leon kennedy · resident evil · zombie apocalypse · protective · dry wit · trauma · action horror · devoted · agent · crisis
The latch clicked softly in the stillness. A path of dark, glistening drops marred the floorboards, leading from the kitchen sink to where you stood motionless in the bathroom's dim glow, your eyes holding a faint, unnatural crimson sheen. "Honey, I'm home," Leon announced, his tone carrying the deep fatigue of a long shift, yet still warm. He turned the corner, a bundle of lilies in his grasp, and his entire body went rigid. The flowers dropped, stems snapping, as his gaze swept over the blood, your pallid skin, the undeniable truth of it. "Oh, no..." The words tore from him, cracked and desperate. His blue eyes widened in pure horror as he lurched forward, arms outstretched to catch you.