Fragments of us

by Lesseraphins

Summary:

Six months. One hundred and eighty-four days since he’d walked away. He knew the number exactly, even though he’d convinced himself he didn’t care.

Chris looked the same—steady, unshakable, like a damn statue carved out of stone. Meanwhile, Leon felt like cracked glass, splintering more with each day.

Don’t look away.

But Chris turned first.

Or

Six months ago Leon walked out on Chris, thinking he was doing him a favor. Now they’re forced on a mission together, with emotions more dangerous than any B.O.W.

Chapter 1

Notes:

Hey guys, so surprise!
My second story is here :D
I've been sitting on this idea for a long time, and I've finally got the time to start writing it. I'm super excited about this one it's whumpy it's angsty, and it's zombiey! So enjoy and let me know what you think of it ^-^

Chris’s POV

The sun hung low in the sky, shrouded by thick clouds that did little to brighten the scene around. Chris Redfield just stood there waiting with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and heart beating fast against his will.

Chris had spent too much time imagining what it would be like to see Leon again.

Six months ago, Leon had walked out of Chris’s apartment after a fight that left his heart in pieces. and now there he was waiting for him to show up.

Chris clenched his jaw, forcing the memory back into the shadows. The mission was what mattered now. Whatever had happened between them didn’t change the fact that they were both professionals.

As he saw the helicopter from a far away, his heart started pounding even more. He swallowed hard as the helicopter touched down, its rotors stirring up dust and debris. The door opened up, and Chris’s attention zeroed in on the figure, stepping out. Tall. Lean. Shoulders tense beneath a worn jacket.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Even from a distance, Chris would’ve known him anywhere. But this version of Leon was… different. His blond hair was longer, just enough to hide part of his face, though it couldn’t disguise the hollowness beneath his eyes. He looked paler. Thinner.

Chris hated how much that realization twisted his stomach.

“Welcome to the party, Kennedy,” Jill called, her voice breaking the silence. She stepped forward, her tone light but edged with professionalism. “Took you long enough.”

Leon’s lips quirked, the barest attempt at a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “You know me, Valentine. Always fashionably late.”

Chris didn’t miss the subtle tightness in Leon’s voice. He’d always been good at hiding his feelings, but Chris knew better.

“Chris,” Leon greeted, nodding stiffly.

“Kennedy.” Chris kept his reply curt, clipped. He didn’t trust himself to say anything more.

For a moment, the air grew heavier, thick with unspoken words. Jill glanced between them, clearly sensing the tension before stepping in to cut through it.

“Alright,” she said briskly, motioning toward the building. “Briefing’s back at base. Let’s get moving.”

Leon fell into step beside her, and Chris trailed behind, his eyes locked on Leon’s back. Six months without answers, without so much as an apology, and now Leon walked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

How can he act like nothing happened?

Jill, ever perceptive, filled the silence as they walked. She glanced at Leon, curiosity tugging at her words. “So, Leon, how’s the D.S.O. treating you?”

“Same as always. Too much work, not enough time,” Leon replied smoothly. “But I get by.”

Jill hummed thoughtfully. “You always do.”

Chris bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. That was Leon—always getting by. Always pretending he was fine. Chris used to admire that about him. Now, it grated on his nerves.

---

Chris stood at the front of the sterile briefing room, the hum of the projector filling the silence. A map of the city—gray, fractured, lifeless—was projected across the wall. Once a thriving industrial hub, now a ghost town left behind by a biohazard outbreak.

His arms were crossed, fingers drumming against his bicep as his gaze swept the room, lingering on Leon just a second too long.

Leon had walked out of his life like their year together hadn’t mattered. No closure. No apology. And now they were here, together, tasked with sweeping through another graveyard. It felt like a sick joke.

“—We’ll be working in pairs,” Jill’s voice pulled him back to the present. She stood beside the map, calm and collected as always, though Chris caught the quick glance she shot his way.

Clearing his throat, Chris stepped forward. “Here’s what we know: The city was abandoned after the outbreak nearly wiped it off the map. But our satellites picked up heat signatures in the western districts, and there are intel on some sort of bioweapon activities.”

He gestured to the red-marked buildings surrounded by decay. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with—whether it's testing a new strain, or worse. HQ wants it shut down before it escalates.”

Jill stepped in. “This place has been silent before, but now there’s a real risk of another Raccoon City.”

The name hung in the air like smoke. Heavy. Unshakable.

Chris let the silence settle before finishing. “We’ll split into two teams. Jill will take Delta to the eastern quadrant. Alpha covers the western side.” He paused, forcing his voice steady. “Agent Kennedy and I will lead Alpha’s search.”

The name left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Chris looked at Leon instinctively, half-expecting a reaction. But Leon tilted his head slightly, a faint, unreadable smirk tugging at his lips. Chris tore his eyes away, fists clenching briefly at his sides.

Leon slouched in his seat, boots propped up like none of this mattered. But Chris knew his tells—the dart of his eyes toward the door, the slight tension in his shoulders, the bravado that screamed don’t look at me too closely.

“We move out in two hours. Gear up.”

Jill took over, running through the logistics, but Chris’s mind was elsewhere.

When the briefing ended, Leon didn’t move, didn’t even glance up as the room cleared.

Chris lingered by the door, jaw tight, debating whether to say something.

Leon still didn’t look at him.

Chris exhaled sharply, the tension settling deep in his chest as he turned and walked out.

Fine. You don’t want to talk? We’ll do it your way.

 

---

Leon’s POV

The second Leon set foot out of the helicopter, he saw Chris immediately.

He stood at the clearing, broad and steady, with his arms crossed and jaw tight. The sight sent a sharp pang through Leon’s chest, but he didn’t let it show. His steps were measured, his face a carefully crafted mask of indifference.

And then Chris’s eyes met his.

Leon felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Six months. One hundred and eighty-four days since he’d walked away. He knew the number exactly, even though he’d convinced himself he didn’t care.

Chris looked the same—steady, unshakable, like a damn statue carved out of stone. Meanwhile, Leon felt like cracked glass, splintering more with each day.

Don’t look away.

But Chris turned first.

Leon’s shoulders slumped, tension twisting tighter in his chest. He shoved it down, plastering on a faint smirk as Jill Valentine stepped forward to greet him.

“Welcome to the party, Kennedy,” she said, her tone light despite the weight hanging over them. “Took you long enough.”

Leon tilted his head, sarcasm sliding into place like armour. “You know me, Valentine. Always fashionably late.”

Jill smiled. Chris said nothing.

Leon risked a glance at him, searching for any hint of the man who’d once loved him. All he found was cold detachment.

“Chris,” Leon said finally, his voice careful, steady.

Chris’s reply was clipped, distant. “Kennedy.”

The single word landed like a gut punch, but Leon swallowed the sting, redirecting his focus to Jill.

“Alright,” she said briskly, motioning toward the building. “Briefing’s back at base. Let’s get moving.”

If he could keep moving, keep pretending, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.

He started walking next to Jill, careful not to look back at Chris , though the weight of Chris’s gaze burned into his back like a brand.

Jill, perceptive as ever, filled the silence. “So, Leon, how’s the D.S.O. treating you?”

Leon shrugged, casual and lazy. “Same as always. Too much work, not enough time. But i get by”

Jill hummed thoughtfully. “You always do.”

You always survive.

The unspoken words hit harder than they should have. Chris used to say the same thing. You always make it through, Leon.

Leon’s hands curled into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking faintly.

He’d been fine before Chris. Fine with his shitty, empty life. Fine with nightmares and whiskey dulling the sharp edges of his broken pieces. Fine with never planning for a future he didn’t think he’d have.

And then Chris had changed everything.

It all started after New York. Chris had dragged him into the whole mess with Arias, and when it was over, Leon figured that would be it. A handshake, a “thanks for the help,” and goodbye forever. That’s how these things went.

But instead, Chris asked him to dinner—not as a date, just... as two guys sharing a meal. That’s what Leon told himself, anyway.

Then one dinner turned into two, then four. Leon figured Chris felt bad, or maybe he was trying to keep tabs on him. It couldn’t have been anything more.

But Chris kept coming back. He texted him stupid jokes, showed up out of nowhere just to “check in.” Leon didn’t get it. Chris was the guy people gravitated toward—the guy who lit up a room without even trying. And Leon? He was... him. A broken, sarcastic loner who lived on whiskey and bad decisions.

Why would someone like Chris Redfield want to spend time with him? It didn’t make any sense.

Leon kept asking himself that question right up until that night.

It wasn’t planned. They’d stayed out late, talking and drinking, the conversation flowing so naturally that Leon almost forgot who he was. Chris had smiled at him, said something soft and sincere, and Leon’s heart did this weird, painful twist. Before he knew it, Chris was kissing him. And God help him, Leon kissed him back.

The rest of the night was a blur of heat and want—Chris’s hands, Chris’s mouth, the way he held Leon like he actually mattered.

The next morning, when Leon woke up in Chris’s bed—alone, sober, and very naked—he thought he had his answer. He was a good fuck. He already knew that. He’d heard it before. Why should this be any different?

The thought made his chest ache, but he tried to ignore it. Leon knew how this worked. He silently dressed, preparing to leave immediately. He made it to the door before the smell of bacon and coffee stopped him.

Leon turned around, and there Chris was standing in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with a stupid grin on his face. “Morning, I made your favourite breakfast, babe.”

Babe.

Leon froze, blindsided by the warmth in Chris’s voice—the kind that made his heart ache because he didn’t know how to hold onto it.

Chris didn’t regret him. Chris didn’t look at him like he was a mistake.

Before Leon could overthink it, Chris asked him out. And for once in his life, Leon said yes.

That year had been the best—and most terrifying—of his life. Chris was everything Leon didn’t know he needed. Kind. Honest. Open. He never played games, never made Leon feel like he had to be anyone but himself.

For the first time, Leon let himself believe he might deserve that.

But every step forward had been a minefield. Leon’s mind was a constant battleground of fear and doubt. What if Chris realized he deserved better? What if Leon ruined it all?

He couldn’t silence the voice in his mind that whispered relentlessly: You’re not enough. You’re broken. He’ll see it, eventually. You'll ruin this like everything else.

And sure enough, he did.

 

---

The air in the briefing room was suffocating. Leon leaned back in his chair, forcing himself into lazy indifference, like he didn’t give a damn. But his muscles ached from holding himself together.

He remembered Chris’s face the day he left. Hurt. Disbelief. Anger. But it was easier to walk away than explain. It was easier to let Chris think whatever he wanted.

You walked away. You ruined everything.

And not just his relationship with Chris. The life he’d built around their relationship had shattered, too. Jill, Claire, Piers—they've all cut ties with him after that. He didn’t blame them, though. They were Chris’s family first. They probably hated him now. Maybe they always hated him.

Hunnigan was the only one who hadn’t cut him off—probably because she didn’t have the luxury of walking away since she was his handler and all.

Chris’s voice cut through the hum in his head.

“Agent Kennedy and I will lead Alpha’s search.”

Leon looked up. Chris’s gaze met his—sharp and cold, but beneath it, something else flickered. Frustration. Disappointment.

You did that to him.

Leon smirked faintly, hiding behind it. Chris broke the eye contact first. Leon shifted in his seat, fighting the sudden urge to get up and leave.

When the briefing ended, Leon stayed in his seat. He could feel Chris lingering near the door, like he always did after a fight—waiting, hoping Leon would say something.

Leon didn’t.

What could he say? I’m sorry for being like this? Sorry for leaving before you could leave me?

The door clicked shut. Leon sagged in his seat, hands trembling faintly in his lap.

You shouldn’t have come on this mission.

But it didn’t matter. Leon had learned to live with people hating him a long time ago.

So why did it hurt so goddamn much?

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hi everyone, I'm so sorry about the delay, but it's a lengthy chapter, so I hope it'd make up for that :D
We have lots and lots of tension and mixed feelings in this one Let’s see where it would lead ;)

The silence was the worst part.

Chris tightened his grip on his rifle as he stepped over a pile of shattered glass. The crunch under his boots sounded like a gunshot in the suffocating stillness. Around him, the city stretched out like a graveyard—crumbling buildings sagging under their own weight, cars abandoned mid-intersection, windows hollow and black, like dead eyes.

Everything about this place felt wrong.

They’d been sweeping the western quadrant for nearly an hour, navigating through narrow alleyways and side streets, the shadows deepening with every turn. Chris’s team fanned out behind him—silent professionals—but his eyes stayed locked on Leon, a few paces ahead.

Leon walked with that too-casual stride of his, shoulders relaxed, like this was just another run-of-the-mill sweep. Like there wasn’t a thing lurking in the shadows that could rip them apart.

Chris thumbed his radio. “Anything?”

“Clear so far, Captain,” Jill’s voice crackled back.

Chris frowned. Too quiet. Too still. It always meant something was watching. Waiting.

Leon went ahead as they stepped into an open street. Chris followed, but his attention snagged on a café to their right—its sign dangling.

The windows were shattered, tables tipped into the sidewalk like the last customers had fled mid-meal. Chris’s gaze lingered by the tables a reminder of bright mornings, coffee steam curling in the sunlight. And Leon. Sitting across from him. Teasing him over something stupid and laughing that genuine smile only handful of people got to see.

The memory hit him like a punch to the guts.

Chris shook it off, refocusing just as Leon stopped walking.

He followed Leon’s line of sight and felt his chest tighten. Across the street stood an old movie theatre, its marquee faded to a husk—letters missing, but the shape was unmistakable.

Leon stared at it, frozen. His expression unreadable.

Chris hesitated. “Hey. Let’s keep moving.”

Leon blinked as if shaking himself loose from some invisible weight. “What?”

Chris frowned. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Leon snapped, turning sharply and heading down the next street.

Chris watched him go, jaw clenching. “Sure you are,” he muttered under his breath, following after him.

 

---

 

Leon couldn’t breathe.

That theatre sign—it dragged him back before he could stop it. Back to a night when things were good. When Chris was good.

His idiot.

The memory clawed up from where he’d buried it:

Chris had taken him to a movie. A dumb action flick they’d laughed their way through, mostly because Chris wouldn’t shut up about how inaccurate the gunfights were.

"This is awful,” Leon had whispered halfway through, smirking. “Why’d you pick this?”

Chris grinned, draping an arm across the back of Leon’s seat. “Because it’s so bad it’s good.”

Leon laughed quietly and leaned back into his touch “You’re an idiot!”

“Yeah but I'm your idiot ” Chris whispered in his ear, and Leon’s heart skipped a beat, a warmth spreading through his chest.

His idiot.

The memory twisted like a knife now—so sharp it left Leon winded.

He barely registered Chris’s voice, pulling him back to the present. “What?”

Chris was watching him again, his brow furrowing. “You good?”

“Fine,” Leon snagged, turning away sharply and heading down the next street.

Chris didn’t argue, but Leon felt his gaze linger for a moment longer before he followed.

He moved faster, leaving the theatre behind. Chris kept pace beside him, his silence somehow more frustrating than any lecture. Leon could feel the unspoken words hanging between them—Stick close, don’t wander, follow orders.

Chris didn’t trust him, and Leon couldn’t blame him.

They rounded the next corner.

It was a small plaza—it was so lifeless now with empty shops and café tables tipped on their sides and the remnants of a broken fountain in the middle.

Chris stepped ahead, flashlight sweeping over the empty square. As he followed behind Chris looking at those broad shoulders, he couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d followed Chris into the field.

Leon’s stomach twisted, and the scene blurred into another memory—one he didn’t want.

Europe. Their last joint mission before everything fell apart.

They’d been walking side-by-side through a quiet village when Chris broke the silence with that warm, teasing grin of his.

“You always look like you’re carrying the weight of the world,” Chris had said, bumping Leon’s shoulder lightly. “But you don’t have to carry it alone, you know.”

"I know I can always count on my Knight in tactical gear to come save my ass," he said with a playful smile, making Chris chest rumble with laughter.

"Yeah, you can," Chris leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Leon's lips, the look on them so raw it made Leon cheeks burn. And then he'd closed the distance between them, kissing him so gentl and passionate that Leon wanted it to last forever.

Now, there was no laughter. No teasing. No kisses. Just silence where all that warmth used to be.

“Kennedy. Focus.”

Leon’s head jerked up. Chris stood a few feet away, watching him with narrowed eyes, irritation plain on his face.

“You want to move, or are we taking a field trip down memory lane?” Chris bit out.

Leon felt his temper flare. “I'm freaking focused Captain.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Leon thought he might snap back. Instead, Chris exhaled sharply through his nose and turned away. “Then stop spacing out. I don’t need you getting yourself killed.”

Leon bristled but said nothing, following as Chris moved forward, his flashlight dancing across broken storefronts and hollow doorways.

 

---

 

Chris hated the tension crackling between them. Every word Leon said—every sharp, defensive edge—rubbed him raw.

They moved deeper into the shadows of an old department store, their flashlights cutting through the dark. Every creak and shuffle set Chris’s nerves on edge. They weren’t alone. He could feel it in his gut.

“well this is fun all of us moving together,” Leon muttered under his breath, too low for Chris’s liking.

Chris cut a look at him. “What was that?”

Leon glanced over, face blank. “Nothing.”

“Sure sounded like something,” Chris shot back.

Leon stood, his expression hardening. “i just think we could secure more ground if we split up and—”

Chris cut him off. “We stay together. No splitting up.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly despite the tension. “What, afraid I’ll show you up?”

Chris shot him a look. “If you have a problem with how I’m running this, Kennedy, spit it out.”

Leon’s lips curled into a humorless smirk. “It’s your show, Redfield. I’m just here to follow orders.”

Chris’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Then stay in formation and don’t go wandering off.”

Leon’s gaze hardened. “I can take care of myself.”

Chris snorted bitterly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I remember. You’re great at looking out for yourself.”

Leon flinched, just a fraction, and Chris felt something twist sharply in his chest. Damn it. He turned away before the guilt could root too deep. “Let’s just get through this.”

Leon didn’t respond, and the silence stretched again, heavier than before.

They moved together, guns sweeping each corner making their way through the building.

“Stay close, and follow my lead.”

Chris’s voice echoed in the empty department store. Sunlight streamed in through shattered windows, highlighting aisles long abandoned—shelves half-empty, displays covered in layers of dust.

He swept his flashlight across the dark corners, signaling Leon, who lingered a few steps behind.

Jill’s voice crackled over the comm. “Captain, eastern quadrant’s clear. Nothing but rats. You?”

“Western quadrant’s almost done,” Chris replied.

“ maybe i should've gone with her ” Leon muttered, loud enough for Chris to hear.

Chris shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait. “Let’s finish the sweep.”

Leon didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze lingered on a toppled display of mannequins—broken and scattered across the floor. Chris followed his line of sight, uneasy at how lifeless they looked. Like bodies.

“Keep moving,” Chris ordered.

Leon didn’t argue, and that’s what worried Chris most.

 

---

 

Leon’s pulse drummed in his ears, his fingers tight around the grip of his gun. The department store was empty, but the air felt wrong—stale and sour, like death. He moved behind Chris, his boots silent on the tile floor.

It was too much like Raccoon City. The silence. The waiting. The mannequins lying broken and lifeless, like they might sit up at any second.

Leon’s throat burned.

“You’re nothing rookie just a pretty face and a lots of luck. You majorly messed up in Raccoon City all those people died because of you” Jack’s voice echoed in his head—cold and sharp. “You can’t even save your self let alone anyone else. You’ll die trying, and no one will give a shit”

He shook the memory off and turned down a side aisle, pretending not to notice Chris’s glare. The guy was always watching him—always hovering like Leon couldn’t be trusted. It made his skin crawl.

“ This way,” Chris called, but Leon ignored him.

A noise—soft, like something shifting—echoed from deeper in the store. Leon’s muscles tensed, instinct driving him forward. Chris’s orders were already a distant memory as he moved toward the sound.

 

---

 

Chris turned just in time to see Leon disappear around the corner. His stomach dropped.

“Kennedy!”

No answer.

“Dammit.” Chris’s pulse spiked as he moved after him, gun ready, eyes sweeping the darkness. Leon always did this—ignored orders, rushed in headfirst, like he was trying to outrun something Chris couldn’t see.

And one day, it was going to get him killed.

“Kennedy!” Chris hissed again, rounding the corner—

He froze.

Leon stood at the end of the aisle, his gun aimed at the ceiling. Above him, claws scraped against metal, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

Chris’s blood ran cold as he looked up. Lickers. Two of them, clinging to the rafters, their eyeless heads snapping toward the sound of his boots.

“Leon, don’t—”

It was too late. The Licker nearest Leon dropped, shrieking as it landed. Leon fired a shot—one clean hit to the head—and the creature crumpled to the ground.

The second Licker leapt, and Chris’s body moved before his mind could catch up. He wanted to grab Leon’s arm and yank him back but Leon rolled away just as claws tore through the air where he’d been standing.

The creature screeched, thrashing violently as Leon wrestled it to the ground. Blood splattered across his gloves and gear, hot and thick, as he wrenched the knife free and stabbed again—this time with finality. The Licker’s screech cut off abruptly, its body going still.

Silence fell over them, heavy and tense.

Leon straightened, wiping the blade clean on his pant leg as he turned around. His expression was impassive, unreadable.

Chris turned on Leon, fury coiling in his chest. “What the hell was that?” Chris demanded, voice low and sharp. “I told you to not wander alone .”

Leon shrugged. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Chris’s fists curled at his sides. “That’s not the point! You disobeyed a direct order. You put yourself—and the team—at risk.”

“I handled it,” Leon shot back, his voice clipped.

Chris stepped closer, his glare cutting into Leon like glass. “You’ve always been like this. Reckless. Solo.”

Leon scoffed, shoving his gun back into its holster. “I don’t need you watching my back, Redfield. I’ve handled worse alone.”

Chris’s anger flared. “That’s the problem, Leon! You never listen. You always have to act alone always thinking you know better than everyone else, always acting like it’s just you, like you don’t give a damn about anyone else!”

“You’re right,” Leon snapped, his voice trembling despite himself. “I don’t give a damn about anyone. Never have. Not about you, not about anyone.”

Chris froze, the words hitting harder than he expected. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Chris took a breath, steadying himself. “You know what? All i care about right now is this mission and my men so just don't screw it up like you always do.”

Leon didn’t respond. He turned and walked away, leaving Chris standing in the dark.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Hi everyone, I just wanted to apologize for the delay. I was feeling a little under the weather, but I'm all better and back. ^-^

I had so much fun writing this one, so I hope you guys enjoy it, too. Kudos and comments are appreciated <3

Leon sat on the floor in one of the old empty apartment's rooms, clutching the antiseptic bottle like it might anchor him. The city outside was quiet now—unnervingly so. Only the hum of a broken streetlight outside. Its weak flicker cut across the room, stuttering like a failing pulse.

Chris had decided that they should wait the night in a secured building and regroup with Jill in the morning and then continue. It looked like Jill had found some info, but He was too distracted at the time to understand what was going on.

Leon grimaced, thinking back on this day. Chris hadn’t said a word to him since the incident. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at him. He should’ve stayed with the others. Shouldn’t have let himself get separated. It was his own fault. Again.

The wound on his upper arm throbbed under the dried blood, a reminder of his reckless choice to split off and kill those Lickers on his own.

The others hadn’t noticed the injury. Not Chris, with the way he’d lashed out at Leon earlier. You always have to act alone, always thinking you know better than everyone else, always acting like it’s just you, like you don’t give a damn about anyone else!” Those words—cold, bitter, and sharp—stung far worse than the wound.

Leon poured the antiseptic over the ragged cut, sucking in a sharp breath as the sting bloomed outward like fire. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, refusing to make a sound.

Chris didn’t care anymore. Not after everything. He could see it in Chris’s eyes every time they met—a look that was equal parts anger and disappointment. Like he wasn’t even worth arguing with anymore. It was better this way, wasn’t it? Chris shouldn’t care. He deserved better than Leon—better than the man who had fractured their entire relationship just to save himself from the inevitable.

But still… Leon missed him. He missed everything about Chris. No! No He didn’t have time for this—not when Chris was already so done with him.

I shouldn’t care, he thought bitterly. Chris didn’t want him here. And honestly? Leon couldn’t blame him.

He hissed as the needle pierced his skin, stitching the ragged wound closed with slow, deliberate movements. The pain grounded him—at least a little—giving him something to focus on other than the silence pressing in around him.

This city’s dead.

It was the other thought that wouldn’t stop looping through his head. It reminded Leon of Raccoon City, and he hated that his mind kept going there.

His hand slipped on the last stitch, blood smearing against his palm. “Shit,” Leon muttered, biting the inside of his cheek as the frustration bubbled up. He dropped the needle into the kit and pressed a gaze  with a shaky hand over the stitched wound, focusing on steadying his breathing.

When he was done bandaging up the wound, he put his jacket back on and lay down. His body was exhausted, his muscles aching, but his mind wouldn’t stop. Not after today. Not after Chris’s words still echoed in his head, loud and unforgiving.

Eventually, sleep claimed him, though it didn’t take long for his dreams to turn on him.

He was back there—back in that room. The light was dim, the walls too close, and his father’s shadow loomed large, a dark silhouette against the pale, cracked walls.

“You worthless piece of shit,” the voice hissed, deep and guttural, each word lashing at him like a whip. “You can’t do anything right! you messed up again, and now you're gonna pay for it ”

Leon couldn’t move. His legs were leaden, the fear paralyzing him in place as rough hands grabbed his shoulders, pushing him down, holding him still. He struggled, begging, the words coming out as choked sobs, but there was no escape.

“Please—”

The grip tightened. He couldn’t breathe.

Leon jolted awake with a gasp that tore through his chest like glass. His body seized, panic exploding in every nerve as he shot upright, clutching at his throat. He couldn’t get air. Couldn’t think.

His chest felt like it was caving in, the world spinning wildly around him. His lungs wouldn’t cooperate, the breaths coming in shallow, ragged bursts. He tried to steady himself, to focus on something, anything, but the panic was too much.

His hands clawed at his chest as if he could pry himself open and let the air in. The shadows of the nightmare still clung to him, his father’s voice echoing cruelly in his ears.

---

Chris sat on the box in the balcony, arms folded tightly over his chest as he stared into the darkened city streets below. The quiet wasn’t comforting—it was too much like the aftermath of every place he’d ever failed to save.

Chris hadn’t been able to sleep. It wasn’t the city, the Lickers, or even the never-ending stress of this mission—though all of it should have been enough to knock him out cold. No, it was Leon. It was always Leon.

When they’d been assigned to this mission together, Chris thought he was prepared. He’d practiced his anger, his frustration. He’d told himself he could be cold, distant—treat Leon like just another agent.

But the moment Leon had stepped out of that helicopter—bitter, sarcastic, and carrying himself with that goddamn lone-wolf swagger—Chris’s resolve cracked.

He didn’t know what he’d expected from Leon after six months of silence. Maybe an apology. Maybe something in Leon’s eyes to say, I regret it. I still care. But Leon’s walls were higher than ever, his gaze unreadable, his words cold and clipped. Chris had hardened himself to match. He had to.

It didn’t work.

The way Leon had disappeared earlier—charging off to handle those Lickers alone—had left Chris fuming. It was the same reckless shit Leon always pulled, like he had some kind of death wish. And maybe he did. Chris wasn’t sure anymore. He’d spent months trying to scrub the guy out of his head after the breakup, telling himself he didn’t care what Leon did to himself.

But now? Being stuck on this mission together, forced to work side by side… all the anger came rushing back.

Chris scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering under his breath, “Idiot.”

A noise echoed faintly from inside the building—a muffled, choked sound that made Chris’s head snap up. He turned toward the hallway, pausing for half a beat before he moved. Probably nothing. But his instincts—those damn instincts—told him otherwise.

It didn’t matter how angry he was at Leon. If something was wrong…

Chris was already moving before he could think, his boots echoing in the dead silence of the building. He didn’t bother knocking—he pushed the door open hard enough to slam it into the wall.

Leon was hunched over on the floor, one hand gripping his chest while the other clawed at the peeling wood. His body shaking so violently it seemed unnatural. He was struggling for air, his breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, his hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles had gone white. Sweat plastered his blond hair to his forehead, his face pale and stricken. His eyes were wide, unfocused, as though he couldn’t see Chris at all.

Chris stopped in his tracks, his pulse quickening, then his body moved on instinct—no hesitation, no overthinking—just pure, practiced motion. It wasn’t the first time he’d found Leon like this. It wasn’t even the tenth. His body remembered what to do even if his mind didn’t want to admit how familiar it was.

“Leon,” Chris approached slowly, hands held just slightly away from his sides—non-threatening, careful. “Hey. Look at me. You’re okay.”

“Hey, hey,” Chris crouched beside him, voice low and steady as he gently placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder. Leon flinched at the contact, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring.

“Leon. It’s me.” Chris moved into his line of sight, forcing Leon to look at him. “You’re safe. You hear me? You’re okay. You just need to breathe.”

Leon’s fingers twitched, his chest still heaving violently. Chris pressed one of his hands flat against Leon’s back, the other hovering just near his shoulder.

“Leon, breathe.” His voice was steady, despite the tight coil in his chest.

Leon didn’t respond.

He cupped Leon’s face gently, just enough to force their eyes to meet. “Come on. Breathe in with me. In for four. Just follow me.” He exaggerated the motion, pulling a slow breath through his nose and holding it. Leon’s gaze flickered toward him, unsteady, but Chris saw a spark of recognition.

“Good, That’s it,” Chris said softly, his thumbs brushing over Leon’s jawline in an absent, comforting motion. “Keep going. You’re okay.”

Chris’s hands were solid and grounding. His thumbs brushed Leon’s clammy skin in soft, rhythmic strokes, and he started counting under his breath.

Finally, a shaky breath escaped Leon’s lips, the first sign that he was breaking through the suffocating grip of the panic attack. His eyes fluttered shut, his body slumping forward, and Chris instinctively caught him, pulling Leon against his chest.

“It’s okay,” Chris whispered, voice softening. “You’re okay now. Just breathe.”

Leon stayed there, pressed against Chris, his forehead resting on Chris’s shoulder as he struggled to come back to himself.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually, Leon’s breaths slowed, the ragged edge softening into something quieter. His body was still trembling, his face pale, but the worst of the storm had passed.

Chris didn’t move away “It’s okay. ” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle.

Leon’s unfocused stare finally landed on Chris’s face, his pale blue eyes glassy and red-rimmed.

“…Chris?” Leon’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken.

Chris felt his chest ache, but he didn’t let it show. “Yeah”

Leon blinked slowly, his hand falling away from his chest as he tried to sit up. Chris caught his shoulder, steadying him.

“Take it easy.”

Leon grimaced, pulling away to sit against the wall. He dragged a hand down his face, avoiding Chris’s eyes.

Chris leaned back, his arms resting loosely over his knees as he studied Leon carefully. He didn’t let his relief show.

They just sat there, air between them thick and awkward now that the moment had passed. The silence dragged for a while until finally Chris broke it “I... heard a noise, i thought it was an infected. Are you okay?”

Leon flinched, his shoulders stiffening, but he shook it off and snorted faintly, a humourless sound. “Sorry to disappoint, but It’s nothing.”

Chris scoffed. “Yeah? That didn’t look like ‘nothing.’”

Leon didn’t answer, looking away.

Chris’s frustration boiled over before he could stop it. “You’re still doing this, huh? Pushing everything down until it breaks you.”

“Why do you care?” Leon snapped back, his voice raw.

Chris froze for half a second, the words feeling like a slap to his face. He swallowed down the retort that burned in his throat and stood abruptly, his boots echoing against the floor.

“You’re right,” Chris said tightly, his back turned to Leon as he started for the door. “I don’t.”

Leon didn’t say anything.

Chris hesitated in the doorway, his hand curling into a fist. He didn’t turn back, didn’t look at Leon slumped against the wall like a shadow of himself. “Get your shit together,” Chris muttered before disappearing down the hall.

Chapter 4

Notes:

The first chapter of the new year is here! ^-^
It's a little late, but i just wanted to wish you all a happy new year, and thank you all for being here <3

Morning light filtered through the broken windows of the safe house. Leon sat on the edge of the cot, staring at his boots, his stomach twisting. He hadn’t slept after Chris stormed out the night before.

His words replayed in his mind on an endless loop: “You’re right. I don’t ”

But even so, as much as he must hate Leon, he stayed with him through the panic attack, held him, whispered calm assurances. And how had Leon repaid him? By snapping, pushing him away, and proving, once again, that he didn’t deserve someone like Chris.

The memory of last night, Chris’s voice, Chris’s hand on his face, his calming scent-was all he could think of. Leon exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

He wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of—that Chris would stay angry or that Chris meant what he’d said. He was such a lost cause!

He needed to fix this. He didn’t know how, but he couldn’t leave things as they were. He owed one to Chris for the last night.

The team was already assembled when Leon stepped outside. Chris stood with Jill, his voice low but firm as he laid out their plan for the day. He barely acknowledged Leon’s presence when he joined them.

Jill glanced between them, her sharp instincts no doubt picking up on the tension, but she didn’t comment.

“The lab’s not far,” Chris said, unfolding a map. His tone was all business. “From the intel Jill found last night, there’s a network of tunnels beneath the city. Our job is to find an entry point and figure out what the hell Umbrella was doing down there.”

Leon cleared his throat. “Chris—”

Chris didn’t look up. “We’ll split up once we’re inside. Cover more ground. Jill, you’ll take the north wing. Leon and I will handle the west.”

Leon hesitated, but Jill nodded, taking the map. “Got it.”

Chris slung his rifle over his shoulder and started walking. “Let’s move.”
Leon lingered for a moment before following.

The silence between them was thick as they made their way toward the industrial complex. Leon’s eyes flicked to Chris every few steps, his frustration growing. He hated how distant Chris felt—how cold.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Chris… about last night.”

Chris didn’t slow down or turn to look at him. “What about it?”

Leon pressed his lips together, forcing himself to continue. “I—” He hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You were just trying to help, and I—”

“Don’t,” Chris said sharply, cutting him off.

Leon blinked, startled by the force of his tone.

Chris finally turned, his expression guarded. “I’m not doing this, Leon. Not again. I’ve been trying, over and over for so long, but I can’t keep banging my head against a wall. I've learned my lesson. ”

Leon opened his mouth to respond, but Chris shook his head.

“Let’s just focus on the mission,” Chris said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. He turned and kept walking, leaving Leon standing there, his chest tight and his hands clenched at his sides.

---

The industrial complex was a maze of rusted machinery, crumbling walls, and flickering lights. Jill took point, scanning the area with her flashlight while the rest of the team followed behind.

“This place is a mess,” Jill muttered.

Chris nodded. “Spread out. Look for anything that might lead us to the tunnels.”

