Being roommates with Emma means inheriting her best friend, Leon Kennedy—the effortlessly hot, annoyingly charming guy who somehow keeps ending up on your couch, in your kitchen, and in your head. You try to play it cool (you fail). He tries to ignore how cute you are when you’re flustered (he fails harder). chaotic college romance where awkward crushes, subtle flirting, and oat milk theft lead to something much sweeter.
wordcount: - 1,350 words
You knew moving in with Emma meant her chaotic social life would become yours by association. You just hadn’t expected him—Leon Kennedy, golden boy, criminally attractive, and your roommate’s best friend since high school—to start hanging out at your apartment like it was his name on the lease.
He wasn’t even subtle. One day he was shirtless on your couch with a controller in hand, yelling at some alien invasion game. Another day he was in your kitchen, eating cereal straight from the box, asking if “almond milk expires or just gets weirder.”
You did your best to keep it together. But your brain did this thing where it stopped working any time he spoke directly to you.
"Hey, you always smell like vanilla or cookies. Is that...on purpose?"
You had stared at him for a beat too long before mumbling, “I'm a dessert in human form,” and then immediately walked into the doorframe.
Subtlety, thy name was not you.
The worst part? He noticed.
One evening, Leon plopped down on the couch beside you, stretching his arm casually along the back. “So, uh... Emma says you’re taking Psych 203. How’s learning about the human mind going?”
You looked up from your laptop, trying not to swoon over his stupidly perfect jawline.
“Fascinating. Did you know people with crushes tend to act like total idiots around the object of their affection?”
He smirked. “Yeah, I’d heard that. From... science.”
There was a pause.
A knowing pause.
“You’ve been acting kinda weird around me lately,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Any theories on that?”
Your brain sprinted through a thousand escape routes, but your mouth betrayed you: “Maybe you’re just so pretty it short-circuits my ability to function.”
Silence. You wanted to melt into the couch and become one with the upholstery.
Then, Leon laughed—warm and genuine. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nudged your shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think your ‘idiot mode’ is kinda cute.”
You turned to him, eyes narrowing. “So you knew?”
He shrugged. “I had a hunch. Emma may have also texted me a play-by-play the night you called me ‘a tall glass of emergency services.’”
You groaned. “I meant to say ‘emergency snack.’”
“That’s... not better.”
Leon’s fingers brushed yours. Just lightly. Like he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. You stared at your hands, frozen, your brain screaming this is not a drill.
“So,” he said, voice a little quieter, “what happens next in this whole 'crush’ science experiment?”
You blinked. “Well. Typically… the subject either flees or confesses.”
Leon nodded solemnly. “And which one are you feeling?”
“…somewhere between flight and total emotional combustion.”
He grinned, biting back a laugh. “You really do say the weirdest things when you’re flustered.”
“You’re not helping,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it. He was still close. Still looking at you like he was memorizing your face.
“I’m actually trying to help,” he said, softer this time. “Because, truth is—I’ve kind of had a thing for you, too.”
You blinked. “Is this a prank? Because if Emma jumps out with a camera, I swear to—”
“No prank,” he said, laughing. “Though I’m sure Emma’s waiting in her room with popcorn.”
As if summoned by name, her door creaked open and she peeked out, phone in hand. “Is it happening? Did someone confess? Are you guys gonna kiss or what?”
Leon rolled his eyes but smiled. “Emma, go away.”
“I live here!”
“So does your best friend,” he said, nudging you. “And I’m trying to have a moment with them.”
Emma made a strangled squeal and shut the door with a dramatic thud.
The room went quiet again. Leon’s thumb lightly brushed your hand this time—definitely not an accident.
You smiled, cheeks warm. “So, you really like me?”
He shrugged, but his eyes were all sincerity. “I’m pretty sure I’ve liked you since the first time you yelled at me for drinking your oat milk. You called me ‘a menace with abs.’ It was… charming.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Nope,” he said, leaning in just a little more. “But I’d like to be around to keep quoting it back to you. If that’s okay.”
You looked up at him, heart pounding in the best way. “It’s more than okay.”
And when he kissed you—finally—Emma’s muffled cheer from behind the door didn’t even ruin it.
----------------
Leon’s POV – Three Days Earlier..
He wasn’t trying to fall for his best friend’s roommate. Really.
But the first time you mumbled something like “Leon Kennedy, walking thirst trap” under your breath—loud enough for him to hear as you tripped over your own shoelaces—something in his brain short-circuited.
He had smiled all the way home that night, even when he walked into a lamp post.
At first, he’d chalked it up to harmless flirting. A few jokes, some teasing, the occasional weirdly specific compliment (“Your hair looks like it belongs in a very clean action movie.” What did that mean?). But then he started noticing the little things.
Like how you always looked away when he caught you staring.
How you fidgeted when he sat too close.
How you always remembered how he liked his coffee, even though he’d only mentioned it once.
And how—when you laughed—it kind of echoed in his chest for longer than it should’ve.
That’s when he knew he was in trouble.
He tried playing it cool. Tried to act like he wasn’t low-key counting the days until Emma invited him over again. But then she caught him scrolling through your Instagram at work, and that was the end of that charade.
“You’re an idiot,” she told him. “They like you back, you know.”
Leon blinked. “What?”
“Leon. They call you things like ‘certified menace with a jawline’ when they think I’m not listening. Ask them out already.”
He spent two days psyching himself up. Day one: complete failure—he just asked if you had any ketchup. Day two: also a failure—he made it to the living room but chickened out and started a conversation about mushroom-based protein.
Day three, though? That was game day.
He flopped on the couch, started with casual banter, and fully expected to keep things surface-level until you dropped that whole “people act like idiots around their crushes” line.
His heart did something weird.
And when you called yourself a dessert?
Yeah. That was it. He knew he had to say something before he combusted—or kissed you mid-sentence, which, while tempting, might’ve been poor form.
But when you looked back at him with that hopeful, deer-in-headlights kind of smile?
I love how in "The Darkest Hour: Part 2" Leon knows exactly why Arthur is quiet, and knows exactly what to say to assure Arthur that Merlin will be fine
