Leon Kennedy x Wife Reader
A/N: Mentions of pregnancy
You sat at your desk, opening your lunch to reveal your salad. You sighed, looking at the round tomatoes, the carrot strips, the red onions, and the peppers popping out against the green. You wanted a burger, a box of pizza, anything besides the grass in front of you. You hid your groan as you saw your colleagues walk past your door, the smell of their food bullying you. At least this is for you, you thought, rubbing your growing stomach. But, damn, it’s still annoying. You were trying to eat healthier, but you always fell short: whether giving in to your cravings or buying food yourself. Or, being spoiled rotten by your husband, because the word no is not in his vocabulary when it comes to you. You opened the salad, beginning to eat it begrudgingly. Probably, today might be the day when you finish your lunch. You felt your stomach churn, though not from the nausea that comes with pregnancy.
Leon was sick, infected was what he told you, and he wasn’t getting better. You could see it in his eyes, the darkness, the guilt when he looks at you. And how he looks at you: concentrated, as if there’s a timer on your back for when you would be taken away from him. There’s an urgency within him, as if he were already dead, randomly checking if things were properly working around the house, making sure that your daughter’s room would be complete. You haven’t been sleeping, kept up by thoughts of losing him. You would watch him sleep, listening to his breathing. You would check his infection each time to see if it had spread. You didn’t know what you were looking for, you just wanted it to stop. To disappear entirely. He held you those nights, whispering that everything would be okay, as you silently cried. His words didn’t do much, you were convinced that you were being held by his corpse. You didn’t want him to go, you need him here.
Your phone began to ring, Leon’s name appearing. You gathered yourself, putting on a smile to hide the hopelessness that you were feeling. You had to be strong for him.
“Hello, Dr. Kennedy,” Leon’s face peered over his phone, the camera pointing towards the ceiling.
“Hello there,” you said, “I can’t see your face. What are you doing?”
You heard the flipping of papers and a grumble of frustration coming from him, before he picked up his phone. He winked at you before turning the camera to the half-built crib, which was surrounded by the other pieces and tools. He flipped the camera back, smiling, “It’s coming along, right?”
“Yes,” you smiled, “I thought we were going to work on it together though.”
“I don’t wanna overstrain you,” he smiled again, “And besides, I need to get this done.”
There it was again, that desire to finish future projects as if he won’t be around. He was practically speed running his daughter’s room, building everything as you watched from the rocking chair. The instructions in your hand are long forgotten. Every time he looked around the room, his eyes would linger: on the small shelf that was filled with picture books and stuffed animals, on the wall that was decorated with picture frames of the maternity shoot and her ultrasound, before finally finding you. He looked as if he were taking this moment for the road, trying to fit in as much detail as possible. If only you could exchange the experience, you thought catching a glimpse of the infection at the shifting of his collar.
“Salad, again?” Leon asked, his attention on the crib once more.
“Unfortunately,” you said, “She better appreciate it.” Leon laughed, reassuring you that she will. As he laughed, your mouth felt heavy, burdened by wanting to ask the question that you’ve been constantly asking: Are you okay? It was hard to laugh, hard to eat. You were jealous of his ability to stay calm.
“How was your lecture?” Leon asked, “They paid attention?”
You thought back to your students’ faces, some were taking notes, engaging with you and the others hid behind laptops. “Mostly, though I’m thinking they’re waiting for when we go asynchronous, which should be around the corner,” you said moving around some loose papers to find your calendar.
“Next week,” you smiled, “And I’m your responsibility until we become a trio.”
“Can’t wait,” Leon smiled, before growing quiet. He rubbed his neck, his hand lingering over the spot of the infection. He doesn’t think that he’s going to see her, and you feel sick all over again. You wanted to reach through your phone and pull him in for a hug. Once again, you wanted to change his experience, take the infection away.
“I bet she can’t wait for you to hold her,” you grinned, “To see your face, to feel your love.”
Leon smiled again, getting the same shine back in his eyes. You had to end the call, seeing that one of your students came in, asking for clarification on their assignment.