They moved carefully, their weapons at the ready. Leon’s mind was still on Chris, but he forced himself to push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

He found a stack of files in one corner of the room, the Umbrella logo still visible on the cover. Flipping through them, he felt his stomach churn.

“Chris,” he called out, holding up the papers.

Chris approached, his brow furrowing as he skimmed the documents. “Looks like this was a test site for something new. Jill, anything on your end?”

Jill appeared a moment later, holding a map she’d found pinned to the wall. “Found something. There’s an access point to the tunnels nearby.”

Chris studied the map, his jaw tightening. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

The access point was a rusted hatch hidden beneath a pile of debris. It took all of them to pry it open, revealing a dark, narrow passage that descended into the ground.

They moved cautiously, the tension palpable. The faint sounds of growling and skittering in the distance kept everyone on edge.

As they entered a larger chamber, the shadows seemed to move. Leon froze, his gun at the ready, as the first creature lunged at them.

It was smaller than most B.O.W.s but unnervingly fast, its movements jerky and erratic. Chris fired first, the creature dropping with a shriek, but more were already swarming from the shadows.

“Watch your six!” Jill shouted, spinning to take out one that had leapt from the wall.

The fight was chaotic, the creatures attacking from all sides. Leon and Chris stood back-to-back, their weapons blazing as the team tried to hold the rear.

Suddenly, the ceiling groaned.

“Move!” Chris shouted as a massive section of concrete gave way, crashing down between them. Leon rolled on pure instincts. The dust was blinding, and when it cleared, Jill and the rest of the team were on one side of the rubble, while Chris and Leon were on the other.

“You two okay?” Jill’s voice crackled over the comms.

“We’re fine,” Chris replied, coughing. He glanced at Leon, who nodded.

Jill scanned the debris. “We can’t get through this way. I’ll take the team around to see if we can find another route to the central lab.”

“Copy that,” Chris said. “We’ll keep moving forward. Be careful.”

“You too,” Jill replied before the connection cut out.

Chris turned to Leon, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go.”

---

The tunnels stretched on endlessly, the air damp and stale. Leon trailed behind Chris, his steps uneven. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic clink of their boots against the concrete floor.

He stole a glance at Chris’s back. The man hadn’t said a word since the ceiling collapse forced them apart from Jill and the others. Not that Leon blamed him—last night’s mess hadn’t exactly left things on friendly terms.

The memory of their talk earlier twisted in his chest. Leon shook his head, trying to focus on the path ahead. His hands trembled slightly, and he clenched them into fists, willing the unease away. But it wasn’t just nerves—he could feel the ache in his head, the tension behind his eyes growing stronger.

When Chris slowed to check their map, Leon took the chance to fish the pill bottle out of his pocket. With a quick glance at Chris to ensure he wasn’t looking, Leon popped one into his mouth, dry-swallowing it with a grimace.

The effect was almost immediate. His breathing steadied, and the ache began to fade, leaving him sharper, more in control.

Chris turned back, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Leon said, his voice steadier than before. “Let’s keep moving.”

Chris gave him a long look but didn’t push.

For the first hour, the silence between them was heavy, almost oppressive. Chris walked with purpose, his shoulders tense, and his jaw set. Leon didn’t dare try to break it—not yet. But his mind wandered, the awkwardness gnawing at him. He tried to ignore it, but the words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

“So...how’s Claire?” he asked.

Chris glanced up, surprised by the question. “She’s fine. Busy, but fine.”

Leon nodded. “Good. She deserves some peace.”

Chris’s gaze softened for a moment before he looked away. “Yeah.”

Leon nodded, not sure what else to say, but he tried again nevertheless. " What about Piers? "

"Aslo fine," Chris answered, not looking words clipped. A dead end again. It left a bitter taste in Leon’s mouth—not just the words, but what it represented.

He doesn’t care anymore. You told him not to.

Leon flexed his fingers around his gun, trying to distract himself. His gaze kept drifting to Chris’s broad back, his flashlight cutting through the gloom.

They reached a junction, and Chris paused to check the map. “This place is a damn labyrinth,” he muttered, more to himself than Leon.

Leon hesitated before speaking. “Want me to take point for a while?”

Chris didn’t look up. “I’ve got it.”

Leon frowned but said nothing, falling into step behind him again.

---

Chris felt Leon’s eyes on him as they moved through the tunnels. The younger man hadn’t stopped trying to talk since they’d started, and it was grating on Chris’s nerves.

Part of him wanted to snap—tell Leon to shut up and focus—but another part, the part that still cared, recognized the effort Leon was making.

He hated it.

Hated the way Leon’s voice still tugged at his emotions, hated the flicker of hope he felt every time Leon said something almost normal. He forced himself to focus on the mission, scanning the map for their next route.

“How’ve you been?” Chris asked suddenly, surprising even himself.

Leon blinked. “What?”

Chris glanced back briefly. “You asked about Claire and Piers earlier. Just figured I’d return the favour.”

Leon hesitated, then shrugged. “Same old. Work, missions. Not much else.”

“Sounds about right,” Chris muttered.

Leon huffed a small laugh. “You know how it is. Life doesn’t exactly leave much room for hobbies in this line of work.”

Chris found himself smiling despite everything. “Yeah. Unless you count dodging death as a hobby.”

Leon’s laugh was genuine this time, and for a moment, the tension between them eased.

They rounded a corner into what looked like an old breakroom, the walls lined with dusty lockers and a broken table in the center. Leon scanned the room, his instincts sharp, but it seemed empty.

They continued walking, the conversation picking up in fits.

“What about you?” Leon asked, his voice tentative. “You and Jill been keeping busy?”

“Always,” Chris said. “We’ve been tracking some new B.O.W. variants in Europe. Tough bastards. Took us weeks to pin them down.”

“Sounds like fun,” Leon said dryly.

Chris snorted. “You’d have hated it. Too much teamwork.”

Leon smirked despite himself. “Sounds about right.”

“How’s things down at DSO? Still doing everything alone? ” Chris asked as they moved through the room.

“Yeah,” Leon said. “They’ve got me running all over the place. The last mission was in South America. Messy situation—small town overrun with infected. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Chris glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “You always handle it.”

There was something in his tone—pride, maybe, or concern—but Leon didn’t know how to respond.

“Yeah,” he said softly, and the conversation fell into silence again.

The quiet didn’t last long. A sudden screech echoed through the tunnels, followed by the sound of something massive moving toward them.

“Great,” Leon muttered, drawing his gun.

The creature that burst through the far wall was monstrous—its body twisted and malformed, with sharp, bone-like protrusions jutting from its arms.

Chris didn’t hesitate, barking orders as he fired. “Keep your distance!”

The fight was brutal in the cramped space. Leon dodged the creature’s sweeping arm, firing a shot into its exposed side. The thing screeched in pain, its movements becoming more erratic.

Chris delivered the final blow, a well-placed shot to its head that sent it crashing to the ground.

Leon leaned against the wall, catching his breath. “You always this bossy, or is it just with me?”

Chris gave him a look, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Someone’s got to keep you in line.”

Despite himself, Leon let out a short laugh. “Good luck with that.”

For a brief moment, the tension eased, replaced by the faintest echo of what they’d once been.

---

As they moved deeper into the tunnels, the walls began to close in, the air growing colder.

“You remember Norway?” Leon asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Chris glanced at him. “What about it?”

“That tank you drove into the river,” Leon said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Still don’t know how you thought that was a good idea.”

Chris chuckled, the sound surprising in the oppressive stillness. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Barely,” Leon shot back. “You almost got us both killed.”

Chris shook his head, his grin fading as his gaze shifted back to the path ahead. “Yeah, well. We made it out.”

Leon didn’t reply, his smirk fading as the reality of their situation settled over him again.

He missed this, talking to Chris, being silly together in serious situations, everything. He blinked to make the sting in his eyes go away.

It's over now, so stop acting like nothing's wrong. The voices in his head whispered.

He felt the pang of pain in his head again, his hands trembling slightly as he went for the bottle of pills again.

Notes:

By the way, this probably will be my weekly update schedule. I'll be updating every Friday/Saturday <3

Chapter 5

Notes:

Hey guys, I'm back!
Okay, first of all I want to apologise for the very long delay. I won't bore you with the whole thing but some family member had to come live with us for a while due to some situation and they had kids and I had my exams and stuff it was sooo chaotic I didn't have a second to myself ㅠㅠ anyway I'm soooo happy to be back and writing again :')
Enjoy the new chapter <3

The air in the lab was suffocating. It wasn’t just the stale chemical scent or the eerie silence that had settled after they’d cleared the area — it was the weight of what Chris and Leon were discovering.

“Umbrella never changes,” Chris muttered, scrolling through the fragmented files on a half-functioning terminal. His jaw clenched as he scanned lines of data. “The whole city… it was just a damn test.”

Leon stood on the other side of the room, leafing through physical reports they’d found in a locked drawer. His expression was tight, unreadable, but Chris noticed how his hands trembled slightly as he flipped through the pages.

“They’ve been running simulations for months,” Leon said, his voice low, almost detached. “Fine-tuning the virus. This wasn’t about infecting one city — it’s about figuring out how to spread it faster, wider.”

Chris turned sharply toward him. “Do those files say anything about where or when they plan to release it?”

Leon shook his head. “No. Just more notes on the virus’s effects. They’re obsessed with precision. If they want a global outbreak, they’re not rushing into it.”

“Damn it,” Chris muttered, slamming his fist on the desk. The monitor flickered in protest before going dark. “We’re too late. All of this — it’s done.”

Leon glanced at him, his expression guarded. “We have enough to prove Umbrella’s involved. That’s something.”

“It’s not enough.”

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint hum of equipment still running in the lab. Chris ran a hand through his hair, trying to temper his frustration.

Leon rubbed the back of his neck tiredly, “Come on, we should regroup with Jill and the others. They’ll want to know what we found.”

Chris nodded wordlessly, his jaw tight.


---

The way back quiet and heavy with the weight of the dead city. When they arrived, Jill and the remaining BSAA operatives were waiting. Jill spotted them first, her sharp eyes immediately narrowing on their grim expressions.

“What’s the verdict?” Jill asked as they approached.

Chris handed her the flash drive they’d salvaged from the lab. “Umbrella’s already finished here. This was just a test run. They’re planning something bigger, but the data’s incomplete. There is no timeline, no location.”

Jill’s lips pressed into a thin line as she took the drive. “Damn it.” She glanced at Leon. “And the city?”

“Dead,” Leon said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Literally and figuratively. Nothing worth saving.”

The team exchanged heavy glances.

“What now?” Jill asked.

Chris was about to reply when the comm in Leon’s pocket buzzed. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “Hunnigan.” He tapped the device, putting it on speaker. Hunnigan’s voice came through, clipped and professional.

“We’ve reviewed the data you sent over. The DSO agrees with the BSAA’s assessment — the mission is over for now. We’ll reconvene once we have more intel on Umbrella’s next move.”

Chris snatched the comm before Leon could reply. “That’s it? We’re just calling it quits because we don’t know where or when they’ll strike next? They’re planning something catastrophic, and we’re supposed to sit around waiting for them to make the first move?”

“I understand your frustration, Captain Redfield, but this decision comes from above. There’s no point in wasting resources until we know more.” Hunnigan said firmly. “We’ll stay on this, but without actionable intel, both agencies agree this mission is concluded. You’ve done your part.”

Leon glanced at Chris, his face unreadable, but his eyes shadowed. He spoke up, his tone measured. “Understood. Keep us updated.”
“We’ll regroup when we have more information,” Hunnigan added before cutting the connection.

The line clicked off, leaving the team in a heavy silence.

Chris bit back a sharp retort and handed the comm to Leon. Leon lowered the comm slowly, not looking at Chris.


---


Back at the extraction point, a lone helicopter waited, its blades slowly spinning in anticipation. Jill placed a hand on Chris’s arm as they approached. “You okay?”

Chris nodded, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Yeah. Just... feels like we failed.”

“You didn’t,” Jill said firmly. “You bought us time. We’ll figure out the rest.”

Before heading to the chopper, Jill lingered for a moment. Her gaze flicked between Chris and Leon, her expression unreadable.

“You two good?” she asked.

Leon hesitated, glancing at Chris, who avoided his gaze. “Yeah,” Leon said finally, though his tone didn’t sound convincing.

Jill didn’t push. “Okay then, I'll see you around Kennedy take care ” She stepped back, giving them space. Leon nodded with a tight smile.

As the team boarded the helicopter, Leon lingered near the edge of the clearing. Chris turned to him, his expression softer than before.

“Well guess that's it ” Chris said, his voice low but firm.

Leon’s mouth opened as if to reply to say something anything, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he gave a faint nod, his eyes clouded with guilt and something else he couldn’t name.

Both of them stood rooted to the ground, unable to speak their minds.

“It...it was good seeing you, you know,” Leon finally managed. I'll miss you he wanted to say please don't go he wanted to say forgive me for being like this, he wanted to say but didn’t.

Chris’s eyes flickered with something, but it was gone in a second “Yeah, you too”

“Take care of yourself, Kennedy,” he added, and with that, Chris stepped into the chopper, his silhouette framed by the rising sun. He didn’t look back, and Leon stood rooted in place as the helicopter lifted into the sky.

The roar of the blades faded into the distance, leaving Leon alone in the quiet aftermath of the mission.

---


Chris leaned against the counter in his kitchen, nursing a cup of black coffee. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the room. The last few days had been routine—debriefs, reports, and paperwork. On the surface, everything was normal.

But it wasn’t.

He hadn’t slept well since returning, his mind replaying the mission in loops. Leon’s sharp words, his reckless actions, the night with the nightmare, the way he stood alone as the helicopter lifted off—it all lingered, like a wound that refused to close.

He barely noticed the sound of the front door opening until Claire’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Chris? You in here?”

Chris looked up as she stepped into the kitchen, her sharp eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of him.

“Wow,” she said, tossing her jacket onto the chair. “You look like hell.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Chris muttered, taking another sip of his coffee. “So when did you get back? ”

“This morning,”Claire didn’t sit. Instead, she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “Jill told me about the mission. Said Leon was with you.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Did you know he’d be there?” Claire pressed.

Chris finally looked up at her. “Of course i knew. It wasn’t like we had a choice. ”

“Right.” Claire’s voice was sharp now. “So, what happened? Did he finally say something, or did he just keep pretending like you don’t exist?”

“What do you think?,” Chris said bitterly.

“ Wow, that seems about right. You spent a year with him, Chris. A year. Then he just walks out and ghosts all of us like none of it ever mattered.”

“It’s not that simple,” Chris said, though even to him, the words sounded hollow.

Claire let out a bitter laugh. “It’s exactly that simple. He left. He didn’t just cut you off—he cut everyone off. Jill, Piers, me. Like we weren't anything like we didn’t spend years having his back. And now, what? He shows up after six months, and still nothing?”

Chris knew the anger and frustration in Claire’s voice all too well. It wasn’t just hard for him but for her, too. She always thought of Leon as her best friend and now...

Chris ran a hand over his face, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I...I thought i was over him. i thought I'd be okay, but seeing him again... and he wasn’t doing good, Claire, i could tell.”

Claire softened slightly, though the frustration in her voice didn’t entirely disappear. “You deserve better than this, Chris. He doesn’t get to waltz back into your life with not being good.”

Chris didn’t respond. He just stared down at the table, his coffee long forgotten. Claire sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Just… don’t let him drag you down again,” she said quietly. “You’ve worked too hard to get back on your feet.”


---


Leon stood in the DSO’s briefing room, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. He was barely holding it together, his exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. His head throbbed, and his chest felt hollow.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about Chris since the mission ended. Every word, every glance—it was all on repeat.

Hunnigan entered the room, clipboard in hand, and frowned as soon as she saw him. “You look terrible,” she said bluntly.

“I'm peachy as ever Hunnigan,” Leon replied dryly, sinking into a chair. “Look, I need an assignment. Something quick.”

Hunnigan set the clipboard down and crossed her arms. “You just got back from a missions. You need to rest.”

“I don’t need rest,” Leon snapped, his tone sharper than intended. “I need to keep moving.”

“No, you need to stop running,” Hunnigan shot back, her voice firm. “This isn’t about the mission, and we both know it.”

Leon looked away, his jaw clenching.

Hunnigan sighed and pulled out a chair across from him. “Look, Leon. I’ve known you long enough to see the pattern. Every time something hits too close to home, you bury yourself at work until you burn out. This time, it’s different. You’re not just running from the mission—you’re running from Chris.”

Leon flinched at the mention of Chris’s name, his hands balling into fists on the table. “That’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” Hunnigan said evenly. “But it’s affecting your work. And if you think I’m going to send you out into the field like this, you’re delusional.”

Leon glared at her. “I don’t have time for this.”

“No, you don’t have time to waste,” she countered. “You’re a mess, Leon. You can’t keep pretending like you’re fine when you’re clearly falling apart. Take the time off. Get your head straight. Because if you keep going like this, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Leon stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket. “But don’t expect me to sit around doing nothing.”

Hunnigan watched him go, her expression both concerned and resigned. “Take care of yourself, Leon,” she said softly as the door closed behind him.

---


It had been ten days since the mission ended. Ten days of Jill, Piers, and Claire doing everything in their power to keep him occupied. Game nights, drinks after work, even a disastrous attempt at cooking together that left Chris laughing so hard he almost forgot the gnawing ache in his chest.

He appreciated their efforts. Truly, he did. And slowly, he felt like he was starting to regain his footing.

The night was quiet as he stepped into his apartment. Chris dropped his keys on the counter, shrugged off his jacket, and took a deep breath. It wasn’t perfect, but he was managing. He told himself that if he could just keep going like this, maybe he’d figure out how to let go of the memories that haunted him.

Chris turned off the lights, heading toward his bedroom, when his phone buzzed on the counter.

Frowning, he glanced at the screen. The number was unfamiliar.

He hesitated for a moment, debating whether to let it go to voicemail, but something about it nagged at him. With a sigh, he picked it up and answered.

“Hello?”

“Is this Captain Chris Redfield?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Mercy General Hospital,” the voice on the other end said, professional but clipped. “We’re contacting you because you’re listed as an emergency contact for Leon S. Kennedy.”

Chris froze. “What? What happened? Is he okay?”

“Mr. Kennedy was brought in unresponsive due to OD." the caller said. “We suggest you come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

The world tilted beneath Chris’s feet. His knuckles whitened around the phone. "What? Is he—"

"He’s stable now, but we’ll need to monitor him closely. Can you come down?"

Chris’s heart pounded in his chest. “I’ll be there,” he said quickly, already grabbing his keys and jacket.

The line went dead, but the words kept echoing in his mind. Emergency contact. Hospital. Leon. OD.

Notes:

I'm sorry for the cliffhanger you guys (I'm actually not! :D) but it's been a while, so I need to have my fun!

Chapter 6

Notes:

Ok you guys the next chapter is here and I can’t wait to see what you guys think of this one!
We get lots of good whumpy stuff, some revealing on Leon's relationship, and sooo much hurt and confusion for Chris. I really hope you like it ^^

Chapter 6


The apartment felt smaller than ever. The dim glow of the television flickered across the walls, casting distorted shadows that stretched and recoiled like something alive. The air was stale, thick with the scent of cigarettes and the faint, sour trace of whiskey.

Leon lay sprawled on the couch, body sinking into the worn cushions like dead weight. He hadn't moved in hours. Maybe longer. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else—too heavy, too distant. The remote rested on his stomach, untouched, as the late-night news droned on in the background. He wasn’t listening. The words blurred together, just another layer of noise against the static in his head.

His gaze drifted across the room over the remnants of the last few days. A glass tipped over on the coffee table, a dark stain creeping into the wood. Cigarette butts overflowing in an ashtray. Clothes scattered carelessly, some still damp from the rain he hadn’t bothered shaking off when he got home days ago.

Everything felt too quiet. But the noise inside his head never stopped.

He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand down his face. His fingers trembled slightly, a telltale sign that he needed to take something. But not yet.

His eyes landed on the picture frame beside the TV.

Chris.

The two of them, caught in a moment frozen in time—Chris’s arm slung around his shoulder, both of them grinning, careless and happy. Leon barely recognized himself.

The mission had ended over a week ago, but the battlefield still clung to him.

Chris had moved on. Leon had seen it in his face, the way he barely acknowledged him, the way his words were clipped and cold. Chris had found a way to put distance between them, to start over. And why wouldn’t he? Leon had been the one to ruin it all.

His throat tightened as he swallowed against the ache rising in his chest. His hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, gripping hard enough to hurt. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Didn’t want to think about the way Chris had looked at him, like a stranger. Didn’t want to think about the six months that had led to this moment—how every decision, every word left unsaid had brought him here, drowning in his own mess.

Something sharp pressed against his chest.

He blinked, barely registering the way his fingers had unconsciously traced the faint scar just below his collarbone. His breathing stilled.

Jack’s voice slithered through his mind before he could stop it.

“You can’t survive without me. You never could. You’re nothing but a broken mess. And you know it.”

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory played out anyway.

The bruising grip on his wrist. The sneering laughter. The sharp, deliberate sting of a blade pressing into his skin.

He was back there.

“You’ll never be enough.” Jack’s voice was a purr in his ear, a twisted mix of amusement and cruelty. “No one will ever want you if they see the real you. You’re just a good fuck.”

Leon remembered the press of weight against him, the way Jack had pinned him down, the coldness in his eyes as he leaned in closer, invading every inch of his space.

“You know what? You’re not even that. If anyone knew what a filthy little whore you are, they wouldn’t even want to touch you. So you should be thankful that I’m still willing to use you.”

Leon’s stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat. His fingers dug into his arms, nails biting into his skin as if he could claw the memory out of himself. His breath hitched, uneven and ragged. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t—

He staggered to his feet, chest tight, limbs unsteady. His gaze fell to the prescription bottle, sitting innocently on the table beside a half-empty whiskey glass. The pills were supposed to help keep him stable and keep the memories from clawing through his mind. But they never worked long enough, not lately.

His fingers shook as he twisted off the cap and poured several pills into his palm.

"I just want it to stop," Leon whispered, voice cracking. "Just for a little while."

The first pill slid down easily, chased by the burning heat of whiskey. Then another. And another.

The line between numbing the pain and plunging into oblivion blurred dangerously fast, but Leon didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was escaping the gnawing ache inside him.

The bottle slipped from his grip, shattering on the floor as dizziness swallowed him whole. Darkness curled at the edges of his vision, and Leon gasped for breath.

His legs buckled.

He stumbled back, trying to steady himself, but the world tilted violently. The coffee table was there one second, then gone the next as his body crashed against it.

Glass shattered.

The impact sent sharp, biting pain through his side, jagged shards slicing into his skin. The distant sound of something cracking—the table breaking beneath his weight—barely registered over the muffled pounding in his skull.

He tried to push himself up, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. Everything was too heavy.

His vision blurred, blood mixing with whiskey on the floor, the scent of alcohol thick in the air.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a distant voice whispered: This is too much.

Darkness curled at the edges of his vision.

I just wanted the pain to stop.

Then everything went black.



---



Chris barely remembered the drive.

One second, he was stepping on the gas, his pulse hammering in his ears, and the next, he was pushing through the hospital doors, barely able to breathe. His grip on the steering wheel had been so tight that his knuckles ached.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and sickness, but none of it registered. His mind was locked on one thing.

Leon.

Chris’s gaze darted across the waiting room, his heartbeat thundering. Then, he saw her.

Hunnigan.

She was near the reception desk, arms crossed, looking tense and exhausted. The second she spotted him, her eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Chris didn’t slow down. “Hospital called me. Said Leon OD’d.” His voice came out rough, too sharp. “What the hell happened?”

Hunnigan exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Shit. He must’ve forgotten to change that.”

Chris let out a dry, humourless laugh, his anger bubbling up. “That’s what you’re worried about? Not the fact that he nearly—” He clenched his jaw. “Where is he?”

She studied him for a beat, then sighed. “Come with me.”

Chris followed as she led him down the hall, away from the crowded waiting area. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a cold glow over the sterile walls.

Hunnigan finally stopped, turning to face him. “Leon overdosed,” she said bluntly, though there was a tension beneath her voice.

Chris’s stomach twisted. Hearing it out loud made it worse—more real. “Is he…” He swallowed, hating the way his voice wavered. “Is he okay?”

Hunnigan’s expression softened slightly. “He’s stable.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping a fraction. But the relief was short-lived.

“The neighbours heard the crash when he collapsed. That’s the only reason he’s still alive.” Her voice was tight. “His system was a mess when they found him. He has a concussion, some bruised ribs from the fall, but he’s out of danger now.”

Chris barely heard her. His mind was stuck on collapsed. Crash.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Hunnigan hesitated before answering. “He took too many of his meds and mixed them with alcohol.”

Chris stiffened. “Too many of what?”

Hunnigan’s expression was unreadable. “Prescription meds. Anti-anxiety pills. He’s been on them for months.”

Chris’s stomach twisted. “What?”

“Since the breakup,” she said flatly.

Chris opened his mouth, then shut it again, completely thrown. Leon had never told him. Not once.

He tried to process it, but all he could hear was months.

He’s been like this for months, and I had no fucking idea.

Chris clenched his jaw. “So what, he’s been—what? Self-medicating and drowning himself in booze this whole time?”

Hunnigan scoffed. “Yeah.”

Chris let out a breath, dragging a hand over his face. He was trying to keep up, but it was like everything was hitting him at once, a relentless wave of realizations crashing over him.

Hunnigan’s voice softened slightly. “The doctors don’t think it was a suicide attempt. It was reckless and dangerous, but… it doesn’t seem like he was trying to die.”

Chris swallowed hard, trying to make sense of it. “Then what the hell was he trying to do? Cause he sure as hell doesn’t look like someone who cares whether he lives or dies.”

Hunnigan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. Maybe forget. Maybe just stop feeling like shit for five minutes. Maybe survive the only way he knows how.”

Chris turned away, pacing a few steps, trying to rein in his frustration. He had spent the last ten days trying to convince himself that he was finally pulling himself back together, that seeing Leon again hadn’t wrecked him.

And now Leon pulled this shit?

Hunnigan’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. “I know this is a lot to take in. But you should know—he’s been like this for months. Since the breakup. It didn’t start last night.”

Chris turned back sharply. “What are you saying?”

Hunnigan hesitated, then sighed. “Leon’s been spiraling. He’s been taking more missions than he should, running himself into the ground, and when he’s not working, he’s relying on those pills and alcohol just to keep going.”

Chris felt something cold settle in his gut. He swallowed, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

Then Hunnigan’s voice hardened.

“Breaking up with you is killing him.”

Chris flinched, the words cutting deeper than expected. “I tried, Hunnigan. I gave him everything I could, but he walked out. He didn’t even give me a chance to fight for us.”

Hunnigan’s eyes darkened. “And do you think that was easy for him?”

Chris stayed silent, fists clenched.

Hunnigan scoffed. “Leon’s self-destructive, yes, but he has every reason to be that way. When he pushes people away, it’s because he’s terrified they’ll hurt him—or worse, leave him. He thought he was sparing you the trouble.”

Chris’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t too much for me. I would’ve stayed, no matter how hard it got.”

Hunnigan’s expression softened, but her tone remained firm. “Maybe. But it wasn’t just about you, Chris. Leon believed it was too much for you, and that’s all it took. You weren’t just a boyfriend to him—you were hope. And when things fell apart, that hope shattered.”

Chris swallowed hard, his chest tight.

Hunnigan exhaled, her exhaustion clear. “It was hard on you too—I get that. But if you can’t stay, if this is too much for you, then maybe you should go now.”

Chris blinked, stunned. “You’re asking me to leave?”

“I’m asking you to think about what Leon really needs,” Hunnigan said quietly. “He needs someone who can stay by his side, no matter how much he pushes them away. Someone who won’t give up on him, even when he’s at his worst. And maybe that’s too much to ask of anyone—I don’t know. But if there isn’t someone like that maybe he’d be better off alone.”

Her words landed like a punch to the gut, leaving Chris speechless.

Hunnigan sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll be here when he wakes up.”

Chris barely registered her words. He just stood there, shaken, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his mind racing.

Everything felt too loud, too much. He needed air.

He needed help.

Notes:

By the way I'll start updating my other story soon. I just wasn't in very fluffy place to start writing that story again but I'll try to get back to it soon <3

Chapter 7

Notes:

I really wasn't going to update today cause I have so much work to do, but I just couldn't help myself as I was dying to see your reaction to this one!! So here I am with a lengthy juicy chapter ^-^
And I just want to thank you all for your kind words and support so far. You guys have no idea how much your comments motivate me to keep writing <3<3

Chris gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he sat in his parked car outside the hospital. The air inside felt suffocating, thick with the weight of everything Hunnigan had just told him. His pulse was still racing, his mind still tangled in a mess of emotions he couldn’t untangle. Anger. Guilt. Confusion. They all clawed at him, demanding his attention, refusing to let him breathe.

His hand trembled as he reached for his phone. He didn’t even think—just scrolled through his contacts and hit call.

Claire picked up on the second ring.

“Chris? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Her voice was groggy, laced with irritation, but when Chris didn’t immediately answer, the sleepiness in her tone sharpened into concern. “Chris? What’s wrong?”

Chris exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple. His throat felt tight, his chest even tighter. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed to hear her voice until now.

“Claire.” His voice came out hoarse, strained. “It’s Leon.”

There was a brief pause. Then Claire was wide awake. “What about Leon?”

"Leon’s in the hospital." The words fell out of his mouth like broken glass.

Silence.

Then Claire’s breath hitched. “What?”

“He overdosed”. His voice was hoarse. “Pills and alcohol. It wasn’t a suicide attempt—not exactly—but… hell, Claire, it was close enough.”

More silence. When Claire finally spoke, her voice was quieter, but the underlying shock was unmistakable.

“You... You’re serious?”

Chris let out a bitter laugh. “You think I’d joke about this?”

“No, of course not, I just—” Claire cut herself off, and Chris could hear her shifting, probably sitting up in bed. “Is he… is he okay?”

Chris scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. I mean, physically, he’ll be fine. Some bruises, a concussion from when he collapsed, but… Claire, he’s a fucking mess.”

She exhaled shakily. “God, Leon…” Her voice wavered, but then, just as quickly, something else slipped in—anger. “What the hell was he thinking? How did you even find out?”

Chris huffed. “I don’t think he was thinking at all and the hospital called me. I’m still his emergency contact.”

Claire didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You saw him?”

Chris swallowed hard. “No... Not yet.”

“Why not?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Because Hunnigan found me first. She”— He hesitated, words catching in his throat. “She told me some stuff, Claire. About how Leon’s been spiraling since we broke up. About him fucking taking pills and... and now this...”

Claire wasn’t saying anything. Chris could practically hear her thoughts racing. When she finally spoke, her voice was tight, like she was barely keeping it together.

“Goddamn it, Leon.”

Chris didn’t miss the way her voice cracked just slightly at the end.

“Claire…”

“I knew he was being an asshole shutting everyone out,” she continued, voice trembling between anger and something more fragile. “But I didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe if he hadn’t ghosted me for half a year, I would’ve known too and maybe i could've —” She let out a frustrated breath.

Chris exhaled. “You’re still mad at him.”"

“Of course I am.” Claire’s voice was sharp. “You think I just stopped being pissed? That I just stopped caring? One day I'm thinking he'll become my brother in law one day and the next day he fucking breaks up with you and then shut everyone out. And now what? He’s been making himself miserable, and what? Nobody was supposed to notice? Nobody was supposed to care? Just GOD!”

Chris clenched his jaw. He couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t say anything and let Claire just calm down.

Silence settled between them again, but this time, it wasn’t as heavy.

Then Claire sighed. “So… what now?”

Chris closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the seat. “I don’t know. Hunnigan said that Leon needs someone who won’t give up on him, even when he’s at his worst and maybe he’d be better off alone if that's not possible and maybe she's right maybe i should just...i just don't know.”

Claire just listened like she was weighing the words.

"Are you gonna stay?"

Chris exhaled sharply. "I don’t know."

"Chris." Claire’s voice was softer now, but no less serious. "Do you want to stay?"

Chris opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because he didn’t know. Or maybe he did, and he just couldn’t face it yet.

All he knew was that he was here. That he hadn’t been able to walk away.

Claire must have sensed his hesitation because her tone shifted again—gentler this time.

"Chris… whatever you decide, don’t let Hunnigan’s words or guilt make the choice for you. You need to figure out where you stand. Because whatever this is? Whatever you’re feeling? You’re not going to get answers standing in a damn parking lot and avoiding it.”

Chris let out a breath. She wasn’t wrong.

Chris swallowed, nodding even though she couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, I just… I need to see him first.”

Claire hummed in understanding. “Okay, if that's what you need. Call me after, alright? Let me know when he wakes up.”

Chris let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yeah. I will.”

“Good.” A pause. Then, quietly—“And Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“…Tell him I’m still so fucking pissed,” she said, softer now. “But also that… I never stopped caring.”

Chris shut his eyes. “I’ll...I'll tell him.”

And with that, he hung up.


---


Chris stepped back into the hospital, his stomach twisting as he passed through the sterile white halls. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, sharp and artificial. The soft hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the quiet murmurs of nurses drifted through the corridors.

His footsteps felt too loud as he approached the waiting area. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—another confrontation? A reminder that he didn’t belong here? That this wasn’t his problem anymore?

Hunnigan was still there, standing near the nurses' station, her arms crossed, and a cup of coffee cooling in her hand. She looked exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes, her usual composure slightly cracked from the long night.

When she saw him, her eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable but sharp.

“You came back, she said flatly.”

Chris swallowed. “Yeah.”

Hunnigan studied him for a moment. The weight of everything she had said earlier still hung between them, unspoken but heavy.

Chris braced himself for another argument, but instead, she sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “I'm too damn tired to fight you on this.”

“I'm not here to fight,” Chris muttered.

“Good,” she said, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “Because Leon’s still out, and the last thing he needs when he wakes up is more stress.”

Chris exhaled through his nose. That reminder cut deep. He hadn't let himself think too much about it before, but standing here, with Hunnigan looking like she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders all night, it hit harder.

Leon was still unconscious.

Chris clenched his jaw, forcing himself to push past the suffocating feeling in his chest.

Hunnigan didn’t move, didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, finally, she said, “Look... I was just frustrated before. I still am.” She met his gaze, something softer in her expression now. “But if you’re here, if you’re really going to be here… then don’t make this worse for him.”

Chris's throat tightened, but he nodded. He didn’t have a response—at least, not one that felt right.

Hunnigan watched him for another moment before she let out a tired breath and tilted her head toward the hall. “He’s in room 207.”

