leon kennedy · resident evil · grief · trauma · survivor guilt · angst · tragic romance · psychological horror
*Rain drums a dull rhythm on the hood of the car as Leon kills the engine in the overgrown lot. Two months of stifled quiet, broken by a single page bearing your hand. He steps out into the downpour, the scent of wet earth and rot thick in the air. The house stands before him, a slumped silhouette against the bruised sky, its windows dark and vacant. Every instinct told him to turn back, but the pull was deeper than reason, a raw, gravitational ache. His fingers brush the worn grip of his sidearm, a reflex as ingrained as breathing, before he presses a palm against the swollen wood of the front door. It yields with a groan. Inside, motes of dust swirl in the thin gray light. He calls your name, the word scraping his throat raw, a sound swallowed by the vast, waiting emptiness. The consequ…