You came home to Leon clicking away on his laptop at the kitchen table. He didn’t look up, kissing your hand, and then telling you that he ordered your favorite pizza. You leaned forward, kissing his cheek, your eyes catching the screen. Multiple files were open, each one hidden behind the other. The newest one read Raccoon City Syndrome, and you didn’t know what you were reading. You began to skim, noticing that his infection had stages. Before you could pin a stage to Leon, he turned off his laptop, turning to face you.
He pulled you in between his legs, his arms wrapping around your waist. He kissed your belly and then rested his head there. He closed his eyes at the touch of your fingers running through his hair. Instantly, you saw the worry fade, as if you were his sanctuary. His religion can only offer peace. You have to be his peace, and you have been failing more often than not. The day he showed you his infection, you were anything but a source of hope. He assured you, he promised you that everything would be fine. He said that he was going to stay. Constantly pouring into you, you were useless. At least, you thought that you were.
“Just be here with me,” was what he told you then, “That’ll be more than enough.” His words were spoken so gently, so genuinely. They never made you feel adequate.
“We’re going to be okay,” you whispered, though for his sake. It was a double-edged sword: it could mean that Leon would find a cure for this, and this moment could just be a memory. Or, you’re giving him the peace of knowing that you and his daughter will be fine without him. The thought left you stuck. You were in a race against time, and each quiet moment was a reminder that you were losing.
“Yeah,” he looked up at you, nodding, “Yes, we are.”
You couldn’t sleep that night, watching your ceiling fan turn. Leon slept next to you, his hand holding yours. You looked over at him, listening to his labored breathing in between coughs. His health seemed to have deteriorated in a matter of moments after the conversation the two of you had. It happened while the two of you were on the couch, Leon was restlessly flipping through channels, constantly checking his phone, and you were grading assignments. He had a coughing fit, falling to his side as his body was trembling. You won’t forget the wheezing, the blue tint in his lips, or cleaning the small red specks off the couch and his skin. He looked so much older than his age at that time, everything that you loved about him became a warning.
You began to move, no longer being able to lie down. Leon tightened his grip, “Where are you going? Did you hear something?” His voice was heavy with sleep and dry from his coughing.
“Need to get some water,” you replied, kissing his cheek, “I’ll be right back.”
You sat at the kitchen table, opening Leon’s laptop. You stared at the screen, debating whether to type in the password. You wanted to respect his privacy. But, everything was spinning out of control, and if you knew what was wrong with him, there was some control. At least the facade of it. He said that he’ll be okay, and you know that you need to trust him, but you can’t. On cue, you heard him cough, before falling silent again. You closed the laptop, not feeling okay with snooping through his files. Though the pit was undeniable, growing wider. You’re bound to fall into it, with nothing there to catch you. You walked back to your room, your fingers sliding against the wall, feeling each memory in the unevenness of the surface.
“Hey baby,” Leon said when you got back into bed, “You okay?” His voice lacked any sleepiness, he waited until you got back in bed.
“Yup,” you say, lying on your side, facing him.
He held your hand, kissing it before trailing up your arm, ending on your nose. In the stillness of the room, it was easy to forget what lies beyond it.
“Raccoon City Syndrome,” Leon said, as you were looking at his hand.
The infection continued its spread, causing his hand to become a mess of dark streaks, similar to the area on his neck. You first noticed the spread when he dropped a glass, causing it to shatter across the floor. You rushed into the kitchen, seeing him holding his hand, cursing. And now, you were sitting across from him, listening to him list off his symptoms.
“They have my blood samples,” he began, “They’re using that to find a cure, but nothing has been successful.”
“And, there’s still no leads?” You asked, turning his hand over, seeing a rough patch of dark purplish blue.
His silence was an answer, and you quietly said okay. You got up, walking back into your kitchen, to clean up the broken glass. You needed a distraction, something normal.
Leon’s hand stopped you from sweeping, “I’ll take over from here.” You didn’t have the urge to argue, you nodded and walked away. Unable to look him in the eyes without your throat tightening.
In your room, you opened the closet to reveal a safe hidden away. There wasn’t money, or expensive jewelry in it, but something much more valuable. You messed with the dial, thinking about the letters inside of it. Letters that he has written for you before each assignment he goes on. Letters that shouldn’t be read if that unfortunate event happens. It was so easy to ignore the safe, he had always come back. He’s always been okay.
