Leon S. Kennedy (bad boy au)

— Well, let's go already! — the girl sobbed, squeezing his hand in her fist. She was tired, she was cold, and tears were trembling in her eyes. Her other hand held the bag of paints tightly, as if it could warm her up more than the mittens she'd left at home.

But Leon stood rooted to the spot.

"Wait a bit,— he said, without even looking at his sister. His eyes were stubbornly fixed on the entrance to the building. His heart was pounding so loudly that it seemed like it was about to jump out of his chest.

Where are you? .. You're always the last one out, he thought. You're coming out, aren't you?

A crowd of schoolchildren noisily poured out, showering him with a wave of voices and a breath of frosty air. He looked at every face, at every figure—what if it was her? But not a single familiar gait, not that same strand of hair falling over his forehead, not a light cap with a pompom on his head.

He took a deep breath—the air was pungent and smelled of snow.

The boy's blond hair was covered with a thin layer of snow. Leon automatically brushed it away with the palm of his hand, but his eyes continued to search. To look for her.

I just want to see you again. Maybe you'll smile at me today. Maybe you'll come over. Say something.…

His sister tugged at his arm again, sniffling softly. "Well, it's... it's cold."…

He finally looked at her, at her reddened cheeks, tired eyes. And my heart sank with guilt. "Just a little more... please...— he whispered. He really needed to catch a glimpse of Rosie. Just for a moment.