Chris didn’t hesitate.

He turned and headed down the hall, his heartbeat hammering in his ears as he approached Leon’s door.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for this.

But he was here.

And he wasn’t leaving.

When he reached Leon’s door, he hesitated, fingers flexing at his side.

He had spent the past ten days trying to convince himself that the mission was just a mission, that Leon was just another agent.

But standing here now, just a few feet away from him, Chris knew he had been lying to himself.

With a slow breath, he pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the monitors beside the bed. The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor filled the silence, a quiet but persistent reminder that Leon was still here. Still breathing.

Chris’s jaw tightened as his eyes landed on him.

Leon looked awful. Pale, drawn, and too small. His arm was wrapped in gauze from where they’d scared with glass, and faint bruises littered his skin from the fall. A thin bandage peeked out from beneath his hairline where he'd hit the glass table.

Chris swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides.

This wasn’t the Leon he knew.

Leon was strong. Resilient. Even at his worst, he had always been capable, always the one standing back up no matter how many times he got knocked down.

But here, now?

He looked fragile. Too damn fragile for the man Chris knew. Like he was just a shadow of himself.

Chris exhaled sharply, dragging the chair closer to the bed before sinking into it. His anger hadn’t disappeared—not completely. It still burned beneath the surface, a low simmering heat. But looking at Leon now, it felt… distant.

Because how the hell was he supposed to stay mad at someone who looked like they were barely holding themselves together?

Chris leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” His voice was quiet, but there was no real bite to it. Just exhaustion.

Leon didn’t move. Didn’t stir.

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn’t planned on talking. He didn’t even know why he was. Maybe because it was easier to say the things he couldn’t say if Leon wasn’t awake to hear them.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here,” Chris admitted, voice rough. “I was ready to walk away. I thought I had moved on. I thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the steady beeping of the monitors.

Chris swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “Claire says I should talk to you. Figure out where I stand.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Like it’s that simple.”

His eyes flickered to Leon’s face again. His breathing was steady, slow, but Chris couldn’t stop noticing how he was too still too fragile. It made something in his chest squeeze painfully.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in the chair.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. “But I’m staying. At least until you wake up.”

Because Chris needed answers. Because despite everything, he couldn’t just walk away.

Because no matter how much Leon had hurt him, he still cared.

And maybe that was the problem.


---


As the time passed the sight of Leon like that so still and motionless kept getting harder to watch.

Chris had seen Leon hurt before.

He had seen him bruised, bleeding, barely holding himself together, yet still standing.

But this—this was different. This was self inflicted.

Leon lay motionless against the white sheets, his face pale, his breaths shallow. The heart monitor beeped steadily beside him, an irritating, unrelenting reminder that Leon was alive—but barely.

And Chris just sat stiffly in the chair next to the bed, gripping his own wrist to keep his hands from shaking without even knowing what the hell he was supposed to say when Leon woke up.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Leon shifted, a small, pained noise escaping him. His fingers twitched against the sheets, and Chris straightened, pulse kicking up.

“Leon?” His voice was quiet, but urgent.

Leon’s brows furrowed, his expression flickering with discomfort. His breath was shaky, uneven, and when his eyes cracked open, they were sluggish and unfocused, clouded with the lingering effects of whatever drugs they had him on.

Chris leaned forward, his chest tightening. “Hey, take it easy.”

Leon’s glassy gaze flicked to him, his body going unnaturally still.

And then, his voice came out slurred, barely above a whisper.

“…You’re not real.”

Chris straightened slightly, brow furrowing. “Leon—”

Leon exhaled a quiet, breathy laugh, his eyes unfocused. “F'course, I’d see you… makes sense.” His words slurred together, barely coherent. “I alwys see you.”

Chris’s throat went tight.

Leon had been seeing him? What the hell did that mean? Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Or did Chris’s ghost linger in his mind the way Leon had stayed in his?

“Leon, I’m here,” Chris said, firmer this time.

Leon let his head loll to the side, his fingers twitching against the sheets. “S’not funny,” he muttered, his voice barely there. “You left.”

Chris tensed, his fingers curling into fists where they rested on his side. “No,” he said, voice low, “you left.”

Leon blinked sluggishly. “Right…” He exhaled, voice shaking. “That’s right.”

Chris inhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, frustration biting at his nerves. “Leon—”

“Didn’t think it’d hurt S'much,” Leon murmured, cutting him off. His fogged-over gaze flicked to Chris, unfocused. “Thought I could handle it.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “Handle what?”

Leon’s eyes drifted shut for a second, then slowly reopened. “…Being without you.”

The room went deathly silent.

Chris froze.

Leon let out a quiet, bitter chuckle, but it sounded more like a broken exhale. “Shit, dying's not that bad if I get to say this stuff out loud.”

Chris finally moved, leaning forward, his voice tight with frustration. “You’re not dying, Leon.”

Leon hummed, unconvinced. “Dunno… feels like it.” His breathing hitched, something raw surfacing beneath his haze. “Feels worse.”

Chris ran a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose. “Jesus Christ, Leon.”

Leon’s gaze stayed distant, lost somewhere Chris couldn’t reach.

“…Wish you never left.”

Chris’s chest tightened.

His gut twisted.

He opened his mouth—to say what, he didn’t know.

But then, Leon’s breathing evened out again, his body going lax against the bed as the lingering drugs dragged him back into unconsciousness.

Chris stared at him.

For the first time in months, Leon had actually talked.

He had cracked open—just a little—and even if half of it had been slurred nonsense, it was the most Chris had heard from him since the breakup.

And it left him feeling like the ground had just been ripped out from beneath him.

Chris sat back, rubbing a hand over his face. His pulse was still too fast, his mind reeling.

Leon had missed him.

Chris didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with that.

Chapter 8

Notes:

Hi everyone i hope you're enjoying the story so far <3
So, I have something important to ask you guys. I was actually thinking about making this into a series and start writing one-shots for it while continuing the main story. This story is called "fragments of us" and these one-shots would be like fragments of Leon and Chris's past right up before the start of the main story. There will be their moments of joy, moments of love, and moments of hurt.
So what do you guys think? Should I do it or not?
If you like the idea, please do say cause if I don't get enough feedback, I probably won't do it, so it's really up to you guys.

A dull, pounding ache dragged Leon from the depths of unconsciousness. His body felt sluggish, like he was wading through thick mud, every limb weighted down. His throat was dry, raw, and when he tried to swallow, it felt like sandpaper scraping against his skin.

Something was wrong.

The sterile scent of antiseptic burned his nose before his other senses caught up. The stiff sheets, the steady beeping of a monitor, the slight tug of an oxygen tube under his nose—hospital.

His eyes fluttered open, heavy and unfocused, the ceiling above him blurring in and out of clarity. His chest tightened as his brain struggled to piece together the last thing he remembered.

The pills. The alcohol. The unbearable ache that had made him want to shut everything out just for a little while.

And then—nothing.

A shadow shifted in his peripheral vision. Leon’s sluggish gaze drifted, his heart stuttering when he recognized the familiar figure sitting beside him.

Chris.

Leon blinked slowly, his dry lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. His body still wasn’t cooperating.

Chris was slouched forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His head was bowed slightly, but as soon as Leon stirred, his sharp brown eyes snapped up, locking onto Leon’s blue ones with an intensity that made his stomach twist.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Chris’s face was unreadable—tired, tense, guarded.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Leon rasped out, barely above a whisper, “…Chris?” His voice sounded foreign, weak. His brows furrowed as he took in Chris’s presence.

“What… are you doing here?”

Chris’s posture stiffened just slightly. His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—something Leon couldn’t quite place.

Chris exhaled through his nose, sitting up straighter. “The hospital called me.”

Leon’s stomach twisted. “What?”

“You listed me as your emergency contact,” Chris said, voice even but firm. “That’s why I’m here.”

Leon’s breath caught for a second. Then, slowly, he exhaled.

“…Shit.” His voice was hoarse, barely audible. He swallowed thickly. “I—I forgot to change that.”

Chris didn’t react. Just watched him.

Leon let his head sink back against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “It won’t happen again.”

Chris let out a slow breath. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Leon didn’t answer.

Chris let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was rough and strained.

“You scared the hell out of me, Leon.”

Leon swallowed thickly, throat protesting the movement. His voice barely scraped out, hoarse and weak.

“…Wasn’t… trying to.”

Chris’s jaw tightened. His gaze flicked over Leon—taking in the oxygen tube, the bandages, the IV taped to his arm. His fingers curled into fists.

“No?” Chris let out a bitter scoff. “Then what the hell were you trying to do?”

Leon flinched.

He should’ve expected that. Of course, Chris wouldn’t just let this go.

He shifted slightly, ignoring the way his body protested. “I just… needed some... peace.”

Chris’s expression darkened. “So your solution was to down a handful of pills with alcohol?” His voice was sharp, barely restrained frustration laced with something else—something dangerously close to hurt.

Leon looked away, unable to hold that gaze. “…Didn’t think it’d be that much.”

Chris let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. “Jesus, Leon.”

Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating.

Leon felt exposed, raw, like Chris could see straight through him. It made his stomach churn.

After a long pause, Chris finally spoke again—quieter this time.

“You could’ve died.”

Leon’s fingers twitched against the sheets. “I didn’t.”

Chris’s eyes flashed. “That’s not the point.”

Leon exhaled, closing his eyes for a second. “I know.”

And he did.

He knew exactly how reckless, how stupid it had been. He knew how close he’d come to not waking up at all.

But none of that changed the fact that, in that moment, he hadn’t cared.

Chris was still watching him, expression tense. His voice was tight when he finally spoke.

“Do you even want to be alive, Leon?”

Leon’s breath caught. His chest tightened painfully.

The words hung heavy in the air between them, sharp and unavoidable.

Leon didn’t answer right away.

Because he didn’t know if he had an answer.

Chris exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. His frustration had dimmed slightly, replaced by something quieter, heavier.

“I just…” Chris’s voice was quieter now, strained. “I don’t understand how you let it get this bad.”

Leon let out a weak breath of laughter—dry, humourless. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me neither.”

Chris shook his head. “I should’ve noticed,” he muttered.

Leon stiffened slightly, something in his chest twisting.

Chris thought this was his fault?

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice out. “It’s not on you, Chris.”

Chris met his gaze then, something sharp in his eyes. “It’s not just on you either.”

Leon looked away.

Neither of them spoke after that.

Chris sat there, watching him, while Leon tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say.

But the words didn’t come.

So they sat there, in the heavy silence, waiting for something—anything—to break it.

“You said some things,” Chris said finally. “Earlier.”

Leon’s chest clenched. His fingers twitched weakly against the sheets. Things?

“What things? I…I don’t remember,” he muttered, voice tight.

Chris didn’t look away. “Figures.”

Leon swallowed hard. There was something unsettling about the way Chris was looking at him—like he was waiting for Leon to say something, to take it back.

But he didn’t even know what he was supposed to take back.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

“If I said anything,” Leon said flatly, “it wasn’t real. Just the drugs talking.”

Chris’s jaw tightened slightly. His fingers curled against his knee.

“…That so?”

Leon nodded once, though the motion made his head spin. “Yeah.” His voice was quieter now, strained. “Probably just—dreamed it or something.”

Chris didn’t look convinced.

But he didn’t push.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.

Leon hesitated, then licked his dry lips. “Why are you still here?”

Chris’s jaw worked for a moment, as if he were weighing his words. Then, finally, he said, voice tight, “Because I couldn’t not be.”

Leon’s chest clenched.

He didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to process it. It didn’t make sense.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” he muttered, voice rough. “It’s not your problem.”

Chris scoffed, shaking his head. “Like hell it’s not.”

Leon let out a bitter laugh. “Of course it’s not! What, do you rush to hospitals every time one of your ex-boyfriends gets hurt?”

Chris’s expression darkened instantly. “Really? That’s all we are now? Ex-boyfriend?” His voice was sharp, like he couldn’t believe Leon had just said that.

Leon’s chest clenched, but he ignored it. He needed Chris to go, needed him to stop looking at him like that—like he mattered. “Yeah,” he said, forcing the word out like it didn’t hurt. “That’s what we are.”

Chris’s hands curled into fists. “You think I’m here out of duty?” His voice was incredulous, laced with anger.

Leon turned his gaze back to the ceiling, swallowing hard. “Aren’t you?”

Chris let out a breath, a sharp, frustrated sound. “Jesus, Leon.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, voice rough. “You really think I’d be sitting here if I didn’t give a damn about you?”

Leon didn’t answer.

Because yes.

Chris was a good guy. He cared about people. And Leon was sure, so sure, that this was just another one of those things—Chris doing what was right because that’s the kind of person he was. Because he felt guilty. Because he felt sorry for Leon.

And Leon couldn’t stomach that.

Before Chris could say anything else, the door swung open, cutting through the tension.

A nurse stepped inside, her sharp gaze flicking between them before settling on Leon. “Mr. Kennedy, how are you feeling?”

Leon exhaled slowly, forcing his voice to stay even. “I’m fine.”

The nurse arched a skeptical brow. “You sustained a mild concussion, multiple bruised ribs, and significant abrasions on your hands. Not to mention the dehydration, alcohol, and painkillers in your system.” She adjusted his IV, her tone firm. “You’re not fine.”

Leon clenched his jaw but didn’t argue. He just wanted this conversation to be over.

The nurse gave him a measured look. “Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

Chris scoffed before Leon could blink. “Bullshit.”

Leon snapped his head toward him, startled.

Chris didn’t back down. “You do this thing,” he said, voice taut with frustration. “When you’re in pain, you do this thing with your lips, and you try to endure it, like if you don’t acknowledge it, it’ll go away.” His eyes flicked over Leon’s face, sharp and knowing. “You’re in pain, Leon. Stop pretending you’re not.”

Leon hated that Chris could read him so easily.

The nurse looked between them, then sighed. “I’ll make sure your pain meds are adjusted.” She jotted something on the chart before turning to leave.

Once she was gone, silence settled between them again, heavier this time.

Chris sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Are you done trying to push me away yet?”

Leon didn’t answer. Didn’t know how to answer.

Chris exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Leon for a long moment before letting out a tired sigh. “Look… you need to rest. And I don’t think me being here, arguing with you like this, is gonna help with that.” His voice softened slightly, but there was still an edge to it. “So, for now, I’ll let you rest.”

Leon felt something twist in his chest, something he couldn’t quite name.

But then Chris’s next words landed like a weight on his ribs.

“But we need to talk about this. About us.”

Leon let out a humourless scoff, turning his head away. “There’s no us anymore.”

Chris didn’t even hesitate. “We’ll see about that.”

Leon’s stomach clenched, but he didn’t respond.

Chris stood, giving him one last look before heading for the door.

And Leon was left staring at the ceiling, heart pounding far too hard for someone who was supposed to be resting.

Chapter 9

When Chris stepped out of Leon’s room, Hunnigan was already there waiting to take his place. He didn’t say anything. he just kept walking down the hall.

His phone started buzzing, but he ignored it, running a hand over his face. His head was a mess.

They needed to talk. Really talk. But pushing Leon right now would only make things worse. Chris knew that. So he’d forced himself to back off, to let Leon rest, but the frustration sat heavy in his chest.

We’ll see about that, he’d told Leon, but even as he said it, he wasn’t sure what the hell that meant.

The phone buzzed again. This time, he checked it.

MISSION BRIEFING. 30 MINUTES.

Chris stared at the message. His gut twisted. You’ve got to be kidding me.

He immediately called O'brian. “What’s the situation?”

“High-priority op,” came the clipped response. “You’re needed, Captain.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

The word came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care. Not now.

“I can’t go anywhere right now,” Chris continued, “Get someone else.”

O'brian sighed. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be calling you in if there was someone else.”

Chris clenched his jaw. “I have something important to handle here.”

“This is important,” O'brian shot back. “It’s a high-priority op, and you’re the only one available with the experience we need.”

Chris exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to stay. Leon was still in the hospital, still looking like he was barely holding himself together. The argument they’d just had still burned in his head, and walking away now felt like the worst possible thing he could do.

But duty didn’t give a damn about personal timing.

He exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

He ended the call and stared at the hospital quiet hallway.

He should go back in, tell Leon himself. But what was he supposed to say? Hey, I know you think I’m only here out of guilt, but actually, I don’t want to leave. Not now. Not when—

Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. No, that was a conversation for later. Right now, he just had to make sure Leon would be okay while he was gone.

He shot a quick text to Hunnigan.

I have to leave for a mission. Keep an eye on him.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Already am.

Chris nodded to himself, exhaled, and finally turned away.

As he walked down the hall, he was already pulling up his messages again.

To Leon: I have to head out for a mission. I need you to take care of yourself while I’m gone. Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.

He hesitated before sending the next part.

*I mean it, Leon.

Then he hit send.


---



The hospital room was quiet. Too quiet.

Leon stared at the ceiling, his body heavy, his head aching. He should’ve been relieved that Chris finally left—less arguing, less pressure—but instead, his chest felt tight in a way he didn’t want to think about.

He exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. His ribs throbbed, his head pounded, and his hands still stung from where they’d scraped against the table when he collapsed.

“You’re awake.”

Leon turned his head at the familiar voice. Hunnigan stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with that cool, unreadable look she always wore. But even through professionalism, there was something else. Something softer.

“Yeah,” Leon muttered.

Hunnigan stepped closer, stopping at his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

Leon let out a dry, humourless chuckle. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

Hunnigan hummed, unimpressed. “I’d say that’s an improvement over unresponsive on the floor.”

Leon winced but didn’t argue. He knew he’d scared her, just like he’d scared Chris.

“Did you tell him to stay?” he asked after a beat.

Hunnigan frowned. “Who?”

“Chris.”

“I didn’t have to.” She gave him a pointed look. “I actually told him to go away, but he stayed anyway.”

Leon stiffened and looked away. “Ever the golden boy!.”

Hunnigan didn’t respond right away. Instead, she sat down in the chair Chris had just vacated, watching him carefully.

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” she finally said.

Leon scoffed. “Yeah? And what’s the reason?”

Hunnigan leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees. “Chris is worried about you, Leon.”

Leon huffed, shifting again. “Yeah, I got that.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

Leon didn’t answer. His hands curled slightly in the sheets. He wanted to argue—to say Chris was only here because of guilt or because he was just a good guy who couldn’t help himself. But after everything Chris had said earlier… Leon wasn’t sure what to think.

Silence stretched between them. Hunnigan briefly checked her phone, and Leon still didn't say anything when she was done

She sighed. “You don’t have to talk to me, but you do have to talk to someone. And not just when things get this bad. He's not like them, you know that, right? ”

Leon’s throat tightened. He swallowed, looking away again. “I know.”

Hunnigan’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she glanced at Leon phone on the bedside table flickering.

“You might want to check that,” she said, standing up. “Chris texted.”

Leon stared at her as she walked toward the door. She stopped just before leaving, looking back at him.

“Don’t push him away just because you’re scared,” she said quietly. “He’s not going anywhere. Now get some rest, I'll be back. ”

Then she left, leaving Leon alone with nothing but his thoughts and the soft glow of his phone screen.

He hesitated, then reached for it.

A message from Chris.

I have to head out for a mission. I need you to take care of yourself while I’m gone. Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.


I mean it, Leon.

Leon stared at the words longer than he should have, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Then, finally, he typed a reply.

I don’t need a babysitter, Redfield. I’m fine.

He hit send, then dropped the phone onto his chest, exhaling sharply.

Somehow, he already missed being unconscious!

Notes:

Sorry for the delay, and I know it’s a rather short chapter, but I'll promise to make the next one real juicy!

Chapter 10

Notes:

I just say one thing:
Claire is a badass, and I love her!
Enjoy :D

Chris sat on the edge of his seat, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. The mission briefing had been quick, the kind that meant things were already in motion. His team was set to move out in a few hours, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He pulled out his phone and stared at his last message to Leon after he tried to dismiss him with I don’t need a babysitter Redfield.

Chris: I'll be in touch.

Leon hadn’t replied.

Chris exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck before typing.

Chris: Still in one piece?

The response came quicker than expected.

Leon: Barely.

Chris rolled his eyes.

Chris: Don’t be dramatic.

Leon took his time answering.

Leon: How's everything there? Are you on a plane yet?

Chris hesitated. Not yet.

Chris: Not yet. Should be soon.

Leon’s reply came a moment later.

Leon: Good. Then you can stop babysitting me.

Chris huffed out a quiet laugh.

Chris: Who said I was?

Leon: Just get some sleep on the plane and shut up.

Chris: I'm fine.

There was no reply after that. Chris let it go.


---


The minute the plane touched down and things were settled enough, Chris immediately checked his phone again. His mind had kept drifting back to Leon nonstop.

Was he eating? Actually resting? Or just sitting there, staring at the ceiling, lost in whatever dark place his head liked to drag him to?

No messages from Leon.

He debated for a moment before typing.

Chris: Don’t tell me you’re still awake.

It took a while, but then...

Leon: If I was asleep, I wouldn’t be reading this, would I?

Chris: You should be resting.

Leon: And you should be working. Go away.

Chris shook his head.

Chris: You’re real friendly tonight.

Leon: Bite me.

Chris smirked.

Chris: Tempting, but I’ll pass.

For a moment, he thought that was the end of it. Then—

Leon: How’s the mission?

Chris exhaled, debating how much to say.

Chris: From the looks of it, it'd be long and annoying!

Chris: You've eaten, right?

Leon: Oh, don't worry, Hunnigan practically spoon-fed me!

Chris huffed a laugh.

Chris: Well, that must’ve been a sight! It's a shame I missed it.

Leon: You have no idea!

There was a longer pause after that. Chris was about to put his phone away when Leon’s next message came through.

Leon: Be careful, Redfield.

Chris stared at the words.

Chris: Alright. You too.

He didn’t get a reply after that.

---


The next morning, Leon woke up feeling worse. His body was healing, but his patience was wearing thin. Being stuck in the hospital with nothing but his own thoughts was driving him insane.

Chris hadn’t texted since last night.

Not that Leon was checking.

(He was absolutely checking.)

By mid-afternoon, his phone finally buzzed. And Leon barely held himself from jumping on the phone.

Chris: Didn’t run off yet, did you?

Leon stared at the message. The timing was too perfect, almost like Chris knew.

Leon: No.

Chris: Good.

A minute passed. Then—

Chris: You okay?

Leon frowned at the question. He hovered over the keyboard for a long time before finally typing:

Leon: I should be asking you that. I’m not the one running around with zombies trying to take a bite of my ass.

Chris: Ha ha! I’m fine. You?

Leon: Still here.

Leon sent the message and exhaled slowly.

Chris: Just hold on a little longer. I’ll be back soon.

Leon didn’t reply.

Because he wasn’t sure he could.



---



Leon moved carefully, his footsteps nearly silent against the cold hospital floor. Hunnigan was finally gone, and the timing looked perfect. His body protested with every step—his ribs ached, and the dull throb behind his eyes reminded him he wasn’t at full strength. But that didn’t matter. He just needed to get out.

He had barely reached for the door handle when it swung open on its own.
Claire stood in the doorway, eyes locking onto him instantly.

Leon froze.

Her gaze flicked over him—fully dressed, bag slung over his shoulder, very clearly not supposed to be up and moving.

“…Seriously?” she said, voice flat.

Leon exhaled through his nose, straightening as much as his body would allow. Great.

Before he could even think of a response, Claire grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him back inside with a force that nearly knocked him off balance.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, slamming the door shut behind them.

Leon stumbled, catching himself against a wall as Claire released him. "Jesus, Claire—"

"No. Shut up." She didn’t even give him a chance to argue before she grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the bed.

"Hey—!" He dug his heels in, but he was still too weak to put up much of a fight. "Claire, I swear to God—"

She shoved him down onto the mattress. Not hard enough to hurt, but with zero room for negotiation. "Sit. Down."

Leon glared up at her, jaw clenched. "I don’t need—"

"Oh, spare me." She threw her hands up. "What, you thought you’d just waltz out of here like nothing happened? After you overdosed and landed yourself in a fucking hospital?"

Leon looked away, lips pressing into a thin line.

Claire let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Unbelievable." She ran a hand through her hair, pacing once before turning back to him.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You can barely stand, and yet you’re here trying to—what? Sneak past a bunch of nurses? Limp your way home?"

Her hands went to her hips as she loomed over him, eyes burning.
"You were brought to the hospital unconscious two nights ago. Do you get that? Two nights, Leon." Her voice wavered, but her glare stayed firm.

Leon’s hands curled into fists over the blanket. "I’m fine."

Claire scoffed. "Yeah? You look fine. Definitely not like someone who collapsed alone in his apartment and could’ve fucking died."

Leon’s jaw tightened. "It wasn’t like that."

"It was exactly like that." Claire’s voice rose again, anger cracking at the edges. "You don’t get to stand there and pretend this didn’t happen. You scared the hell out of everyone, Leon! Hunnigan, Chris—He had to call me in the middle of the night telling me you were in a hospital cause you fucking overdosed!"

Leon flinched at that. He tried to shove down the guilt twisting in his chest, but it lodged itself there, heavy and unmoving.

Claire exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You didn’t even call me." Her voice was quieter now, but no less strained. "For six seventh months, Leon. After everything, after—you just disappeared. And now I find out you've been—" She cut herself off, pressing a hand to her forehead. "God, do you even realize how close you came to—"

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, Leon actually looked at her. Really looked.
She was pissed. But underneath that, buried just beneath the surface, was something else.

Fear.

Leon swallowed hard. His throat felt tight.

Claire exhaled, shaking her head. “I almost didn’t come.” Her voice was quieter now, but the weight behind it hit just as hard. “After Chris called me and told me what happened, I—” She hesitated, fingers clenching at her sides. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

Leon blinked. That… stung more than he wanted to admit.

Claire shook her head, laughing bitterly. “Can you believe that? I actually had to think about it.” She looked at him then, something raw in her expression. “Because after months of nothing—nothing, Leon—I didn’t know if you’d even want me here.”

Leon dropped his gaze, not wanting to see the look on Claire’s face.

“But I am here,” Claire continued, voice firm. “And I’m not leaving.”

Leon’s head snapped up. "Claire—"

"No." She sat down in the chair beside the bed, crossing her arms. "You're not running. You’re not pushing me away. You’re not pretending this didn’t happen."

Leon clenched his jaw. "What do you want me to say?"

Claire’s face softened, just slightly. “I don’t need you to say anything.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I just need you to stay... You’re not leaving," she muttered. "Not until the doctors clear you. Not until I say so."

Leon huffed. "And if I do?"

She gave him a flat look. "I will tie you to this bed."

Leon almost snorted. "Kinky."

"Shut up," Claire snapped, smacking his arm.
Leon winced, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely.

Claire sighed. "Just… stay put, okay?" Her voice softened slightly. "Let yourself be here for a minute."

Leon stared at the wall for a long moment. Then, finally, he let out a breath and slumped back against the pillows.

Claire watched him for a second before nodding, satisfied. "Good."

Chapter 11

Notes:

Hey everyone! 👋

I know it’s been a while—okay, a long while (4 months, right?), but I’m finally back with a brand new chapter! I want to sincerely apologise to all of you. Lots of things happened, and after that, I just wasn't ready to start writing this one yet. I also want to thank you guys for being patient and sticking around during the wait. Whether you’re a returning reader or just jumping in, I’m really excited to share this next part of the story with you.

So this chapter for me was really,  really hard to write because there were just too many emotions to deal with and deliver, and I honestly don't know if I did manage at the end or not.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy nevertheless, and I would love to know your thoughts.💚

The hospital room felt too small, too quiet. The walls, the air itself—it all pressed in around Leon, making him feel cornered.

He kept his gaze fixed on his hands, fingers loosely curled in the sheets. Claire sat beside the bed, her posture stiff with frustration she was barely holding back.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice calmer than before.

Leon shrugged, eyes still downcast. “Been worse.”

Claire’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not an answer.”

He sighed. “Headache’s mostly gone.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“Don’t know, but they said i should be fine” he muttered. “Wasn't exactly listening too well. They sure can go on and on about everything that's wrong with you.” His mouth twisted in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Claire gave a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

A beat of silence. Then her voice sharpened.

“So, do you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?”

Leon tensed. He’d been expecting it, but that didn’t make it easier.

He shifted slightly, still refusing to look at her. “I just needed some peace.”

Claire let out a slow, controlled breath. “And this was your way?” she asked, voice tight. “Popping pills with alcohol?”

He didn’t answer.

Claire dragged a hand down her face, forcing herself to stay calm. Losing her temper wouldn’t get through to him.

“Okay,” she said, voice steady but firm. “Then answer me this—why did you cut us all off?”

Leon’s grip tightened on the blanket.

“Why did you cut me off?” Claire pressed, and now there was something raw beneath the frustration. “Seven months, Leon. Seven months, and not a single damn word from you.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I was the one who broke up with Chris,” he said finally. “And you’re his sister. Jill and Piers were his friends. It was only natural that I should be the one getting out.”

Claire blinked at him, her frustration faltering into disbelief.

“Wait a minute.” She leaned forward, searching his face. “Are you saying we picked sides? That we just—what?—cut you off and left you alone?”

Leon flinched, just slightly. He didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

Claire’s expression stiffened a fraction, and her voice was firm. “Leon… We were angry. I’m not gonna lie about that. I was so fucking angry with you and quiet frankly I still am.” she kept going her eyes burning a little now. “You...You ended things with Chris out of nowhere. No explanation, no warning. Did you wrecke my brother?  Yes, you did. Were you a jerk? Yes, you were. And did we pull back a little? yeah, we pulled back for a bit—hell, I didn’t know what to say to you either. But that didn’t mean i stopped caring.”

Leon’s jaw clenched. “Didn’t feel like that.”

Claire stared at him for a long, long moment and then exhaled slowly. “Because you wouldn’t let it. Yes, I was angry. But you shut down. Stopped answering. Pushed us away before we could even try to understand. No explanations, no apologies ”

Leon looked away. “Wasn’t exactly like I was missed.”

“Bullshit,” Claire said immediately. “You think Chris didn’t miss you? That Jill and Piers didn’t ask about you? That I didn’t wonder every damn day how you were doing? What, you think we all were like, "Oh well, Chris lost a boyfriend. No big deal, he'll find a new one, and we hang out with that one instead? ”

Leon pressed his lips together. He's hand slightly twitching.

Claire tone gentled, thick with hurt. “ Yes. Maybe it was hard for us...for me to not take sides. I don’t know, but still... you were always more than just Chris’s boyfriend to us. To me. You were family. I thought you knew that.”

Leon was quiet for a long moment. His voice, when it came, was hoarse. “People don’t stick around. That’s just how it goes. Eventually, they realize it's not worth the effort.”

Claire’s stomach twisted.

“Jesus, Leon.” Her voice cracked, low and urgent. “You really believe that?”

He scoffed, but it didn’t have any weight behind it. “Call it experience.”

Claire leaned closer, her eyes shining with frustration and something more fragile. “You think we pitied you? That we were just sticking around out of guilt or obligation?”

Leon’s lip curled, but it wasn’t a smirk. “Isn’t that what this is? You, showing up here, asking how i am? scolding me for worrying everyone? For making Chris panic?”

Claire stilled. “You didn’t ask me to come, I know. But you’re wrong if you think this is about pity.”

Leon said nothing.

Claire voice raised suddenly. “You want to know why I’m here? I'm here cause when Chris called me in the middle of the night telling me that you're in a god damn hospital I...I was so...so fucking scared that I wouldn't be able to see you again. Wouldn’t hear your sarcastic jokes again and...” her voice trembled “I...I didn’t want this to be the end of us. We deserve better. I knew you maybe wouldn't want to see me, but I came anyway cause I had to see you cause it was driving me crazy all of it everything.”

Leon’s eyes flickered toward her, something wary and fragile beneath the surface.

Claire sighed, looking away “Maybe i messed up too. I should’ve come sooner. Yes, you left, but we...I let you do it too. After a while, i didn’t do anything cause i thought, why should i when you... but i should’ve kept trying.”

Leon thickly swallowed. Something heavy in his heart. It was better when Claire was just angry... this... he didn’t know what to do with this.

Claire’s tone grew gentler.
“But I'm here now, Leon. And i want you to know that you still matter to me, Leon. To all of us.”

Leon swallowed. “You shouldn’t.”

“Too late,” Claire said quietly. “That’s the thing about love and friendship. You don’t get to flip a switch and decide someone stops caring.”

Leon’s fingers twitched. There was silent and then—
“You think I didn’t know that I hurt you? That I hurt him? But it was the right thing to do. We never worked. It would’ve happened eventually. It was for the best.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, her voice sharp with disbelief.
“Best for who? Because from where I’m standing, you’re both a wreck.”

Leon looked away.

“Chris can barely function. And you—” she gestured gently toward him, to the hospital bed, to the hollowness in his eyes. “You’re barely holding it together. Tell me how that’s better.”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was barely audible. “ If I’d kept going, he would've... And after if i talked to anyone...if i talked to you...”

Claire nodded slowly, piecing it together. “So you thought if you cut us off, it’d be easier.”

“It had to be.”

“But it didn’t make it hurt less, didn’t make it more bearable, did it?” she asked softly.

Leon’s breath hitched. “No.”

Claire was quiet for a long moment, then reached out and placed a hand gently over his. He didn’t pull away.

“You’re allowed to be messed up, Leon. You messed up. i messed up, too, but that's just how it is. But don’t keep pushing people away just because you’re convinced they’ll leave. That’s not fair. Not to us. And not to you. That's not your decision to make.”

Leon stared at their hands, blinking rapidly.

He didn’t trust his voice, so he said nothing. But the tremor in his hands said enough.

Chapter 12

Notes:

The next chapter is here!
And thanks again for being so understanding —it means the world.
I hope it tugs at your heart just the right amount. Let’s see how our boy is holding up this time 👀💚

A few days had passed since Claire last visited Leon. She hadn’t come back, but she had been texting him—to make sure he was still there, still answering, still breathing. Leon had kept his responses short and clipped. He told himself that he was replying to avoid her showing up unannounced again.

Which is exactly what she did in the end!

Leon was sitting at the edge of the hospital bed, already dressed in his clothes, fidgeting with the wristband they hadn’t removed yet. Hunnigan had gone to process his discharge and said she'd be back soon, but the minutes dragged on with the kind of weight only silence could carry.

Then there was a knock, followed by the sound of the door easing open.

Leon looked up, expecting Hunnigan—but his brows pinched in surprise when Claire stepped in instead.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“What are you doing here?” he finally said, more stunned than anything.

Claire raised a brow. “Nice to see you too.”

He shifted his gaze away. “I thought Hunnigan was supposed to be—”

“She’s doing the paperwork,” Claire cut in casually. “But she has to go back, so I'm here to take you home.”