Now with his infection, the safe felt like a looming threat.
Leon stepped into the room, walking up behind you and wrapping himself around you. He kissed the crook of your neck, while his hands rubbed gentle circles on your stomach. You leaned against him, before he turned you around, facing him. You couldn’t escape his face, feeling his hand keeping you focused on him.
“I can’t promise you a miracle,” he said, “But, I can promise that I’m doing everything in my power to stay with you.”
“I’m still here,” he smiled, resting his head against yours, “There’s no need to open that safe. And I’ll try not to give you a reason to. You just gotta trust me.”
“Yeah,” you breathed, “I know. It’s hard to though. This situation, seeing you like this. I’m scared.”
“We’ll make it through,” he held you closer, “Even if it feels like everything is crashing down. We will make it through.”
He hated seeing the worry on your face, the doubt in your eyes. He should be the last person that you’re worried about, especially now. He cleaned your eyes, hoping that his words had gotten through, that you’ll believe them when he can’t. He smiled when you kissed him, taking that as a sign of your trust.
You watched Leon prepare his weapons for his assignment from the door in your garage. He was informed of a lead an hour ago and has been preparing since. He seemed to have a newfound sense of vigor since the update, as if life was shot into his veins. He moved with confidence and purpose. You listened to the rain, wishing that he didn’t have to go so late. You hated staying home alone, the house and your bed, seemed so much bigger when he was not there.
“That’s a fancy gun,” you smiled, watching him check the ammunition, “You should let me shoot it.”
“Too much recoil and too big for you to handle,” he teased, “Sorry, baby.”
You rolled your eyes, “I’ve shot your guns before. Handled bigger things before.”
“You’re right,” Leon said, walking back to you, his eyes on your body. He placed his gun in his pouch, before embracing you. You ran your fingers through the back of his hair, the soft strands being broken up underneath your touch. He kissed your neck, his hands sliding underneath your shirt.
“No,” you laughed, grabbing his wrists, “Not right now. You have to be somewhere.”
“I can spare a few minutes,” he kissed you again, slowly. This time, you felt him playfully bite your neck. You took a deep breath, folding so easily underneath his touch.
“After,” you pulled away from him, “After you find yourself a cure, then this conversation can continue.”
You watched him put some spare items in his car, as a silence was beginning to fall over the two of you. You could tell that he was stalling, not wanting to leave you at that moment. He kept asking you variations of the same question as his car was running, he kept wanting to check if the doors were locked, if your gun was in the designated area. But he had to go, his infection wouldn’t let him stay.
“This will lead to a cure right? The start of one?” You asked, cautiously smiling.
He couldn’t tell you no. He couldn’t convey just yet that his time was coming to an end. That this mission was an obstacle in his last moments with you. Each second of not being in arms length of you was wasted time. He didn’t want to leave you, to be alone when he takes his last breath. There was no cure, Leon was sure of it. He came to terms with it the moment he began to cough blood, it was moving too fast.
He couldn’t kill that hope, even if it was false. It was better than nothing. “The start of one, yes,” your smile grew at his words, and that twisted him.
“Be safe,” you kissed him, “Please.”
“I always am,” he said, “Love you.”
“Love you too,” you smiled, kissing him once more. You hated this part, watching him leave. But, he had to, and you had to trust him.
Time always seemed to crawl when Leon was away, when it was just you and your thoughts. He last updated you a couple of hours ago, telling you that he was going to a care facility, and that he’ll check back in soon. Soon, or more accurately, when he can. Wherever he was, you wished that you could be right next to him, be the person in his ear. Your thoughts were occupied by him as you read paper after paper. Words were blurring together, the concepts sounding like a different language. And your phone, no new messages. You were going crazy trying to keep from thinking the worst. You closed your laptop, nothing will be getting graded anytime soon. You did everything to keep your mind occupied: exercised, napped, and finished putting up pictures in the baby room. But your worries were growing stronger with the sun’s descent across the sky.
