Dating him made you feel loved, wanted — cherished. Yet, you couldn't help but notice the look he gave her. He told you about her, how he once loved her, but how her heart belonged to another. Seeing the pain in his eyes, you comforted him — gave him all your love and much, much more. Nothing could stop the two of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine and then some...
But, it came tumbling down into a fiery pit of anger and heartache once you realised the unbearable truth.
He loved her. Always has. Always will.
...But not you.
a/n: hope the intro was captivating enough! drafting when it's nearly midnight is always fun lmfao. anyway, guess who's got into love and deepspace? MEEEE :3 enjoy this absolute angst-fest <33
info: you're dating the lads men, but realise that he still loves emcie. so, what do you do?
extra notes: mc's name is emcee for the sake of clarity! you are not mc in this! also sorry if i made any of the boys ooc! i tried to stay as true to their character as possible (yes i'm apologising for the long caleb chapter i am so sorry caleb girlies </3)
Part 1 (you're here!) | Part 2 | ALT. Part 2 (soon!)
genre: angst
word count (minus intro): 5.4k
remember to drink water and enjoy <3
•--––——✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧——––--•
⭐️Xavier⭐️
Xavier. Your calm, sleepy boyfriend. Despite not showing it much in public, he shows his affection towards you in the comfort of your own home or his apartment, much preferring to watch your reactions in private than in front of other people. Other than work or napping, he likes hanging out with you and going on dates.
Yet, whenever you go over to pick him up from work, you always notice his blue eyes staring at Emcee with a look that he never gives you — devotion. A lost, longing devotion. He always manages to snap out of it once she looks your way and waves to you, his hand gently resting on your waist with a twinge of hesitation.
And you always notice. It goes on for almost a year, and you ignore it. For the first few months, he only looks at you — focuses on you. But after that, his mind and eyes seem to wander off to Emcee.
It comes to a head when you confront him about it after ignoring it, thinking he'd eventually look at you that way once more. But you can't handle being the second thing he looks at, the hesitant thing he touches. It's driving you mad.
"What are you talking about?" Is the first thing out of his mouth once you start confronting him about it that night as you sat in his apartment. Sitting up on the bed next to him, you look down at your lap, trying desperately to articulate your next words coherently.
"It's just..." You trail off, glancing at him as he copies your movements, sitting up next to you and looking at you, yet not quite seeing you. And that's what annoys you the most. "Whenever I pick you up at work, I notice your eyes don't land on me when I walk through the doors. You just... You stare at Emcee. And you only stop until she greets me..."
And that's what causes your relationship to crumble. You tell him everything that is on your chest that night, and he listens. He holds you, apologising from the bottom of his heart. He even takes you out on a date the next day...
But that doesn't bridge a gap or close the smidge of distance between the two of you. It only creates a slowly growing cliff in your relationship, making the distance unbearable.
He is much quieter, if that was possible. He barely glances in your direction, barely touches you, rarely asks you to come over or go on a date. It's like he doesn't want to do anything with you. You feel the final thread holding you two together finally snap in the car ride back to his apartment.
After walking him to his door, you break the silence rather abruptly, taking his hand before it could reach the door handle. He turns to you, a brow slightly raised. It's the first time he has looked at you at all that day.
Silently, he watches as you reach behind your neck and take off the necklace he had gifted you, handing it to him as you speak.
"I can't take this anymore," You begin, forcing your voice to steady as you place the jewellery in his palm, giving his fingers a gentle push to close around it. "This distance. The silence. I can't do it. I'm sorry, Xavier, but we're done. I'm breaking up with you."
He just stares at you as you speak, unsure of whether to fight for this relationship or comfort you or... Well, do anything, really. It's only when he sees the tears you've been so desperately holding back fall down your tinted cheeks that his brows furrow, his pupils shrinking and slightly dilating as he stares at you. He blinks once, maybe twice, before he clutches the necklace in his hand and looks down at the dangling chain.
"...Y/N, I-" He gazes up to answer, only for you to be halfway down the hall towards the elevator. His shoulders tense as he watches you walk away, his foot lurching forward to chase you, only to stop once you get in the elevator and disappear as Emcee exits the elevator with a concerned look. Her gaze meets Xavier's as she walks over to him, a bag of ingredients in hand.
"Xavier? What happened? Is Y/N okay?" Her question falls on deaf ears for a moment before Xavier shakes his head.
"...It's... Nothing..." He trails off, eyes darting to the bag of ingredients. His fist clenches around the necklace, letting the metal chain and pendant dig into his palm. With a shake of his head, he dismisses her. "Sorry, Emcee. I'm not in the mood to cook with you right now... I'll... See you later." Emcee watches as he disappears into his apartment, leaving her confused and concerned for her friends.
•--––——✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧——––--•
🐟Rafayel🐟
Thomas leads you into the studio, thanking you for coming.
"He's been locked up in there for a while, muttering things under his breath," He speaks, rather concerned. "He was staring at his phone all morning when the workers and I walked in, but he suddenly shooed us away. We thought he needed space and silence to paint, but when an hour passed and we heard nothing, we tried to get his attention. Rafayel told us to go away every time. The reason why you're here is obvious," He turns to you once you stand by the door. "You're his partner. Do you think you can get through to him?"
"I can try," You mumble, raising a fist to the door and knocking rhythmically. "Raf?"
"Go away!" His muffled voice chimes through the door. You sigh, knocking again.
"Raffy, it's me," You try, your voice softer now. "Can you let me in? We're worried about you..."
"No! I need space!" Thomas and you exchange a look of exasperation before sighing.
"Good thing I called back up. Here she is," Thomas beams, eyes darting behind you. Turning, you see Emcee approaching, worry in her gaze as she enters with Caleb behind her. A pang of jealousy stings your heart at the sight of her, but you push it down. You can't be mad at her, after all — she knows nothing of Rafayel's feelings for her like you do. But seeing Emcee and Caleb hold hands as you step aside to let her reach the door gives you a pit in your stomach that you never knew existed.
After knocking, Emcee calls for him. On the other side of the door, you can hear Rafayel basically sprint and trip over to the door, mumbling curses under his breath before he opens it. His face lights up upon seeing Emcee.
"Miss Bodyguard! You're here--" His eyes dart to Caleb, then to their connected hands, before he frowns and slams the door in their faces. There's a stunned silence between you all before you shake your head and gently usher Emcee and Caleb aside to speak to Rafayel through the door.
"Rafayel! Don't be so rude," You scold, hand on the door knob turning it left and right. It's locked, of course. "Come on, just tell us what's going on! We're worried about you!"
Silence from the other end. You feel tears brimming your eyes, a lump in your throat becoming hard to swallow. Thomas places his hand on your shoulder, the reflection of light from his wedding ring distracting you for a moment as he speaks.
"...Perhaps you should go home," His gaze falls onto the couple behind you. "You, too. I'll let you know if he's alright by the morning."
"No," You hiss, voice determined despite the ache in your chest. "Raf's my boyfriend. I'm too worried to go home now! I'm staying right here until he's ready to talk." Emcee and Caleb exchange concerned glances as Thomas sighs, shaking his head as he grabs a chair.
"Alright, take a seat. I'll order takeout for you," He says, slightly exasperated. You sit down on the chair and thank him, crossing your arms and trying not to look Emcee in the eyes in fear of tearing up.
Soon after, Emcee and Caleb leave and so does Thomas, rubbing his temples to soothe the headache that's forming. As you wait in the chair, you fail to swallow the lump in your throat, a choked sob bubbling out of your lips before you could stop it. You place your hand over your mouth and take some breaths, hoping no one heard you.
But someone did.
Footsteps approach the door you're waiting in front of before it swings open, revealing a dishevelled Rafayel whose eyes are glassy and bloodshot. Upon seeing you, his gaze darkens slightly.
"...Come in," He says, voice dull as he steps aside. "We need to talk." Your stomach drops.
Once inside, he's the first to speak.