Leon blinked at her, not hiding his confusion. “How did you even know I'd be discharged today? I didn’t tell you that.”

Claire shrugged, arms crossing loosely. “Because I asked Hunnigan. I knew you wouldn't tell me anyway.”

Leon let out a breath, something between tired and embarrassed. “You didn’t have to come.”

Claire’s voice softened. “I know. But I wanted to.”

Leon didn’t have anything to say to that, so he didn’t.

She glanced around the room, like she needed something to do. “Nurse said you’re already cleared. Just need to sign some stuff, and you'd be good to go.”

Leon nodded absently, still not meeting her eyes. The weight of her presence made his chest feel tight—not in a bad way, just… strange. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

Claire moved closer. “So,” she said lightly, “you ready to get the hell out of here?”

Leon huffed a breath. “Fuck yes!”

Claire grinned at that “Then let's go Kennedy!”


---


The ride was quiet. Tense, but not hostile. Claire didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, she asked, “Your place even livable?”

Leon shrugged, looking out the window. “It’s fine.”

Claire didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further.

They pulled up in front of his apartment. Leon moved slowly, stiff from lingering aches and the heavy weight in his chest. Claire followed him up without asking.

The door creaked as it opened.

Claire stepped in behind him—and immediately froze.

The mess from the night of the incident was still there.

The shattered table lay in pieces. Dried blood stained the floor. Spilled pills and an empty whiskey bottle remained untouched. The air was stale, thick with the scent of neglect.

Claire stood in the doorway, staring. For once, she was speechless.

Leon walked in like nothing was wrong, stepping over the broken glass without a second glance. He tossed his bag onto the couch taking off his jacket, ignoring the wreckage around him.

“Yeah, no,” Claire said suddenly.

Leon turned to her, brow furrowing. “What?”

“You’re not staying here.”

Leon huffed, already exhausted by the conversation. “Claire—”

“Nope.” She was already picking up his bag again. “You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

Claire scoffed, gesturing to the room. “Yeah? Because this screams ‘stable and fine’?”

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Oh yes, that's a good idea with bruised ribs”

He flinched.

Claire stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m not asking. You’re coming with me.”

Leon tensed. “Claire—”

“No.” Her voice was firm now. Not angry—just resolute. “You’re coming with me. At least until this is fixed.”

Leon clenched his jaw. He didn’t have a counterargument for that. He didn’t have the energy to fight her, either.

As he debated whether it was worth putting up a fight, Claire’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then answered.

“Chris?”

Leon froze. His jaw tightened.

Chris’s voice, even from across the line, was loud and panicked. “Is he okay? He hasn’t answered any of my messages. Claire, please tell me he’s okay.”

Claire sighed, rubbing her temple. “Yeah, don't worry. he's okay. His phone’s just dead.” she met Leon’s eyes as she spoke into the phone. “I just brought him back to his place, but it’s a wreck. I’m trying to take him back to my place.”

Chris kept going. “I just—I thought something happened. I should’ve—”

Claire cut in gently, “Chris. He’s okay. I’ve got him. I promise.”

There was silence on the line for a beat. Then, quietly, Chris said, “Just… keep an eye on him until I get back, okay?”

Claire softened, her voice. “I will.”

She hung up and looked back at Leon, who hadn’t moved.

“See what I’m talking about?”

Leon sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the floor. He’d heard every word. His fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t move, didn’t react.

“Leon you heard him. Come on. Let’s go.”

Leon exhaled, long and low. The fight drained out of him all at once, like something caved in behind his ribs. He looked at the mess again, then down at his feet.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

Claire didn’t gloat. She just waited at the door.

Leon grabbed his jacket without another word, following her out with slow, heavy steps.


---


Claire unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Leon in first.

He didn’t hesitate. He knew the place—he’d been here plenty of times before. Knew the soft creak of the floorboard near the coat rack, the faint lavender scent of her laundry detergent, the scatter of half-read books on the coffee table. But this time… this time, it felt different.

The last time he was here, he and Chris were still together.

He didn’t let himself dwell on that.

Claire tossed her keys in the bowl near the door and kicked off her boots. “You want to shower? Eat something?”

Leon rubbed a hand over his face. “Shower. And I’m not really hungry.”

Claire gave him a look but didn’t argue. “Alright. The guest room’s ready. Fresh sheets, towels in the bathroom. Help yourself to whatever.”

He nodded, muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” and disappeared down the hall.


---


The guest room was dark except for the soft glow of the streetlight bleeding through the blinds. Leon lay on his side, staring at the far wall like it held answers.

It didn’t.

He’d been lying like this for over an hour—bone tired, body aching, and still, sleep refused to come.

Eventually, he rolled onto his back with a groan and reached for his phone on the nightstand. Claire had slipped in earlier while he was in the shower to plug it in.

The screen lit up the moment he tapped it.

10 new messages. All from Chris.

Leon stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the notifications.

> Chris: Let me know when you’re discharged.
Chris: Hunnigan said it's today, right?
Chris: Leon, is everything okay?
Chris: Just text me back.
Chris: Are you okay?
Chris: Leon.
Chris: I swear to God if something has happened and you're not telling...
Chris: Are you at Claire’s?
Chris: Text me when your phone is charged.
Chris: Please.


Leon’s fingers curled around the phone.

Please.

He read that last one twice. Three times.

The weight of it hit harder than he expected. Because it wasn’t about the words—it was what was behind them. The worry. The fear.

He shut the screen off and dropped the phone back onto the nightstand like it burned.

What the hell am I even doing here?

He wasn’t sure if he meant Claire’s apartment or this entire version of himself that was doing stupid things all over again.

When he looked around the quiet room—warm, clean, safe—It felt like someone still cared.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Leon sat up slowly, giving up on sleep. He padded out of the room barefoot, the cool floor grounding him.

A warm light spilled from the kitchen.

And without thinking too hard, he followed it.

Claire was at the table, cross-legged in her chair, sipping from a mug and scrolling on her phone. She looked up when he entered.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, setting the phone down.

Leon shook his head. “Tried but didn't work.”

Claire gestured to the seat across from her. “C’mon. Sit. I was just about to make a second cup anyway.”

Leon sat down slowly. Claire stood, poured water into the kettle, and busied herself with mugs and honey.

Leon leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. The whole place felt… familiar.

Too familiar.

Claire returned a moment later, setting a steaming mug in front of him.

He looked down at it. Chamomile. Of course.

“You still drink this crap?” he said, smirking faintly.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Only when emotionally babysitting stubborn idiots with serious complexes.”

Leon snorted. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

“You have no idea.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Then Claire said, casually, “Jill dyed her hair again. Red this time. It actually suits her.”

Leon blinked. “Red?”

Claire nodded. “She said she was trying to throw off facial recognition software.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “More like trying to piss off Wesker’s ghost.”

Claire grinned. “Yeah, well, mission accomplished.”

Leon shook his head, hiding a small smile behind his mug. “What else did I miss?”

Claire leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “Barry got promoted. Didn’t tell anyone until it was already official—typical. Chris threw him a surprise party. You know, cake, beer, awkward speeches. I’m pretty sure someone cried. Probably Piers.”

Leon chuckled, and the sound caught him off guard. His face sobered a little. “Sounds like everything kept moving.”

Claire gave him a look. “It did. But that doesn’t mean we weren’t looking back.”

Leon didn’t answer. His throat felt a little tight.

But Claire didn’t press. She just picked up her mug and kept going.

“I wasn’t there for this, but Jill got into a fight with the vending machine at HQ again. She’s convinced it’s personal now.”

Leon shook his head. “Still with the vending machine?”

Claire leaned in, grinning. “She tried to pry her granola bar out with a combat knife this time.”

Leon laughed again—really laughed. It startled both of them.

Then, quieter, he said, “I thought this would be awkward.”

Claire tilted her head. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It was with Chris. Thought it’d be the same here.”

“And it’s not?”

Leon hesitated. Then, very softly, “No. It’s not.”

It felt old. Familiar. Warm.

Like picking up a conversation you’d left on pause.

And he didn’t want to admit it—didn’t want to say it out loud—but God, he’d missed this.

He’d missed her.

He looked up and found Claire watching him, something softer in her eyes.

“Go to bed,” she said gently. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

Leon nodded, finishing the last sip of tea. “Okay.”

He stood, hesitated for a moment, then quietly said, “Thanks… for this.”

Claire didn’t say anything right away. Then– “Anytime.”

And at that moment he felt that she meant it.

Chapter 13

Leon woke to the faint scent of coffee. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, disoriented. The sheets were softer than his own. The room cleaner. The air quieter. Claire’s guest room.

Right. He was here.

Not in his apartment. Not in that mess of broken furniture and dried blood. Not alone.

His body ached, stiff from sleep, but not in the dangerous way. Just... tired. Alive.

Claire’s place was quiet when he stepped out of the guest room. She wasn’t in the kitchen, but a mug and plate of toasts sat on the table, and beside it was a folded sticky note:

“Eat it all. Don’t argue.”
—C.

He huffed softly through his nose and took the cup.

The walls were lined with familiar photos—some framed, some printed and pinned. Claire and Jill. Claire and Chris. One of Chris and Leon and Claire together, from a rare afternoon off a couple years ago.

Leon froze in front of it. He barely remembered the day—some post-mission get-together. He looked tired even in the photo, but not like this. Not broken. Chris’s arm was slung over his shoulders, their smiles crooked and too real to fake. Claire was laughing.

Leon hadn’t seen this photo in a long time.

And it hit harder than he expected.

He turned away before he could stare too long.

Claire returned a few minutes later, hair damp from the shower, and shot him a glance as she passed. “You’re up. Good.”

“Thanks for the breakfast” he muttered.

She nodded“Hunnigan texted. Asked if I could send her proof you haven’t escaped again.”

Leon gave her a flat look. “Seriously?”

Claire raised her phone and snapped a photo of him mid-glare.

“I’m telling her that’s your ‘I’m definitely not plotting an escape’ face,” she said, tapping away on her phone.

Leon rolled his eyes, but a flicker of something like amusement touched the corner of his mouth.

A beat passed. Then she said, without looking at him, “Chris called.”

He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

Claire nodded. “He said the mission's almost wrapped. He sounded exhausted. But he asked about you first thing.”

Leon exhaled, the sound heavy.

Claire didn’t say anything else. She let the silence settle.

Leon looked down at his hands, then back toward the photo on the shelf. It was still there. Still framed. Still untouched.


---


The rest of the day was quiet. Claire worked while Leon checked some files and talked to Hunnigan.

It was past none when Claire moved into the kitchen, grabbing a pan and some stuff out of fridge starting the lunch.

Leon leaned against the doorway, nursing yet another cup of tea.

“You’re quiet,” Claire said without turning around.

Leon shrugged and stayed silent, watching her cook. Then, after a long pause, he asked, “You've been talking to Chris a lot lately?”

Claire nodded once. “Yeah.”

He hesitated. Then, “When he got back from that last mission... ”

Claire glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Did you...talk about...?”

She stilled for a beat—just long enough for Leon to notice. Then she sighed and flipped the chicken in the pan. “Yes we did. I told him to get over you.”

Leon blinked. “What?”

“I told him not to get involved again. That he should let it go. That you don't get to waltz back into his life just like that.”

Leon stared at her, jaw tight. “So what changed?” he asked, voice low. “You felt bad after what happened? Got all pitiful and decided I was worth trying again?”

Claire turned off the burner and faced him fully. Her eyes were sharp, cutting through him.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “You’re a lot of things—an ass, stubborn, reckless—but pitiful? That’s never been one of them.”

Leon looked away, jaw clenching.

She softened just slightly. “What changed,” she said, slower this time, “was hearing Chris’s voice that night. When he called me and told me you were in the hospital, he couldn’t even get the words out at first. He was panicking, Leon. Like full-on panicking.”

Leon’s throat tightened.

Claire stepped closer, resting her hip against the counter. “That’s when I knew. He can’t get over you. He won’t. It’s not possible for him.”

Leon looked down at the floor, voice barely above a whisper. “He lived without me for six months.”

“That wasn’t living,” Claire said immediately, no hesitation.

Leon swallowed.

Claire folded her arms. “l also got to finally talk to you and... that changed a lot too.” her voice dropped, quieter. “You think you did the right thing for both you, I get that now. But don’t project that onto Chris. He never stopped caring. Not for a second. I just didn’t want him to keep getting hurt.”

Leon let out a shaky breath and sank onto one of the kitchen stools.

“So” he asked quietly. “You still think he shouldn’t get involved?”

Claire stared at him for a long beat, then shook her head. “No. Because I don’t think it’s a matter of choice anymore. For either of you.”



---



Night had settled over the apartment. Claire had gone to bed an hour ago, leaving Leon alone with many thoughts.

He lay on his side, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come—not yet. Claire’s words from earlier echoed in his head like an old recording stuck on repeat.

"That wasn’t living."

It hit him harder than he wanted to admit. And it ruined everything.

He’d told himself Chris would be fine. That maybe he’d be sad for a little while—angry, sure—but then he’d move on. Chris always moved forward. That was the plan. The only way Leon could live with what he’d done was to believe Chris would heal, get back on his feet, and forget the mess Leon left behind and then be so much relieved and happier.

But now...

He can’t get over you.
It’s not possible for him.

Claire had said it like it was fact. Like it had always been obvious.

And Leon hated how much that rattled him.

Because it meant none of his excuses held weight anymore. Not the one where leaving was mercy. Not the one where cutting Chris off would protect him. Not the one where this pain was temporary—for either of them.

Because it hadn’t been.

Not for him.

And apparently not for Chris, either.

He sat up with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. The ache in his chest had nothing to do with healing injuries.

He reached for his phone on the table. The screen lit up in the dark, a glow that somehow felt too bright, too raw.

He still hadn’t answer his messages.

He opened the texts, hesitating only a moment before typing:

> Leon:
I’m okay. Staying at Claire’s.
Sorry for not answering. My phone was dead.

His thumb hovered, then—

> I didn’t mean to make you worry.


He hit send before he could talk himself out of it.



---


The hum of the plane was constant, a low background noise that did nothing to calm Chris’s thoughts.

He sat by the window, elbows on the armrests, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. The mission had wrapped hours ago. He should’ve felt accomplished—relieved, even.

He didn’t.

He was going back and he was so nervous. He would face Leon soon. He knew they should talk. It was what he wanted all this time to see him to talk to him to make things clear, but now that he was actually going to do it soon... it terrified him.

A soft sound pulled him from his thoughts.

Jill dropped into the seat beside him, a cup of terrible airplane coffee in one hand and a raised eyebrow. “What’s with the long face? Thought you'd be happier now that we're going back after dating your phone the whole mission,” she said.

Chris offered a tired smirk. “It's pre-fight jitters, i guess.”

Jill watched him for a moment, reading him like she always did. “What are you gonna do when we land?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped back to his phone.

Jill leaned back in her seat. “You’re really gonna do it, huh?” she said softly. “You’re gonna put yourself through it again?”

Chris looked at her then, tired and certain all at once.

“You know better than anyone how hard I tried to forget him,” he said quietly. “How I told myself it was what he wanted. That if he walked away, then I had to let him go.”

Jill didn’t interrupt. She just watched him, calm and patient.

Chris exhaled, slow and deliberate. “But I couldn’t. I tried, Jill. For months. I tried to get over him. I tried to be angry, to hate him, to move on.”

His hand curled into a loose fist.

“And i failed. Miserably.”

Jill nodded, like she already knew.

“So now,” Chris continued, his voice rough, “I’m gonna try the other way around.”

She tilted her head. “Even if he says no?”

Chris’s gaze was steady. “Even if he refuses me. Even if he pushes me away. I’m done pretending I don’t care. I’m done leaving him alone just because he thinks i should do it.”

A beat passed between them.

Jill reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Good,” she said simply.

Chris didn’t smile. But his jaw eased, and for the first time in a long time, the weight on his chest didn’t feel so crushing.

He looked out the window again. He wasn’t sure what he’d find when he got back.

But this time—he wouldn’t run from it.


---


Leon stood by the window in Claire’s guest room, watching the street below through the soft blur of the glass. Morning sunlight filtered in, casting long, pale stripes across the floor.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and the screen lighted up with a familiar name.

Hunnigan

He hesitated, then picked up. “Yeah?”

“Good morning to you too,” she said dryly. “Just calling to let you know i’ve sent people over to your apartment. Clean-up’s done. It’s… livable again.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Thanks.”

“You’re sure you’re ready to go back?”

“I’m fine.”

A long pause. “You don’t have to pretend, Leon.”

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly. “I just need to be on my own again. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Hunnigan said softly. “But don't fucking collapse on me ever again.”

Leon’s let out a dry laugh. “I won’t.”

He ended the call and stood there for a long moment before packing the few things he had. He found Claire in the kitchen, placing some dishes.

She looked up, immediately sensing something was off. Her eyes went to the bag in his hand“You’re leaving?”

“Hunnigan said they've cleaned up the place,” he said, adjusting the strap on his duffel. “Figured I’d get out of your hair.”

Claire’s face fell slightly. “You know you could stay a few more days. At least until Chris is back.”

Leon shook his head. “I’m fine, Claire. I don’t need—” He stopped himself. “I just want to be in my own space again.”

She crossed her arms, lips pressing into a thin line. “You sure that’s not code for shutting everyone out again?”

He looked at her then, really looked, and for a second, a flicker of guilt and hesitation flash in his eyes.

“I’m not disappearing,” he finally said.

Claire stepped forward, blocking the doorway just slightly.

“Then promise me,” she said. “Promise you won’t shut me out again. I don’t care how things go between you and Chris. He’s my brother, yeah. But you—” Her voice caught for a second, and then steadied. “You’re my family too.”

Leon froze.

It hit harder than he expected.

“You don’t get to ghost me again, Leon,” she continued. “Not because you think you’re doing me a favor. Not because you’re tired. And not because you think I only care about you because of him.”

He swallowed hard. “Claire…”

“Promise me,” she said, more firmly this time.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, with a slight nod:

“…I promise.”

Claire’s shoulders sagged with relief. She walked him to the door, hands stuffed into the sleeves of her hoodie.

Leon lingered there for a moment. “Thanks,” he said. “For… everything.”

Claire gave him a lopsided smile. “I know you’d do the same for me.”



---


Leon stood just inside his apartment, taking it all in.

It looked clean.

Too clean.

The table had been replaced, the blood scrubbed from the floor. The pills were gone. The bottles and all the trash and other stuff too. Sunlight spilled in through sheer curtains, and the stale air was mostly gone.

But it didn’t feel different.

The silence still crawled under his skin. The walls still knew too much.

He dropped his bag by the door and stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He wandered through the living room, brushing his fingers along the edge of the couch, then the counter. The empty space where the broken table once stood seemed louder than anything else.

This was the place he’d fallen apart.

And now he was here again, whole enough to walk on his own.

He sat down slowly on the edge of the couch, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He washed. He ordered some food. He watched some TV and somehow he managed till it was dark out there.

Claire just texted asking if he had eaten. He scuffed and was about to answer when a knock broke the silence.

He stilled.

Another knock. Firmer.

Leon pushed to his feet slowly, eyes narrowing as he crossed the room. He didn’t expect anyone. Claire had just seen him off. Hunnigan would’ve called. Maybe a neighbour?

He opened the door—

And froze.

Chris stood there, still in his field uniform, the collar loose, and the sleeves rolled up. There were shadows under his eyes and dust on his boots, like he’d come straight here after landing.

He looked tired.

He looked like he hadn’t breathed in weeks.

Leon stared at him.

Chris stared back.

Neither of them moved.

“…Hi,” Chris said, voice hoarse.

Leon opened his mouth, but no words came.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the door.

Chris just stood there, eyes soft, searching Leon’s face like it held all the answers.

A breath passed between them.

Then another.

And Leon stepped aside.

Silently—

He let Chris in.

Chapter 14

Notes:

Hey guys!
Just a heads-up—I’ve got exams coming up, so updates are gonna be a bit slow for a while. Don’t worry, I’m not abandoning the story! Once exams are done, I’ll be back with new chapters. Thanks for sticking around and being awesome! 💚

The door clicked shut behind Chris.

Leon stepped aside stiffly. “You, uh… want to sit down?”

Chris gave a quiet nod, his gaze sweeping across the room. His eyes skimmed over the newly cleaned space—the freshly scrubbed floors, the replaced table.

Leon hovered near the kitchen, unsure. His palms were weirdly clammy, his heart ticking too loud in his ears.

“Coffee?” he offered, a little too quickly.

Chris looked at him for a second, then slowly lowered himself into the cushions. His mouth quirked into the smallest smile. “Sure.”

Leon nodded, grateful—desperate—for the distraction. He turned to the machine, focused on the familiar routine. The click of the buttons. The gurgle of the water. The soft hum of steam filling the silence between them.

It felt like hiding.

He came back with two mugs and set one down in front of Chris without meeting his eyes. Then he sat across from him, careful to keep just enough space, like they might set off something if they leaned too close.

Chris took a sip. “Thanks.”

Leon gave a small shrug. “It’s not great.”

Chris rolled the mug between his palms. “Still better than airplane coffee.”

Minutes passed. The occasional sound of sipping filled the space between things left unsaid.

Leon cleared his throat. “So… how was the mission?” he asked, trying for casual. It didn’t land.

Chris leaned back slightly. “Ugly. Messy. Took longer than it should’ve.”

Leon nodded. “So the usual.”

Chris let out a soft snort. “Pretty much.”

Leon’s eyes flicked to him again. Chris looked exhausted—tense across the shoulders, like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in a while. The bags under his eyes weren’t just from jet lag.

“You look tired,” Leon said quietly.

Chris rolled his shoulders, offering a crooked smile. “You have no idea.”

Leon didn’t say it—but the thought hit him all the same: And yet you’re here.

Out loud, he asked, “Shouldn’t you be at HQ right now? Filing reports or whatever?”

Chris waved a hand. “Jill can handle it.”

Then, after a pause, softer—“Besides… I couldn’t wait another day.”

Leon’s breath hitched.

“Wait for what?”

Chris met his eyes, steady and unwavering. “To talk. About us. I told you I would, before I left.”

Leon swallowed. His fingers tensed around the mug. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, well…” Leon looked down at his hands. “People say things.”

Silence again. Not hostile, but dense.

Chris set his mug down carefully. “Look,” he said, his tone shifting steadier now. “I’m not here to force anything. I’m not asking you to go back to how things were. I’m not even saying we should get back together.That’s not—” He exhaled. “That’s not even an option. Not right now.”

Leon glanced at him again, warily. Chris’s voice was calm but sure, like he’d been practicing this in his head since the moment he stepped off the plane. Maybe longer.

Chris continued, firm but gentle. “Too much happened. You’re still healing. We both are. Jumping right back in… that wouldn’t work.”

Leon folded his arms across his chest. “Then why are you here, Chris?”

Chris took a breath, choosing his words with care. “I’m saying… let’s start over. Not from where we left off and not as strangers either.” He met Leon’s eyes. “Let’s get to know each other. For real.”

Leon let out a dry laugh. “Get to know each other? After everything? We lived together, Chris. We went through hell together. You’re saying we didn’t know each other then? Really? ”

Chris gave a half-smile. “Yeah. Really. Because if we really knew each other… we wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

That shut Leon up.

Chris leaned forward a bit, elbows on his knees. “I think we knew the parts we wanted each other to see,” Chris said quietly. “The rest… we kept locked down. Buried under mission reports and late-night silences and pretending we were fine. I knew how you took your coffee. I didn’t know how scared you were of being seen.”

Leon stiffened.

Chris didn’t press.

After a long moment—“I don’t want to pretend none of this happened. I just want to see if maybe… we can figure out who we are to each other. Not as the guys who screwed it up, not as soldiers, or partners, or whatever label you want to throw on it. Just us. Me. You.”

Leon didn’t answer right away.

He thought about Claire’s words. About the night in the hospital. About all the messages still on his phone—Chris’s voice on the other end of silence.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” Chris said. “Not this time. But I don’t want to walk away, either.”

Leon looked at him, something unreadable in his expression. “So what, you want us to… hang out? Go on dates?”

Chris cracked a small, tired smile. “Maybe. If you’re up for it.”

Leon’s mouth twitched. “We’re terrible at first dates.”

“Then let’s skip the flowers,” Chris said. “Just start with talking.”

Leon hesitated for a long beat. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“Talking, huh?” he said at last.

Chris nodded. “Just talking.”

He finally looked up.

“Okay,” Leon said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

Chris smiled again. It wasn’t triumphant, just… relieved.

It was a start.


---


The next few days passed in a haze.

Not bad. Just… strange.

Leon had spent most of the time alone in his apartment. It had been scrubbed clean, furniture repaired, glass replaced, like the night everything fell apart never happened. Almost like someone else’s life. The mess was gone, but the weight still clung to the air, to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel now.

Chris’s visit had thrown everything off-balance. Not because he said something shocking—but because he hadn’t. No guilt trip, no demand to fix things. Just that look in his eyes, steady and open, and those words:

“Let’s get to know each other. For real.”

Leon still didn’t know what to do with that.

They hadn’t spoken since. Not directly, anyway. A couple of texts—light, impersonal things. Updates. A nod toward something normal, whatever that meant for them.

Claire had kept checking in, too. She always managed to strike the perfect balance between “I care” and “Don’t make me come over there.” Even Jill had sent him a message yesterday. He didn’t respond, not yet.

Now, Leon stood in front of the mirror in his hallway, tugging his jacket on with a frown. His phone buzzed again on the table behind him.

[Chris] 6:45 pm
I’m here. Take your time.

Leon stared at the screen.

He wasn’t sure why he said yes. He didn’t even remember saying yes.

It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything.

Just two people who’d been in love once trying not to drown in all the wreckage.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair.

“This is stupid,” he muttered to no one.

But he opened the door and stepped out anyway.


---


Leon spotted Chris before Chris saw him.
He was sitting at a corner booth, tucked away in the back of the diner. Same place they used to go after long shifts, after missions that ran too late or started too early. The place hadn’t changed. The orange vinyl seats still cracked at the seams. The jukebox still buzzed faintly even when it wasn’t playing.

Chris looked like he belonged there. Relaxed, casual in a dark sweatshirt and jeans, hands wrapped around a glass of water as he stared out the window.

Leon stood outside for a few seconds longer than necessary.

This was stupid.

He should’ve said no.

But Chris glanced up right then, caught him through the glass—and smiled. Not the kind that forced anything. Just quiet, open.

Leon exhaled through his nose and walked in.

Chris was already waiting for him with a hint of relief showing on his face. Like he wasn’t sure Leon would actually show up.

Leon slid into the booth across from him without a word. The silence sat between them like an old friend, neither wanted to acknowledge just yet.

“I was almost thinking you stood me up.” He said half, joking.

Leon shrugged with a half smile. “Well not gonna lie to you, Redfield. I almost did.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “WOW. It's almost feels like i should thank you.”

Leon snorted despite himself. “Maybe you should.”

“Still as smug as ever.”

They lapsed into quiet again. It wasn’t tense. Just careful.

After a moment, Chris said, “Jill says you’re ignoring her texts. She’s very offended.”

Leon smirked. “She’ll live.”

“She says she won’t.”

“She’s lying.”

Chris chuckled into his glass, and the sound tugged at something inside Leon—some fragile thread that hadn’t snapped yet but felt close.

After ordering, they talked about small things for a while. Claire’s latest scolding text. Piers accidentally tranquillizing himself during a training demo. A DSO agent who got stuck in a crawlspace trying to retrieve a rogue drone.

Leon found himself laughing—reluctantly and quietly—but laughing all the same.

It was… easy. Too easy. And that unsettled him more than if things had been tense.

Then Chris said, casually, “You look better.”

Leon blinked. “You mean compared to half-dead in a hospital bed?”

Chris flinched. “Something like that.”

Leon’s fingers tensed slightly around his fork. “It’s just rest. Doesn’t mean anything.”

Chris didn’t argue. He just nodded, then said, “What are you doing these days? For yourself, I mean.”

Leon hesitated. “…Sleeping. Sometimes. Watching old movies. Sitting in silence. It’s thrilling.”

Chris tilted his head. “You always were a wild one.”

Leon let out a soft huff, but his expression was unreadable. Then, without looking up, he asked, “Why are you doing this, Chris?”

Chris blinked. “Doing what?”

“This.” Leon gestured vaguely between them. “Checking in. Being… whatever this is.”

Chris was quiet for a moment, then answered simply, “Because I want to.”

Leon leaned back, arms crossed. “Even after everything?”

“Especially after everything,” Chris said. “Because now I know what not having you looks like.”

Leon flinched at that. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have anything to say back to that cause he knew too damn what it meant. He just didn't think it would be the same for...

He swallowed the lump in his throat with a bite and let Chris stir the conversation for the rest of their not-a-real-date-dinner!


---


They walked side by side, silence stretching between them.

The evening air was cool, not cold. A breeze stirred Leon’s hair as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, head slightly lowered.

Chris glanced over at him.

Leon looked tired still—but not the same kind of tired he’d seen in that hospital bed. This was a quieter kind of exhaustion, one that hadn’t buried him yet. One he was still trying to outrun.

Chris didn’t push.

He was done pushing.

Instead, he asked, “So when you said watching movies, you meant those terrible noir movies you like for no reason?”

Leon huffed a breath. “They’re not terrible. They’re classic.”

“Sure. If by classic, you mean full of chain-smoking men in trench coats crying over jazz and betrayal.”

Leon looked at him sideways. “You’re describing half my life.”

Chris laughed, and to his quiet surprise, Leon smiled a real smile.

They kept walking.

When they reached the steps of Leon’s building, Chris slowed but didn’t follow him up.

Leon paused. “You’re not coming up?”

Chris shook his head. “Not this time.”

Leon looked relieved. Like he’d just offered out of habit or politeness.

Chris hesitated, then said, “You know… I meant what I said the other night. I’m not trying to rush anything. I’m not here to fix things overnight.”

Leon didn’t answer. he just kept staring out at the street.

Chris exhaled, hands on his hips. “But I do want to know you again. Not the version I used to know but what you’ve been carrying. The past. The things you won’t let yourself say out loud.”

Leon finally looked back at him, expression unreadable. “And if you don’t like what you find?”

Chris shrugged. “Then I’ll figure it out. Same way I always have.”

Leon’s mouth opened, like he might argue—but then he stopped. Looked away.

“I can’t promise I’ll ever be able to explain it,” he said. “Some days, I feel like I’m still crawling out of it. And some days…” He trailed off.

“Some days it drags you back under,” Chris finished softly.

Leon’s jaw tightened. He didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t deny it either.

Chris let a moment pass, then said, “You don’t have to figure it out alone. Not this time.”

Leon stood still, the keys cold in his hand.

After a long pause, he nodded. It was barely more than a twitch of his head—but Chris saw it.

“Get some rest,” Chris murmured, stepping back.

Leon glanced at him once more. His voice was low, almost hoarse. “You too, Redfield.”

Chris waited until he heard the door close behind Leon.

Then he turned and walked into the night heart heavier than he expected—but steadier, too.

Because this time, Leon hadn’t walked away.

Chapter 15

Notes:

Hey, hey, the new chapter is here!

This was already like 80% complete, so even though I still have two exams left, I managed to finish it sooner than I planned. So YAY!😁

This one is deliciously intense and full of tension, so I hope you like it💚

Content warning for this chapter: mentions of self-harm.

Leon’s apartment was too quiet when he got up the next morning. And not the peaceful kind. The kind that pressed down on him like a weight.

He tossed his blankets aside but didn’t bother getting up the bed. He just lay there staring at the ceiling.

He should’ve felt… something after last night. Relief, maybe. Satisfaction. Hell, even regret would’ve made sense. But all he felt was this restless, gnawing frustration that burned low in his chest. Last night, he was too exhausted to think or feel anything, but now he could feel it all.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a short, bitter laugh.
“What the hell am I doing?”

He could still see Chris across the table, steady and solid, smiling that small smile. Like he was just glad Leon was there at all. No expectations. No hidden agenda. Just there.

It should’ve made it easier. Instead, it made everything worse.

Because Leon knew how this would end.
It always ended.

The voices didn’t even wait for him to be up properly before they started tearing him down.

This won’t last. You’ll screw it up again.

He’ll see what you really are.

He’ll leave, and it’ll cut deeper than before.

Leon dug his nails into his hand, pressing hard enough to scar, grounding himself, trying to shut it out. But the words echoed anyway. They always did.

He thought about the way Chris laughed at his dry comments last night, the way his eyes softened when Leon admitted he hadn’t been doing much with his days. No judgment, no pity — just listening. Always listening.

And that was the problem.

Leon had convinced himself before that pushing Chris away was the kindest thing he could do. If Chris hated him, if Chris finally gave up, then at least Leon wouldn’t have to watch him get broken in the fallout. At least it would be clean.

But it hadn’t been clean. It had wrecked them both.

Now here Chris was, back again, patient as ever. Wanting to know him, really know him.

Leon pressed his palms to his face. His pulse was erratic, his chest tight. He wanted to scream at him, to beg him to walk away, to do anything except this slow suffocation of hope he couldn’t afford anymore.

But in the end…

If Chris wanted to see the wreck, maybe that was the answer.

To let him.

Let him see every ugly piece of it, all the cracks Leon couldn’t hide anymore. And when Chris realized — really realized — what a mistake this was, he’d leave.

At least this time, it wouldn’t be Leon cutting the cord.

The room stayed quiet. Too quiet.

And Leon lay still in the dark, heart beating like it was waiting for the inevitable.

If pushing him away didn’t work, then pulling him in the mess would sure do the trick.



---


The hallway smelled the same.
Faint detergent from the neighbours, a trace of old wood polish, something he used to think of as home.

Now, it just made his chest tighten.

Leon stood outside Chris’s door, staring at the number like it might shift if he looked long enough. He could still remember the feel of this doorknob in his hand, the way it clicked open to laughter, to warmth, to fights that ended in silence broken only by the sound of two people trying to breathe in the same space.

It had been almost nine months now since he’d walked away. Since he’d shut this door behind him and told himself it was final.

And here he was again.

He lifted his hand to knock, but it hovered midair. His stomach twisted, and his throat felt dry.

What the hell am I doing  back here?

Chris had invited him on their second go out. Just dinner. Just… nothing more than that. He’d been clear from the start — no rushing, no pressure. Let’s just get to know each other again.

And Leon had said yes. Again.

But standing here, the walls closing in, memories bleeding through the cracks, it didn’t feel like “just dinner.” It felt like stepping back into a minefield he’d barely crawled out of the first time.

This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have agreed.
He thought about turning around. He even pictured it — walking back down the stairs, texting Chris some lame excuse about work. Chris would forgive him. He always did.