Hey, are you ok? I hope you are. Love you, you turned off your phone after you sent the message. He’s been gone for nearly a day, and you don’t know if he’s coming back any time soon. A paralyzing thought. You were in bed, lying in his shirt, trying to be comforted by anything that he had at home. You turned on your phone, looking at your lock screen, smiling softly. It was a selfie of you in bed, with Leon sleeping on your chest. You would do anything to be in that moment again, to be held by him. Please be okay, you silently prayed.
The sun was just peaking on the horizon, when Leon called.
“Hey baby,” Leon said, “Sorry for not responding. I finally became free.”
“What happened? Are you okay, has the infection spread any further?” You asked.
Leon looked at himself in the mirror as he drove to his destination. The infection did spread, the dark streaks across his face. Coughing up blood hours before. He wasn’t doing well, and returning home was becoming a slimmer possibility by the second.
“No,” he said, “I’m still feeling great.”
He squeezed the steering wheel at your sigh of relief, hating himself. You don’t deserve to be lied to, but you also don’t deserve to be alone. To have someone like him who could be taken away from you so easily.
“Where are you going now?”
Silence. He’s told you about it in pieces, never the full truth. Just enough for you to know its importance. “How do you feel?” You asked.
Leon considered your question, pressing his foot against the gas. The feeling of speed reminds him of the joy rides that he would take you on: your smile, his hand on your thigh. Hurling you both to a future together. Now this speed is hurling him to a place that he could never forget. It was part of him, mixed into his being.
“Like I need to make things right,” he said.
“I know that you will,” your words caused him to smile, “You always do. Just come back home, okay?”
“Of course,” Leon said, “I love you.”
“Love you more,” he could hear your smile. Leon relished it, realizing that this could be the last time he heard your voice. At least, this is all for you. If he could end Umbrella’s madness once and for all, then you would be safe. Dying for that doesn’t seem so bad at all. Leon looked out the window to see a city in ruins, desolate. The giant crater a symbol of the end. He took another breath to steady himself, fighting the urge to call you again. Fighting everything in him to turn back around. Before he knew it, the shadows of buildings that were still standing, towered over him.
Looks like he made it home.
I’ll be going underground for a bit. Text you when I can, love you, the message from Leon lit up your phone. More hours of silence, more hours of trying to fight off the worst. You texted him back, sinking into the couch. You didn’t know what to do, besides stare at the clock. Nothing gets done when he’s away, and you thought that you had moved past this habit. When he went on an assignment when the two of you had officially gotten together, it was hell. Not knowing where he was, if he was okay, the sporadic messages. Not being able to ask any meaningful questions. You had to hope that he made it back in the midst of sleepless nights.
Cling to a hope that was devoid of warmth. It didn’t make your bed feel smaller, it didn’t fill your home with noise. It was devoid of everything that made Leon. You felt as hopeless as the first time. You guess that you didn’t change at all. You walked to the patio door, looking at the pale moon. You wondered if he had looked at the same one before going underground, making the same wish as you. You knew that he was a fighter, he always came back. But, the thought was becoming useless against the fear and anxiety slowly growing around the edges.
Another monster out how many down? Leon couldn’t tell, each step was a chore. A token of his life. His coughing episodes were becoming longer, deadlier, and forcing him to his knees. In his coughing episodes, he could see you, hear you. Standing in front of him, always out of reach. Longing for you when you were miles away. He doesn’t know how much is left in him, he just knows that he has to move forward. He shot down a licker, moving forward means taking down as many of them as he can. Moving forward means saving Grace, getting to you.
Moving forward was impossible.
His mind was sluggish, his body was exhausted. Putting his body in a place of pain and reality, as if it were a double consciousness. He stumbled into the elevator, the room blacking out and swirling around him. He fell against the elevator walls, his hand was in and out of focus, the smell of blood a deep permeation.
He saw you again, standing across from him in the elevator, he reached out for you, but you didn’t move. “I’m sorry, baby,” he coughed. You faded away once he reached his floor.
Leon couldn’t see, couldn’t walk, couldn’t breathe. His blood was everywhere: on his gloves, coating his lips. He tasted the iron in his mouth. He stumbled to the door, another cough causing him to violently shake. He crawled, pulling himself forward with fisted hands. This was it, he failed you. Just come back home, you said. That was all he had to do, and he failed. He positioned himself against the door, the bright yellow of the room, making it seem that he had arrived at the pearly gates.