"...I thought I was over her," He admits, sitting down on one of the sofas. "I thought that, with you as my partner, I'd finally be able to leave her behind. But after seeing her with..." He trails off, fists clenching before he glances up at you. "I'm sorry, Y/N, we can't be together anymore."
"What?!" You exclaim, tears threatening to spill again. "No! No, don't say that! We can still be together--"
"No, we can't! Not after I just admitted to using you," Rafayel argues, making you pause. His Adam's apple bobs with a heavy swallow, tears falling down his cheeks as he watches your expression change to utter despair. He hates this, but it has to be done. "I'm sorry... But you need to leave. Please."
"...Raffy-"
"Now," He interrupts, eyes boring into yours. The way his gaze proceeds to darken strikes something deep within you, and you're unable to keep yourself together. Tears fall from your eyes and a sob rips from your throat — your heart feels like it's burning from the inside out as you stare at him for a moment, stifling a sob, before you turn and swiftly leave the room, grabbing your bag and pushing past Thomas on the way out while you cry.
Thomas, after quickly glancing at your face as you dash out, sighs and enters the room. On the sofa, Rafayel hangs his head between his knees, hands threading and pulling tight on his hair as his body trembles. Thomas leans against the doorframe, unsure of what to do or say to comfort him or you in that moment.
This is a mess.
•--––——✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧——––--•
🐦⬛Sylus🐦⬛
Eyes fluttering open, you squint as the sun filters through a gap in your curtains, birds chirping and cawing reaching your ears through the slightly open windows as the morning greets you with a smile... And a crow in your face.
You yelp, heart hammering in your chest as you immediately jolt awake before your tired eyes recognise who it was. Sighing, you reach out to pet Mephisto's tiny head, a sleepy smile on your face.
"Good morning, Mephie," You wearily speak, eyes then landing on the note in his beak. You take it and he caws rather... Sadly? "What's this, hm? What's wrong--"
As you read it, your face drops. Your eyes widen, suddenly awake with every written word you read. It's his handwriting, that's for sure. But the usual passionate, devoted tone is gone, replaced with solemn strokes of expensive pen ink.
This wasn't a good-morning letter like usual. This was a break-up letter.
Y/N,
I'm sorry to spring this on you so early in the morning — I expect Mephisto has given you quite the wake-up call. Unfortunately, I have no desire nor time to tell you this in person, so a letter will have to suffice. I'm going to be upfront with you, like I have been from the start: I don't love you anymore, Y/N. We can no longer be together. This letter will be the last you hear from me and the last you see Mephisto. I'm sure that, with time, you will find someone who truly treasures and adores you. Goodbye.
— Sylus.
You stare at the letter, stunned to silence as you re-read it over and over again. Sitting upright, you look up from the letter to glare at Mephisto, a heartbroken rage engulfing you.
"...Give me 10 minutes," You demand, clutching the letter so tightly in your hand it crumples. "Then take me to Sylus immediately."
Mephisto doesn't bother arguing, as ten minutes later he's taking you to one of Sylus's many safe houses. Ignoring Luke and Kieran, you push past them and burst open the door to Sylus's room. His back is turned to you and he seems to have anticipated this reaction, so he sighs a little. But, before he can turn around and speak, you talk first, letter in hand.
"What the fuck, Sylus?!" You exclaim, furious. You wave the letter around. "Who the hell does this?! Writing a break-up letter instead of calling me or telling me face to face?!"
"Keep your voice down," He spoke in that same, arrogant tone you grew to love overtime. But now, it just feels condescending. "I have a headache."
"Oh, I'm sorry," You sarcastically retort. "Do you want me to come back at another time where I'll still be pissed off?!"
There's a beat of silence in which Mephisto softly caws and flies away, leaving you two alone in the room for the tension to boil over. You burn holes into the back of his head with your fiery gaze as the silence stretches. Until you break it.
"You're a coward, Sylus," You hiss, lowering the hand that holds the letter. The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming cold and uptight. Sylus turns around slowly, almost as if he doesn't expect that insult coming from you of all people.
"...What?" He questions though gritted teeth, as if trying to keep himself in check. You swallow the lump in your throat and tremble slightly. Not out of fear. But of heartbreak and anger.
"You heard me loud and clear," You reply, crumpling the letter into a ball in your hand while maintaining eye contact. Even as tears well up in your eyes, you don't look away. "Only a coward would break up with their partner through a letter. I want you to say it to my face, Sylus. Tell me you're breaking up with me to. My. Face."
Sylus steps toward you until he's right in front of you. You watch as his face flickers an unreadable expression — guilt, or rage, you think — before he leans down and speaks.
"We're over," He states coolly, his tone biting and cold. Hateful, even. Your heart drops along with your tears. "Now get out."
You stare at him for a while, your expression dropping to one of slight shock before you clamp your lips together, trying oh so desperately to stop your bottom lip from wobbling.
"...Fine, I'll go," The way you speak is far from the angry tone you used. It seems more bitter now than it did before, Sylus notes. He watches as you turn and walk to the door, before you pause and look at him over your shoulder, bottom lip trembling violently as you glare at him. "But I'm not coming back. And I never want to see you again."
SLAM.
Another distant slam echoes throughout the safe house, signalling that you have left. Sylus doesn't move for the longest time, brows furrowed and eyes glued to where you once stood by the door. His chest heaves up and down, blood boiling as he remembers every inch of anguish on your face. Shaking his head, he turns and sits on the edge of his bed, busying himself with an upcoming auction.
He can't afford distractions, after all.
•--––——✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧——––--•
❄️Zayne❄️
Your boyfriend and primary care physician is at work yet again. After meeting with him earlier for a scheduled check up, he had told you he'd most likely be home late. He also told you not to wait for him. So, what are you doing right now?
Waiting for him, of course! In your shared — yes, shared — living room, you sit on Zayne's sofa, wearing his shirt and a pair of leggings while a blanket is draped over your shoulders. You expect for him to be home by around midnight, or even past that. What you don't expect is to be so tired while waiting that you eventually pass out on the sofa.
When you wake up, you realise that the blanket has been draped over you and a figure is walking toward you, placing down a mug of coffee on the coffee table. Rubbing your eyes, you regain your senses and notice it's Zayne in front of you. You smile as you make eye contact.
"Good morning, honey," For some reason, his eyes dart away at that pet name coming from your lips. You sit up, stretching your arms before reaching for the coffee. The bitter taste awakens your taste buds once you take a sip. "...How was work? What time did you come back home in the end?"
"...It was fine," He responds dryly as he sits down on the other sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers together. You take a better look at him now that he's awake; his hair is slightly messy and there are bags under his eyes. Your brows lift slightly as you grip the mug a little tighter. His eyes meet yours. "I told you not to wait for me."
His tone, not teasing, makes you freeze. It's much colder than what you are used to.
"...Well, I wanted to..." You mumble, looking at him with concern. You place the coffee down on the table again and look away briefly before speaking. "Is everything okay, Zayne? You seem tense. If it's because I waited for you, then I'm sor-"
"No," He interrupts rather quickly. His green eyes soften a little as your eyes meet again, watching as your expression shifts into confusion. "...We need to have a talk. A serious one..."
The way he speaks sounds sorrowful yet final, and that makes your heart drop just a little. You sit up a little straighter and silently urge him to go on. But what he says strikes you right where it hurts — your heart.
"...I can't keep leading you on like this," Zayne begins, hesitating as if to choose his words carefully. He's never been good at delivering bad news unless it's in a medical setting. "...Leading you to believe that my heart belongs to you, when in reality..."
When his eyes drift to yours, he stops. Dripping down your cheeks and onto the back of your hands, you silently let tears fall as you look at him with a trembling, weak smile. There's a look in your eyes that make his lips feel suddenly dry — resignation. It's like you already know what he's going to say.
"...I understand," You speak after a while, the shake of your voice hard to ignore and even harder to control with the way he was looking at you now, green eyes speaking their own apologies. You reach for his hand and he lets you take it. "Go to her, Zayne. The only thing I ever wanted for you, was happiness. So, if she's the one that will make you happy, then go to her."
