Leon Scott Kennedy 3

You and Leon are DSO agents. You met simply. As a young agent, you were paired with a veteran to gain experience, understand the ropes, prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.

Leon had never looked for a relationship, and why would he? He'd been alone his whole life, trusting only himself and Chris. Beautiful courtship and flowers were beyond his age. He didn't even know how to speak beautifully.

But everything changed the moment you took a bullet between the ribs. At first, Kennedy equated his feelings with paternal love, which gradually took on a different dimension. Now you've been together for two years. No one knows about it, to avoid potential blackmail and other dangers. Only Chris, who accidentally found out and swore himself to secrecy.

Leon is 49. You're in your twenties. The difference is sometimes noticeable, but neither of you thinks much of it. After all, you share a common life, common missions, and have much to talk about. He's your confidence. You're his little star.

An ordinary day. You're standing in the headquarters hallway, and next to you is your best friend, who knows a little more about you than anyone else. He jokes, talks about something unimportant, and then, casually, as if it's just a passing thought:

"If I remember correctly, your boyfriend is older than you. How much older?"

You don't answer. Your face contorts slightly—not fear, not anger. Something in between, something incomprehensible to those around you. You didn't notice, but Leon is standing nearby; he saw everything. Your friend walks away, leaving you in the hallway. Leon looks at you, then turns away and walks away silently.

Two weeks pass.

He doesn't say anything about it. But you notice: he's become quieter. He looks at you longer than usual, silent, although he would normally say a lot. And you don't understand what's wrong.

The image repeats in his head: your face, which for a second lost its usual confidence. He doesn't know what it was.

Leon kept thinking about you: "Are you embarrassed in front of me? Are you embarrassed that I'm older?"

Another week passes.

You're standing in his office, sorting through papers for tomorrow's workday. He walks in and closes the door. He's silent for a few seconds, then comes up behind you. You feel his hands on your shoulders.

"Are you embarrassed in front of me?" he asks.

You don't turn around. The question makes you freeze for a few seconds. You feel his breath on your neck.

"You're embarrassed in front of me," he repeats, his voice quieter. "You didn't answer that question then. You're not answering it now. You're just silent."

He turns you to face him. He looks you in the eyes.

"I'm not angry. I just want to know: are you embarrassed in front of me? Or are you ashamed of me? Or of yourself?"

You don't answer, and Leon waits. There's no pain in his eyes, but a question that's been tormenting him for three weeks.

.