But then Leon pictured the look in his eyes tonight if he didn’t show up. That steady patience, fraying just a little more around the edges.

Leon’s chest ached. He didn’t want to be the one to carve that hurt into him again.

So he knocked. Three short raps, quicker than he meant to.

His pulse thundered in his ears while he waited.

A shuffle of footsteps. The click of a lock.

And then the door opened.

Chris stood there in the doorway — casual shirt, bare feet, the faint smell of garlic drifting out behind him. He looked surprised for only a fraction of a second before his mouth curved into that small, quiet smile Leon had come to dread and crave all at once.

“You made it,” Chris said softly, like he hadn’t been sure until this exact moment. But he said it so casually. Too casual, Leon thought. Like this wasn’t suffocating. Like Leon hadn’t stood outside the door for five whole minutes just to work up the courage to knock.

Leon swallowed hard and forced a shrug. “Yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Chris didn’t. He just stepped back, opening the door wider.

“Come in.”

For a heartbeat longer, Leon lingered, staring past Chris into the familiar, terrifying space that used to be his.

Then he crossed the threshold.

The smell hit him first. Garlic, onions, tomato simmering low on the stove — the kind of scent that wrapped a place in comfort. It was almost exactly the same as so many other times he’d stood here, except that times he’d been laughing, glass of wine in hand, teasing Chris for measuring pasta by eye instead of the box.

Now, Leon felt like he was walking into a crime scene where all the blood had been scrubbed away, leaving only the memory of where it had been.

Chris closed the door behind him with a quiet click as Leon took off his shoes and took off his jacket.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like Leon wasn’t unraveling, just standing in the entryway.

Leon’s eyes skimmed across the apartment — the couch they used to fall asleep on, the framed photos on the wall, the scuff mark near the kitchen doorway where his duffel bag had once caught. Every detail landed sharp, too sharp, until his chest was pulling tight.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, forced his voice steady. “Smells good.”

“Hope so. I haven’t cooked for a long time, so I'm a little rusty.” Chris gave a small grin, already heading toward the kitchen. “Wine’s on the counter if you want some.”

Like nothing had changed. Like this was just another night.

Leon followed him in, each step heavier than it should’ve been. He busied himself pouring a glass, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Chris’s back at the stove. He could feel the weight pressing in harder with every familiar motion.

Dinner was simple — pasta tossed with sauce, a salad on the side. They sat across from each other at the table. Chris dug in like a man who hadn’t eaten all day; Leon picked at his plate, appetite twisted by the knot in his stomach.

Still, conversation floated easily at first. Chris talked about Claire’s latest crusade against his bad eating habits. Leon muttered something about Jill, probably feeding her the intel. Chris laughed, deep and easy, and Leon felt the sound scrape something raw inside him.

He hid it with a sip of wine.

By the time the plates were scraped clean, Leon realized he’d eaten more than he thought. Enough that Chris noticed.
“See? I still got it,” Chris teased, stacking dishes.

Leon rolled his eyes. “You’ve gotten better since the days of burnt rice.”

Chris chuckled. “Don’t bring that up. I’ll never live it down.”

They carried the dishes together to the sink, falling into a rhythm that felt too practiced to be anything but muscle memory. Chris washed; Leon dried, same as always. Every brush of their hands felt like walking a tightrope.

At one point, their fingers touched over a glass. Leon’s chest clenched. He set the towel down a little too quickly, hiding the heat in his face with a muttered, “You missed a spot.”

Chris smirked. “Ever the perfectionist.”

Leon didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The silence thickened.

They finished the last dish and leaned side by side against the counter, shoulders inches apart. For a moment, it almost felt easy, almost felt like they could stay in this strange, careful rhythm forever.

But pressure builds. And Leon knew he couldn’t hold it down much longer.

Chris glanced sideways at him, something steadier and heavier in his gaze now. “You know… I missed this.”

Leon’s grip on the towel tightened. His pulse spiked. He wanted to deflect, to shrug it off, but his throat felt too tight.

And before he could stop himself, he whispered, “Yeah. Me too.”

The air between them shifted. It was fragile, full of everything unsaid.

Chris didn’t push. Not yet. But Leon could see the weight in his eyes, the words waiting there.

It was only a matter of time before they cracked it open.


---


The couch felt smaller than he remembered. Or maybe it was just him — cramped, restless, like his own skin didn’t fit. He kept his gaze fixed on the wineglass in his hand. On the way, the light caught the deep red liquid. Easier than looking at Chris.

Chris sat at the other end, casual like always, one arm draped along the back cushion.

He broke the silence first. “You remember that neighbour we used to have? The one who left his laundry in the dryer for, like, three days straight?”

Leon blinked. “The guy with the yappy dog?”

“Yeah. Him.” Chris chuckled under his breath. “Ran into him last week. Still does it. Some things never change.”

Leon gave a faint huff, more air than laugh. It wasn’t funny. Not really. But it was safe, and safe was better than the alternative.

They drifted through a couple more harmless anecdotes, trading small pieces of memory like poker chips. It should’ve been easy. This was what they’d agreed to: start over, just talking. No pressure.

Except every word felt loaded. Every glance had weight.

And finally it came.

Chris leaned forward, glass balanced loosely between his fingers. “You know… we said we’d be real this time. No hiding.”

Leon’s throat tightened. He nodded once because that’s what they’d agreed. “Right. Real.”

Chris hesitated, then asked, “So… how have you been sleeping?”

Leon forced a shrug. “Fine.”

Chris gave him a look. The kind that said he didn’t believe a word of it.

Leon sighed, dragging his hand across his face. “Not great, okay? I keep the TV on sometimes. Makes it easier. Less quiet.”

Chris’s voice softened. “Thanks for telling me.” He hesitated, watching Leon carefully. “You’re not… still taking those pills, right?”

Leon froze. His stomach knotted, throat tightening.

Chris leaned in a little, quiet but firm. “Leon. You promised you wouldn’t.”

For a moment, Leon just stared down at the wine in his glass. His pulse thundered in his ears. He wanted to lie. He should lie. But he decided against it, willing the truth out.

“...Just once.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around his own glass. “Leon—”

“Hey, It was either that or cutting my arm again, so…”

The sentence tumbled out before he could stop it. His blood went cold the second he heard himself.

Chris went utterly still, staring at him like the air had been ripped from the room. “Wait. What?”

Leon’s chest constricted. He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to drag that out of the shadows. He pushed the glass away, shaking his head. “I didn’t—forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

Chris’s voice was hoarse, breaking against his restraint. “Of course it fucking matters. Jesus, Leon, how long—”

“I said drop it!” Leon snapped, panic rising, voice cracking harsher than he intended. He shoved back from the couch, pacing a few steps like the walls were closing in. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this.”

Chris rose too, running a hand over his face, his frustration bleeding through. “I just want to understand. You think I don’t lie awake wondering what the hell you’ve been going through? You think I don’t—” He cut himself off, breath unsteady. “I can’t help you if you keep me locked out.”

Leon spun on him, eyes sharp. “Help me? That’s what this is? You’re still trying to fix me like some busted weapon you can oil up and patch?”

Chris’s mouth twisted, hurt flickering across his face. “That’s not what I meant—”

“It’s what you always mean,” Leon shot back, voice low and shaking. “You think if you just hold on tight enough, I’ll stop being a goddamn mess. But I don’t stop, Chris. I don’t get better. Because this is me.” His breath hitched, raw now. “You keep asking me to let you in, and when I do—when I slip for half a second—you look at me like I’m broken glass. Like I'm your next charity reach out project. ”

Chris’s chest tightened. He reached for him without thinking. “Because I’m scared, Leon. I almost lost you. Do you understand that? You could’ve—” He stopped, the words dying on his tongue. His hand dropped. “I can’t just act like that didn’t happen.”

Leon’s laugh was bitter and empty. “Oh so this is all about that? Just cause i nearly died? In that case maybe you should’ve left it that way.”

The words landed hard. Chris’s face shifted, torn between fury and desperation. And before he could stop himself, the worst of it slipped out—sharp, reckless, crueler than he meant.

“Maybe. And maybe you never should’ve come back in the first place if this is your idea of being honest and trying.”

Silence. Heavy. Final.

Leon’s expression went blank, like the floor had given out beneath him.

Chris’s heart plummeted. “Leon, I—”

But Leon was already moving. Coat off the rack, shoes half on, hands trembling too hard to work the zipper. He didn’t look at him. Wouldn’t.

“Leon, wait—” Chris started, reaching forward, but Leon jerked away like a burned nerve.

“Thanks for dinner,” Leon muttered, voice rough.

And then the door slammed shut behind him.

Leaving Chris frozen in the middle of the living room, the wine glasses still half-full, the air Still smelling like the dinner they just shared.

Notes:

By the way, have you guys checked out my first ever one-shot yet? If you haven't, I hope you do. I'm so excited about it!😅
It's a total hurt/comfort/angst-fest, and I think you might find it interesting!

Chapter 16

Notes:

Hi everyone!

So our poor boys are both reeling from the last chapter’s fight, but the girls are here to keep the chaos from completely spiralling.
Feelings are raw, tensions are high, and I hope this chapter hits you in the feels like it did me while writing it 💚

The punching bag rocked hard against the chain, each strike landing with enough force to rattle the frame. Chris didn’t count the hits anymore. His knuckles throbbed inside the gloves, sweat soaking through his shirt, but he kept going. The sting in his hands was better than the noise in his head.

You pushed him. He came to you, and you fucking snapped at him.

He hit harder.

You promised patience. You promised you’d wait.

Another swing, sharp and brutal, the bag jerking away like it wanted to leave him too.

The words still echoed. Leon’s voice, tight with frustration and something worse:

“Hey, it was either the pills or cutting my arm again so...”

Chris’s stomach turned every time he heard it.

Scars had always been part of their lives, badges of survival. But now he couldn’t stop wondering. How many weren’t from missions? How many were Leon against himself?

“Gonna break your wrist if you keep hitting like that.”

The voice came from behind him. Jill.

Chris slowed, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his face. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Jill said dryly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall, “that’s exactly what you look like.”

He yanked the gloves off and tossed them aside. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Or maybe on the bag. Hard to tell which one’s taking it worse.”

Chris wiped his face with the edge of his shirt. “Just needed to clear my head.”

Jill didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just waited.

Finally, he sighed, rolling his shoulders. “I messed up.”

She raised a brow. “With Leon?”

The name hit him like another punch to the gut. He didn’t answer right away. He sat heavily on the bench instead, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“He was trying,” Chris said quietly. “He showed up, he… he even talked about things I know weren’t easy for him. And I—” His jaw clenched. “I lost it. Pushed him too hard. Said something I shouldn’t have.”

Jill’s expression softened. She didn’t press for details. “So you’re human. Congratulations.”

Chris let out a bitter huff. “I promised him patience. After everything… I promised I wouldn’t push. And then the first time he lets me in, I...” His voice cut off. He dragged his hand over his face.

Jill stepped closer, her tone steady. “Chris. You slipping up once doesn’t erase the fact you’re still here you care. He knows that.”

Chris shook his head. “Not sure he believes it anymore. I messed up big time.”

“Then show him again,” she said simply. “And again. And however many times it takes. That’s what patience and trying actually looks like. It doesn’t mean getting it right the first time, it means keeping at it until you do.”

He looked up at her. The fight was gone from his shoulders, leaving only exhaustion.

Jill gave him the smallest smile. “Besides, if Leon’s talking at all? That means he wants you to hear it. Don’t throw that away because you’re afraid you screwed it all up.”

Chris swallowed hard, nodding, though the guilt still pressed heavy in his chest.

Jill clapped his shoulder once before heading toward the door. “Shower before you stink up the whole hall. Then go home. Beat yourself up less and call him more.”

Left alone, Chris stared at the floor, her words echoing. He still hated himself for what he’d said, for what he’d done. But maybe… maybe it wasn’t too late to try again.


---


Leon sat on the edge of his bed, the room dim, lit only by the glow of his phone screen. His jacket was still in a heap where he’d dropped it last night. He hadn’t bothered to pick it up.

I left him again.

The words looped endlessly. He’d walked out nine months ago, leaving Chris alone in that apartment. And last night, after swearing he’d try, after promising he’d stay this time, he’d done the exact same thing.

“Maybe. And maybe you never should’ve come back in the first place if this is your idea of being honest and trying.”

His chest ached with the thought.

He did know this was bound to happen, that Chris would eventually get fed up with his shit and snapp, but it still hurt. It hurt so much, hearing those words, seeing him frustrated and disappointed. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe it was stupid to try. It wouldn’t work anyway. It would only hurt.

The phone buzzed in his hand. Claire.

For a long moment, he just stared at her name. He wanted to ignore it, to bury the whole night and never say it out loud. But she called again, and finally he swiped to answer.

“Hey,” Claire said softly. “So? How’d it go?”

Leon’s throat tightened. “…Fine.”

She let out a dry laugh. “That’s a lie.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Why do you always call when I don’t want you to?”

“Because that’s when you need me to,” she said, not missing a beat. Her tone gentled. “Talk to me, Leon.”

The silence dragged until it hurt. Finally, he let out a bitter breath.

“I agreed to this. To talking, to starting over, to… sharing.” His voice cracked, quiet and angry all at once. “And the second it got real, the second he asked me something that mattered, I freaked out. I left. I walked out of his apartment again! just like last time.”

Claire was quiet for a beat. “Leon…”

He pushed on, shame thick in his chest. “I told him I’d try. And then when it counted, I just… couldn’t. And then he was doing what he always does and I just... couldn’t. So I left when he said that maybe I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

“He said what?” Claire asked, stunned.

Leon squeezed his eyes shut. “That maybe I shouldn’t have come in the first place if this was my idea of trying. And then I was gone before I could make it worse.”

Claire sighed softly. “Oh my god! The idiot my brother is!”

Leon couldn’t help the broken laugh, despite the situation. “Well, didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Of course I should. He's absolutely all muscles and no brain! But you’re an idiot too, you know! God, what should I do with the two of you?” she groaned “You know he didn’t mean that, right? Right, Leon?”

There was silence and then...“I don’t know. I just… I have a talent for making people loos it. I’ll always make everything go to shit.”

“Hey. Stop it.” Her tone sharpened, grounding him. “You didn’t make anything go to shit. That’s the point, Leon. Making things work is messy. It’s supposed to be. And messing up doesn’t mean it’s over.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “Because Chris may be an idiot, but he isn’t the kind of man who runs. And you aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “…I’m just going to screw it up again. We just can’t. I get freaked out and defensive, he gets frustrated and fed up, just like in the past.”

“Then screw it up,” Claire said, steady and certain. “And try again. That’s what people do. You are allowed to screw things up. The important thing is that you just keep showing up and make it right after.”

His chest tightened, but in a different way now—less suffocating, more fragile.

Claire’s voice softened. “You care for him, don’t you?”

Leon’s throat worked, the words scraping their way out. “…Yeah.”

“Then let him care for you too,” she whispered. “Stop deciding for him if he's done or not. And don’t run away from him, okay?

There was a pause again, so she repeated “Okay, Leon?”

“…Yeah. Okay.”


---


Leon sat on the edge of the bed long after the call ended, phone heavy in his hand. The words still echoed:

Stop deciding for him if he's done or not.

You are allowed to screw things up. The important thing is that you just keep showing up and make it right after.

He hated how much they made sense.

For a long while, he just stared at the blank message screen. His thumbs hovered. He typed, erased, and typed again. Finally, two words stuck.

I’m sorry.

He sent it before he could stop himself.

Immediate regret punched through his chest. What the hell was he doing? Chris didn’t need half-assed apologies in the middle of the night.

The phone buzzed in his hand. Incoming call. Chris.

Leon froze, his breath catching. His instinct was to let it ring out. But some part of him, the part that still remembered Chris’s face when he walked out, answered.

“…Hey,” Leon said quietly.

Chris’s voice was rough with fatigue but steady. “Hey. I, uh...got your message.”

Leon rubbed his temple. “Yeah. Shouldn’t have sent it.”

“Don’t,” Chris cut in gently. “Don’t take it back. I… I’m really sorry too, Leon.”

Leon waited.

“I pushed,” Chris admitted. His words came slow, deliberate, like each one cost him. “You came over. You talked. You tried. And instead of meeting you where you were, I pushed. I should’ve known better.”

“No. I...I shouldn’t have left like that, and… I did promise to try and…”

“No but you did, Leon. You did. You showed up. Last night was totally on me. I promised to be patient, not to push, and I… I messed up. I'm  such an idiot.”

Leon swallowed hard. “It...It wasn’t just you. Being there… at your place again...it was too much. You were acting like it was fine, like nothing had changed, and I...” He broke off, voice unsteady. “I couldn’t handle it.”

Chris was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was softer. “Then we don’t do that again. Not yet.”

Leon frowned faintly. “…What?”

“No more coming over,” Chris said. “Not until we’re both ready. Neutral ground only. Cafés, parks, wherever. Just… not home. Not until it feels safe again.”

Leon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. That was… more of a relief than he expected.

“Alright,” Leon said quietly.

“Alright,” Chris echoed. Then, after a pause: “I know I can be an asshole sometimes. I lose patience, I say stupid stuff. But none of that means I’m done with you. I’ll try to do better. To be better. So just don’t… don’t go, okay? Don’t run away from me. No matter what.”

The words landed deep, heavy, and fragile. And undid Leon. The desperation behind those words. How Chris was still asking him to stay even after last night after everything.

Leon pressed a hand over his eyes, forcing back the sting there. “I…I don’t want to keep running,” he admitted.

“Then don't, and we will make it work. It's not... it's not easy, but we will. I promise.” Chris said firmly.

And Leon couldn’t help that stupid part of him that almost believed it.

Chapter 17

Notes:

Content warning for this chapter: mentions of self-harm.

I know I'm a little behind on updates on this one, but this was a heavy chapter to write, and it took me a while to finish. Anyway, I hope it resonates.💚

The past two weeks had been…strange.

He and Chris had only managed to meet once in person. Chris had been shipped off to the BSAA’s Europe branch for some collaborative training program about tactics exchange, Leon hadn’t bothered with the details. Normally, Leon might have used the distance as an excuse to let things cool again, to slip back into silence. But somehow… that didn’t happen.

They kept in touch. Texts, calls longer than he intended, even a video chat one night when Chris had been sitting in some bland hotel room with his hair still damp from the shower. The conversations weren’t earth-shattering. They weren’t confessions or breakthroughs. Just steady, small things.Slow. Careful.
And against every instinct he had, Leon found himself not hating it.

So, with Chris stucked in Europe, he hadn’t planned on running into anyone at B.S.A.A. HQ. The trip was supposed to be quick, just a job for the DSO, in and out. No reason to linger.

He was already done and halfway to the doors when a voice stopped him cold.

“Leon?”

Jill.

He turned, pulse stuttering for no good reason. She looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her, but her expression faltered for a second, like she wasn’t sure what version of him she’d get.

He shifted the folder in his hand, nodding. “Hey.”

And just like that, her mouth curved into something that was almost a smirk. “What brings you here?”

“I...Uh just some file exchange for a mission. I was just about to leave.”

“Perfect,” she said, already moving toward him. “Then you’ve got time.”

Before he could respond, another voice carried across the hall.

“Figured that was you.”

Piers.

Leon froze. He hadn’t seen him since before. before everything fell apart. The breakup, the months of silence, the wreckage Chris had been left in. Leon braced himself for anger, maybe pity.

Instead, Piers grinned, easy as anything, and bumped his shoulder when he reached them. “Still sneaking around like the place is filled with B.O.Ws, huh?”

Leon blinked. “Guess some habits don’t die.”

“Whatever,” Jill cut in, linking her arm loosely through his like she’d decided for him. “You’re coming with us.”

“To where?”

“Lunch,” she said. “Obviously.”

Leon opened his mouth to argue, but Jill’s look told him resistance was pointless. And Piers was already grinning like they'd won.

So, against every one of his better instincts, Leon let himself be dragged along.


---


He hadn’t meant to stay. Really, he hadn’t.

Drop the file, sign the hand-off, and be gone before anyone could catch his name. That was the plan.

But now he was sitting in a cramped booth across from Piers, Jill wedged comfortably beside him like she had every right to drag him here, trays of food balanced between them. And somehow, saying no had felt harder than just letting himself be pulled along.

He picked at the edge of his sandwich. It looked pathetic compared to Piers’s overloaded sub, or Jill’s plate stacked with sides.

“Seriously, Kennedy?” Piers asked, nodding toward Leon’s tray. “That’s it? You came all this way for a sad little sandwich?”

Leon muttered without thinking. “Sorry I don’t have your metabolism.”

It was dry, almost too quiet, but Piers lit up anyway like he’d been waiting for it. “Oh my god, he talks. Jill, you hear that?”

Jill smirked around a fry. “Barely.”

Leon felt his ears heat. He tried to scowl into his cup, but it only made them laugh harder.

The conversation moved easily between the two of them, at least. Jill reenacted some mission from a few weeks back, Piers chiming in with corrections that only made the dramatics worse. Leon caught himself listening despite himself, even huffing under his breath when Piers made their commanding officer sound like a cartoon villain.

“You laugh, but he does sound like that,”Jill insisted, elbowing him lightly.

It was easier than he expected. Easier to just sit there, to not be on guard. Jill reached over and stole a bite of his sandwich like she’d always done. Piers asked if he’d been keeping up with training, then teased him for the shape of his biceps when Leon didn’t answer fast enough.

“Better not slack off,” Piers said. “Chris’ll drag you back into sparring whether you like it or not.”

The name landed sharp and soft at once. Leon stiffened just enough to notice it himself.

Jill noticed, too, though she didn’t press. Instead, she gave him a sidelong glance, casual. “He’s… been better lately, you know. Not like before.”

Piers nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah. You can tell he’s not carrying the whole damn world on his shoulders anymore. Still intense but lighter.”

Leon stared at his tray. The words twisted something in his chest, heavy and unbearably tender. They didn’t say it directly, but he knew what they meant. He knew why. And god help him, some part of him was glad.
He swallowed, mumbling a “is that so”.

Jill gave him a look, sharp but soft at the edges, like she wanted to say more. Instead, she just stole another fry and let the silence hang.

By the time they finally pulled themselves away from the table, Piers was swearing about the time. Jill shrugged, saying it was worth it, and outside, she punched Leon in a friendly manner.

“Don’t disappear again,” she murmured.

Piers clapped his shoulder, easy grin unwavering. “You know you can drop by, right?” He said. “We’re not gonna bite.”

Leon nodded, throat tighter than he wanted it to be. “Yeah. I’ll… keep that in mind.”

As he walked away, he realized his hands were trembling, not from panic, but from the strange, disorienting relief of not having been crushed under the weight of their company.


---


The bar was quiet. Dim light from the lamps above softened the edges of things, turning the corners into shadow. Chris liked it for the same reason Leon probably did: it was a place you could disappear without really trying.

Leon sat across from him, second beer in hand, posture looser than Chris had seen in a long time. He even smirked and kept teasing him about his collaborative training program in BSAA. Chris had laughed, and for the briefest second, it was easy to forget the heaviness that followed them everywhere.

God, I’ve missed this, Chris thought. Not just Leon (he did miss Leon while he was away), but Leon like this. The version that could roll his eyes, bite back and tease with sarcasm and not look like the world was crushing him.

Chris lifted his glass. “So Jill dragged you into hanging out, huh?”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Dragged is the right word. She didn’t even give me a choice.”

“Classic Jill.” Chris grinned, shaking his head. “I’m glad, though. She really wanted to meet up. Piers, too. They’ve missed you.”

Leon’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Yeah. It… wasn’t bad.”

They ordered another round. Leon lifted his glass first this time, a lazy clink against Chris’s. “Don’t say I never do anything social,” he muttered, but there was no bite in it.

Chris smiled. He’s trying.

But underneath the warmth of beer and banter, the memory lingered. Leon on his couch, voice breaking, saying something that had frozen Chris’s blood.
It was either the pills or cutting my arm again.

It had been eating him alive since that day he kept trying to shove it down to just somehow make his peace with it but he couldn’t. And now looking at Leon like this...
Chris set his glass down. Steadied himself. “Leon… can I ask you something?” he asked carefully.

Leon gave him a look, suspicious but not immediately shutting down. “That depends.”

Chris lowered his voice. “The other night... What you said about… the pills and... and the other thing. Were you serious?”

For a long moment, Leon said nothing. His fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle, knuckles pale. Chris thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. Then Leon let out a breath that sounded like it hurt.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I was serious.”

Chris’s chest ached. “Since when?”

“It’s okay if you don't want to talk about it. ” He added hurriedly.

Leon gave a sharp, humourless laugh. “A long time. Longer than I want to admit.” He tipped back his beer, swallowed, eyes on anything but Chris. “Not when we were together. I didn’t… I didn’t need it then. But after...” his hand twitched, vague, as if the word breakup was too heavy to touch. “After you, I… yeah.”

Chris’s throat felt tight, but he kept his voice even. “Why?”

Leon stared into his drink like he might drown in it. When he spoke, it was low, flat, and almost detached. “At first, it wasn’t even me. Jack...” His voice cracked, the name sticking, but he forced it out. “He wanted it. Made me. He liked watching me bleed.”

Chris felt ice spread through his veins.

Leon kept going, words unravelling faster now, like once they were out, there was no pulling them back. “He liked it better when I did it myself, hurt myself. Said it meant I finally understood. That I’d accepted it. Him.”

He let out a bitter laugh that made Chris’s stomach twist. “And maybe I did. Maybe I let it get too far inside me because even after… it didn’t stop. It wasn’t about him anymore. It was about shutting everything else up. The noise in my head, the pain, the emptiness, the way it all felt wrong.”

His hand trembled against the glass. “It worked. It hurt, but it worked. For a while, at least. Like paying a price to quiet everything. Giving them something so they’d leave me alone.”

Chris wanted to reach across the table, to take his hand, to do something, anything to stop that look on his face. But he knew if he moved too fast, Leon would pull away. So he just sat there, breathing through the sharp ache in his chest.

Leon shook his head, drained the last of his beer. “Anyway. That’s your answer. Congratulations. Now you know a little better how fucked up I really am.”

Chris swallowed hard. His instinct was to tell Leon it wasn’t his fault, to swear he wasn’t broken, to rage against the ghost of Jack still poisoning him. But none of that would help right now. He knew that. He'd learned that.

So instead, he forced his voice steady and said the only thing that mattered:

“Thank you.”

Leon blinked, startled. “For what?”

“For trusting me enough to tell me.”

Leon stared at him like he was searching for the catch, the judgment, the pity. But Chris gave him nothing except steady eyes and the weight of his sincerity.

After that, the drinking stopped being casual. Leon ordered another round before Chris could even finish his, his jaw tight like he could outrun the weight of what he’d just confessed if he just drowned it fast enough.

Chris wanted to say no, wanted to take the glass away, but he also knew one wrong move would slam the wall back down between them. So he stayed, let Leon drink, and made sure to pace his own.

By the fifth bottle, Leon’s sharpness had dulled. His words started to blur around the edges. He leaned back in the booth, eyes glassy but restless, like there were still too many thoughts clawing under his skin.

By the time they stood to leave, Leon nearly stumbled into the table. Chris caught him by the arm, steadying him, the weight too light, too fragile.
“C’mon,” Chris said quietly. “Let’s get you home.”

Leon didn’t protest as Chris led him outside. Maybe he was too far gone for that or maybe part of him didn’t want to.

The night air outside was sharp, cool. Chris half-guided, half-carried him down the street until he could flag a cab. Leon slumped against the seat, eyes closing, mumbling something Chris couldn’t catch. For a second Chris thought he’d fallen asleep, but then Leon’s voice came soft, broken.

“You know…” Leon slurred “…you shouldn’t… stick around. I told you. I'm...” he hiccupped, frowned. “I’m not...worth it.”

Chris’s chest tightened, but before he could answer, Leon’s head lolled against the window.


---


Chris’s apartment was dark when they came in, the smell of clean laundry and soap greeting them. He got Leon inside, shoes kicked off clumsily, jacket tossed over a chair. Leon mumbled something about not staying, about “the rule,” but Chris just shook his head.

“Yeah I'm sorry but the rules don’t count when you can’t walk straight,” he murmured, guiding him toward the bedroom.

He laid Leon down carefully, pulling the blanket over him. For a moment he just stood there, looking at him. This man who had given him a thousand reasons to give up and yet still made him stay.

Leon shifted, restless, and Chris brushed the hair from his forehead, gentler than he meant to. “Sleep, Leon. I’ve got you.”

Leon didn’t answer. Just breathed, uneven but steady enough.

Chris grabbed a pillow and blanket and went out to stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He knew the night wasn’t over not really. But for now, Leon was here. Safe.

That was enough.


---


At first Chris thought he’d dreamed the sound. A low, strangled noise bleeding through the dark. But then it came again, sharp, broken, dragging him upright on the couch before his mind had caught up.

He didn’t even think. He was moving, crossing the apartment, shoving Leon’s door open and... stopped cold.

Leon was a wreck tangled in the sheets, chest heaving, voice caught in some unseen fight. His hands were clawing at himself,over his arms, over his chest, nails dragging over skin like he was trying to tear something out, gripping so tight Chris thought he might draw blood.

“Please...” The word tore out of him, choked and desperate. “Please, I don’t want to...don’t make me...”

The words hit Chris like a bullet. He froze, breath punched out of him. Don’t make me.
After what Leon had admitted at the bar, Chris didn’t need a map to guess whose ghost he was begging. And for a beat, a single brutal beat, he just stood there, staring, the truth slamming into him harder than he’d ever let himself imagine.

Jack.
Jack did this to him, made him do this.
And maybe worse, Leon had learned to keep hurting himself because it dulled the scream of it all.

Chris’s stomach lurched. His chest burned. Every instinct screamed to rage, to break something, to tear the world apart for letting this happen...but Leon was still thrashing, still choking on those pleas, and Chris forced himself to move.

He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, hands open, voice low but urgent. “Leon. Hey, it’s me. It’s Chris. You’re safe, you hear me? Safe.”

Leon jerked, his fingers dug harder into his skin, like he was trying to peel it away. His nails caught fabric, scraping. His breath came in gasps so fast Chris thought he might black out.

Chris swallowed hard and reached, hesitant careful, closing one hand around Leon’s wrist. Heat, tremor, desperation under his palm.

“Easy. I’ve got you, Leon. No one's here. It’s just me. Just me.” Chris said, and God, his voice shook but he forced it steady. “Just listen to me. Breathe with me. In and out. That’s it.”

For a terrible moment, nothing changed. Then Leon’s wild eyes cracked open, glassy, unseeing...until they landed on him.

Recognition flickered. The fight bled out of his body all at once, and he sagged forward.

Chris caught him. Strong arms wrapped tight, pulling Leon in against his chest. His heart was hammering, but he kept rocking them both, a slow rhythm. “That’s it. I’ve got you. Nothing’s happening. It’s just me and you.”

Leon trembled like a leaf in a storm. His hands twitched then unclenched, no longer digging into his own skin. Chris smoothed them gently away, thumb brushing the reddened marks on his arms, careful not to linger too long.
He bent his head, whispered steady words against Leon’s temple. “I'm here. You’re safe. No one can touch you. I promise.”

Minutes bled into something longer. Chris didn’t move, just let Leon shake against him, his own heartbeat thundering with helpless rage and the price of every truth Leon had shared.
Slowly, painfully, Leon’s breathing evened out, the tremors easing. His grip on Chris’s shirt loosened, though Chris could still feel the tension humming under his skin.

When Leon finally slumped, heavy and exhausted, Chris eased him back against the pillows just enough to grab a glass of water. He placed it within reach, then sat back on the mattress right next to him.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t press.

He just sat, and waited.


---


The world came back in fragments. The nightmare still clung to his skin, hot and suffocating, every breath dragging through his throat like barbed wire. His chest ached, his hands itched with the need to scratch, scrape, do something to drown out the phantom sting still burning along his body.

But something stopped him. A weight. A voice. It kept reassuring him, kept holding him.

Chris.

Leon’s breath hitched as he realized he wasn’t alone, that Chris was there, solid and steady, keeping him anchored. His own fingers were fisted tight in Chris’s shirt, knuckles white. God. He hadn’t even noticed reaching for him.
Then his mind stumbled. This wasn’t his apartment. The walls were wrong, the light was wrong, the faint scent of aftershave and laundry detergent wasn’t his.

His body went rigid as the realization hit. He was in Chris’s bed. He was in Chris’s bed, drenched in sweat, trembling, with Chris sitting beside him, steadying him like he had every right to be there.

The shame hit like a knife to the gut.

God. I drank too much. He brought me here. I fell apart.

His throat was raw, but he forced the words out anyway, shaky and hoarse. “Wh…why am I here?”

Chris didn’t flinch. He just reached for the glass of water he’d set on the nightstand and pressed it gently into Leon’s hands. His fingers brushed Leon’s, steady against the tremor.

“You got hammered. I wasn’t going to let you stumble home alone like that.” His voice was quiet, careful.

Leon tried to lift the glass. His hands shook so hard the water rippled against the rim. He sipped anyway, forcing it down past the knot in his throat. It didn’t help much. The taste was metallic, the panic still clawing under his skin, but it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t Chris’s eyes.

Shame churned hard in his chest. He saw. He heard.

He waited for the question. The inevitable: What was it about? Don't shut out. Explain. Talk to me.

But it didn’t come.

Finally, Leon rasped, not looking up, “Don’t you… don’t you want to ask me? Tell me to talk?”

The silence stretched. And then Chris’s answer, quiet and certain: “No. No I'm not.”

Leon’s head jerked up, startled. He swallowed hard, chest tightening. “Then what...”

“Nothing.” Chris cut in, voice steady but soft. “I’m not here to push...I’ll wait until you’re ready. If you ever are.”

Leon’s throat closed around the lump in it. He wanted to scoff, to deflect, but the words came out cracked. “And if I’m never ready?”

Chris’s eyes didn’t waver. “Then I’ll wait some more.”

The simplicity of it undid him. No conditions. No demands. Just...a presence.

Chris shifted slightly, like he was about to stand. “You should try to rest. I’ll let you sleep.”

And that...that was when Leon’s body moved before he could think, before he could stop it. His hand shot out, trembling fingers catching Chris’s wrist in a grip far tighter than he meant.

He couldn’t meet his eyes. Couldn’t face the weight of what he was asking. But the word scraped out anyway, low and fragile.

“…Stay.”

Chris stilled. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Chris nodded once, quietly, and lowered himself back onto the edge of the bed. Solid. Steady.

Leon didn’t let go.Couldn’t.

And for the first time in months, Leon felt the weight of sleep tug him down without the sharp edge of fear.

