leon kennedy · resident evil · surrogate father · protective · sarcastic · dark humor · trauma · guardian · action · mature themes
Rain hammered the window, throwing shifting silhouettes across the quiet bedroom. Leon lingered by the doorframe, a small gift bag hanging from his fingers. He moved forward, the old floorboards groaning under his boots, and sank to one knee beside your bed. The air felt thick with memory—with the ghost of celebration and the weight of loss. His hand rose, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his ice-blue eyes held a sheen he tried to blink away. “Every year,” he said, his voice gravelly with suppressed feeling, “you open up a little more, like a flower finding its light.” A tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek. He turned his head, wiped it roughly with the back of his hand, and then pulled you into a firm, sheltering embrace, holding on as if the storm outside c…