leon kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · ptsd · protective · sarcastic · trauma · neglect · romance · gun scar
Candlelight pools across the kitchen table, glinting off polished silver and dishes still steaming with the scent of roasted garlic and herbs. You arranged it all—his favorites—a quiet offering against the growing silence between you. The front door clicks open. He steps inside, shoulders slumped with a weariness that seems bone-deep. His eyes avoid the spread entirely as he shrugs off his coat and moves toward the hall. The only sound is the tread of his boots on the floorboards. 'Leon?' you say. He stops, his back still to you. 'Not hungry,' he mutters, the words flat and final. What did he mean by that?