Notes:

Btw, if you haven’t seen it yet, I also just started posting a brand new fic (an omegaverse AU with Chris, Piers, and Leon). It's going to be an interesting one, so if you’re curious, make sure to check it out.

Chapter 18

Notes:

Sooo this chapter kinda ran away from me 😅 it got way too long, so I ended up splitting it into two. The good news, though, it means that the next chapter is already like 90% done, which means you’ll be getting another update pretty soon 👀
Hope you enjoy 💚

Leon sat at his desk with a half-empty mug cooling by his elbow, the bitter smell of coffee clinging to the air. He’d been early, too early. The operations floor was still quiet, and the silence pressed in on him. He told himself he wanted the extra time to skim over intel reports and shake off the rust before his first mission after a while. But his mind was elsewhere.

Two weeks, and the images still lived under his skin. The nightmare. Waking up choking on panic that hadn’t belonged to the present. Chris’s hands—steady, grounding—on his shoulders. No questions. No prying. Just quiet presence in the dim light. And then, the thing that haunted him most: him reaching out for Chris and Chris accepting like it was nothing.

Leon rubbed at his temple, but it didn’t push the memory away. If anything, it sharpened. The pale morning light spilling through blinds. The blanket tangled around him. Chris’s weight on the mattress, warm, close. The shock of realizing he’d been the one to ask him to stay. Chris’s smile when he woke up next to him, unguarded, soft, like Leon had given him something precious without even trying.

It had been too much. Too easy. Breakfast in the kitchen, eggs and toast. Normal. Domestic. Like slipping back into something Leon wasn’t sure he could survive wanting again. So he’d cut it short, fled with the excuse of needing to shower, get ready, do something, anything.

Now, staring at the reports on his desk, Leon still didn’t know if that night and the morning after had been a gift or a mistake. Maybe it was both. Maybe it didn’t matter. What terrified him most was the possibility that some part of him wanted to go back.

The sound of heels on the polished floor and his door opening snapped him back. Leon blinked at the screen as if caught doing something he shouldn’t, even though all he’d been doing was… remembering.

“Early start?”

He looked up to see Hunnigan. With a folder tucked neatly under one arm, she looked sharp as always, but there was a softness around her eyes that told him she hadn’t missed the tension in his shoulders.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Leon said, his voice rougher than he meant. He reached for his mug, swallowed a mouthful of cold coffee, and winced. “Figured I’d make myself useful.”

“Mm.” Hunnigan set the folder down on his desk but didn’t slide it over right away. She folded her arms instead, studying him like she was running diagnostics. “And? Has making yourself useful been… useful?”

Leon huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Define useful.”

Her lips twitched. Then, with deliberate precision, she pushed the folder across the desk. “So you’ve been cleared for field work again like i told you.”

His pulse jumped. He flipped it open too fast, like diving before he could think, scanning the neat rows of intel. Recon. Two days. Nothing high-risk. The kind of thing he could sleepwalk through. But his throat was dry, and he could feel her eyes on him, waiting.

“It’s not a test,” she said gently. “No one’s looking to see if you’ll crack. They just want to ease you back in the rhythm.”

“I know.” He forced a crooked smirk, tried to lighten it. “Piece of cake, right?”

“Mm-hm.” She tilted her head, unimpressed. “And you’re really fine with this?”

Leon’s shoulders rose and fell. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

That earned him a long look. Then, casually—too casually—Hunnigan added, “How are things with Chris?”

Leon arched a brow. “ That’s not exactly in the mission file.”

“No,” she agreed, “but it’s relevant. To you. Which means it’s relevant to me.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” she said, softer now. “So?”

Leon leaned back in his chair, staring at the folder like it might save him from answering. He thought of the morning light through Chris’s blinds. The warmth of him still beside him. The dangerous ease of it all. His chest tightened.

“We’re… trying,” he admitted finally, the word awkward on his tongue. “Whatever that means.”

Hunnigan’s expression gentled, though her eyes stayed sharp. “And you? How are you, Leon?”

The question landed heavier than the mission file ever could. He swallowed, forcing his mouth into something like a smile. “ Fine now, but ask me again after I survive babysitting this mission.”

She gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head, but didn’t press further. “Three days,” she reminded him, tapping the folder. “Get ready. And Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“For what is worth, I think you’re doing the right thing trying again.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Just nodded once, tightly, as she turned and shut the door, leaving him with the ticking clock, the folder, and the weight of everything she hadn’t said out loud.


---


Dinner wasn’t anything fancy. Just a corner booth at a diner, the kind of place with warm lights and comfort foods. Chris had insisted on paying, and Leon hadn’t argued—mostly because he didn’t have the energy, but partly because some small, stupid part of him liked the way Chris slid the check out of his reach like it was the most natural thing.

“So,” Chris said after the waitress refilled their water and walked away, “What is it that you want to tell me?.”

Leon stabbed halfheartedly at the fries on his plate. “That obvious?”

“Well when you call suddenly saying want to have dinner together? I think it’s safe to assume you have something to say,” Chris said, leaning back, arms crossed but not in a confrontational way, more like he was steadying himself. “What’s going on?”

Leon hesitated. He could hear Hunnigan’s voice in his head: “I think you’re doing the right thing trying again.”He hated how right she was. He also hated how terrifying it felt that way.

“I got cleared for fieldwork today,” Leon said, finally, forcing the words out. “First mission after the medical leave. Recon. Nothing big.”

Chris’s brow furrowed, his mouth pulling into a line. “When?”

“Three days.”

For a moment, Chris didn’t say anything, just breathed in slow, controlled measure. Leon could practically see him calculating risks, recovery, the thousand ways it could go wrong. He braced himself for the lecture.

But Chris surprised him. “Recon,” he repeated, like he was testing the word. Then he nodded once. “That’s good. Low-pressure. Easing back in.”

Leon blinked. “That’s it? No ‘you’re not ready,’ no ‘over my dead body’?”

Chris’s mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious. “Believe me, I want to say all of that. But I know you’d hate me for it. And… I trust Hunnigan. If she thinks you’re ready, then you’re ready.”

The words landed heavier than Leon expected. I trust you was what he heard beneath them, even if Chris hadn’t said it.

Still, Leon couldn’t help poking. “You don’t sound thrilled.”

“I’m not,” Chris admitted. “I’ll worry like hell. That’s not going to change. But I’m trying not to make it your problem.”

Leon’s chest tightened. For once, he didn’t deflect with sarcasm. He just looked at him, really looked, and saw the effort it took for Chris to hold back, to give him space instead of smothering him. And it meant more than he knew how to put into words.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Chris gave a short nod, like it cost him something to accept the gratitude instead of brushing it off. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just heavy with all the things neither of them were ready to say yet.

Leon picked at his food, trying to shake the strange mix of nerves and relief curling in his stomach. Now, the mission felt less like a test he could fail and more like a step forward because someone believed he could take it.


---


The hallways smelled like rust and damp, the kind that seeped into Leon’s jacket and skin no matter how shallowly he breathed. His boots crunched softly against the broken glass scattered across the floor, each crunch echoing in the hollow space.

The mission was routine, boring even. Just a recon sweep, confirm the intel, snap a few photos, and get the hell out. Perfect for his first mission back after medical leave, low risk, low stakes.

He had already finished the East and North sector sweep yesterday with no problem. The rest would be done today, and he would be back home by tonight.

“No movement on your tracker,” Hunnigan’s voice hummed in his ear, calm, professional. “Keep it steady, Leon. Just a few more sections according to the plans, and we’ll be done.”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement, gloved hand brushing the wall as he moved deeper into the dark.“Copy.”

He told himself he was fine. He had to be fine. This wasn’t combat, wasn’t some hellzone of bioweapons and chaos. Just empty facilities on the outskirts of nowhere.

Still, he felt every step like it might crack the floor under him. He hated these kinds of jobs. Quiet, empty, too much room for his own head to get loud. But it was his first time back in the field after a while, and he’d promised himself he could handle it.

He slipped into what used to be an office. Papers scattered, a desk overturned but mostly intact. Leon went straight for the power fuse and started working on it under Hunnigan’s instructions, and the power was back on after a while.

And then—

A faint sound.

Crackle.

His head snapped toward the corner.

A radio sat on one of the desks. The speaker hissed, and then the static shifted into music—thin, warped by age, but clear enough to make Leon freeze mid-step.

A painfully melancholic song. A sad, forgettable tune. nothing remarkable at all. But Leon’s blood ran cold.

Because he knew this song. He hadn’t heard it in so many years, but he remembered every single note, and it carved itself into him like glass.

It was the same song that had been playing in his car the night he drove into Raccoon City. The first night. His first day as a cop, a paper map folded on the seat beside him. He’d been nervous, sure, but almost excited. He was going to help people. He was finally doing something that mattered.

And then—

Screams. Fire in the streets. The city burning. The sound of his own gun shaking in his hands. The stench of blood clogging his throat, splattering across his uniform.

The melody drilled into his skull, each strum of the guitar dragging him back. He couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t in this office anymore. He was twenty-one again, watching his whole future collapse before he even had the chance to live it. Headlights cutting through smoke, his hands shaking around a pistol he never thought he’d use against creatures that used to be people—people of the city he became a cop to protect. Instead, he was forced to shoot them, to watch the entire city burn with all those people he couldn’t save.

His stomach twisted so violently that he thought he might be sick. His knees almost buckled.

“Leon?” Hunnigan’s voice pressed into his ear. “Status update. You copy?”

He couldn’t. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer, couldn’t breathe. He ripped the earpiece out and let it dangle, the radio still filling the room with that song, like some sick joke.

His gloves creaked with the force of his fists clenching. His heart thundered against his ribs.

Turn it off.

He stumbled forward, slammed his hand down on the desk, twisting the dial until the radio clicked into silence.

But it wasn’t silent. Not inside him. The music kept playing, looping over and over in his skull. His vision swam, damp with a sting he refused to let fall. His chest hurt, too tight, too small to contain the sound.

He braced both palms on the desk, head hanging low. He whispered to himself, raw and broken:

“Pull it together. Pull it together.”

He forced the earpiece back in, even as his hands shook. “West side’s clear, I’ll be retrieving the data now.” he muttered. His voice didn’t sound like his own.

A pause. Then Hunnigan again, careful: “…Leon, you okay?”

His jaw locked. “Yes. I’ll proceed.”
Too sharp. Too clipped. He pushed himself upright, every step after that pure muscle memory. Moving on autopilot, eyes darting but not seeing. He retrieved data, took photos, checked hallways, storage bays, and side rooms, all of it blurring together.

By the time he pushed out, he told himself it was fine, that he’d handled it, that he was still standing. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t over. He knew what awaited him when he got back.

The flight home was quiet, but inside Leon’s head, everything was loud. The mission had gone by the book. Smooth entry, smooth exit. Exactly what command wanted for his first time back in the field. But the memory wouldn’t let him go. He pressed his palms flat against his thighs, trying to will away the tremor there.


By the time the transport touched down and he was on his way to the HQ, the weight in his chest was nearly unbearable. He could already see how the night was going to go: whiskey burning down his throat, the quiet of his apartment swallowing him whole, his hands shaking until he couldn’t take it anymore. Until he...The routine he knew too well.

Once he was done at the HQ, he shoved his bag over his shoulder and walked out, jaw set tight, steps dragging toward the parking lot.

And then he stopped.

Because someone was leaning against a familiar jeep under the floodlights, arms crossed, head tilted like he’d been waiting a while.

Chris.

For a second, Leon thought he was imagining it. His brain filling in the silhouette because it was what he secretly wanted to see. But then Chris pushed off the car, straightened, and the lights caught his face. A faint smile and eyes steady as ever.

Leon’s stomach dropped.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, more accusation than question. His voice was sharper than he meant.

Chris didn’t flinch. “Figured you wouldn’t be up for driving yourself home.”

Leon laughed under his breath, humourless. “What, you psychic now?”

“No,” Chris said simply. “Just… not stupid.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Leon looked away, grip tightening on the strap of his bag. He wanted to say I’m fine, to push him back, to keep the walls up. But the sight of Chris here, waiting for God’s know how long just to make sure he wasn’t alone, it stripped the fight out of him before it could start.

His chest ached, and he hated how much he wanted to let that ache ease just for one night.

Chris opened the passenger door without another word, waiting.

Leon hesitated, standing there with every excuse burning on his tongue. And then, quietly, almost against his own will, he moved. Tossed his bag into the back seat. Slid into the passenger side.

The door shut, and with it, the night’s spiral—at least for now.

Chapter 19

Notes:

And yet another update!
Like I said, this was already like 90% done, so I decided to finish it sooner. We're slowly closing in to the good parts, and I'm really excited to move this forward faster!🤭
Can't wait to hear your thoughts 💚

Chris had gotten to the DSO head quarters a little earlier than he needed to. He told himself it was to beat the traffic, to make sure he was already there when Leon came back. But the truth was, he couldn’t sit still at home. Not when he knew Leon was flying in tonight.

The operations floor was quieter in the evenings, most people already gone. He went straight for a open door in the middle, a familiar figure hunched over a desk with the kind of focus that could slice steel.

“Hunnigan,” Chris greeted as he walked in.

She glanced up, surprise flickering just briefly across her face before settling back into calm. “Captain Redfield. Come on in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Chris shut the door behind him. He gave her a small smile, rubbing at the back of his neck before sitting down. “I just came to thank you. For letting me know when Leon’s wheels would hit the ground. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be pacing my living room right now.”

She arched a brow. “You were the one asking me to let you know when he would be back.”

Chris chuckled, conceding the point. “Yeah. But still.”

For a moment he hesitated, then the question spilled out before he could stop it: “Did you know?”

Hunnigan tilted her head carefully. “Know what?”

“The… self-harming.” His voice came out low, rough, like it scraped against his throat. “Did you know about that?”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look surprised. Instead, she set her pen down neatly and folded her hands. “Of course I knew. I’m his handler. Who do you think got him to hospitals the times he cut too deep? Who signed off on the cover stories so no one else would know he’d nearly bled out on his fucking bathroom floor?”

Chris’s stomach turned. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? When we were together, back then...or even after I—” He broke off, his hand tightening on the edge of the desk. “I should’ve known.”

Hunnigan’s tone was steady, flat. “Because it wasn’t mine to tell, Captain. It’s Leon’s secret. His choice. I hoped he’d trust you enough to share it. But that was his decision, not mine.”

Chris swallowed hard, throat tight. “I never thought… I mean, I saw the scars. Of course I did. But I chalked them up to missions. It’s normal. Operators like him, they carry those marks. We all do. I never imagined they were anything else.”

Hunnigan’s gaze softened just a fraction. She reached out, resting a hand briefly on his forearm. “I know it’s hard. And I wish I could tell you this was the worst of it. But the truth? It’s just the tip of the iceberg. It’s not just Krauser. It’s his father too. His childhood. This fucking job. So many things.”

She gave a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Sometimes I honestly wonder how Leon turned out the way he did. Most people with what he went through would’ve ended up sadists or killers. But him? He became the guy who breaks himself trying to save the world, over and over, and then blames himself for not saving more.

Her voice softened, more sad than bitter. “And he himself never had that. Never had anyone to save him. So he became that for everyone else. And he never asked anyone to save him in return.” Her eyes lifted, locking onto Chris’s. “Until you.”

Chris’s chest ached.

“When you two started seeing each other,” she continued softly, “I was relieved. Happy. Because I knew what kind of man you were. I knew you’d never hurt him the way others have. I thought—finally—he’d get his chance.”

Her words landed heavy, right in his chest.

Then her gaze sharpened, and she leaned forward slightly. “Chris, don’t push him. Don’t rush him. What he needs more than anything right now isn’t answers or promises—it’s presence. Someone who stays without asking anything back. Someone who shows him they aren’t going anywhere. Like what you’re doing tonight, just by being here.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But then he drew in a slow breath, and nodded. “I can do that. I’ll be that for him. This time, I won’t let him go.”

Hunnigan smiled faintly. “Good. Thank you, Captain. But understand something, if you ever hurt him, if you ever make him regret trusting you, I will personally make sure you regret it.”

That pulled a startled laugh from him. “Great. Now I feel like I’m having the talk with his older sister.”

“Maybe you are,” she said with a shrug, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “And hey, if you ever need to complain and vent about him? My door’s open. Believe me, I know better than anyone what a stubborn, infuriating fucking bastard he can be.”

Chris huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “First you defend him, then you drag him through the mud? Classic sibling move.”

Her grin widened. “Guess I am his older sister.”

Chris looked at her for a long moment, warmth creeping into the cracks of his chest despite the weight there. Then he nodded once. “Good. He needs one.”


---


Chris left Hunnigan’s office with her words still echoing in his head.

Don’t push him. Don’t rush him. Just be there.

It sounded simple. But it wasn’t, not when every protective instinct in him screamed to take Leon by the shoulders and demand he let him in, tell him everything, stop carrying all of it alone. Yet he knew she was right. Leon wasn’t someone you could corner. He’d sooner run himself into the ground than let someone close under pressure.

So Chris forced himself to slow down. To breathe. To let the elevator ride down in silence instead of chewing on the impatience boiling under his skin.

The parking lot was quiet, lights humming overhead. Chris picked a spot near the elevator and leaned against his jeep, arms folded, eyes tracking every car that rolled in.

He hated waiting. Always had. On missions, waiting meant giving the enemy time. In training, waiting was wasted hours he could’ve spent preparing. But tonight, waiting wasn’t weakness. It was the whole point.

This was what he could do for Leon: just be here. Not pushing. Not prying. Just… here.

His mind flicked back to the scars he’d seen on Leon’s skin over the years, scars he’d kissed, scars he’d never questioned because he thought they all had the same story, battle, survival, another mission in the books. Now, every one of them looked different in hindsight. They weren’t just remnants of war; some were remnants of nights Leon never should’ve had alone.

Chris pressed his fists against his thighs, jaw tight. If he thought too long about all the times he hadn’t been there, all the nights Leon had bled in silence, the rage threatened to spill over. But what good was rage now? That was about him—his guilt, his failure. What Leon needed wasn’t more weight added to his shoulders.

So he waited.

And when the elevator doors finally opened up, Leon coming into view, Chris pushed off the car and straightened. His pulse quickened, his chest ached with everything he wanted to say.

But he remembered Hunnigan’s words.

Don’t push. Don’t rush. Just be there.

So he stayed where he was, grounded, ready for Leon to come to him.


---


The slam of the car door echoed too loud in the quiet parking lot. Leon buckled his seatbelt, eyes heavy-lidded from exhaustion, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed how wound up he still was. Chris started the engine, the low rumble filling the silence between them.

“How did you know when I’d be back?” Leon asked after a beat, his voice rough.

“I asked Hunnigan,” Chris said simply.

Leon hummed, gaze fixed on the dashboard lights. He wanted to ask why are you here? But the words stuck in his throat. Maybe because he already knew. Or maybe because… whatever the reason, this was better. Better than dragging himself back to an empty apartment, better than staring down another sleepless night with nothing but the weight in his chest.
He shifted in his seat, fingers worrying at the seam of his jacket, and said nothing.

Chris glanced at him once, then back to the road as they rolled out of the parking lot. “Your place or mine?”

The question hung between them. Leon’s instinct was to push back, to throw up the wall and insist he was fine on his own. But the lie felt too heavy tonight, and he was too tired to carry it.
After a moment, he exhaled, head leaning against the window. “...My place.”

Chris nodded, no commentary. Just acceptance.

The rest of the drive was quiet, headlights cutting through the dark streets. Leon didn’t bother filling the silence. He didn’t have the energy, and with Chris… he didn’t need to.

When they pulled up outside his building, Leon hesitated. He almost wanted to tell Chris to just drop him off, let him disappear inside alone. But when he turned, Chris was already unbuckling, already moving like it wasn’t even a question whether he’d walk Leon up.
Leon swallowed hard but didn’t stop him.

The stairwell smelled faintly of old paint and dust. Their footsteps echoed off the steps. At his door, Leon fumbled with his keys longer than he should have, his hands stiff and clumsy from exhaustion. He muttered a curse under his breath before the lock finally gave way.

Inside, the apartment was dark, untouched since he’d left for the mission. He tossed the keys into the bowl by the door, hearing them clatter, then stood there for a second—bag still slung over his shoulder, boots still on—like he didn’t quite know what to do next.

Chris, though, just moved past him. He flicked on the small lamp near the couch, warm light spilling over the room. Not bright, not invasive—just enough to push back the dark.

Leon watched him, chest tight. He wanted to say you don’t have to stay. He wanted to say why are you doing this? But the words dried up on his tongue, replaced by the quiet relief of not being alone.

Chris turned, catching his eye, and asked softly, “Hungry?”

Leon almost laughed at that. After the day he’d had, food felt like the last thing on his mind. But the concern in Chris’s tone made his throat tighten, and instead of deflecting, he just shook his head.

“Alright,” Chris said simply. No push, no pressure. Just that steady presence, filling the silence in a way Leon didn’t realize he needed.

Leon finally dropped his bag to the floor, boots thudding as he toed them off. His apartment suddenly felt less suffocating, the weight of the mission’s ghosts not pressing quite as hard with Chris standing there. He then rubbed at his face, muttering something about a quick shower. Chris just nodded.

The hot water helped, but it didn’t wash away the weight sitting heavy in Leon’s chest. By the time he came back out, hair damp and a towel slung around his shoulders, he felt some what human again. Still exhausted, but at least less grimy.
He paused, though, at the sight waiting in his living room.

Chris was sitting on the couch, two steaming mugs on the coffee table. Leon blinked. “I had tea?”

Chris grinned, lifting one of the cups in offering. “Nope. Brought my own stash just in case.”

Leon stared at him, then let out a small, breathless laugh. It wasn’t much, but it sounded good to have something warm after the long, heavy day. He padded over, dropped onto the couch beside him, and wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

For a while, they just drank in silence. Leon half-expected Chris to break it, to start asking questions, digging at the edges of what he wasn’t ready to share. But Chris didn’t. He sat there, steady and quiet, like he understood Leon didn’t have the strength for talking tonight.

The tea went down slow, easing some of the tension coiled in Leon’s shoulders. By the time both mugs were empty, the silence between them had softened into something comfortable.

Chris set his cup aside and shifted, stretching his back with a quiet grunt. “I’ll take the couch.”

Leon almost said okay. Almost let him. But when he glanced at Chris, the image of him folded awkwardly over the short cushions flashed in his mind, and the words came out different.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll throw your back out, old man. Just come to the bed.”

Chris blinked, surprise flickering across his face. “Is that… okay?”

Leon shrugged, trying to make it sound casual even as his pulse stumbled. “As long as you don’t kick or jump me!”

Chris chuckled, warmth in his eyes that made Leon look away before he could get caught in it. “Deal.”

Leon pushed to his feet, muttering something about blankets, and Chris followed, quiet footsteps trailing behind him into the dim hallway.


---


Leon tossed a blanket over the edge of the bed, trying to make it look casual, like this was no big deal. His apartment was dim, only the muted glow from the streetlight outside cutting through the blinds, but he could still feel Chris’s eyes on him.

Sliding into his side of the mattress, Leon pulled the covers up and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. A moment later, Chris eased down on the other side, careful, like he didn’t want to crowd him. The bed dipped under the weight, the air shifted with the faint smell of soap and tea, and suddenly Leon was very aware of every inch of space between them—or maybe the lack of it.

He had braced himself for the night to be heavy. For the silence to feel like a trap, for the images from the mission and the jagged edges of memory to eat him alive the second he was alone. That was how it usually went.

But now… now it was different. The nightmares still lurked at the edges, shadows in the corner of his mind, but Chris’s presence dimmed them. Made them less sharp, less consuming. The trauma was still there, but muted, like background noise under the steady rhythm of another heartbeat close by.

Chris shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over his shoulder. “You good?” His voice was low, careful.

Leon huffed, a breath that could almost be mistaken for a laugh. “That’s a loaded question.”

“Fair enough. Get some rest then.” Chris didn’t push further. He just settled, steady and warm, the mattress creaking once as he adjusted.

Leon turned his head, just enough to catch the faint outline of Chris’s profile in the dim light. He looked calm. Grounded. Like he belonged here, even after everything.

Leon swallowed hard and forced his gaze back to the ceiling. “This… isn’t how I thought tonight would go.”

Chris hummed, not prying, just acknowledging.

“I figured I’d come home, crash, maybe stare at the ceiling until my brain decided to stop chewing me alive or...worse.” Leon let out a tired breath. “Didn’t expect… this.” His throat tightened, but he pushed the words out anyway. “Didn’t expect it to be… easier.”

There was a pause, then, softly: “I’m glad I could make it easier.”

Leon shut his eyes. He didn’t say thank you, couldn’t—not out loud. But the truth was there, heavy and warm in his chest, undeniable. It felt like he could actually fall asleep without dreading what waited for him.

And when the darkness did pull him under, it wasn’t claws and fire and suffocating panic. It was just the sound of even breathing beside him, steady and sure.

Chapter 20

Notes:

Okay, I've been super excited about fragments lately, and I'm writing it like crazy. I mean, the next chapter is already half done, too! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, especially the Leon/Claire dynamic. I just love them together so much🥹
Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one💚💚💚

Leon woke to warmth.

Not the kind that came from the thin blanket tangled around his legs, but something heavier, steadier, pressed up along his side. For a few hazy seconds, still caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness, it felt… nice. Safe, even. His muscles weren’t knotted for once. His chest wasn’t tight. He could feel the deep, even rhythm of someone breathing against his back.

And then it hit him.

Someone breathed against his back.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. The room was pale with early light filtering through the blinds, the air still carrying the faint scent of bittersweet cologne and tea and from last night. Chris’s scent.

He didn’t even have to turn to know what position they were in. The heat at his back, the solid weight of an arm draped loosely around his waist—there was only one question: How the hell they ended up like this?

Leon lay absolutely still, brain catching up. Okay. Don’t panic. Just… move. Slip out slowly.

Carefully, he tried to ease forward, away from the warmth, but Chris’s arm tightened unconsciously, pulling him back in a sleepy reflex. His pulse jumped, and for a second, Leon forgot how to breathe.

He tried again, slower this time, but the shift must’ve stirred Chris because he felt the man inhale sharply behind him.

“Mm—what…?” Chris’s voice was rough with sleep, a low rumble against Leon’s shoulder. A pause. Then, quietly, “Oh.”

The sound of realization was almost funny—if Leon wasn’t busy wanting to disappear.

Chris’s arm snapped back like it had been burned. He shifted onto his back, mumbling, “Sorry—didn’t mean to—uh…”

Leon rolled over, instantly regretting it because now they were face to face, barely a foot apart. Chris’s shirt was pulled up a little, his eyes half-lidded and bleary. He looked unfairly good for someone who’d just woken up.

“Uh... Morning” Leon cleared his throat, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. “Guess we, uh… shifted around in our sleep.”

Chris gave a weak laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The silence that followed was… weird. Not bad, exactly. Just loud. Leon could still feel where Chris’s arm had been, the ghost of pressure across his waist, and it was making his heartbeat behave like it had a mind of its own.

Chris must’ve felt the same because his next words came out softer, almost apologetic. “You, uh… seemed like you were sleeping better. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Leon blinked. “You noticed?”

Chris shrugged one shoulder, sheepish. “You weren’t tossing around. It was nice to see you actually rest.”

That did something to Leon’s chest. Something small and stupid and warm. He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, well, guess that tea helped.”

Chris’s chuckle was quiet, genuine. “I have to bring you some more then.”

Another silence settled, gentler this time. The kind that wasn’t suffocating, just awkward because it mattered too much.
Leon finally pushed himself up, stretching like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’ll, uh… make coffee.”

Chris nodded, still half-smiling. “Yeah. I’ll… be right behind you.”

Leon swung his legs over the side of the bed, but before he stood, he caught the faintest glimpse of Chris watching him. Something unguarded in his eyes, something that made Leon’s heart stutter before he escaped into the kitchen.

Behind him, the bed creaked softly as Chris exhaled, running a hand down his face.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both knew. Last night hadn’t changed everything.
But it had changed something.


---


And just like that, time flew by. It had been days since that night. Since the quiet morning that had started with awkward smiles and coffee and ended with something fragile but real hanging between them. Something Leon didn’t dare name out loud.

Now, days later, the apartment still felt different. Warmer somehow. Maybe it was just him.

Leon had gotten back from yet another short recon mission two days ago. Nothing dangerous, and nothing happened like the one that had nearly wrecked him last time.

Chris hadn’t been there to meet him this time though; he’d been deployed himself on another op somewhere else. Leon had told him not to worry, that he could handle coming home alone. He had handled it before. Sort of.

Still, Chris had called that night. FaceTime from some dimly lit field tent, looking exhausted but grinning like he hadn’t seen Leon in months. They talked for hours. About the mission, about nothing, about everything in between. At some point, Leon had drifted off mid-sentence, chin propped on his hand, the camera still on.

When he woke up later, blurry-eyed and sore-necked, the call had ended, replaced by a single text message blinking on the screen:

> Get some rest, Lee. I’ll be home soon.

Leon couldn’t stop staring at that for a long, long time.

Claire had checked in too yesterday. Saying she would drop by today.
Leon wasn’t used to this. The constant touchpoints, the check-ins, the steady presence of people whom he thought he had cut ties with.
Chris. Claire. Jill. Even Piers, who’d started texting him memes out of nowhere.
He still didn’t know what to do with all of it, but… it was something.

He leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee and staring out the window. The sky was clear blue, the kind of clear that made everything look almost too alive.

Then the knock at the door came. Sharp and insistent, the kind of rhythm Leon already knew belonged to Claire. He hadn’t expected her to show up this early.

When he opened the door, sure enough, there she was, beaming, arms loaded with grocery bags that looked way too heavy for someone her size.

“Move,” she ordered, already stepping past him.

Leon blinked. “You’re supposed to wait until the guy actually invites you in, you know.”

“Please.” She kicked the door shut with her heel. “If I waited for you, I’d be standing out there all day.”

He watched her march into his kitchen and start unloading like she owned the place. Vegetables, pasta, meat, spices. Enough to stock his entire fridge.

“Okay, seriously, did you rob a farmer’s market on the way here?”

Claire shot him a look. “I’m cooking today. And you’re helping. Don’t even think about trying to get out of it.”

“I didn’t ask for—”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for an emotionally unstable friend who lives like a raccoon, but here we are.”

Leon snorted despite himself, leaning against the counter. “You’re bossy.”

“You love it.” She grinned.

And before he knew it, Claire set him to chopping onions duty saying “if I let you handle anything else, we’ll both end up poisoned” while she worked on the stove. The two of them bickered nonstop, trading insults and laughter like second nature.

“God, you’re slow,” she teased, glancing at his uneven onion slices.

“Excuse me for not being a professional chef,” Leon grumbled, waving the knife. “My skill set lies elsewhere. Like saving your ass from zombie outbreaks, remember?”

“Yeah, and yet you can’t even slice an onion straight. Seriously what’s with that?!”

He just threw one of the onion pieces at her. She yelped, dodging, then threw a wooden spoon at his chest in retaliation.

“Childish,” he muttered, but he was grinning now, the kitchen filled with warmth that hadn’t existed in a long time.

When the food was finally—and surprisingly, without a disaster— ready, they sat down to eat at the coffee table. Claire talked animatedly about TerraSave, her coworkers, and even some of the people she was mentoring. Leon mostly listened, but she noticed the way he smiled—small, but real—when she gestured wildly with her fork and almost dropped it into her lap.

At one point, she paused, looking around the apartment. “You know…” she said softly, “this place feels different.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“The last time I was here—” she cut herself off, eyes flicking to him, not wanting to bring back those memories of blood, broken glass, and empty bottles. She tried again. “It just… feels like someone actually lives here now. Like it’s not swallowing you whole anymore.”

Leon stared into his food for a long beat before muttering, “Guess I finally figured out how to use a vacuum.”

Claire smirked. “Yeah, right. No, I mean it.” She leaned in a little, voice gentler. “I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. So he just cleared his throat and changed the subject, and Claire let him.

After dinner, they fell into the easy routine of cleaning up together. Claire hummed as she scrubbed pans, and Leon dried dishes with lazy efficiency. For a while, it felt almost like family.

Then Claire’s phone buzzed on the counter. She dried her hands and picked it up, smiling when she saw the name. “Chris, Hey! Guess where I am right now!” But then her smile faded, replaced by a sharp frown in seconds. “…Wait. What happened?”

Leon froze with a dish in his hands, watching her face tighten.

Claire turned away slightly, listening. Her expression grew darker with every word. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll come to you right now. Just—just sit tight.”

When she hung up, Leon was already braced. “What is it?”

“Chris is back from his mission,” she said quickly. “He got hurt. He says it’s nothing serious but—” she blew out a breath, keys already in hand. “Two cracked ribs, sprained ankle.”

Leon swallowed. “Where is he?”

“BSAA medical wing. I’ll go and—”

“I’m coming with you.”

Her eyes softened, searching his face for a second before she nodded. “…Alright. Let’s go.”


---


The medical wing was too bright, too sterile. Leon trailed behind Claire as she strode through the sliding doors with the kind of determined energy only a sibling could have when they knew something was wrong. He shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets, trying to look casual, but the tension coiled in his chest had other ideas.

Then he saw him.

Chris sat propped on a bed, bandages strapped around his ribs, one leg swallowed in a cast. His face looked pale and drawn under the harsh hospital lights, and even though he tried to straighten when they walked in, the effort sent pain flashing across his features. Even with his broad frame, he suddenly looked… smaller. The sight made Leon’s stomach drop before he could stop it.

“Chris!” Claire’s voice cracked. She rushed forward, eyes wide with alarm. “What the hell happened to you?”

Chris looked at her—then his eyes shifted past her, landing on Leon. For a moment, he just stared, surprise written clear across his face. “Leon?” His voice came out rough, tired, but that flicker of disbelief was unmistakable. “Why…are you here?”

Before Leon could say anything, a doctor came in with a clipboard. “Oh are you here for Captain Redfield?”

“Yes I’m his sister.” Claire answered quickly, voice laced with worry “ How’s he doctor?”

“Captain Redfield sustained two fractured ribs and a fracture in the tibia. He’s stable enough to go home tonight if he insists, but pain management will be important, and under no circumstances should he be moving around without help. Bed rest and limited mobility for the next several days at minimum. Crutches for short distances at most.”

Claire turned on Chris like a storm. “Yeah okay I’ll stay with him and make sure of that.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, then shut it when a grimace twisted across his face. Still, stubbornness flickered in his eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter I can just —”

“No, you can’t,” the doctor interrupted flatly.

Claire folded her arms. “Listen to the man.”