Leon coughed again, causing more blood to fall. He thought that he had more time, he thought that he was ready to die. Being surrounded by it all his life, he was unfazed. Or so he thought. He didn’t have you then, crossing the line meant nothing. Now, there’s everything to lose, and he doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to be alone. At least you weren’t here to see this, to see a body beyond recognition. One that tried to fight, to make it home to you. He hopes that you won’t be disappointed in him, that you know that he tried. His heart was becoming heavy, each slow beat a threat of being his last. Leon pulled out his phone, dialing your number as the numbers swam on the screen. The call never went through, and Leon cursed again. He won’t be able to hear your voice again or say goodbye to his little girl.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling a tear fall, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” you said, “I’m here now.”
Leon closed his eyes, leaning into you. He felt your hands run through his hair, smelled your perfume. He was in your arms again, and you were here. He opened his eyes again, to see you smiling. He reached out, to touch your face, confused at first to feel nothing, before feeling you again. You were so beautiful in the light of the in between, where time meets eternity. He was falling all over again, and if given a chance he would fall in love with you all over again. You were so beautiful, and it seems that he realized it too late. You leaned down, your hand holding his as you rested your head against his. Leon closed his eyes again, breathing you in. He hopes that you will remember him, tell his daughter about him, and how much he loved her as she grew through the months.
“Leon,” you said his name, “Leon, get up. Hey.”
“Hey you,” he smiled again, seeing darkness dance at the edge of his vision.
Then you were gone, fading away like mist in the sun. Grace was there, looking anxious as ever. Leon sat back up, coughing again. Grace let go of a breath she was holding, smiling. She revealed that she had a plan, which includes helping him. She helped Leon to his feet, and he went along with what she had in mind. He trusted her, whether she succeeded or not. He was going to be there. He was going to save her.
Releasing Elpis and securing the anti-viral did help Leon survive. Trusting Grace helped Leon survive. Forever indebted, because of her he can see you again. Healthy, being everything that you need him to be without delay. He would be on his way to you, if Umbrella’s headquarters hadn’t crashed down on him.
“I’m sorry Leon,” Grace said, pulling her legs to her knees, “There’s no way out.”
Leon looked around, seeing nothing but rubble and debris. The body of Nemesis lay there, crushed by the remains of Umbrella. Leon looked at his arms and hands again, still not being able to believe that he had been healed. That’s one problem solved, at least you’ll be happy about that. But this, Leon kicked a loose rock, you won’t be happy with. Leon turned back to Grace, feeling a sense of failure. She helped, cured him, and now he can’t even save her.
You can’t save anyone, the note from the ruins of the police department came to his mind, weighing down his heart. She shouldn’t be stuck here with him, she should be walking above ground. She shouldn’t be sorry.
“No,” Leon said, taking a seat next to her, “I’m sorry for not being able to get you out.”
He rubbed her shoulders, smiling at her when she met his eyes, “Can’t get rid of me though, I’m staying right here.” If he can’t save her, then he can be with her. He’ll be with her till the end.
“You need to go,” Grace said, “She’s waiting for you.”
“Who?” Leon asked, though he knew what she meant, you’re the one waiting for him.
“Your wife,” Grace said, shifting to dig into her pouch, “When I found you, you were saying her name, and apologizing. You also dropped this.”
“Thank you,” Leon smiled, “She definitely would have killed me if I lost this.”
He held the ring in his hand staring at it shine in the flickering lights. He grew quiet, a frown appearing on his face. He wouldn’t leave Grace alone for the world, yet he can feel the hopelessness begin to settle in once more. Leon could have dealt with the sickness, at least he would be able to see you and hold your hand until the end. If he had known that he wasn’t coming back home, he would have held you tighter and closer that night, kissed you longer. He would have read to his baby one last time. Leon smiled to himself, thinking about how he thought it was ridiculous, but extremely cute when he would catch you reading. Then one night, he decided to give it a try, relieving your voice after a day of lectures. He couldn’t finish reading the book, feeling undeserving of the life that you had given him. The safety, the simplicity. He was so afraid that he would break it, that he would bring the violence back to you.
