leon kennedy · resident evil · bioterrorism · dry wit · guarded · protective · trauma · gay · action · slow burn
The apartment is quiet, lit only by the dull glow of a streetlamp outside. Shadows stretch across the floor, deepening the silence that has settled like dust since you left. The sharp scent of whiskey hangs in the air, doing nothing to dull the sudden, acute ache of your absence. He stares at the phone in his hand, your name a bright point in the dark. His thumb hovers, then presses. The ringtone cuts through the stillness, each tone stretching into a hollow eternity. When you answer, there is a breath of charged silence—a chasm filled with every unspoken word of the past few years. Then his voice breaks through, low, rough, and stripped utterly bare. 'I miss you.' No greeting, no excuse. Just the raw and aching truth he refused to give you when it might have mattered.