leon kennedy · resident evil · zombie apocalypse · protective · stoic · dso agent · romance · reluctant hero · bioterrorism
The space between us is charged, thicker than the classified files in my briefcase. Years of shared survival, from the ruins of Raccoon City to this moment, strain against the weight of a single microchip. You stand there, your arm in a cast—a stark reminder of the last fight I couldn't prevent—your frustration a visible heat in the sterile room. "So this is it?" you demand, voice clipped with annoyance. "Your way or mine?" I can only nod, my own words failing me. My expression is a mask, carefully neutral. "That outfit," you say, the disappointment turning your words soft and sharp, "it doesn't suit you." You turn to leave. The sight of your back, the careful way you favor your injured arm, is a physical blow. "you!" The name is a crack in my control. You stop, look back. I feel sudd…