He closed his hand around his ring, beginning to mourn for what he would miss settling in. The nights when you would practice your lectures before you taught them the following day. Leon wouldn’t listen then, too mesmerized by you. He would be caught up in your voice instead, the confidence in your words making his head spin, with a never-ending smile. He would be too focused on how his shirt loosely fit you, yet catch in the right areas. He’s going to miss the mornings when he would wake up before you, kissing your forehead, watching your face crinkle. His mind was on you, how you’ll be stuck picking up the pieces that he broke. You’ll have memories of him, not only in the letters that he leaves behind in case he doesn’t make it home. But in your child. He hopes that you would hear him in her laugh, see his eyes when her eyes would hit the sun a certain way.
The lights gave one last flicker, before washing him and Grace in darkness. He felt Grace move closer to him, their shoulders touching. “I’m sitting right here with you, I’m not going to leave you. Promise,” he smiled.
“Thank you, Leon,” she said.
It was quiet once again, and Leon felt his throat tightening. He closed his eyes, placing his ring finger against his lips. The ring felt heavy, not having your usual presence. It felt as if it were a weight, a broken promise. He was thankful for the darkness, feeling a tear fall. Dying was fine, it meant that you would be safe. That he finally did his job. But this was worse. The waiting, the seconds leading up to when the chasm will be devoid of oxygen. Sitting with the realization that he’s not coming back to you. That is what scares him most, not dying, but leaving you. And this moment is leading to that. The moment when you find his letters, breaking down, longing for assurance from words that don’t have arms. Longing for assurance from his ghost. He wanted to protect you from this future, but he was too selfish to let you go.
“You deserve something good, to be selfish. Please let me be that something. Please let me be yours.” You said those words to him when you found him drunk in his house, after he called off the engagement. He swore that he was going to end up hurting you. D.S.O, fighting bio-terrorism, it was all part of his D.N.A. That violence would surely lead back to you.
But you were a peace, a melody to his old and battered soul. And that scared him.
He didn’t want to rob you of your music, but he craved everything that you provided: love, safety, simplicity. He needed those things, he needed you. You promised to stay that night, with your forehead resting against his, in his lap. He held you that night, fiercely. He held you as if trying to prevent a dream from slipping away. Close and desperate. He held you, promising that he won’t go.
“Hey, Leon,” Grace’s voice broke the silence, “You there?”
“Yeah,” Leon said, though his voice was just above a whisper.
“What does she look like?”
“A dream come true,” Leon said, cleaning his eyes. He turned on his flashlight, before digging into one of his innermost pockets. He pulled out a wedding photo, handing it to Grace. You were facing forward, sitting on his leg. Leon’s face was mostly hidden, which Grace could assume that he was kissing your shoulder. You did look beautiful, ethereal in your white dress.
“How did you meet her?” Grace asked.
“At a coffee shop,” Leon said, the memory causing him to smile, “She was running late as hell to her job,” Leon told her the story, feeling a calmness settle over him. It felt as if you were there.
You were going to be late, your class started in five minutes, and the barista was still on the drink order ahead of you. That would have been fine, if the person ahead of you hadn’t ordered a household's worth of drinks. You tried to keep down your annoyance by drafting an email to your students saying that class isn’t cancelled, you’re just running late. Finally, you heard your name, and you grabbed your drink, with still time to spare. You quickly said thank you” before you weaved through the crowded shop.
Leon sat in his car, seeing the line press against the shop’s doors, threatening to spill out. He was definitely considering leaving, no coffee is ever worth this much hassle, and he was pressed for time. His meeting started in thirty minutes, and it would take him all of that just to get to the cashier. But, Sherry wanted this coffee specifically, and he wasn’t going to show up without it. He opened up Sherry’s text message, sighing with a smile as he read her essay of a coffee order. Yeah, he’s definitely going to be late. He placed his phone in his pocket, checked for his wallet, and got out of the car. Leon saw it all happen: you running out of the coffee shop frantically, looking at your phone. And the dumbass who thought that going 90 in a parking lot was a good idea. The car stopped right before you were injured, but it gave you a scare. Your coffee flew out of your hands and onto the stranger’s car.
