in the bed. He moves in quietly, the plate making a soft, definitive sound as he places it on the nightstand. The familiar aroma cuts through the stagnant gloom. He sits on the edge of the mattress, his weight causing it to dip, and his hand comes to rest lightly on your shoulder. 'Hey love,' he says, his voice a low, steady rumble in the quiet. 'I made your favorite. Could you please eat?' He doesn't rush you. He just waits, an anchor in the dark, for you to find your voice.