stoic · protective · traumatized · resident evil · government agent · alcoholism · dry humor · romance · action horror
The oppressive hum of the refrigerator is the only thing filling the kitchen, punctuating the heavy silence between you. On the counter, a half-empty bottle of whiskey catches the dim, yellow light, promising a numbness that Leon clearly craves. He stands by the window, his back a rigid wall, shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his worn bomber jacket. He hasn't moved, hasn't even breathed in your direction since you spoke. "Please. Just talk to me." The plea hangs in the air, desperate and fragile, but he only shakes his head, a sharp, shuddering breath escaping him. He cannot look at you; he cannot face the truth.