“I’m sorry,” you began, “I didn’t-“
“You stupid bitch,” he cut you off, “Did you not see my fucking car?”
“Bitch?” You said turning around to see if anyone was behind you, “No, I didn’t see your bitch ass car because it was going 100 in fucking a parking lot.”
The man put his car in park, and his seatbelt came loose. You stood your ground, feeling for your pepper spray on your key ring. Perhaps, I should cancel my class, you thought. You didn’t notice another man steadily making his way towards you. “What the fuck did you say?”
He got out of his car, towering over you, “Say it to my fucking face again, stupid-”
“Everything okay here?” Another man, older, with sharp blue eyes stood in front of you. His voice had an edge, as if he had just told the man a warning.
The man didn’t take notice, instead growing bolder. He stepped closer to him, spitting on the ground. He looked at you still, his eyes finding any means to get through the man in front of you. You were suddenly grateful for the man standing as your barrier.
“This bitch- What the fuck man!” The man doubled over holding his nose.
Your eyes widened, seeing the blood drip on the pavement. The other man shook his hand, before turning his attention to you. Your breath was still, being snatched right out of you. He was handsome, the wind was in his hair, and his eyes, which were once so sharp, softened. Concern filled them, and that caused you to take a step back, you have never been looked at this way before.
“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you?” The man asked.
“No,” you said, “The only thing that’s messed up, is my coffee. Thank you for stepping in.”
“Of course,” he smiled, “Let me buy you another coffee.”
“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head, “It’s fine, I have to go anyway. I’m late for class.”
“Class?” He asked you, seeing something in his face slightly change. You quickly explained that you were a professor at the university nearby. You felt relief seeing his old expression back, one that lacked guilt. He offered to buy you coffee again, and this time, you accepted. In line, you learned that his name is Leon Kennedy and that he works for the government. You didn’t want the line to end, finding yourself going quiet and just staring. The wrinkles around his eyes, the stubble on his face. Even his jokes were funny. It was an instant crush, a seed unknowingly being planted.
Leon walked you to your car to make sure that no more cars tried to hit you. As the conversation was beginning to drain, you felt yourself running out of time. You needed to say something before he told you goodbye.
“Let me repay you for the coffee,” you said, “We can go to another coffee shop or get lunch.” You held your breath, hanging on to his next answer. You noticed it again, that brief moment of guilt before it was gone. There it was again, that smile that made you want nothing more. He agreed, and the two of you exchanged numbers.
Lunch happened a week later, causing Leon to feel dread. He felt himself slipping, slowly unraveling when he would text you. The thought of you was repairing him, causing him to feel whole. He knew that he should cut you off, stop your vines from encasing him, but he couldn’t. You were a cure, something that he desperately needed. He wants to fade into you, get lost to the point where he can’t be found. If he weren’t so fucked up, he would surely love you. Make you his, forever. Lunch was perfect, you looked beautiful sitting across from him, an angel that was causing him to burn like hell. As you talked, Leon didn’t know who he was. He was wrapped around you, feeling possessed. Each word of yours, each accidental touch of your foot against his leg caused a point of disengagement. He was falling to pieces, DNA being torn at the seams. But would you ever love someone like him? Someone whose soul is full of aches? An answer that he desperately wanted, but a question that he’s unable to ask.
Leon didn’t let you touch the bill, or even see it, immediately handing his card over to the waiter. He walked you to your car again, your arms interlocked. He opened your car door, as you thanked him for paying, despite the outing being your idea.
“Leon,” you said, “I .. there’s a music festival in the city soon. I have an extra ticket, and I was wondering if you wanted to go. No pressure.”
Leon heard that small voice in the back of his head. The one who told him to run, that anything further with you would result in heartbreak. He wanted to run, but he was so tired of happiness slipping through his fingers. He wanted something nice, he just wanted to hold you.
Besides, he’s already been hurt. He can handle whatever trouble that he brings. He can weather the voices of doubt.
“I’d love to,” his answer made you smile.
“Great,” you kissed his cheek.
“A kiss,” Leon smiled, “Things must be getting serious.”