Leon took a step closer, his voice slipping into dry humour to cover the tightness in his throat. “Just listen to your doctor, old man, before you snap something else. You’re not twenty anymore.”

That earned him a faint glare, but there was a twitch at the corner of Chris’s mouth, too. Like he appreciated the jab even if his body didn’t. Leon held his gaze just long enough to silently say: don’t you even dare protest.

“So I’ll give you his prescription, and you're free to take him. The nurses will bring a wheelchair for you shortly. And if he shows any signs of difficulty in breathing, bring him back immediately other wise we’ll see him in two weeks to open the cast.” The doctor finished his explanation, leaving with a polite nod.

Chris shifted again like he wanted to get up from the bed, but Leon laid a steady hand on his shoulder, firm enough to keep him in place. “Don’t even think about it. The doctor says wheelchair, so it’s wheelchair.”

Chris let out a frustrated breath but didn’t fight as Leon helped him get dressed and ready while Claire handled the discharge.

Minutes later, Leon was the one steering the wheelchair down the hall. Chris muttered something under his breath about dignity, and Leon smirked. “Sure. Next time you can carry me, big guy, huh?”

Claire shot him a grateful glance, though Leon wasn’t sure if it was for keeping the mood light or for not showing how rattled he actually was.

The ride back was quiet at first. Claire drove, eyes flicking toward the rearview mirror every other second as if making sure Chris was still breathing. Leon sat beside him in the back, angled just enough that he could keep track of every flinch and shallow inhale.

Chris tried to sit straighter, then hissed through his teeth when the movement pressed on his ribs. Leon’s hand twitched like he might reach over, and then he clenched it against his knee instead.

“So any of you care to tell me why you came together? Did you call him Claire?” Chris finally asked, pointing the elephant in the car.

Claire snorted “Yeah like I had the time to do that! I was over at my stupid friend’s home when my stupid brother called saying he had busted his ribs and ankle.” she finished with a glare that could cut glass.

Leon’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden jab “Hey! What did I do? I’ve been good today haven’t I?” he protested despite himself.

“Yeah okay that’s fair. Chris is the stupid one for today. Congratulations!” Claire said flatly, making both man grin.

“Chris my place or yours?” Claire asked before turning a street.

“Mine if you don’t mind.” Chris said, trying hard not to wince as the car hit a bump on the road.

Claire nodded, and the car was quiet after that until suddenly remembering something Chris broke the silence again. “Claire, what about your TerraSave conference? You’ve been prepping for weeks. Isn’t that in a couple of days?”

“It’s in two days, actually, but I’ll cancel,” she said instantly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chris shook his head, a crease forming between his brows. “No. You shouldn’t have to. That’s important.You’ve worked so hard on that. I’ll figure something else out.”

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not fine. Go. I’ll be fine. Piers can check in on me. Or one of the guys from HQ.”

Leon’s jaw tightened. He stared out the window, fighting the knot of unease in his chest. He knew he should stay quiet, let them handle it. But the image of Chris—hobbling around his apartment alone, exhausted and hurting—scraped against something raw inside him.

He heard himself speak before he even decided. “You don’t need Piers.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Both Claire and Chris turned toward him.

Leon kept his eyes forward, voice low. “…I’ll stay with you. At your place. Easier that way.”

Chris blinked at him, startled. He was caught off guard, like that hadn’t even been an option he considered. Claire’s mouth softened into something close to relief, though she said nothing.

Chris frowned like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “You?!”

Leon tilted his head. “Don’t sound so shocked. I can’t cook, but I know how to read pill bottles, I just got back from another recon mission so I’m officially off duty until next week and I’m used to stubborn idiots who don’t know when to rest.” His voice softened just a fraction. “Besides… I owe you one.”

“You sure?” Chris asked again, voice rough.

Leon risked a glance at him then, letting a faint smirk cover the twist in his chest. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t try to bench press your coffee table with busted ribs. Might as well be me.”

That got a laugh, short, cut off by a pained wince, but genuine all the same. “Didn’t see that coming,” Chris admitted.

Claire exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. “Looks like you’re covered then.”

Chris’s eyes softened in a way Leon wasn’t ready for. He looked like he might argue, but in the end, he just let out a low breath and nodded.

“…Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Leon said, steady.

Leon leaned back against the seat, telling himself it was practical. Just helping out. Nothing more. But when Chris’s body seemed to settle beside him, some of the fight drained out of his posture, Leon felt something inside him unclench too. Like he’d been waiting for this choice all along.


---


Getting Chris out of the car and into the building was exhausting in ways Leon hadn’t expected. The man was all solid muscles and built like a boulder. He was leaning heavier than he wanted to admit, on Leon his jaw tight, and every time Leon had to adjust his grip around him, he couldn’t help hissing in pain. Claire hovered at Chris’s other side, but it was Leon who bore most of the weight.

“Come on don’t look at me like that, Kennedy,” Chris muttered, trying to lighten the mood, catching Claire’s worried glance. “I know you carried heavier loads.”

Leon snorted. “Yeah, but those loads didn’t complain this much.”

That earned him a glare, but the corners of Chris’s mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh. Claire rolled her eyes, but Leon caught the way her shoulders loosened a little, the banter doing more for her nerves than reassurance ever could.

By the time they finally manoeuvred him into the apartment, Leon’s shirt was sticking to his back, and Chris looked like he’d run a marathon.

Being in the place hit Leon in a strange way. He’d been here not long ago, exhausted, way too drunk, shaken, and Chris had been the one steadying him then. Now, the roles were reversed, and Leon wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

As soon as they reached the couch, Chris immediately tried to lower himself onto it, but Leon tugged his arm sharply.
“Bed,” He said flatly.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Bossy.”

“Practical,” Leon shot back, already steering him toward the bedroom.

Chris opened his mouth to argue, but one look at Leon’s expression made him sigh instead. Then, with a reluctant grunt, he let Leon steer him toward the bedroom.

Helping Chris sit, guiding him down onto the mattress, should’ve been simple. But Leon felt every second of it. The heat of Chris’s body through his shirt, the rough catch of breath every time his ribs pulled, the way Chris’s weight sagged for just an instant before he forced himself to straighten. Claire settled him back against the pillows, adjusting them so Chris would be as comfortable as possible.

And then it was done. Chris laying there, pale and breathing hard. Claire went out to bring the pain meds, leaving Leon standing awkwardly at Chris’s bedside, heart thudding like he’d just crossed some invisible line.

This was real now.

When he’d offered in the car, blurting it out before he thought too hard, it seemed easy. The right thing to do. But standing here, in Chris’s bedroom, Leon felt the edges of panic creeping in.

They had rules. No homes. No blurred lines. They didn’t even know what this was, not really. Friends? Partners? Something more tangled than either of them dared to name? And now he was about to be living here, in Chris’s space, for days. Close quarters. No escape.
Could they even handle that?

But then he looked down at Chris, the sweat dampening his temples, the way he tried to keep his breathing even like he didn’t want anyone to notice how much it hurt. Leon thought of the night Chris had shown up for him, no questions asked, no pushing, just there. Even when Leon hadn’t asked, even when he hadn’t deserved it.
The memory cut through his doubts like a blade.
If Chris could do that for him, Leon, sure as hell could manage this.

Claire lingered only long enough to make sure they were settled before she finally let herself leave, trusting Leon to take her place and take care of Chris.
When the door shut behind her, the apartment went quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against Leon’s ribs.

For a moment, the room was still. Chris laid back, jaw tight with pain, and Leon stood there, staring down at him. Something about the sight of Chris pinned to bed by injury, not choice, made Leon’s chest ache in ways he didn’t want to name.

Chris shifted on the bed, eyes already half-lidded with exhaustion. “Didn’t think you’d volunteer for babysitting duty.”

Leon let out a breath, folding his arms. “Yeah, well. Don’t think too hard about it. Just try to sleep.”

Chris’s lips curved faintly. “Yessir,” he muttered, but his eyes slipped shut, the drugs pulling him down.

This was not how Leon pictured the night going. Hell, this was not how he pictured any of this going. But for the first time since stepping inside, Leon felt a strange steadiness settle in him. Whatever the hell they were, whatever the next days held, he wasn’t leaving Chris to deal with this alone.
Not after everything.


---


Leon sat slouched in the chair he’d pulled up to the side of Chris’s bed.
He hadn’t meant to stay. He told himself that every time he glanced at the door, every time his hand brushed against his jacket hanging from the chair. The plan was simple: check in, make sure Chris was settled, then crash on the couch. Keep a boundary. Stick to the rule.

But then Chris shifted under the sheets with a pained groan, and Leon found himself sitting back down. Just another few minutes.
Then minutes turned into hours.

Chris had fallen asleep, though not easily. The steady rhythm of his breathing was broken every so often by a sharp hitch. Ribs protesting the simple act of pulling air. Each time, Leon caught himself holding his own breath, waiting for it to even out again. His fingers tapped absently against his knee, restless, betraying the churn in his head.

He’d offered to stay. Insisted on it, really. But the longer he sat there, the louder the questions pressed in: What was he doing here? What line had he just crossed?

The sheets rustled, and Leon froze. Chris shifted against the pillows, brow furrowed, eyes cracking open just enough to catch him.

“…you’re still here?” His voice was scratchy, thick with sleep, but laced with something Leon couldn’t place. Surprise? Relief?

Leon froze, caught like a kid sneaking in after curfew. “Uh...yeah. I was just...” he gestured vaguely at the door, “...about to head to the couch.”

Chris blinked at him, slow and heavy. His brow furrowed, then softened, and he let out a faint huff that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t tug at his ribs.

“…Such an idiot,” he muttered, shifting with effort to one side of the bed. “Just sleep here instead of hovering, will you?.” His lips twitched faintly.

Leon blinked. The invitation landed heavier than it should’ve.

He opened his mouth, ready to deflect, to joke, to refuse. But the words stuck. Because the truth was, he knew he couldn’t sleep on the couch he knew he’d end up sleeping on this chair instead. And the bed… it wasn’t about the mattress. It was about not leaving.

He let out a slow breath, shoulders sagging. “…fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Chris’s eyes slipped closed again, a faint smile still tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t think you’d care this much, Kennedy.”

Leon hesitated, just a second, before lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. Chris was already half-asleep again, breathing shallow but steady.

Laying there in the dim quiet, Leon stared at Chris, counting the steady rhythm of his breathing until sleep took over.

Chapter 21

Notes:

Hi everyone
I just wanted to drop a quick note to say I’m really sorry for being quiet lately. I’ve been dealing with some health stuff these past couple of weeks and haven’t been doing too great, so writing had to take a bit of a backseat.

The good news is I’m slowly getting back on my feet, and I immediately started writing (though it’s still a somewhat slow process).

I’ve been rereading all your wonderful comments, and they truly made me smile! I’m so sorry for the delay in replying. I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to be able to respond properly.

I can’t thank you all enough for your patience and kindness. Hope you enjoy this chapter 💚💚💚

Chris woke to the smell of toast and eggs.

It was subtle at first. The faint buttery edge of bread crisping, the sharper scent of coffee somewhere close. His first groggy thought was that he’d dreamed it.

But then reality filtered in, piece by piece. His ribs ached like someone had strapped a vice around his chest. His right leg throbbed, stiff and heavy in its brace. The sun was creeping in through the blinds in stripes across the far wall.

And from his kitchen, he could hear the scrape of a pan.

Chris frowned, heart stumbling. That wasn’t a dream.

Leon was here.

The memory of last night came back in slow pieces. Leon pushing the wheelchair, his stubborn silence on the drive, the way he hovered without admitting he was worried. Then the late-night haze: Chris waking to find him still in the chair, head dipped but eyes open, refusing to leave his side. Chris had teased him, ordered him to just get on the damn bed already, and Leon had relented only with a half-hearted grumble.

Chris had thought maybe he imagined it all. But no. Leon Kennedy was in his apartment. He’d stayed. And now he was cooking breakfast for him.

The realization squeezed at Chris’s chest harder than the busted ribs.

He shifted slightly and groaned, the pain sharp enough to steal his breath.

The sound must’ve been carried because a moment later, the door nudged open. Leon stepped in, hair still damp, wearing one of Chris’s old t-shirts that hung loose on him. Chris had to visibly sallow his feelings cause he always had a thing for Leon wearing his clothes.

For a heartbeat, they just stared.

“You’re up,” Leon said finally, voice neutral, almost cautious.

“Yeah.” Chris cleared his throat. “Smelled the food.”

Leon’s mouth ticked. “Guess that’s proof I didn’t burn it.”

Chris braced his hands against the mattress, instinct tugging him upright. His ribs screamed in protest, and he let out a low, strangled sound.

“Hey—don’t.” Leon crossed the room to him quickly. “Just...don’t move like that, okay?”

“I can sit up,” Chris muttered through gritted teeth, even though his body was clearly disagreeing.

Leon ignored him, steady hands adjusting the pillows with brisk efficiency. His touch was firm but careful as he guided Chris back, then eased him forward just enough to reposition the brace on his leg.

Chris exhaled slowly once Leon finally stepped back, the ache settling into something manageable again.

“There. Better?” Leon asked.

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

Leon gave a small nod.“Okay, wait a sec” he said before leaving the room.
When he came back, he was balancing two plates, steam curling up from scrambled eggs and toast, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. He offered one to Chris. “Breakfast in bed. Don’t get used to it.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, accepting the plate. “You made this?”

Leon shot him a flat look. “What? I know I can’t cook, but I, too, can manage a freaking egg and toast.”

“Didn’t say anything,” Chris said, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite the pain. “Just never pictured you cooking in my kitchen like this.”

“Yeah, well, keep that picture to yourself.” Leon stabbed a piece of egg with unnecessary force.

Chris let out a rough laugh that ended in a wince, clutching his ribs. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

Leon smirked, just a little. “Guess I’ll try to be boring then.”

They ate quietly for a few moments. The eggs weren’t bad. Better than Chris expected. He found himself watching Leon more than his food. The way he sat a little too straight, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to relax, the way his eyes flicked up every so often to check on Chris.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Chris said finally, softer now.

Leon shrugged, not looking at him. “You can’t exactly cook for yourself right now.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Chris set his fork down, leaning back against the pillows. “You didn’t have to stay. Or make breakfast. Or… any of it. I know this isn’t easy... being here.”

Leon’s jaw tightened, his fork hovering mid-air. For a second, Chris thought he’d shut down the way he always did when things got too close. But then Leon exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“Don’t read too much into it,” Leon said, tone deliberately light. “You’re a terrible patient. Someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

Chris smiled faintly. “Yeah? And you just volunteered like that?”

Leon’s eyes finally met his, and for a flicker of a moment, there was no sarcasm, no mask, just the raw truth Chris had been missing for so long.

“Guess I did,” Leon said quietly, before taking another bite of toast like the conversation hadn’t just shifted the ground beneath them.

Chris let the silence stretch for a while, Leon was the first to break it. “You eat slow, or are you just stalling so I’ll end up spoon feeding you?”

Chris huffed, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Well now that’s an idea.”

“Yeah well not gonna happen, Redfield.” Leon shot back.

Chris chuckled softly, and for a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost easy.
The moment was interrupted by the buzz of Chris’s phone on the nightstand. Leon grabbed it before Chris could even shift, his expression flicking over the caller ID.

“It’s Claire,” Leon said, handing it to him.

Chris swiped to answer, angling the phone so the screen showed both of them. Claire’s face filled the frame, hair pulled up, eyes sharp and immediately scanning.

“You look like hell, but definitely better than last night.” she said bluntly.

“Good morning to you too,” Chris replied dryly.

Her gaze then flicked to Leon, still sitting on the edge of Chris’s bed. A slow grin spread across her face. “Ohhh. Now, it makes sense. Kennedy Nightingale is on duty.”

Leon groaned. “Don’t start.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself. “Nightingale?”

“Yeah,” Claire said, ignoring Leon’s glare. “Yeah you know always swooping in to patch people up, brood by their bedside, make breakfast in the morning. All that stuff.”

Leon muttered something under his breath that Chris pretended not to catch.

Claire leaned closer to the camera, conspiratorial. “So? How’s he as a nurse?”

Chris chuckled. “Bossy. Won’t let me move an inch.”

“That’s because you’d break yourself worse if you tried,” Leon cut in, exasperated.

Claire smirked knowingly. “Sounds like he’s doing his job then.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose like he regretted every decision that led him here.

Claire propped her chin in her hand, eyes glittering with mischief. “So, Leon… how many shifts are you pulling? Full-time live-in caretaker? Should I start sending you hazard pay?”

Leon shot her a look through the screen. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course I am. My brother, Captain Stubborn himself, stuck in bed, and Leon S.Kennedy voluntarily babysitting him? You think I’m gonna not enjoy this?”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t give her ammo, Leon. She’ll run with it forever.”

Claire leaned closer to the camera, whispering loudly enough that Chris heard every word: “Don’t let him fool you. He’s secretly loving this.”

Chris arched a brow. “Am I?”

Leon muttered, “Unbelievable,” under his breath, ears turning just faintly pink.

Chris caught it, and something in his chest loosened. Seeing Leon flustered by teasing instead of closed off or bitter was… a almost a gift.

“Alright,” Leon said, standing up like he’d had enough. “Breakfast’s over. Phone call’s over. You...” he pointed at Claire’s face on the screen“are a menace.”

“Love you too, Leon,” she shot back, all sunshine. Then her tone softened as she looked at Chris. “Seriously though, you okay?”

Chris’s smile turned genuine, the weight of her concern not lost on him. “Yeah. Banged up, but… okay. Thanks to your Nightingale here.”

Leon groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face. Claire laughed so hard that she nearly dropped her phone.

“Alright, I’m hanging up.” Leon grumbled, jabbing at the screen to end the call.

The room was quiet again. Chris glanced at Leon, unable to stop the small smile tugging at his lips. “Nightingale, huh?”

“Don’t.” Leon’s voice was flat, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Chris just leaned back against the pillows, amusement warming his chest.

The day stretched on quietly. Leon busied himself with the little things like gathering Chris’s meds, setting a bottle of water within reach, and even reorganizing the clutter on the nightstand like it personally offended him.

By midday, Leon decided Chris had been cooped up long enough. So he helped him to the couch where he could read or see something comfortably while the two of them traded jabs that never quite hid how much they both needed this.

By the time evening settled in, Chris had dozed on and off again, lulled by the rhythm of Leon moving around his house. Dishes clinking, the low hum of the TV he never bothered turning off. Dinner had been simple, soup Leon swore wasn’t canned (Chris wasn’t convinced), and now the two of them ended up back in the bedroom.

Leon sat cross-legged on top of the covers, half-distracted by a book he’d found on Chris’s shelf. Chris lay propped up with pillows, fighting the weight of his eyelids.

“You’re staying again?” Chris asked, voice rough.

Leon didn’t look up. “Obviously. Someone has to keep you from trying to play action hero in your sleep.”

Chris huffed a laugh, and the quiet settled again, easier this time. Chris watched him, the way Leon’s head tilted slightly as he read, the crease between his brows softening when he was absorbed in the words. At some point, Leon shifted closer, leaning against the headboard beside him. It seemed unthinking, unconscious, like the space between them just didn’t matter anymore.

Chris let his eyes drift shut, comforted by the warmth of another body nearby, by the small sounds of pages turning. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this: the simple act of not being alone.

Sleep came heavy. Too heavy. Somewhere in the night, Chris shifted wrong, rolling onto his side, ribs catching under his own weight. Pain sliced through his chest, sharp and merciless.

He gasped awake, hand clutching his side, breath torn ragged from his lungs. The sound must’ve jolted Leon too because he was wide awake and alert in a second beside him.

“Chris?” His voice was tight, urgent. “What happened? What is it?”

Chris couldn’t answer at first, teeth gritted against the pain. Leon’s hand hovered near his shoulder, not quite touching, like he was afraid of making it worse.

Finally, Chris forced the words out. “Just...moved wrong. Ribs.” He tried to laugh it off, but the sound broke into a groan.

Leon was already reaching for the pills. He pressed the pills into Chris’s palm and held out the water like it was the most urgent mission of his life.

“Here,” Leon said softly, waiting until Chris swallowed them down. Then he eased the glass from his hand and set it aside, attention snapping back to Chris immediately.

“Still bad?”

Chris nodded, jaw tight, and before he could brace himself for more words, Leon’s hand settled on his arm. Just above the elbow, a careful weight, thumb moving in small, almost absent circles. Like he could rub the pain away.

And Leon’s face… God. Chris had seen him in fights, bleeding, cornered, still calculating a dozen ways out. But this look was different. His eyes were dark with worry, raw, unguarded.

Chris let out a shaky exhale. “I’ll be okay,” he whispered.

“You better be,” Leon muttered, voice rougher than he probably meant it to be. His hand kept moving, slow against Chris’s skin.

Chris wanted to say something. That it wasn’t just the ribs that ached that the sight of Leon at his bedside, refusing to let go, made his chest hurt in a whole different way. And it was terrifying.

But the words stuck in his throat, tangled with the lingering pain and the haze of medication. So instead, he let his head fall back against the pillow, eyes never leaving Leon’s.

And for a moment, the agony dulled, replaced by the undeniable truth pressing against his ribs as surely as the pain:
I love him.
I love this man, so god damn much.

Chapter 22

Notes:

hey everyone👋
So, as you might know, I haven’t been feeling my best lately, and writing’s been a bit of a struggle. it took me a while to get back into the rhythm, but honestly? all your kind words and comments helped so much. More than I can say 🥺 they really made me want to pick this chapter up again and keep going.

and I’m so glad I did, because I had the best time writing this one! it’s honestly my favourite chapter of this story. I’ve been dying to get to this part forever 😭 so I really, really hope you’ll love it as much as I do 💚💚💚

It had been almost two weeks, though Leon wasn’t sure when “staying a few days” had turned into… this. A rhythm. A life.

Mornings started with him fumbling around Chris’s kitchen, trying to make breakfast before the man even tried getting out of bed. He wasn’t great at it—he burned the toast more often than not—but Chris always ate it with that same faint smile, like the effort mattered more than the result. Evenings were usually takeout or Leon’s half-disastrous attempts at dinner, guided by Chris’s voice from the couch: “Turn down the heat, Kennedy. You’re not firing b.o.ws in the field. It’s just a chicken.”

They’d already had visitors. Claire dropped by with groceries and Piers with a pasta dish that honestly tasted as bad as Leon’s. But it was Jill who got under Leon’s skin because she noticed too much. She’d caught Leon refilling Chris’s water glass and adjusting his leg without thinking, watched the way Leon hovered nearby whenever Chris shifted wrong, and she’d smiled like she knew something Leon didn’t want to admit.

And yet the strangest thing wasn’t the visitors or the cooking. It was how quickly the nights had stopped feeling strange. Falling asleep beside Chris had been unthinkable once, a line he swore he wouldn’t cross again. Now, it was just… how the day ended. The two of them breathing in the dark, not touching, but close enough that Leon would wake sometimes to the faint sound of Chris’s steady breathing and a ghost of his touch and feel that impossible tightness in his chest because...
Terrifying. That’s what it was. Too easy. Too normal.

Sure, the first few days back here had been rough, every corner of the apartment brimming with memories he’d tried hard to bury. But somehow, being around Chris—cooking for him, keeping things in order, trading quiet remarks over coffee—had made it easier. Maybe it was because they weren’t dancing around each other so awkwardly anymore. Maybe because Chris had this strange calm about him lately. Or maybe, though Leon would never admit it, it was just nice being with him again. And that was scary.

He’d even caught himself worrying the other day when work called him in for a meeting he couldn’t push off— Hunnigan had already did her best getting him this vacation sort of time keeping him out of missions— Chris was doing better. Sure, still stiff, still favouring his side, but walking, moving, talking like himself. He didn’t need someone hovering anymore. Leon told himself that ten times on the drive to HQ. But it didn’t matter. He spent the whole meeting restless, leg bouncing under the table, jaw tight.

The relief that crashed through him when he came back to the apartment found Chris stretched out on the couch, reading like nothing had happened, had been almost dizzying. And that was the problem.
Because somewhere along the line, coming back home didn’t mean his apartment anymore. It meant here. With Chris. And that was the most terrifying thing in the world for Leon S.Kennedy.


---


The day had been quiet, almost too quiet.
Chris had claimed his usual spot on the couch, leg stretched out on a pillow, flipping through channels with that restless half-focus of someone who couldn’t sit still but had to.

Leon had been cleaning since morning. Not because Chris asked—he’d told him more than once to sit down already—but because Leon knew how he was. Chris liked his place spotless, everything in its right place, and since he couldn’t exactly do that himself right now, Leon had taken it upon himself. Also, it kept his hands busy and his thoughts in check.

He was halfway through stacking some spare blankets when he noticed a cardboard box tucked behind the coats in the closet. Chris’s handwriting was scrawled across the top—LEON’S STUFF–.

For a second, he didn’t move.
Then he crouched down, pulled it out, and brushed the dust from the lid.

Inside were pieces of another life: an old sweatshirt, a silly cat mug he used to love, his old knife holster, a spare key, a couple of pictures from their kitchen counter back then and so many other things.

He froze. Chris had kept all of this?
His chest tightened painfully. He’d assumed Chris would’ve thrown these things out long ago. He would’ve understood if he had. But no, Chris had kept them, tucked them away like they’d still meant something.

He dug deeper, and that’s when he saw it.
Some folders, stamped with a fading DSO header. Some of his old reports he must’ve left here. He started browsing through them, and then he saw a name on of them.

Operation Castor – Veronica Strain Variant Containment.

Leon’s stomach dropped.

The words alone were enough to make the room tilt. He remembered every second of that mission. Every echo of that hell. The fire, the blood, the smell of rot. Someone had been trying to breed a new form of the Veronica virus, and for Leon, it had been like stepping back into Javier’s nightmare again. Only this time, Krauser wasn’t there in the flesh, just in his head. His ghost barking orders, judging every mistake, laughing when Leon froze, torturing him every step he took.

He’d barely made it back from that one in one piece. He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t spoken. And when Chris had tried to reach him—God, that fight—it had been ugly. Loud. Messy. One of their worst fights ever, which ultimately led to the breakup.

Now, seeing the report again, the paper felt like it burned his hands.

His breathing hitched before he even realized it. The walls felt too close, the air too thin. He tried to force a breath in, out, even, steady, but it didn’t work. His hands started shaking.

From the couch, Chris’s voice cut through the quiet. “Leon?”

Leon blinked, trying to answer, but nothing came out. He stared at the folder like it might explode.

“Leon, everything okay?” Chris’s voice came again, more alert now, that soft edge of concern already sharpening.

Still no answer but a whimper. Leon couldn’t...his throat had locked, and his chest wouldn’t move right.

There was a creak of the couch, a shuffle like Chris trying to stand. “Okay, that’s it. I’m coming there.”

That broke through.
Leon startled, stumbling to his feet, words tumbling out before his brain could catch up. “Don’t you dare move!”

He half-ran out of the room, catching Chris just as he’d pushed himself halfway upright. Chris froze, startled by the sharpness in Leon’s voice, but then he saw him.

Leon’s face was pale, eyes wide, unfocused. He was shaking, fingers curling as if he could hold himself together by force.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Chris said quickly, lowering himself back down to keep from spooking him further. “Talk to me.”

Leon shook his head. “N–nothing. I’m fine. Just—just give me a second.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Leon tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a breathless, broken sound. His body wasn’t listening to him anymore. His chest constricted tighter, vision flickering at the edges. Not now, not here, he thought desperately. He was supposed to be taking care of Chris, not falling apart again.

“Leon.” Chris’s tone shifted, low, steady, the one he used in the field. “Hey. Look at me.”

Leon couldn’t, at first. His breathing hitched again, rapid, shallow.

“Look at me, Lee,” Chris said gently but firm this time. “You’re safe. You’re right here. Breathe with me, yeah?”

The old nickname cut through the noise, grounding him just enough. Leon’s gaze flicked up, unfocused but there, finding Chris’s eyes. He slowly reached out, grabbing Leon’s hand and lowering him to the couch.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, Lee. In—” Chris inhaled slowly, deliberately. “—and out. That’s it. Just copy me. You don’t have to do anything else.”

Leon’s chest burned. His first attempt was a ragged choke, but Chris didn’t flinch, didn’t let go. He just kept breathing, steady, and patient, until finally, finally Leon’s lungs caught the rhythm.

“Good,” Chris murmured. “Right here with me. Just breathe.”

Leon dragged in another shaky breath, forcing his shoulders back like he could muscle through with sheer willpower.

Leon swallowed hard, jaw locking. “ ’M fine...Srry.” The words scraped out hoarse, empty, and they both knew it. His hands were still trembling so badly.

Chris’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to be.”

That undid something in Leon, like a knot pulled too tight, finally slipping loose. His chest hitched, breath stuttering again, but this time, he didn’t look away. He hated how raw it felt, hated being seen like this, but Chris wasn’t flinching. Wasn’t looking at him with pity. Just quiet, steady patience.

“Leon,” Chris murmured, leaning a little closer, that grounding palm still warm on his arm. “Stay with me. I’m here. Just me. Right here.”

Leon’s vision blurred again, but not with the memories this time.

For a moment, Leon fought it. Dug his heels in against the tide of panic, against the sting of tears threatening to break through. But Chris’s voice, Chris’s presence, the way his hand stayed firm and unyielding, it anchored him in a way nothing else had in years.

Leon exhaled raggedly, shoulders collapsing forward. He didn’t sob, didn’t let it go that far, but the fight drained out of him in one breath. He stayed slumped there, head bowed, letting Chris’s steady hand on his arm, and the quiet rhythm of his breathing carry him back from the edge.

Chris didn’t press. Didn’t demand. Just stayed there, solid and close, like he had all the time in the world.

Finally, when Leon’s breathing evened and his trembling slowed, Chris shifted just enough to catch his eyes. “There you go. That’s better.”


---


Leon sat there stiff for a long while, shame clawing up his throat until it burned.
He’d steadied his breathing, but the memory of the panic still lingered. The way he’d squeezed his eyes shut, hearing that voices echo in his skull. He hated it. Hated that Chris had seen him like that again. Hated that it was Chris rubbing circles on his hand to ground him when Leon was supposed to be the one taking care of him.

Leon let the silence stretch, waiting for the line he expected. The questions he feared: What happened? What did you see? Why did that make you lose it?
Shame burned inside him hot and bitter. He was supposed to be the one who kept things together, not the one unravelling at Chris’s apartment.

The silence stretched long enough to hurt. Finally, he blurted, low and bitter, “...Aren’t you gonna say anything? Ask me what it was? Why the hell I just fell apart out of blue?”

Chris shook his head. “No.”

Leon blinked at him, stunned. “No? Why not?”

Chris’s gaze was steady, heavy enough that Leon almost had to look away. “Because I’m done prying into your past. I’m done trying to force you to open up on my terms. I’m done telling you to integrate pieces of yourself to make it easier for me to understand.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but there was a finality to it, the weight of a vow.

Leon frowned faintly, confused. “So you just don’t care anymore?”

Chris squeezed his hand, thumb brushing across his knuckles. “No. Leon, listen to me. I care more than I know how to say. But your past, your secrets, the things you can’t bring yourself to tell me, they don’t change anything. They don’t change who you are now. They don’t change the man I know. They don’t change the man I—” He broke off, chest tightening, but he forced the words out anyway, unflinching. “The man I love.”

Leon’s breath caught like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened, sharp blue flickering with disbelief. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

Chris pressed on, voice rough but steady. “I mean it. Nothing, nothing, has ever changed that. Our fights didn’t do it. You pushing me away didn’t do it. Even breaking up couldn’t touch it. Because I love you, Leon. That’s not something I can switch off. Not something I want to switch off. And no matter what’s hiding in your past, no matter what scars or nightmares or ghosts you think would make me look at you differently—they won’t. None of it will ever make me stop loving you.”

Leon was trembling now, trying to swallow it down. His chest felt too tight, his eyes stinging. He shook his head faintly, voice breaking. “Chris… you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.” Chris leaned in, closing the distance, keeping his forehead almost against Leon’s so he couldn’t retreat. His voice gentled but carried a force that left no room for doubt. “I know exactly what I’m saying. And I need you to hear it, Leon. I don’t want to fix you. I don’t want to interrogate you. I just want to be here with you. To love you the way you are, not the way I think you should be.”

Leon’s throat closed up. His whole body wanted to fold in on itself, but Chris’s hand was still wrapped firmly around his, grounding him.

Chris took a breath. “From now on, we do this your way. If you never tell me another word about your nightmares or your past, that’s fine. If you wake up screaming and can’t tell me why, that’s fine. I don’t care about explanations. I care about being there. About holding you through it. About reminding you you’re not alone.”

His voice roughened, cracking at the edges. “So I’m asking for two things. Just two. First, never hurt yourself again. Promise me that. Second, let me stay by your side. That’s it. That’s all I want. You don’t have to share every shadow. Just let me fight them with you. Let me love you, Leon. Can you do that? Can you let me love you, no matter what?”

Leon’s eyes burned as the words crashed over him. He’d waited so long to hear them again that he almost didn’t believe it, almost convinced himself this was a dream he’d wake from alone in his bed. His mouth opened, but all that came out was a rasp, barely audible.

Leon’s throat worked, voice breaking as he finally forced the words out. “…I don’t deserve this.”

Chris’s grip on his hand tightened, steady as a heartbeat. “You deserve it and so much more.”

Leon shook his head, eyes burning. “Do you…” His voice cracked, small and raw. “…Do you really still love me?”

Chris didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

The word hit Leon harder than any blow. He stared at Chris, at the unwavering certainty in those brown eyes, and his mind reeled. Images flickered, disjointed, and sharp. Their years together, the laughter and the fights, the brutal silence of all the months apart, and then the fragile steps of trying again. Awkward almost-dates, phone calls that stretched late into the night, texts that always came when he needed them most. Months of halting, fragile rebuilding, each step forward matched by two steps back. And through it all, Chris had stayed.

The voices rose then, louder, harsher. His father’s venom, Jack Krauser’s sneer, ghosts from every corner of his past: You’re not worthy. You’re not lovable. This won’t last. You’ll ruin him. He’ll throw you away, just like the rest.

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they roared louder, circling, tearing. His chest heaved, his whole body tense, waiting for Chris to see what they all saw, that Leon was too broken, too poisoned to ever be enough.

And then… Chris’s hand was still on his. Warm. Solid. Real. His voice still echoing: Always.

Leon forced his eyes open. Chris was right there, close enough to touch, close enough that Leon could see every emotion written on his face; worry, patience, hope, love. So much love it almost hurt to look at.

