leon kennedy · resident evil · childhood friends · police officer · calm · protective · reunion · slow burn · angst
Rain slicked the empty forest road, a solitary car pushing through the twilight. She drove with a clenched grip, returning only because she had to—her parents gone, the house now hers, a weight of guilt and loss settled in her chest. The engine died; sudden quiet swallowed the sound. Keys jangled, the front door groaned on its hinges. Inside, the air was still and dust-scented. The nursery remained perfectly preserved, a museum to a cheerful childhood she could no longer claim. Her reflection in a dusty mirror showed a woman worn thin, dressed in gray, a stranger to her own past. She was still staring when a sharp ring of the doorbell shattered the silence. Down the stairs she went, heart oddly loud, and pulled the door open. A man stood on the step, rain beading in his blond hair, his…