Zayne's Adam's apple bobs twice, as if he's trying to swallow a heavy pill or a lump that just won't go away. He subconsciously squeezes your hand gently just before you pull away. Wiping your eyes to attempt to stop the tears from falling, you stand.
"...I'll pack my things," You say, voice just above a whisper. As you leave the room, Zayne follows, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
"Do you have a place to stay...?" He questions softly. You pause before nodding.
"I can go back to my apartment," You say. "My old roommate won't mind if I return." Zayne says nothing in response, only nodding. In silence, he watches as you carefully fold your clothes and pack everything away in bags until barely a trace of you belongings are left, apart from a few items of furniture that looked too heavy to carry.
The two of you move to the entryway of the front door, your hand reaching for you coat and putting it on along with your shoes. Gripping your bags with one hand, you reach for the door, only for Zayne to open it before you get the chance to touch the door handle.
You stare at each other for a while, as if you were both reminiscing on the time you shared together without uttering a word. Feeling your eyes brim with tears again, you make the decision to momentarily let go of your bags and wrap your arms around Zayne's waist, your head buried in his chest as you force yourself to speak your parting words.
"Thank you for putting up with me, even if it felt wrong. You were the best boyfriend I could've asked for," Your voice, albeit muffled and strained, reaches his ears as he stiffly wraps his arms around you. You feel him take a deep breath. As you pull away, you force a smile as you look at him, your arms dropping and one hand gently squeezing his hand. "Take care of yourself, yeah? Goodbye, Zayne."
Just like that, you're out the door and in your car with your bags in the backseat. He watches with a distant gaze as you drive away.
Time passes. A week. Two weeks. Three weeks. A month.
He notices you haven't showed up to any of your appointments or answered any of Akso Hospital's calls. Your disappearance is... Horrifically familiar to him. His anxiety spikes, then dips, then spikes again. Zayne can't get that look of grief and acceptance you gave him out of his mind. No matter how many times he distracts himself with work, or closes his eyes for a brief moment, you're there. Much like today.
Sitting in his office, typing away at his computer in an effort to distract himself from the civil, yet hurtful breakup, his focus shifts momentarily to that same look on your face. Haunting. Aching. The doctor takes a momentary pause to take his glasses off and pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh of frustration. His heart, his love, doesn't belong to you. So why is it that you're haunting him with a look so powerful, it shakes his focus?
A knock at his door shifts his attention.
"Come in," He speaks, putting his glasses on and repositioning himself to make it seem like he wasn't stressing out. In walks Greyson, holding a paper in his hand. His brows crease, as if he's nervous about something. He approaches and places the paper face down on Zayne's desk, pushing it toward him slightly. "...What's this, Greyson?" Greyson swallows thickly.
"Just something for you to sign," He says, nudging the paper further towards him. "...It might be urgent to you." Zayne raises his brow, reaching for the paper and turning it over.
Rolling his chair closer, his eyes read over each word before they come to a halt, his heart sinking in his chest. So this is why he hasn't seen or heard from you. You've requested to switch back to your old doctor. Greyson watches as Zayne takes a deep breath and grabs a pen, uncapping it and letting the nib hover over the empty dotted line at the bottom.
Zayne hesitates. He knows why you're doing this and he understands completely, but the reality that this is happening hurts him more than he likes to admit. With slight hesitation, he signs the letter in agreement and hands it back to Greyson, who swiftly takes it and leaves.
Now all alone in his office, he rolls back his chair a little bit and leans, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought as a familiar, icy chill runs down his arm.
•--––——✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧——––--•
🍎Caleb🍎
As you stir the homemade gravy to go with the dinner you're making, your brows furrow. Your shift as a nurse for the Farspace Fleet ended two hours ago, and you've taken it upon yourself to clean up around his Skyhaven apartment and make dinner for yourself and Caleb when he gets back.
When.
He's supposed to be home in an hour, yet he's been coming home much later, seemingly avoiding your calls and texts. He says he's busy — and you get it, he's a Colonel after all — but surely he can't be so busy as to avoid his partner entirely. That's just one of the issues you have with him, but you love him regardless.
By the time he gets home, you're already plating up the food with a small hum, your back turned to him. You can sense he's stopped in his tracks for a moment as you can feel his eyes piercing through the back of your head, but the moment your gaze turns to meet his, he's gone into the bathroom and started up the shower. With a small sigh, you turn back to the food you're plating up and perfecting... While also reflecting.
Your relationship with him has been rocky for a while now — you're not even sure when the arguments started, but they've gotten worse as of late, especially since he keeps comparing every little thing you do with how Emcee does things. You just hope tonight will be a peaceful night where you don't go to sleep angry.
Just as your mind is about to be swept away by a tidal wave of negativity, your thoughts are pulled away by his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. You tense slightly. It's something he always does, yet it always catches you off guard.
"...Smells good," Caleb murmurs, his chin on the crook of your neck. He eyes the plated food in your hands before speaking again. "Looks good, too." He wants to say more, you know he does, but he doesn't. Instead, he kisses the side of your face hastily before moving to sit down at the dining table.
You murmur a stiff 'thanks' as you take the plates of food and set them down on the dining table, taking a seat across from Caleb. You picked at your food for a little bit before eating, something Caleb was quick to pick up on but do nothing about, sensing the tense atmosphere. His purple gaze lingers on the way your hair is styled this evening, a spark of familiarity in his gaze. As soon as you catch him staring, he looks away. You immediately know what — or who — he's thinking about.
Midway through your meal, you hear him hum. Cocking a brow, you look at him quizzically.
"Everything okay, Cay?" You ask, tilting your head a little. He looks at you for a moment, placing his fork down gently as he hesitates. You get a bad feeling in your stomach.
"...Yeah, it's just," He trails off, eyes trailing from your hairstyle to the food in front of him. He sighs, pushing his plate away to rest his elbows on the table, his hands covering his face as he mumbles, "Everything is reminding me of her again."
"...Are you shitting me...?" You mutter under your breath, the food on your tongue suddenly tasting awful. In contrast to how he placed his fork down, you let it drop onto the plate with a heavy sigh. You pinch your brow in frustration. "Can we please go one day, just one day, without you mentioning Emcee?"
The way he looks at you, lifting his head slowly from his hands, makes your blood freeze slightly.
"Oh, so I'm not allowed to miss her now?"
"What?! No! I never said that. You're allowed to miss her, Caleb, but you bring her up every single day," You respond, exasperated and irritated that this same argument was happening all over again. "I get it. You want to see her now more than anything else, especially after you were pronounced 'dead' — you want to surprise her. But there has to be a line somewhere in this specific relationship; a boundary. I've told you time and time again that it's okay to bring her up sometimes, but you've been doing this for months now. She's not dead, for fucks' sake--"
"Don't you fucking dare say that," Caleb abruptly gets up from the dining table, chair scraping across the floor with a harsh, echoed yell. You flinch slightly, eyes widening a bit as you hold eye contact with him. "Do you know how many nights I've gone without sleep, thinking that she was out there in danger, or worse? I think about her all the time, Y/N. All the time. It's like she's the only thing on my mind these days, and you saying shit like that truly pisses me off."
He flinches, falling back down on the chair with a hiss, one hand on his head as pain shoots through it. You rush over to him, only for him to use his Evol on you to hold you in place before you could even reach him.
"Caleb..." You whisper, concern etched onto your features and a question hanging from your lips. "...Isn't our relationship on your mind, too?" He looks at you then, hand in his hair and an unreadable look in his eyes. You swallow thickly, as if trying to gulp away the fear and anger. "...I know how much you care about Emcee and her life. But it's like you don't care about us — about our lives together. You bring her up so much that I know too much about her. We argue all the time because you're so... So obsessed with how she's doing or where she is-"
Caleb flicks his wrist, landing you as gently as he can against the wall before releasing you and stalking over. His expression is... Cold. Purple pools of hatred, is one way you could describe them. Instinctively, you lean back against the wall, as if trying to create more distance. You've never seen him this angry before, and it's rubbing off on you.
