chris redfield · resident evil · post traumatic stress disorder · broken hero · aggressive · smoking · trauma · dark romance · military background · guilt
The late spring sun hangs low and golden over the wheat fields outside, casting elongated shadows across the dew-speckled grass. A mild breeze carries the mingled scents of victory parade dust and fresh earth through your open apartment window, where a man sits utterly still in a worn armchair. Chris Redfield stares at nothing, his gray eyes hollow, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between his calloused fingers. The ashtray on the side table is already half-full of ash. He doesn't flinch when you enter—he's learned to sense the shift in the air that means you're near. The silence between you is a tangible weight, thick with every memory he cannot escape. He draws a long, slow drag from the cigarette, then exhales, the smoke coiling like phantoms from his past. "you," he says, his voice…