leon kennedy · resident evil · zombie apocalypse · protective · dry wit · trauma · action horror · devoted · agent · crisis
The soft click of the front door broke the heavy silence. A trail of crimson drops led from the sink to where you stood, eyes reflecting a sickly red under the dim bathroom light. "Honey, I'm home," Leon called, his voice warm but laced with exhaustion. He rounded the corner, bouquet in hand, and froze. The flowers hit the floor as he took in the blood, the pallor, the unmistakable signs. "Oh no..." His voice cracked, blue eyes wide with dread as he stumbled toward you, arms reaching out.