"Obsessed?" He remarks, tilting his head a little.
"...You heard me, Caleb," You respond softly, hands flexing. "Have you not thought about us? Even once?"
"No," His response is immediate as he steps closer, stopping just in front of you. The rage you've been stewing in for months, finally sets itself free. Your fists clench as you stare at him, brows furrowing and cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink. You can feel a burn behind your eyes, a wetness resting at your waterline. Urgently, you fight back tears, but he can see them clearly, his reflection mirrored in your angry, glossy gaze. His face softens a little, but before he can say anything, you move. "...Where are you going?"
You enter the bedroom and open your area of the closet, grabbing two bags and a suitcase that you haphazardly throw onto the bed. He enters just as you're packing every item you own into them. Caleb stands in the doorway, his face falling completely as he watches you stuff one item after another into the almost full suitcase. He goes to stop you, but you swivel your head to look at him.
"Stop," You hiss, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don't try to stop me, Caleb. You've done enough — said enough. I'm... I can't stay with you anymore." His heart drops.
"I..." He trails off, stepping back as you finish zipping up the last of your stuff. Grabbing your bags and suitcase, you walk past him toward the front door. He stands by you as you put your shoes and coat on, slinging one of the bags over your shoulder. He knows he fucked up when you open the door with your cut of the keys before tossing the keys to him with tears cascading down your cheeks. But he doesn't say or do anything. You knew he wouldn't, partially due to that damn chip in his head.
"We were never meant for each other, clearly," You mutter, looking at him with a sniffle. "Go and find Emcee, since she's the only thing on your mind nowadays. Maybe finding her alive and well will finally put your mind at ease and make you happy."
With those parting words, you leave his apartment, the slam of the front door echoing in the silence. Caleb's sunset eyes stick to the door like glue, brows furrowing as he glares at it. After a while, he slumps against the wall and sinks down to the ground with a sigh.
synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.
warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon
word count: 15k
a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️
I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS
Life can be a bitch sometimes.
This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.
But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.
The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.
There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.
But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…
His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?
Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.
Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.
It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.
After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.
Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.
After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.
II. RINSE AND REPEAT
He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.
Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.
At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.
This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.
Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.
Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.
After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.
After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.
Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.
“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.
“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.
“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."
"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.
“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.
“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.
“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.
“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.
“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.
“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.
“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.
“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.
At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.
“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.
“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.
“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”
“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”
“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”
“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.
“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.
Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.
His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.
However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?
“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”
“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”
“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.
“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”
“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.
“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.
“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.
“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.
“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.
"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.
“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.
“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.
“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.
“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.
“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.
“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.
“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.
“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”
“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.
“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.
“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.
“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.
The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.
He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.
Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.
What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?
His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!
The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.
III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING
You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.
However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.
After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.
“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.
“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”
“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.
“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”
“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.
“Of course. At seven?”
“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.
As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?
Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.
Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.
Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.
He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.
Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.
At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.
“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.
“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”
“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.
"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.
“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.
You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.
“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.
“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.
“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.
Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.
“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”
Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.
“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.
“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.
“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”
“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.
Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.
“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”
Leon was reaching his breaking point.
He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.
“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”
When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.
“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”
After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.
However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.
June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA
“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.
Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.
“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”
He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.
“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”
The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.
“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.
He pulls the trigger.
And there’s only blood.
He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.
“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”
“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.
“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.
“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”
“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.
“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.
You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.
He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.
“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.
“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.
IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN
The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.
The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.
Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.
The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.
Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.
Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–
“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."
Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.
"Target approaching."
As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.
"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.
The Porsche approached the garage.
"GO," Leon said sharply.
At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.
Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.
A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.
Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.
Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.
There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.
He feels paralyzed.
It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.
It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.
“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.
Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.
“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”
“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.
You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.
“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.
“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.
“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”
You saw him reach the breaking point.
Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.
After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.
But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.
“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”
“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.
“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.
“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.
“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.
“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.
Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.
“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.
Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.
“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.
“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.
“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.
“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.
“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.
“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.
“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”
The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.
“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."
No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.
“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”
After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.
Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.
“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”
“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.
“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”
“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”
“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”
You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.
“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.
“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.
“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”
Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.
Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.
You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.
“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”
“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.
“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.
“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.
“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”
“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.
Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.
“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.
“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.
“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.
“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.
Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.
“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.
“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.
When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?
He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.
“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.
“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.
Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.
“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.
“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.
“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”
He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.
“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”
“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.
But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.
“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.
The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.
Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.
“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”
V. ACCEPTANCE
After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.
You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.
It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.
“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.
“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.
“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”
“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.
“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.
“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”
“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.
“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.
“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”
Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.
“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”
“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.
He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.
“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.
“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.
“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.
“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”
“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”
“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.
“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.
“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.
“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.
You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.
“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.
“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”
“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”
Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.
“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”
While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.
“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.
“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”
Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.
Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.
"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.
"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.
Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.
"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.
"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.
Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.
"I'm on vacation."
"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.
"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.
"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.
"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.
"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.
Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.
"Cancel the beer."
"No, it's not canceled."
“Come on… what the fuck?!”
"I don't need any more alcohol."
"Cut it out. What's going on?"
"That's my line."
The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.
"You–!" Chris leaned forward.
"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.
Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.
"...What's the situation?" he asked.
Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,
"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."
The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.
"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"
Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.
"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"
"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.
"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."
With a hesitant tone, Leon continues
“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."
Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.
"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.
"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.
Tension fills the air between them once again.
"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."
"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.
They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.
"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.
"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.
"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."
Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.
"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.
"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.
Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.
"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."
As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.
"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."
Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.
"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."
Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.
"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."
Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.
"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."
"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.
There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.
"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.
Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.
"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.
She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.
"She's a great woman," Leon comments.
"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.
And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.
"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.
"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.
"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."
Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.
"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."
Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.
"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.
"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”
"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.
“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."
Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.
"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."
He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.
Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."
Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.
“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.
“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.
“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.
“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.
“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.
“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.
Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.
Before you, Leon was ready to die.
He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.
But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.
It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.
The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.
"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."
The merged form kicked out.
The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.
Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.
"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.
"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.
In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.
Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.
Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.
What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…
VI. ABSOLUTION
When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.
After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.
“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.
“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.
“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.
“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.
“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.
“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”
“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”
Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.
“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.
“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.
“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.
After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.
“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.
“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.
“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.
You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.
“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.
“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.
“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.
“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”
“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.
Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.
“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.
“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.
“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “
“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.
“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.
“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.
The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.
“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.
“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.
He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.
“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.
You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.
Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.
“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.
Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.
However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.
When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.
Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.
“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.
“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.
“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.
“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.
After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.
(This is my second time writing. Once again, I apologize if the story may seem redundant and includes grammatical errors. I’m not a writer, you see. This scenario just popped up in my mind while daydreaming.)
Trigger Warning: Angst, Mentions of death, Themes of undiagnosed serious illness, medical inaccuracies, semi-detailed description of physical distress ( including blood/vomiting), fear of death, emotional breakdown, not proofread.
Ever since you came back from your check-up at the AKSO Hospital, something has changed.
You’d been feeling ill for months, but only now did you finally decide to get it checked. The pain in your upper abdomen has been growing sharper, harder to ignore. You kept telling yourself it was just another stomachache—nothing new, nothing alarming.
Your stomach hurt almost every day anyway, and you had a bad habit of forgetting to eat on time. So you dismissed it. But lately, things have changed. Swallowing had become difficult.
Nausea came in waves. Vomiting followed too often. Then you started spotting blood in your stool. Fainting if you couldn’t handle the pain. This wasn’t normal at all.
As the day passed, you felt yourself growing weaker. Barely hanging on. That’s when you decided to go to Akso Hospital.
The nurses assisted you, and soon enough, you were seated across from a doctor discussing your symptoms. After the consultation, you stepped outside the hospital, finding yourself sinking onto a vacant bench near the hospital garden.
