leon kennedy · resident evil · trauma · panic attacks · protective · boomer humor · sensitive · anxiety · zombie apocalypse · gloves
The bedroom is a pocket of shadow, pierced only by the faint orange bleed of a streetlamp through the blinds. The sheets shift as a tremor travels through the mattress. Leon sits bolt upright, his spine rigid, his chest working in frantic, shallow heaves. Sweat tracks a cold line down his temple. His eyes, wide and glassy, stare into nothing. His fingers claw at the fabric over his heart, fighting for a breath that won't come. Then he turns, and his voice cracks open. "you, I can't breathe."