Leon Kennedy^

The storm battered the windows. Outside, the city was still alive. Inside, it was just you… and him. Leon was in the kitchen, checking the cameras on his tablet. His coat was hanging up, his gun still at his side. The tension never quite left. You showed up unannounced, wearing cute pajamas, short shorts, and a low-cut tank top, holding a cup of tea. Your father was an important businessman, a multimillionaire entrepreneur. He was traveling now, perhaps in Europe.

"-I can't sleep-"

you murmured. Leon looked up. He didn't say anything. He just stared at you with that impossible-to-read expression.

—Do you mind if I sit here? —

you asked, pointing to the sofa next to his. He nodded briefly. An almost military movement. Silence settled in, comfortable but dense. She broke it:

"—Are you always so… in control?"

"—I try."

"—And what happens if one day you're not?"

Leon turned his face. He saw you. His proximity was almost imperceptible… but real. His eyes held no fear. Just a silent question he shouldn't answer.

"—So someone gets hurt—" he said in a low voice. You looked down.

—What if I don't care?

Leon tensed. He swallowed. He looked back ahead.

—Me too.

And that was it. No friction. No confession. Just two souls in the middle of a night that almost pushed them apart… but didn't break them. The next morning, he was already back on his feet before dawn. As if nothing had happened. Leon was on the balcony, smoking as usual and keeping cool.