The garden was full of life— people having a good time with their loved ones, patients strolling with their nurses, and children running around shouting for their friends to wait up.
Colorful. Alive. Well.
This sight only added depth to your impending doom. The doctor’s words echoed in your mind like a broken record.
I appreciate you coming in and sharing these symptoms with me. The doctor said.
what do you think it is?
If I’m being honest, I’m not quite sure about it. But you’ve mentioned that the pain is quite serious. We’ll need to run some tests to determine it.
What kind of tests?
Blood tests and an endoscopy. This may help us to know if there are any ulcers, irritations, or anything that causes these underlying issues.
You think for a while, processing the information you’ve just heard.
Okay, let’s do it.
Great! We’ll get that scheduled immediately. My assistant will prepare everything.
Once we have those results, we can develop a plan to address the issue. How does that sound? The doctor reassuringly said to you.
Now sitting alone on the bench, anxiety and fear start to seep into your brave facade. A question slipped into your mind.
Am I gonna die?
Pain tightened your chest, leaving you in utter despair. That thought alone made you lose your mind. Seconds turn into minutes, Minutes turn into hours. Yet you remained frozen in time.
It made you still.
So still that you helplessly attempted to redeem yourself before you shatter completely into a million pieces. After breaking your dazed state, and with the remaining of your strength, you force yourself to stand.
You decided to visit him, Rafayel. You needed him.
Despite feeling under the weather, you made your way to his home.
Rafayel—your peace, your refuge, your anchor that keeps you grounded.
And right now, you just want to fall into the warmth of his presence. Leaving the hospital had left you numb and cold inside.
So you hurried to him.
When you arrived, you quietly let yourself into his home using the spare key he gave you. Slipping past the hallways, you heard a familiar melody sung in the air.
It’s the same melody Rafayel used to sing whenever you two are together in bed, like a siren luring you to sleep. You followed it.
There he was— standing majestically in the living room, a brush and canvas in his hands.
Painting and Humming. He was painting the sunset. You adored him at a distance. You breathed deeply, pushing the chaos in your chest as deeply as you could.
Tiptoeing across the floor, you crept closer, planning to surprise him.
You’re here.
Rafayel didn’t look back; he didn’t need to.
He knows you’re already here.
You hadn’t planned on him noticing you so quickly.
You want to steal a moment.
But you failed.
You stopped just behind him and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He was so solid and warm.
What brought you here, my love?
He said lovingly.
You pressed yourself once more against his back, desperate to merge with him, hiding yourself from the world.
Rafayel knew something was wrong. But before he could ask more questions, you answered him.
Can’t I visit my boyfriend? I dearly miss you, and I want to spend quality time with you, Raf.
He stayed still, the hand holding the brush freezing mid-air. He didn’t buy it at first.
But he let it go after you mentioned you missed him.
Of course, you can, darling. What do you want to do, hm?
Now facing you, his right hand slowly cupped your face while his left hand reached for your fingers, intertwining them.
He brought your clasped hands near his lips, kissing them softly.
Your eyes met.
His eyes remind you of the ocean itself.
You’re finally home in his arms.
Can I stay here? just for the night? It’s been so long since we had a sleepover.
You’re more than welcome to stay here, my love. If I can decide for you, I’d rather keep you here. Beside me all day.
Amused, you give him a peck on the lips. That caught him off guard.
Well then, it’s decided. I shall stay here with you. It’s starting to get dark, Raf. Should we prepare dinner?
Okay, cutie.
You and Rafayel went to the kitchen and prepared your favorite dish.
Gathering all the ingredients needed, you started by cleaning them one by one and letting Rafayel do all the chopping.
He seemed to enjoy it, so you teased him.
I get to see the new side of you today, Raf. It’s a miracle that you finished chopping the vegetables.
What do you mean, cutie?
You tend to be impatient.
I can never be impatient if you’re here, my love. That’s the effect you have on me.
He teases back. Winking.
You’re just saying that because you don’t want to do the dishes later, am I right?
How can you accuse your dearest Rafayel?
He said dramatically.
Fine, you caught me. You have me completely wrapped around your fingers, darling.
Of course, I do.
You laugh it out, finding him absolutely adorable.
Was the food good?
You asked him.
It’s delicious, baby. No restaurant could compare with your cooking.
Oh, Rafayel, you’re such a flirt.
I’m just telling the truth, cutie.
Shaking your head while giggling, you were about to eat a spoonful when you felt like vomiting.
You panicked. You’ve gone pale in a matter of seconds cold sweat formed against your forehead. You can’t let him see you like this.
So you forcefully swallow.
But Rafayel is sharp as a knife; he saw it.
Shit.
It was definitely a wrong timing.
Hey, you okay? it looks like you’re about to vomit, and you’ve grown pale. Are you sick my love?
You needed an excuse.
Believable excuse.
I think… I just over ate, Raf. Don’t worry, had a big lunch earlier before coming here.
You know, I always felt sick whenever I eat too much.
You just lied straight to his face. You felt even more sick.
Right.
He was suspicious, but he didn’t press any further.
Why don’t we just clean up and head to bed?
You suggested. Changing the topic.
I can do the cleaning, darling. You must be tired from traveling.
Why don’t you freshen up and bed head first? I’ll join you there.
You hesitated at first, but eventually followed his suggestion.
Okay, don’t keep me waiting.
Yes, my love. I’ll be quick.
You went to his room and started to get ready for bed.
While you’re in the restroom, showering, your mind drifts back to the scene earlier.
Your symptoms. Your deepest secret was nearly put at risk this very night.
Can’t let that happen again.
Not infront of him.
Looking in the mirror, convincing yourself. Sighing, you tried to finish your shower.
You find your way to his closet. Finding a random shirt and a shorts.
Shoving it down into your body.
It smelled just like him.
You left some of your essentials here while staying, so you used them.
Walking towards his bed, you place yourself at the center.
You waited for him, and it didn’t take long.
Heading towards the bed, He was wearing a white shirt and black pajama pants. Ready to sleep.
He looks so comfy.
He placed himself against you, spreading his left arm, opening enough to scoop you in his embrace.
You look at him longingly. Cherishing the moment while it lasts.
Trying to memorize every part of him.
His soft purple hair. His eyelids. His damn lips.
His cheeks. His scent that you’ve grown accustomed to.
With your fingertips, you trace and study his delicate features. From the tip of his nose down to his wide shoulders.
How can He be still and look so ethereal?
He suddenly spoke, his once closed eyes slowly opened, meeting your own.
What’s going on with your pretty mind, darling?
You know you can tell me anything, right?
I know. Raf. I know.
He was about to say something, but you cut him off.
It’s such a privilege meeting you, Raf. I never thought I could meet someone like you.
You held his cheek gently and carefully as you could.
Confessing.
There are times when I question myself about what I did to deserve you. I always thought I’d end up being alone in my life, you know? I thought that love was just a mere thing I needed, but you came and changed it.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve grown to love and cherish deeply.
Loving you made me accept my own imperfections.
You showed me what I was truly capable of feeling.
I would choose you in a heartbeat, Rafayel. In this lifetime or another.
My heart only belongs to you, the only man I loved completely and unconditionally.
I love you too much, damn much that I would choose your happiness over mine.
I love you too damn much that I’m willing to entrust you with somebody who can stay at your side, who can take good care of you.
You didn’t dare to say the last two sentences.
I love you so much, Rafayel.
You look at him as if he will vanish anytime; in fact, it’s the opposite.
You’re the one who is running out of time.
You end up bursting into tears, letting yourself break. Trembling.
His arms tightened around you, pressing you into his chest. He finally managed to say a word.
Don’t.
Fear. His arms tightened around you once more it felt like an iron band clinging to your body. As if he were trying to absorb your pain.
Don’t talk like that, my love.
Pain. He forcefully lifted your chin, meeting your bloodshot eyes.
Don’t talk to me as if you’re saying goodbye.
Pure agony in his voice.
I’m not going anywhere, darling.