Yeah, he’s going to miss you. Miss seeing your face, how you would light up in the late nights when he would come home. Miss how you would play with his hair as he slept away whatever hell he endured in your arms. He just hopes that you’ll forgive him for not coming back to you. The memories of you will be enough to sustain him, and he swears that he feels you around his shoulders.
It made the darkness easier to handle, it made this situation less painful. And then the cavern opened up.
You stared at the safe from your bed. It was taunting you, along with your phone. It constantly buzzed: notifications from your coworkers, university updates, and your students, emailing you for extensions and more notifications that they turned in their assignments. The whole world was talking to you, everyone and everything, but him.
He’s been radio silent since he arrived in Raccoon City, and the worst took place in your mind. Flooding it like a tsunami. You didn’t want to open the safe, knowing that was the last thing keeping him alive, that part of him untouched. Once you open it, reality will set in. He said don’t open it unless you know that he’s not coming back, and he has never given you any reason to open it.
He always came back to you. Tired, and bruised, but in front of you nonetheless. You were convinced that no grave could hold him, he always found his way home. Now, it wasn’t just for you, you placed a hand on your stomach, he had to return for her.
You got up, walking towards your closet. You played with the combination lock, purposefully missing the password by one digit. You can’t imagine a world without him, you can’t imagine the moment needing to open the safe and read the letters that he wrote for you. But now, it’s staring at you. You closed your eyes, feeling yourself sink further into his shirt.
You were at a borderline between hope and despair. The ring on your finger was a promise. He hasn’t broken it yet, so why would he now? You closed the closet, choosing to trust him. He’ll be home soon, you’re just going to have to do the hard part: waiting. You looked at your laptop, time to get to work.
Your phone vibrating on your desk caused you to finally look up from your computer screen. You felt like you had made progress, half of the papers were graded. You rubbed your eyes, before picking up your phone. You nearly ended the call trying to answer it too quickly. Your heart was pounding, threatening to break free from your chest.
“Leon? Leon, are you okay? What happened?” You asked, “Do I need to come get you?”
“Whoa,” you heard him laugh, “I missed you too, baby.”
You took a breath, his laugh alleviating all your fears, “You sound better, did you find something to cure you?”
“Yeah, the anti-viral is working better than a charm. I feel like I’m twenty years younger,” you could hear his smile, “Can’t wait to finish the crib, and decorate with you.”
You sighed, not saying anything. You felt a droplet fall on your hand, before you cleaned your eyes. You tried to hide your sniffles, trying to find strength before you talk, but you couldn’t. You were overwhelmed, extremely grateful.
“You okay?” Leon asked, “Talk to me.”
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” you finally said, “I was so scared that I had to open that thing.”
“You know that I wouldn’t leave you,” Leon reassured you, “My love, I’ll always come back to you.”
Your cheeks warmed at his words, smiling like a teenager. “Thank you Leon, I love you. Oh, is the FBI agent okay? You were able to find her?”
“Yes, she’s fine,” Leon said, “She’s the reason why I’m healed. She was the key.”
“What? Can I talk to her?” You asked. Once she was on the phone, you thanked her profusely. You simply couldn’t thank her enough. You invited Grace to dinner, though inviting was the nice way to put it. It was more comparable to not giving her the option to say no. You were going to thank this girl one way or another.
You felt another upcoming responsibility: finding the perfect gift. That’s fine, you thought, I’ll just ask Leon a million questions. It’s the least you can do, she saved your husband. For that, there will never be enough thank yous. There will never be enough gratitude.
“I’ll see you when I get home,” Leon said, “Love you.”
And when he did arrive home, he didn’t want to let you go. He dropped to his knees, greeting your daughter with a kiss on your stomach. He then kissed you, chasing your lips like a promise. He needed this, he needed you.
“Rough mission?” You asked, stroking his back.
Leon let himself be cared for, closing his eyes. He loosened his grip, allowing himself to be held. He listened to your easy breathing, feeling himself be carried away into a sweet oblivion that was known as you. He can stay here, drifting aimlessly in your sea.
“Rougher than most,” he kissed you slowly again, “I thought I wouldn’t make it back. Everything felt so different.”
“I’m just glad to be back,” Leon smiled, “I love you, baby.”