Leon’s breath stuttered. He thought about everything, every moment he had almost run, every moment Chris had pulled him back with or without demanding more than Leon could give. He thought about how much it scared him to want this, to need this, and how much it terrified him more to lose it again.

The voices screamed that it would all end, that he would ruin it. But Chris’s eyes said something else. Said stay. Said believe. Said always.

And before he could second-guess it, before fear could steal it from him, Leon leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect. It was desperate and trembling, his lips crashing into Chris’s like he was falling, like this was his only anchor. But it was real. It was everything.

Chris’s breath caught, stunned for a heartbeat, then his hand cupped the back of Leon’s neck, pulling him closer, answering the kiss with all the steadiness Leon didn’t have.

For once, Leon didn’t hear the voices. Only the quiet, undeniable truth of Chris’s mouth against his.

Chapter 23

Notes:

Guess who’s back with another chapter way sooner than expected?? 👀✨

This chapter is definitely on the quieter, softer side. Nothing dramatic, just Leon and Chris existing in a gentle space together because, honestly, they deserved a breather!💚💚

The kiss wasn’t really planned. Leon just leaned in before his mind had a chance to stop him before the voices could drag him back down. Just the heat of Chris’s hand steady on his, the weight of his words still reverberating in his chest, and then the warmth of his lips.

Chris froze, only for a second, then kissed him back, slow and deliberate. Careful, almost reverent, like he was afraid if he pressed too hard Leon might slip through his fingers.

When they finally parted, Leon’s breath was shaky, eyes darting anywhere but Chris’s face. His chest ached from more than just panic now. It was the warmth, the shame, the fear, the disbelief. “I… I shouldn’t have—”

Chris shook his head, thumb brushing over Leon’s knuckles, silencing him without words. The room seemed to shrink around them, the TV still flickering nonsense in the background, but neither of them heard it.
Chris’s voice came low, steady, unshaken. “Don’t run from this. Not from me. Not again.”

Leon blinked at him, eyes glassy. He wanted to argue, to take it back, to laugh it off, but the look on Chris’s face—so open, so certain—stole the words right out of his throat.

Instead, Leon leaned into him, tentative at first, until his forehead rested against Chris’s shoulder. He felt the steady thump of Chris’s heartbeat against his ear, solid and grounding, silencing every other sound. Chris let out a slow breath and held him there, neither pushing nor asking for more. Just there.

For a while, they didn’t move, just breathing the same air. Leon’s forehead against Chris’s shoulder, Chris’s arm firm and steady around him. It wasn’t fireworks or cinematic passion. It was quieter, rawer.

Chris’s ribs ached, but he didn’t care. Not when Leon was finally here, leaning into him instead of away. He let his hand trail up and down Leon’s back, barely-there touches meant only to soothe. Each slow stroke seemed to ease the tension winding tight in Leon’s muscles.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to do this,” Leon finally muttered, voice muffled against Chris’s shirt.

“You don’t have to know,” Chris said gently. “Just… let me be here.”

That silence stretched again. Eventually, Leon shifted, curling a little closer, until he was half against Chris’s chest, half sprawled on the couch. But then Chris shifted, a sharp hiss slipping through his teeth.

“Chris?” Leon pulled back at once, searching his face.

Chris gave him a faint smile that didn’t hide the pain. “Guess busted ribs don’t make the best mattress.”

Leon huffed, though the worry in his eyes softened the sound. “Idiot! You should’ve said something earlier.” He slid carefully out of Chris’s grasp, then crouched by his side, lowering his voice. “Come on. Bed.”

Chris wanted to argue, but Leon’s hand was already slipping under his arm, bracing him with practiced gentleness.
They shuffled down the short hall together. Once in the bedroom, Leon guided him to the mattress, steadying him as Chris sat, then lowering him inch by inch until he was lying back against the pillows.

Leon fussed over the blanket, over the angle of his leg, over the pillow beneath his head, until Chris finally caught his hand. “Leon.”

Leon stilled, eyes darting up.

“I’m good. Really.” Chris squeezed his hand, rough thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Just… come here.”

Leon swallowed, nodded once, then circled to the other side of the bed. He hesitated for only a moment before climbing in and lying gingerly beside him.

The mattress dipped, the warmth of another body spreading close. Chris turned his head enough to watch Leon in the dark. Without thinking, Chris reached out, brushing his fingers against Leon’s wrist until Leon shifted closer until their hands fit together in the space between them.
Neither spoke again. The quiet was enough.

Chris let his eyes fall shut, ribs aching, but his chest was strangely light. Leon stayed awake longer, listening to Chris’s breathing even out, watching him fall asleep peacefully. Only then did Leon let himself relax, sliding a little closer, not realizing just how close until he was completely pressed to Chris’s body.

He didn’t move away.


---


Leon woke slowly, the kind of slow where you’re caught between dream and reality, not sure which way the balance would tip. The sunlight was soft, muted through the curtains, and there was a steady rhythm beside him, Chris’s breathing, close, real.

For a moment, Leon lay perfectly still, afraid to move. Because if he did, he might prove to himself that it hadn’t happened. The kiss, the words, the feeling of finally, finally having that warmth inside him again. Maybe it was just another cruel dream. His chest tightened, panic threatening to stir.

Then Chris shifted, a small movement, a sigh, the rustle of sheets. He turned carefully, mindful of his ribs, and when his eyes blinked open, they landed straight on Leon. A slow, bright smile curved his mouth, one that cut through every dark thought.

“Hey, you,” Chris said, voice still rough with sleep.

Leon swallowed hard. “…Hey.”

Silence settled for a few seconds, heavy with everything unsaid. Leon’s heart hammered, his throat dry. Finally, he forced himself to speak. “About…about last night…”

Chris cut in before he could unravel. His smile didn’t waver, his voice low and certain. “I meant every word. I could say it all over again if you want.”

Leon’s face heated instantly, eyes dropping away. “That’s…that’s not necessary,” he muttered, though his pulse was drumming so hard it was almost painful.

Chris chuckled softly, a laugh that sounded like sunlight itself. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He leaned in enough to press a soft kiss to Leon’s lips. A promise, unhurried, unshakable.
When he drew back, Chris’s eyes softened even more. “I missed you,” he said gently, words carrying every ache of the months apart.

Leon’s breath shuddered out of him, shoulders trembling with how badly the words hit, how much they filled a hole he thought would never close. He looked at Chris like he was seeing him for the first time, like he still couldn’t quite believe he was here. “I missed you too.”

Leon shifted again, settling more comfortably against the mattress, but he didn’t pull away. For a few moments, they just breathed together, Then Chris’s voice, softer now: “I don’t want to screw this up again.”

Leon’s head tilted, his eyes finding Chris’s. There was no teasing smile now, just honesty written across every line of his face.

“You won’t,” Leon said, though the words felt strange on his tongue, untested. He swallowed. “If anyone’s gonna mess this up, it’ll be me.”

Chris frowned, shaking his head. “Stop. Don’t do that. Don’t make yourself the problem.”

Leon let out a humourless laugh. “What else would you call it? I’m the one who—” He stopped, biting back the rest. The words drank too much, pushed you away, cut myself open when no one was watching hovered in his throat like broken glass.

Chris reached out, squeezing his hand again, firm, steady. “What I’d call it? Life. Struggle. Pain, you didn’t ask for but got anyway. Surviving what most people wouldn’t be able to even imagine. And none of that makes you less worthy of being loved.”

Leon’s chest tightened, too full, like his body couldn’t contain the weight of it. He ducked his gaze, staring at their joined hands. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy.” Chris’s voice dropped, rough around the edges. “It’s never been easy with us. But it’s worth it.”

For a long time, Leon stayed quiet, chewing on that word. Worth. No one but Chris had ever said that before. Not about him.

He finally exhaled, shaky. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to wake up one day and realize I’m not worth all the trouble.”

Chris’s grip tightened. “Leon.” His tone was steady, unyielding. “I already know the trouble. And I still choose you. Every time.”

Leon’s eyes stung. He squeezed them shut, shaking his head slightly. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

Chris smiled faintly, leaning just close enough that Leon felt his breath against his temple. “Not a chance.”

Leon sniffed, trying to swallow the thickness in his throat, but Chris must’ve noticed anyway. His thumb brushed over the back of Leon’s hand, patient, steady.

“God, you’re impossible,” Leon muttered finally, voice still rough.

Chris arched a brow. “Impossible? That’s what you’re going with after I pour my heart out?” He said dramatically.

Leon smirked faintly, eyes still wet. “Yeah. Who wakes up this cheerful in the morning with broken ribs?”

Chris chuckled. “You know that’s not the problem. You’re just really bad at accepting feelings or compliments.”

Leon rolled his eyes, but before he could come up with a retort, Chris leaned closer — as close as his ribs allowed — and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

Leon froze for half a beat, then turned his head, catching Chris’s lips fully this time. The kiss was soft, a little clumsy with the awkward angles, but Leon didn’t care. His chest burned warm as he lingered there, savouring the taste of Chris’s mouth. Something he’d missed more than he’d admitted.

When they broke apart, Chris was grinning, a little breathless. “See? Gorgeous and delicious.”

Leon huffed out a laugh, pink creeping into his cheeks. “You’re an idiot.”

“And yet,” Chris teased, voice low, “you’re still here.”

Leon answered with another kiss, quicker this time, before flopping back against the pillow with a muttered, “Guess I’m an idiot too!”

Chris laughed again, softer this time, his eyes warm as he shifted carefully to rest his head against Leon’s shoulder. “Yeah we both are.”


---


The smell of coffee and toasted bread filled the apartment. Leon stood in the kitchen, barefoot, sleeves pushed to his elbows as he flipped eggs with unhurried precision.

Chris sat on the couch, his cast propped on the coffee table, the remote idle in his hand. He wasn’t watching whatever morning show was on; his eyes had long since strayed to Leon. There was something steady, almost reverent, in the way he looked at him, like he still couldn’t quite believe Leon was here after last night.

Leon caught him staring again and huffed, trying not to smile. “You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start charging for the view.”

Chris grinned. “Worth every penny.”

Leon rolled his eyes, but his ears went pink, and his mouth twitched into a soft smile. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Chris said softly, “but you’re smiling, so I’m okay with that.”

Leon pretended not to hear that and focused very intently on plating the food. Chris was about to continue, but then the doorbell rang.

Leon looked over, spatula in hand. “You expecting someone?”

Chris frowned. “Jill, maybe. She said she’d stop by when she got back in town.”

Leon wiped his hands on a towel before heading for the door. “Guess she’s keeping her word.” When he opened it, Jill stood there, leather jacket, sunglasses pushed up in her shortcut hair, and that smirk that said she was in a good mood.

“Well,” she said, giving Leon a quick once-over, “look who’s actually vertical before noon. Morning, Kennedy.”

Leon rolled his eyes with a grin. “Morning, Valentine. You’re early.”

“Blame jet lag.” She stepped inside without waiting for permission, her eyes already darting toward the living room. “There he is. The man, the myth, the busted-up legend himself.”

Chris chuckled from the couch, waving her in. “Nice to see you too, Jill.”

She crossed the room, leaned down, and gave him a careful hug, mindful of his ribs. “So how’s everything? It’s been so boring without you around.”

“The leg cast would be gone this week but the ribs are still a bitch,” Chris said with a crooked grin.

“Mm. Getting too old for near-death dramatics,” she said, straightening up and eyeing his cast.

“Yeah well. Still could’ve been worse,” he admitted. “Leon’s been keeping me in line.”

At that, she grinned knowingly. Leon was already bringing over a tray, three mugs of coffee, plates balanced with practiced ease. “Yeah keeping you in line is a full-time job.” she teased.

Leon snorted softly, setting everything down on the coffee table. “Tell me about it.”

They talked for a bit while eating. Nothing important, just small things: a funny detail from Jill’s last assignment, how Claire had been texting her nonstop for updates. It felt easy, almost domestic. Chris leaned back, listening to Jill talk, his hand resting lightly against Leon’s knee and rubbing it without even realizing it.

Jill noticed.

She also noticed the way Leon didn’t flinch, didn’t move away and just let it stay there like it belonged.

For 20 minutes she said nothing, just watched them with that half-hidden smile. Chris’s eyes lingering too long, Leon’s laugh coming easier than she’d seen in months. There was something soft in the air. Something she hadn’t seen between them since before their world went sideways.

Finally, Jill leaned back and said, far too casually, “Wow. If I knew all it would take was a couple of busted ribs, I would have done it myself months ago.”

Chris blinked. “What?”
Leon looked up, confused.

Jill grinned, tilting her head. “Come on, you guys. Don’t make me spell it out. I’m talking about this.” She gestured between them with her mug. “You two...back together. Like really back together.”

Chris choked on his coffee mid-sip, coughing into his sleeve. “What— no—”

Leon started coughing too, nearly dropping his plate. “We— we’re not— I mean— how do you—”

Jill was already laughing, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Oh, please! Leon, you’ve been avoiding eye contact with me since I walked in like you’re under investigation, and Redfield over there can’t keep his googly, love-sick eyes or his hands off you.”

Leon frowned, ready to argue and then looked down.
Chris’s hand was still on his knee.

He swore quietly. “...Shit.”

Jill grinned wider. “Busted.”

Chris groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “You really don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Not my first rodeo, partner.” She leaned back with a smug sip of coffee. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe. Though I’m pretty sure Claire’s gonna figure it out before lunch.”

Leon exhaled, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Great. Exactly what I needed.”

Jill smirked. “Relax. It’s not a bad thing, you know. It’s… good to see you both like this again.”

That last part came softer, genuine enough that Leon paused. Jill’s teasing grin eased into something warmer. “You look lighter, both of you. Like maybe you finally stopped punishing yourselves.”

Neither of them said anything for a second, the quiet turning thick. Then Leon cleared his throat, muttering, “I’m gonna need more coffee for this conversation.”

Chris chuckled beside him. “Yeah. Make it two.”

Jill laughed again, shaking her head. “Still a mess, both of you.”

Leon gave her a small, crooked smile. “Wouldn’t be us otherwise.”

And somehow, it didn’t feel like a joke.

Chapter 24

Notes:

Hey guys 👋

So I kept getting distracted writing this because I was possessed by the next chapter, and my brain refused to behave 🤦‍♀️ But I finally did it! And since the next chapter is already like 90% done, I’ll have another update for you VERY soon 😁

Also… today marks one whole year since I started posting this fic. I genuinely can’t believe it’s been that long! Thanks to everyone who’s read, commented, kudosed, or just quietly followed along. It means more than I can say 💚

Somehow, over three weeks had slipped by since Leon had told Chris he’d take care of him, and two since everything between them had quietly, almost naturally, fallen back into something that felt close to what they once had and yet so different.

Chris was doing much better now. The cast was gone, his ribs healing well enough that he could move without cursing every breath. He still had bad days when a wrong move caught him off guard, but compared to how things had been, this was freedom.

And Leon… Leon was still there. Still cooking, still cleaning, still making sure Chris took his meds on time even though Chris swore he didn’t need reminding.

It had all turned strangely domestic, in the best kind of way. Their days fell into a rhythm: Leon made breakfast while Chris read the news. They spent afternoons watching whatever old movies Leon picked out and just being together.

If anyone had told Chris a month ago that life could feel like this again, he wouldn’t have believed them. He didn’t even remember when he’d last been this… happy.

And Leon seemed happy, too. Even if he didn’t admit it out loud, he laughed more now, that quiet, genuine kind of laugh that had always been rare. There was still a shadow in his eyes sometimes, something that flickered there when he thought Chris wasn’t watching, but most days, it stayed away.

They’d been living in this bubble. These past two weeks especially. And it had been... God, it had been amazing. But neither of them had talked about what happened when the bubble burst.

The only hitch along the way was the day hurricane Claire came.

It happened exactly the next day after Jill’s visit. She didn’t even say hello. Her voice blasted through the phone. “You two are back together? Are you fucking kidding me? When were you going to tell me huh? On your wedding day?”

Chris had tried to explain, but Claire was already saying “I’m booking a flight. I’ll be there the next morning and we’ll settle this in person!” And she hadn’t been kidding.

The next day she’d shown up on Chris’s doorstep with her suitcase still in hand, eyes blazing like she was ready to fight both of them. But the second she saw Leon, her expression had flickered. Anger melting into something softer and then she was pulling them both into a hug so tight Chris swore he felt one of his ribs almost go out again.

“I can’t believe this!” she’d said between laughing and crying. “My two idiots finally figured it out! It’s about damn time!” Of course, that moment of emotional joy didn’t last long.

Ten minutes later, she was pacing the living room, hands on her hips. “You couldn’t call me? Not even a text? Do you have any idea how much I’ve been worrying about you two?!” She’d jabbed a finger at both of them. “What am I, chopped liver? I had to hear it from Jill for fuck sake!”

Leon had winced. “To be fair, Jill kind of ambushed us and—”

“I don’t care!” Claire interrupted, her eyes shooting daggers. “You should’ve called me the minute, no the second this happened!”

Then, because it was Claire, she’d cycled back straight into emotional territory, sniffing as she wiped her eyes. “I’m just so happy for you guys. You really deserve this. Both of you.”

Finally, she’d straightened, composing herself with visible effort, and pointed at both of them with narrow eyes. “If either of you screw this up again, I swear to God, I’ll personally make sure you both get bitten by a zombie on your next mission.”

Leon had burst out laughing at that, the sound bright and genuine, and even Chris couldn’t help grinning.

When she finally left—after another round of tearful hugs and threats of course—things had settled into their peaceful rhythm again.

But the world was slowly creeping back in. Leon’s was due back tomorrow and not just another simple short recon mission. This was real. He would be really back to the field.

The thought had been sitting in Chris’s chest for days now, heavy and unavoidable. He didn’t want to bring it up and ruin what they had, but it was getting harder to ignore. Because they still hadn’t talked about what came next, about them.

Were they going to take it slow, figure it out as they went? Was Leon planning to go back to his place or were they living together now? Chris didn’t know. And that uncertainty scared him more than any B.O.W. ever had.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to reach out and make Leon promise that this wasn’t temporary, that he wasn’t just going to slip away again once duty called. But every time he opened his mouth, Leon would smile at him, soft and heartbreakingly happy, and the words would die on his tongue.

Tomorrow Leon would go. And they still hadn’t talked.


---


Evening had settled over the apartment. Leon was packing with the kind of focus people have when they’re trying very hard not to think.

Chris sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. It was a sight he’d lived through a hundred times: Leon moving around the apartment, tucking gear into place, checking stuff, whispering to himself without noticing he was doing it.

Three weeks of having him here, in this space, waking up together and so much more, had rewired something in Chris’s brain. The apartment felt like their apartment again. But tomorrow Leon was leaving.

Chris’s fingers curled around the edge of the mattress. He didn’t even notice until Leon paused and glanced up.

“You okay?” Leon asked, searching his face.

“Yeah.” A beat. “And no.”

Leon arched a brow. “No?”

Chris swallowed. “Just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” Leon muttered a little teasingly just enough to soften the air.

But Chris didn’t smile back this time. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and the heaviness in his posture must have registered because Leon’s movement slowed.

“Lee… when you come back from this mission, are you… coming back here?”

Leon stilled. He closed the bag slowly, palms resting on the surface. “I figured we’d… talk about that later.”

“I know,” Chris said quietly. “But later is tomorrow. And I don’t want you leaving with both of us pretending we don’t care what happens after.”

Leon exhaled through his nose, moving to sit beside him on the bed. There was no distance. Their knees brushed, shoulders touching.

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” Leon said after a long moment. “You’ve been recovering, and everything’s been… soft. Easy. I didn’t want to mess with that by asking where you wanted me.”

Chris huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Where I want you? Leon, that’s the easiest damn question in the world!”

Leon’s mouth twitched, embarrassed, pleased, trying not to show either.

Chris turned, facing him fully. “But I don’t want to assume you’d just move back in like we hit resume, and nothing changed. Because things did change. We changed.”

“Yeah, we did.” Leon agreed softly. The silence stretched for a beat.

Chris pressed on, needing to address it. “I’m... I’m not even sure if we’re starting over or picking back up. I don’t know what feels right to you.”

Leon thought about that for a long moment. He rubbed a thumb along Chris’s knuckles, a gesture so familiar it made Chris’s chest ache.

“I… I’m not sure either. I don’t want to pretend we’re rewriting everything,” Leon said finally. “I don’t want to pretend that past didn’t happen.”

Chris nodded, pulse picking up, waiting.

“But,” Leon continued, voice dropping lower, “I also don’t want to assume I get the same drawer, same key, same bed just because we were here before.”

Chris’s throat tightened. “So what does that mean?”

Leon lifted his eyes, meeting Chris’s gaze directly. “It means… that we’re starting again.”

Chris’s breath caught.

“We’re starting again,” Leon repeated, voice steadier now. “But not from scratch. That time counts. All of our fights, even the breakup, it all count.”

The words hit Chris square in the chest, something warm and sharp pulling behind his ribs. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear that. That acknowledgement that what they’d had before still mattered, still counted even after everything. Not erasing everything. Just… continuing from where they were now, with all the scars and growth and hard-won understanding between them. (Like doing a new game plus!:D)

Leon shifted closer, fingers intertwining his. “As for where I’m going after the mission…” His voice soft but sure. “I want to come back to you. If you want me to.”

Chris let out a breath that felt like it had been stuck for days. He didn’t answer with words. He leaned forward and kissed him, slow and certain.

Leon’s posture eased immediately, the tension melting from his shoulders like someone had turned off a switch.

“So that’s a yes,” Leon whispered, a small grin tugging at his lip.

Chris squeezed his hand, unable to hide his smile anymore. “That’s a hell yes.”

Leon laughed under his breath. That warm, rare smile Chris had always been weak for. “Okay,” Leon murmured. “Then… I’ll come back to you.”

“Good, I like the sound of that.” Chris whispered.

Leon’s fingers slid up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Me too.”

Chris turned his head slightly, catching Leon’s lips in a kiss that was soft and unhurried. A promise.

“I’m still going to fuck up sometimes,” Leon said quietly.

“I know. Me too”

“And when I’m out there, when it gets bad...” Leon’s jaw tensed. “It’s going to mess me up.”

Chris’s grip tightened on his hand. “Then you call me. Text me. Let me be there. You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

Leon’s eyes closed briefly, like the words hurt and healed at the same time. “Okay.”

“Promise me,” Chris pressed gently. “Promise me you’ll reach out when it gets dark. That you won’t hurt yourself.”

“I promise,” Leon said, and this time his voice didn’t waver.

Chris pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around him. Leon leaned in, tucking himself against Chris, like he belonged there.

“We’re going to make this work,” Chris murmured into his hair. “It won’t be easy. There’ll be long deployments and shitty communication and nights when we’re both going crazy but we’ll make it work.”

Leon let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into Chris’s shirt. “Yeah...Yeah we’ll make it work.”


---


The alarm went off far too soon and far too loud.

Leon silenced it quickly. Chris stirred beside him, arm tightening around his waist. “S’time?” He said voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah.” Leon exhaled.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Leon forced himself to slide out of bed, the cool air so unpleasant after the warmth of Chris’s body.

He showered quickly, efficiently, and falling into the familiar pre-mission routine. When he emerged, Chris was already up, moving around the kitchen.

“Chris, you shouldn’t have—” Leon started.

“I’m making you breakfast, Deal with it.” Chris interrupted, not looking up from the eggs.

Leon’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t argue. They ate in comfortable silence, though Leon noticed Chris barely touched his food. He understood. His own stomach was twisted too tight to really appreciate the meal, but he forced himself to eat anyway.

Finally, there was nothing left to do. He stood in the entryway, boots laced, jacket on. Chris crossed the distance between them. His hand went to Leon’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “You check in when you can, You stay safe. You come home.” he said firmly.

“Yes, sir,” Leon said, managing a small smile.

Chris kissed him then, deep and gentle, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.

“Go,” Chris said, even though it clearly cost him. “Before I try to handcuff you to the bed.”

Leon huffed a laugh. “Kinky! But how about we save that for after I get back?”

Chris couldn’t help grinning. “I’m holding you to that Kennedy!”

One more kiss, then Leon forced himself to step back, to grab his bag, to turn toward the door. “See you soon, Redfield,” Leon said softly.

“See you soon, Kennedy.” And then Leon was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Chris standing alone in the sudden quiet. And Chris couldn’t help but to think of the last time Leon left this apartment.

But this time was different. This time, Leon had promised to come back to him.

And Chris believed him.

Chapter 25

Notes:

I said I’d be updating again soon, and here I am!

WARNINGS: This chapter contains self-harm scenes. Please read with care.

On a completely different (and very important) note…
How are we all coping with RE9 Leon? Because I’m definitely not okay, and I have a feeling I’m not alone 👀
He looked exhausted, haunted, and devastatingly HOT, and I was absolutely not emotionally prepared for that!!

Anyway, enjoy the chapter and feel free to scream with me in the comments or on my Tumblr!💚

The mission had gone better than expected.

Not well. No mission ever really went well in this line of work but better than Leon had thought. He’d expected the voices to start the second he was alone, expected the shadows to close in, expected to spend every night making his way through panic and darkness. Instead, he’d found himself reaching for his phone in the quiet moments. Reading Chris’s texts. Replaying his words in his head.

“ Nothing will ever make me stop loving you.”

Leon had checked in like he’d promised. Just brief texts whenever he could. It wasn’t much, but enough to let Chris know he was alive. And Chris had always responded. Sometimes, just a simple thanks and wishing he’d be back soon. Other times longer messages about his day, about Claire calling to lecture him about something ridiculous, about Jill stealing his lunch from the break room fridge. Normal things. Human things. Things that reminded Leon he had something, someone to come back to.

The nightmares still came when he closed his eyes. The memories of Raccoon City, of Spain, of every mission and every person that had carved pieces out of him. But they hadn’t consumed him the way they used to. Instead of spiralling, he’d forced himself to breathe through it. To remember Chris’s voice, the warmth of his touch, the softness of those rough lip.
And somehow, impossibly, it had worked.

And yeah, he came home with bruises and cuts. A couple on his ribs, one on his shoulder, a nasty one blooming on his hip. Standard after mission beat up. Nothing worth lying about. Nothing worth hiding. All in all, good.

Chris’s eyes had narrowed when he saw the bruises anyway, but he didn’t fuss, didn’t scold him for not staying at med bay he just helped Leon sit down, first aid kit in hand and said “Glad you’re home.”

Chris was back at work now, too. Desk duty, sure, but back. Leon had returned to find him already settled into his routine. Early mornings, long meetings, never ending paper works, the familiar pattern of desk duty.

They hadn’t officially moved in together. Not really. Leon’s apartment still existed, still had most of his things, still technically counted as his residence. But somehow, over the past weeks, he’d spent only a few nights there. Just enough to grab clothes, sort through some stuff, and make sure the place was clean. Every time, he’d end up right back at Chris’s.

He wasn’t ready to call it “moving back,” and Chris wasn’t asking. But the toothbrush next to Chris’s, the shampoo he’d left in the shower, the extra jacket hanging in Chris’s entryway… those things were saying it for them.

It wasn’t perfect. God, it wasn’t perfect. There were still days when the darkness crept in, when Leon woke up at three in the morning convinced this was all temporary, that he was going to ruin it, that he should leave before Chris realized what a mistake this was. He’d have the urge to grab his stuff and just disappear.

But those days were different now. Instead of letting the thoughts spiral, instead of reaching for pills or a blade or the bottle, Leon would wake Chris up. Awkwardly. Reluctantly. Hating himself for it but doing it nevertheless. And Chris would pull him close, half-asleep yet holding him until the panic passed.

Sometimes they’d talk. Leon forcing words out around the tightness in his throat, “I don’t know why you put up with me.” Or “I’m going to fuck this up.” Or just “I’m scared.”
And Chris would listen. Wouldn’t minimize it, wouldn’t try to fix it. He’d just say, “I know. But I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

It wasn’t much. They had so much unresolved between them. There were so many things they hadn’t talked about, so many wounds that hadn’t healed. But they were trying. Both of them.

Leon could see the effort it took sometimes. Could see Chris bite back frustration when Leon got too detached, too sharp-edged, too locked in his own head. Could see how badly Chris wanted to step in sometimes, to fix things, to shove Leon into a safer lane like he used to. And then visibly pull himself back. Giving Leon space. Letting him move at his own pace. Every day, he saw how much effort Chris was putting into not repeating the mistakes they’d made before.

And it was more than Leon had ever thought he’d get or deserved.

And most days, it was enough.


---


Leon didn’t remember much after his latest mission was done.

He knew he’d landed. He knew he’d walked through the DSO HQ with his duffel slung over his shoulder. He knew he’d talked to people, but it was as it all have been reflexes pulled from muscle memory.

This one had been really bad.
Messier. Darker. The kind that left stains Leon couldn’t wash off.

They’d lost someone. A young operative, mid-twenties, fresh-faced and eager. Leon hadn’t even known his name until the briefing. Hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him before everything went sideways.

But he’d watched him die. Watched the light go out of his eyes while Leon tried—and failed—to stop the bleeding.

By the time the evac came, Leon’s hands had been soaked in someone else’s blood, and all he could think was,“Not again. Not another one.”

It was always the same. Someone young, someone hopeful, someone he should’ve protected, someone who looked at him expecting a miracle. And once again, he had failed.

The debrief after had been brutal. Clinical. Just the facts, Agent Kennedy. What happened? When? Why didn’t you—?

Leon had answered on autopilot, his voice flat, mechanical. Giving them exactly what they needed while his mind screamed in the background.

Your fault. You should’ve been faster. Should’ve seen it coming. Another body on your conscience.

By the time he’d been cleared to leave, it was late afternoon. Hunnigan had tried to talk to him, but he was already running away, saying that Chris was waiting for him.

And it wasn’t totally a lie. Chris had texted earlier, saying, “I can pick you up. Just say the word.”

But Leon had declined. Chris had back-to-back meetings and briefings all day. Leon knew his schedule, had memorized it without meaning. And besides, Leon needed to stop by his apartment anyway. Pick up some stuff. Do normal, human tasks that might convince his brain that he was still functional. So he’d texted back. “No I’m good. I’ll see you tonight.”

Chris had replied immediately. “Okay. See you soon.”

It should’ve been enough. Should’ve been the anchor he needed.

Instead, the drive to his apartment felt like being underwater. Every mile heavier than the last. The city blurred past him, too loud, too bright, too much.

By the time he parked outside his building, his hands were shaking.

Just go inside. Grab what you need. Then go home. Chris is going to be back soon.

Leon forced himself out of the car, up the stairs, through the door. The apartment was half dark and quiet. Everything was exactly as he’d left it the last time. He didn’t bother turning the lights on.

Leon dropped his bag by the door and moved mechanically through the apartment. Sorting mail. Emptying his gears. Refilling his go-bag with clean clothes. And overall, trying to do anything so he wouldn’t think.

Except he couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t stop seeing it.

The kid’s face. The blood. The way his hand had gone limp in Leon’s.

Your fault. You let him die. Just like all the others. He died because of you!

Leon’s breath hitched. His hands stilled on the fabric he’d been folding.

Stop! Just stop. You’re going to see Chris tonight. He’s waiting. Just get through this.

But the thoughts, the voices wouldn’t stop. They never did. They just kept coming, louder, sharper, until they were all he could hear.

How many more people are going to die because of you?

You’re so useless. You should’ve died instead of that kid

How long until Chris realizes you’re not worth the effort?

How long until you ruin him, too?

Your fault... it’s all your fault

Leon’s vision blurred. His chest tightened. He needed... he needed to breathe, to ground himself, to just stop. He needed to...

His feet carried him to the bathroom before he realized he was moving.

He couldn’t remember when he had picked up the knife. The one Krauser had given him years ago. Black handle, perfectly balanced, sharp enough to cut through anything.

Leon’s hand tightened around the handle before his brain caught up.

No. Don’t. You promised!
a little part of his brain begged.

But the voices were so loud now, drowning out everything else. The weight of the mission, the blood on his hands, the certainty that he was going to destroy everything good in his life because that’s what he did. That’s all he ever did.

Just once. Just enough to quiet it. Just enough to feel something other than this.

The blade bit into his forearm before he could stop himself. Once. Twice. Again. Sharp, bright pain cutting through the numbness.

Blood welled up, hot and red, spilling over his skin.

And for one terrible, perfect moment, everything went quiet. His breathing started to slow down, and the tightness in his chest loosened as he watched the red liquid spill.

Then, the reality crashed back in.

Leon stared at his arm, at the blood dripping onto the bathroom tile, at the knife still clutched in his shaking hand.

What... What the fuck have I done?

The panic hit like a freight train. His breathing turning into short, desperate gasps. His hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped the knife.

I promised. I promised Chris. I swore I wouldn’t do this again. I swore— Oh god!

The blood kept coming, more than he’d expected. It stung, sharp and insistent, cutting through the fog in his mind.

He’s going to find out. He’s going to know. He’s going to leave me.

Chris was going to be disappointed. Hurt. Angry. Chris, who had done everything right these past weeks, had been patient, gentle, and careful, and Leon had—

Leon had fallen right back into an old pattern the second things got too heavy.

His knees buckled. He hit the floor hard, back against the tub, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. The knife clattered to the tile beside him.

His first instinct was what it had always been: hide it. Wash everything off, cover it up, pretend it never happened. Build the lie so tightly that no one could pry it open.

But his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and the blood kept spreading, slick, and warm across the floor.

But Chris... Oh god, Chris... Chris Who’d asked him to promise. Who’d held him through panic attacks and nightmares without asking for explanations. Who’d said, “I love you,” like he meant it. Like Leon was worth it. If Chris finds out...

But Leon already knew. Hiding this, lying, pretending it didn’t happen, that was part of what had destroyed them the first time. That’s what always destroyed everything.

The pattern was so clear now, written in the blood on his bathroom floor.

He could hide it. Clean up, bandage it, make sure Chris never knew. Keep the secret locked tight until it rotted them from the inside out.

Or he could—

Leon’s hand trembled as he took out his phone. He almost dropped it twice. Blood smeared across the screen as he unlocked it, scrolling to Chris’s name.

His finger hovered over the call button.

He’s in meetings. He’s busy. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need you falling apart again. He—

But if he didn’t call now, he never would. And that path led back to the same place it always did. To him alone, bleeding, convinced he deserved it.

Leon pressed the call.

It rang once. Twice. His heart hammered so hard he thought it might crack his ribs.

Then Chris picked up.

“Leon?” Chris’s voice, warm and concerned, asking “Are you okay? ”without asking

Leon opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat was locked up, his chest too tight.

Say it. Just fucking say it.

“Chris...” His voice cracked, barely audible. “I... I...”

Say it!

The sob came before the words, ripping out of him like something torn.

“Help me.”

Notes:

My Tumblr: @lesseraphins75