Don’t look at me like that as if I’m gonna leave your side, because I’m not. If you think you don’t deserve me, you’re wrong. Listen to me. What you just said— all of it. It’s the greatest gift ever given to me.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your tear-stained cheeks, kissing the tears away.
You’re my muse and my sanctuary. I can’t live without you.
I love you.
His last sentence left you breathless.
You felt your heart catch on fire; it felt like you were burning alive. The pain you felt emotionally is starting to surface physically.
You cried harder, pulling him into a kiss.
In your kiss, you gave your all, the love, pain, and fear. He responded at the same intensity. In his kiss, you felt his yearning, his desperation. As your lips moved against each other, they tasted of salt and longing.
Every push and pull, every hungry breath stolen reminds you both that you belong with each other.
The kiss gradually became slow, so you broke free.
You cracked a smile against his lips, and he followed. The smile was frail and thin, like a sheet of glass.
You pulled back just far enough to rest your forehead against his beating heart. You couldn’t tell him. Not until the doctor confirms your illness, maybe then you’ll find a way to reveal this in a manner where he won’t get hurt that much.
summary. they listen to you singing at your concert after leaving you in the dust a few years back— noticing how the lyrics were about the two of you.
— playlist. [click here]
xavier
he should’ve known.
he really should’ve known the second the lights dimmed and the first note left your lips. but he didn’t. not when you stepped onto the stage in that spotlight glow. not when the crowd erupted in cheers, or when she was beside him and leaned in with a grin and whispered, “she’s even better live, isn’t she?
he just nodded. said, “yeah.”
but then came the second verse.
soft. haunting. familiar in a way that made his stomach knot.
“fun at first, i won't deny
but i want more than just what meets the eye”
he blinked.
his throat went dry.
because you had said that to him once. not word for word, but close. curled up in his arms one night when you thought he was asleep. whispering it into the quiet like it’d slip away otherwise.
she didn’t notice the way his hands clenched.
“'cause i don't want it if it's fake
i don't want it if it's just for show
i just want it if it's real and i'm thinking i should let you know”
he didn’t hear the next few lines. not over the rush of blood in his ears.
not over the memory of your smile every time when you with him. not over how you’d kissed his knuckles when he was bleary with sleep, how you always texted to ask if he’d eaten— even though you knew he probably already had , how you learned how he liked his coffee without ever needing to ask.
he swallowed hard. the crowd was cheering. she was clapping beside him.
but all he could see was you. standing there, poised and radiant, singing your heart out like it didn’t still belong to him.
his jaw tightened.
he’d told himself it was harmless. temporary. a distraction until he figured things out. until his heart stopped aching for someone else.
he hadn’t planned on it hurting like this.
he hadn’t planned on falling for you too.
not this late.
and now you were up there, singing like the memory of him still lived in your lungs. like you hadn’t burned him out after all.
you wrote this about me.
the words stayed trapped in his throat.
and suddenly, MC’s voice beside him felt too loud. too bright. too far away.
because for the first time in almost two years—
he didn’t want to be sitting next to the girl he once loved.
he wanted to be with the one he lost.
zayne
he didn’t really want to come.
it was her idea— MC’s, bright-eyed and nostalgic as she handed him the second ticket. “she’s gotten big now, huh? figured we could check it out. for old times’ sake.”
he’d just nodded. said sure. told himself it didn’t matter. that it was just a concert. just music.
but then the lights dropped.
and you walked onto the stage.
god. he forgot what you looked like under the lights. like you belonged there. like the world had always meant for you to be something bigger than him.
the opening chords hit. slow. aching.
he didn’t breathe. he couldn’t breathe.
“ooh, still you take up all my mind
i don't even think that you care like i do
i should stop, heaven knows i've tried”
his fingers twitched around the drink in his hand.
no. no— this wasn’t about him. couldn’t be.
“one day, i will stop falling in love with you
some day, someone will like me like i like you”
his heart gave a hard, bitter twist.
don’t do this, he thought. don’t make this real.
“she’s so good,” MC whispered, leaning in, smiling like it was nothing more than a simple romantic song.
but it wasn’t just a song.
it was a confession.
and he was the one you were confessing about.
because he remembered— every line, every word you were wrapping in melody. he remembered the nights you waited up for him, the way you’d look up with that stupid soft smile, like he was worth something. he remembered your laugh against his shoulder, your fingers running through his hair, how easily you believed he could be better than he was.
he remembered the exact look in your eyes the night he broke it off. confused. gutted.
“was any of it real?”
he didn’t answer you then.
he didn’t have the guts.
but hearing you now— raw, unflinching, shining on a stage he had no place in— it tore something straight down the middle of him.
because the truth was, he never planned to stay. you were just a placeholder. just something warm to curl into while he tried to claw back a love already lost.
but then you held him like it mattered.
and he let you.
he let you love him, soft and stupid and whole, and when it got too real— too deep— he ran. away from you, and to someone else’s arms. and now you were singing like your heart was still cracked in the same place he left it.
and all he could think was—
you were never the rebound.
you were the one.
rafayel
rafayel had always been good at pretending.
tonight is no different— legs crossed, eyes steady and locked into the stage, lips curved upwards like he’s amused by something no one else sees. MC beside him doesn’t notice the way his fingers tap once against the bottle of his water he’s holding. the only crack in the façade.
then you walk onto the stage.
his gaze catches, holds.
he doesn’t blink.
you look good. confident, radiant under stage lights, wearing the passing heartbreak only you could make look effortless. he lets himself drink you in— like art, like sin. but not like you were ever his.
the music starts.
and it’s soft at first. then sharp.
ever lyric you sing, the deeper he sinks.
“that i'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale
i'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
lead her up the stairwell”
his hand stills.
he feels the sting before he understands it. a line too real. a lyric too close. he knows exactly what night you wrote that from. the studio, dim with lamplight. your legs over his lap. laughter from your throat, hands tangled in his hair.
his sketchbook open on the floor.
he told you that night you were beautiful when you didn’t try. you’d smiled.
and he hadn’t meant it to last.
“she’s so talented her voice is luring all us in, right?” MC says beside him, eyes glittering at your vocals.
he nods once, wordless.
“maybe i was naive, got lost in your eyes
and never really had a chance
my mistake, i didn't know to be in love”
his throat feels tight. his charm— that silk-smooth confidence— it can’t shield him here. not from this. not from the memory of your hand against his chest, the way you asked if he’d ever paint you for real.
he joked. he deflected.
you had a look of disappointment, but you didn’t press.
you never did.
and that’s what cuts deepest.
suddenly, all he can think about is the way you used to look at him like he mattered. how you laughed at his stupid jokes, brought him tea when he stayed up too late painting, how you fell asleep on his couch more times than he could count.
you weren’t her.
and you didn’t know. you had no idea you were the in-between. the stepping stone. the placeholder while he fumbled with his past and convinced himself you weren’t it.
but now he’s here. with her.
and you’re the one he can’t stop looking at.
you’re the voice in his ears, the sand that’s slipping out in his hands, the guilt gnawing at him with every lyric that hits a little too precisely.
he just watches. listens. breathes like it hurts.
because in all his paintings, all his masterpieces—
you were the only one he never signed.
and maybe he didn’t want to admit why.
sylus
sylus doesn’t blink.
the concert hall is dim and you stand in the center like you own it. like you belong there, with thousands watching, hearts bleeding to the sound of your voice.
but it’s only his heart that seizes.
MC beside him leans in, murmurs something about your voice, about how lovely the lyrics are. he doesn’t answer. doesn’t move.
because he knows this song. not by name, not by title.
he knows it because he lived it.
because you wrote it with pieces of yourself he thought you’d never show. and now you’re singing it to a room full of strangers— and somehow, it still feels like it’s meant for him.
“'cause he's moved on while i'm still grievin'
and when a heart breaks, no, it don't break even, even,”
his jaw tightens.
he remembers that night— your fingers on the buttons of his coat, the way you looked up at him like he was worth trusting. like he wouldn’t break it.
he remembers leaving and breaking it anyway.
he told himself it was mercy. that using you was clean, calculated. a transaction. a means to MC. a way to purge the ache in his chest that wasn’t supposed to have your name on it.
