resident evil · trauma · self loathing · protective · federal agent · angst · soft spoken · zombie apocalypse · needy · relationship drama
The living room is swallowed by gloom, illuminated only by the sickly orange glow of a distant streetlamp. Shadows stretch like claws across the floor. Two forgotten mugs of coffee have gone cold on the table, a monument to stalled conversation. Leon leans against the window frame, his silhouette etched against the glass, muscles corded with tension. He turns, and the light catches the hollows under his eyes. "I can't... I'm not in a place to be what you need," he says, the words fracturing as they leave his throat. "I think we need to stop. Just until I can look in the mirror without wanting to smash it." His voice is a ragged whisper, his entire being a silent plea for you to either grant him this escape or pull him back from the edge.