“now i’m tryna make sense of what little remains, oh
'cause you left me with no love and no love to my name”
the lyric lands like a knife.
MC doesn’t notice. she’s smiling. content. but it’s not her touch that he remembers. it’s yours.
delicate. reverent. warm.
everything he wanted from her was from you.
and now?
now you’re up there, back straight, voice like velvet. you look untouchable. divine.
but the pain behind your voice— he knows it’s for him.
and it tears through him more than any blade ever could.
his fingers twitch on his knee.
if he closes his eyes, he’ll see you again. not like this. but as you were: bare feet in his chambers, humming off-key, wrapped in his robe, teasing him until he smirked and tugged you closer.
he never meant to keep you.
but he never meant to miss you either.
and yet here he is, staring up at you, hearing the cracks in your voice that no one else hears. the parts where your breath catches. the way you don’t look at the crowd— just above them.
just like how you used to look at him when you couldn’t bear the truth.
he swallows. hard.
he’s never regretted anything.
until now.
caleb
at first, he was fine.
he sat with his arms crossed, half-listening as the venue lights dimmed and the crowd began to hush. MC beside him buzzed with excitement, the kind of giddy warmth that made him smile politely, nod along.
it was just a concert. just a favor.
he told himself he could sit through it. easy.
then the music started. and you stepped out onto the stage.
he tensed, barely. just a flicker of recognition low in his ribs. he hadn’t seen you in months— hadn’t heard your voice in longer. not since…
well. not since he walked away.
but you looked different now. steadier. colder, maybe. not broken— but rebuilt. and he should’ve felt relieved.
he didn’t.
“a friend to all is a friend to none
chase two girls, lose the one”
his brows twitched. the line hit a little too clean.
he brushed it off. coincidence. lyrics were like that. both metaphorical and vague.
but then came the second verse.
“but i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss
i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs”
his spine straightened in the chair.
a flicker of heat— shame? discomfort?— settled beneath his ribs, slow and subtle.
MC leaned over, whispering, “wow, this one’s heavy, huh?”
he hummed low in his throat, careful.
but his eyes didn’t leave the stage. because your voice wasn’t just sad— it was honest.
he started watching your hands.
the way your fingers trembled on the mic stand. the way you swallowed hard before the third verse.
you were still angry. still hurt. and he hadn’t even realized how deep the damage ran until he was hearing it in stereo.
“i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired
and you'd be standin' in my front porch light”
his jaw flexed. he blinked once. twice.
his arms dropped from their folded hold.
god. was this how it felt?
not just guilt— but the realization that you’d suffered in silence. while he convinced himself distance was mercy. that leaving was the right thing. he thought he’d let go of you gracefully.
but now, watching you up there— raw and stripped down— he saw how ugly his exit had truly been.
MC was still cheering beside him, clapping softly to the beat. she didn’t know. of course she didn’t.
but he knew. now he knew.
and the worst part?
you didn’t even look for him in the crowd.
not once.
as if he didn’t matter anymore. as if whatever pieces of him you still carried had finally been set down for good. he stared up at the stage, heart thudding loud in his ears.
(This is my second time writing. Once again, I apologize if the story may seem redundant and includes grammatical errors. I’m not a writer, you see. This scenario just popped up in my mind while daydreaming.)
Trigger Warning: Angst, Mentions of death, Themes of undiagnosed serious illness, medical inaccuracies, semi-detailed description of physical distress ( including blood/vomiting), fear of death, emotional breakdown, not proofread.
Ever since you came back from your check-up at the AKSO Hospital, something has changed.
You’d been feeling ill for months, but only now did you finally decide to get it checked. The pain in your upper abdomen has been growing sharper, harder to ignore. You kept telling yourself it was just another stomachache—nothing new, nothing alarming.
Your stomach hurt almost every day anyway, and you had a bad habit of forgetting to eat on time. So you dismissed it. But lately, things have changed. Swallowing had become difficult.
Nausea came in waves. Vomiting followed too often. Then you started spotting blood in your stool. Fainting if you couldn’t handle the pain. This wasn’t normal at all.
As the day passed, you felt yourself growing weaker. Barely hanging on. That’s when you decided to go to Akso Hospital.
The nurses assisted you, and soon enough, you were seated across from a doctor discussing your symptoms. After the consultation, you stepped outside the hospital, finding yourself sinking onto a vacant bench near the hospital garden.
The garden was full of life— people having a good time with their loved ones, patients strolling with their nurses, and children running around shouting for their friends to wait up.
Colorful. Alive. Well.
This sight only added depth to your impending doom. The doctor’s words echoed in your mind like a broken record.
I appreciate you coming in and sharing these symptoms with me. The doctor said.
what do you think it is?
If I’m being honest, I’m not quite sure about it. But you’ve mentioned that the pain is quite serious. We’ll need to run some tests to determine it.
What kind of tests?
Blood tests and an endoscopy. This may help us to know if there are any ulcers, irritations, or anything that causes these underlying issues.
You think for a while, processing the information you’ve just heard.
Okay, let’s do it.
Great! We’ll get that scheduled immediately. My assistant will prepare everything.
Once we have those results, we can develop a plan to address the issue. How does that sound? The doctor reassuringly said to you.
Now sitting alone on the bench, anxiety and fear start to seep into your brave facade. A question slipped into your mind.
Am I gonna die?
Pain tightened your chest, leaving you in utter despair. That thought alone made you lose your mind. Seconds turn into minutes, Minutes turn into hours. Yet you remained frozen in time.
It made you still.
So still that you helplessly attempted to redeem yourself before you shatter completely into a million pieces. After breaking your dazed state, and with the remaining of your strength, you force yourself to stand.
You decided to visit him, Rafayel. You needed him.
Despite feeling under the weather, you made your way to his home.
Rafayel—your peace, your refuge, your anchor that keeps you grounded.
And right now, you just want to fall into the warmth of his presence. Leaving the hospital had left you numb and cold inside.
So you hurried to him.
When you arrived, you quietly let yourself into his home using the spare key he gave you. Slipping past the hallways, you heard a familiar melody sung in the air.
It’s the same melody Rafayel used to sing whenever you two are together in bed, like a siren luring you to sleep. You followed it.
There he was— standing majestically in the living room, a brush and canvas in his hands.
Painting and Humming. He was painting the sunset. You adored him at a distance. You breathed deeply, pushing the chaos in your chest as deeply as you could.
Tiptoeing across the floor, you crept closer, planning to surprise him.
You’re here.
Rafayel didn’t look back; he didn’t need to.
He knows you’re already here.
You hadn’t planned on him noticing you so quickly.
You want to steal a moment.
But you failed.
You stopped just behind him and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He was so solid and warm.
What brought you here, my love?
He said lovingly.
You pressed yourself once more against his back, desperate to merge with him, hiding yourself from the world.
Rafayel knew something was wrong. But before he could ask more questions, you answered him.
Can’t I visit my boyfriend? I dearly miss you, and I want to spend quality time with you, Raf.
He stayed still, the hand holding the brush freezing mid-air. He didn’t buy it at first.
But he let it go after you mentioned you missed him.
Of course, you can, darling. What do you want to do, hm?
Now facing you, his right hand slowly cupped your face while his left hand reached for your fingers, intertwining them.
He brought your clasped hands near his lips, kissing them softly.
Your eyes met.
His eyes remind you of the ocean itself.
You’re finally home in his arms.
Can I stay here? just for the night? It’s been so long since we had a sleepover.
You’re more than welcome to stay here, my love. If I can decide for you, I’d rather keep you here. Beside me all day.
Amused, you give him a peck on the lips. That caught him off guard.
Well then, it’s decided. I shall stay here with you. It’s starting to get dark, Raf. Should we prepare dinner?
Okay, cutie.
You and Rafayel went to the kitchen and prepared your favorite dish.
Gathering all the ingredients needed, you started by cleaning them one by one and letting Rafayel do all the chopping.
He seemed to enjoy it, so you teased him.
I get to see the new side of you today, Raf. It’s a miracle that you finished chopping the vegetables.
What do you mean, cutie?
You tend to be impatient.
I can never be impatient if you’re here, my love. That’s the effect you have on me.
He teases back. Winking.
You’re just saying that because you don’t want to do the dishes later, am I right?
How can you accuse your dearest Rafayel?
He said dramatically.
Fine, you caught me. You have me completely wrapped around your fingers, darling.
Of course, I do.
You laugh it out, finding him absolutely adorable.
Was the food good?
You asked him.
It’s delicious, baby. No restaurant could compare with your cooking.
Oh, Rafayel, you’re such a flirt.
I’m just telling the truth, cutie.
Shaking your head while giggling, you were about to eat a spoonful when you felt like vomiting.
You panicked. You’ve gone pale in a matter of seconds cold sweat formed against your forehead. You can’t let him see you like this.
So you forcefully swallow.
But Rafayel is sharp as a knife; he saw it.
Shit.
It was definitely a wrong timing.
Hey, you okay? it looks like you’re about to vomit, and you’ve grown pale. Are you sick my love?
You needed an excuse.
Believable excuse.
I think… I just over ate, Raf. Don’t worry, had a big lunch earlier before coming here.
You know, I always felt sick whenever I eat too much.
You just lied straight to his face. You felt even more sick.
Right.
He was suspicious, but he didn’t press any further.
Why don’t we just clean up and head to bed?
You suggested. Changing the topic.
I can do the cleaning, darling. You must be tired from traveling.
Why don’t you freshen up and bed head first? I’ll join you there.
You hesitated at first, but eventually followed his suggestion.
Okay, don’t keep me waiting.
Yes, my love. I’ll be quick.
You went to his room and started to get ready for bed.
While you’re in the restroom, showering, your mind drifts back to the scene earlier.
Your symptoms. Your deepest secret was nearly put at risk this very night.
Can’t let that happen again.
Not infront of him.
Looking in the mirror, convincing yourself. Sighing, you tried to finish your shower.
You find your way to his closet. Finding a random shirt and a shorts.
Shoving it down into your body.
It smelled just like him.
You left some of your essentials here while staying, so you used them.
Walking towards his bed, you place yourself at the center.
You waited for him, and it didn’t take long.
Heading towards the bed, He was wearing a white shirt and black pajama pants. Ready to sleep.
He looks so comfy.
He placed himself against you, spreading his left arm, opening enough to scoop you in his embrace.
You look at him longingly. Cherishing the moment while it lasts.
Trying to memorize every part of him.
His soft purple hair. His eyelids. His damn lips.
His cheeks. His scent that you’ve grown accustomed to.
With your fingertips, you trace and study his delicate features. From the tip of his nose down to his wide shoulders.
How can He be still and look so ethereal?
He suddenly spoke, his once closed eyes slowly opened, meeting your own.
What’s going on with your pretty mind, darling?
You know you can tell me anything, right?
I know. Raf. I know.
He was about to say something, but you cut him off.
It’s such a privilege meeting you, Raf. I never thought I could meet someone like you.
You held his cheek gently and carefully as you could.
Confessing.
There are times when I question myself about what I did to deserve you. I always thought I’d end up being alone in my life, you know? I thought that love was just a mere thing I needed, but you came and changed it.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve grown to love and cherish deeply.
Loving you made me accept my own imperfections.
You showed me what I was truly capable of feeling.
I would choose you in a heartbeat, Rafayel. In this lifetime or another.
My heart only belongs to you, the only man I loved completely and unconditionally.
I love you too much, damn much that I would choose your happiness over mine.
I love you too damn much that I’m willing to entrust you with somebody who can stay at your side, who can take good care of you.
You didn’t dare to say the last two sentences.
I love you so much, Rafayel.
You look at him as if he will vanish anytime; in fact, it’s the opposite.
You’re the one who is running out of time.
You end up bursting into tears, letting yourself break. Trembling.
His arms tightened around you, pressing you into his chest. He finally managed to say a word.
Don’t.
Fear. His arms tightened around you once more it felt like an iron band clinging to your body. As if he were trying to absorb your pain.
Don’t talk like that, my love.
Pain. He forcefully lifted your chin, meeting your bloodshot eyes.
Don’t talk to me as if you’re saying goodbye.
Pure agony in his voice.
I’m not going anywhere, darling.
Don’t look at me like that as if I’m gonna leave your side, because I’m not. If you think you don’t deserve me, you’re wrong. Listen to me. What you just said— all of it. It’s the greatest gift ever given to me.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your tear-stained cheeks, kissing the tears away.
You’re my muse and my sanctuary. I can’t live without you.
I love you.
His last sentence left you breathless.
You felt your heart catch on fire; it felt like you were burning alive. The pain you felt emotionally is starting to surface physically.
You cried harder, pulling him into a kiss.
In your kiss, you gave your all, the love, pain, and fear. He responded at the same intensity. In his kiss, you felt his yearning, his desperation. As your lips moved against each other, they tasted of salt and longing.
Every push and pull, every hungry breath stolen reminds you both that you belong with each other.
The kiss gradually became slow, so you broke free.
You cracked a smile against his lips, and he followed. The smile was frail and thin, like a sheet of glass.
You pulled back just far enough to rest your forehead against his beating heart. You couldn’t tell him. Not until the doctor confirms your illness, maybe then you’ll find a way to reveal this in a manner where he won’t get hurt that much.
You, Zayne, and MC were in the same friend group.- angsty?
( To those who may read this, it's my first time writing, so I apologize)
Since high school, you’ve been friends with Zayne.
You stood by his side for years despite the lack of interaction you two had.
It was a friendship measured in proximity, not depth; you were chained to him, like a moth drawn to the flame.
But that didn’t stop you from loving him.
And through those years, you watched him fall in love with one of your close friends, MC.
You tried your best not to let your emotions—hate and envy get ahead of your friendship with her.
So you buried it in the deepest part of your mind.
Distancing and pretending everything is okay.
It was not okay at all.
Whenever your friend group had a chance to hang out, you noticed painful details.
You noticed that his cold and stoic demeanor falters whenever she’s near, how gently he treats her, and how he would say yes to her requests even in the smallest things.
How will he do anything just to be close with her.
She was his priority the moment he laid his eyes on her.
Can you blame him? She was the epitome of beauty and intelligence.
You tried to ignore all of it.
Even after you’ve graduated from high school and are preparing to choose your own paths for college, you’ve witnessed how he yearned for her.
Not to mention the very sole reason why Zayne chose to be a doctor.
How can he not fall in love with her? She was the exact person his heart longed for.
She was everything you were not.
His yearning mirrors you the same way.
It builds a constant dull ache between your ribs.
One day, you just woke up feeling brave and mighty.
That brief rush of courage was just a sheer delusion.
You abruptly asked Zayne on a date.
A date.
Ask him to accompany you to one of the famous cafes in town. You knew how he liked to spend his free time eating sweets in high school.
He was quick to say a sharp no.
He already had plans with MC, he said.
His response was somewhat dismissive, leaving you in utter embarrassment.
It was a slap of reality for you.
Of course, there won’t be a day without him sparing his time for her.
You felt like a fool thinking he would say yes to you.
And that’s when you realize the difference.
Fear, insecurities, and self-doubt start to flood your mind like a plague.
Thinking of ways to change yourself so he’ll start to see you and not her.
These desperate, foolish attempts burned—it burned your heart and being.
An act of self-betrayal.
“How can you change for someone?”
The problem is, Zayne was not just someone; he was your first love.
You grieve, knowing that you don’t stand a chance.
You grieve because no matter how much pain it caused you, to love him in the dark.
You still stayed.
You stayed loyal.
You devoted yourself to the man who never once looked in your way.
