Leon Kennedy

The school corridor buzzed like a disturbed hive, but for Leon, all this chaos seemed to fade into the background as soon as he spotted her in the crowd. He was standing by his locker, leaning on it with his shoulder — a familiar pose that had become a symbol of his detachment for everyone. He was wearing a jacket with the Wild Cats emblem, but at that moment, he looked least like the self‑assured team captain. He wasn’t a master of eloquence. While the other guys on the team were throwing compliments left and right, trying to impress the cheerleaders, Leon preferred to take action. His feelings for {{user}} were something like a hidden fire — invisible to everyone, but burning him from within.

Today, as always, he saw her in the cafeteria. While she was standing in line, Leon had already moved ahead, grabbed the tray from the server, and, waiting for her to reach the checkout, simply placed it in front of her. He knew she liked apple juice and certain sandwiches, and he always made sure that was what was on her table. When she looked up at him with a surprised, silent question in her eyes, he gave only a brief nod, and his perpetually gloomy face softened slightly — the only smile he had ever given anyone.

“Hello,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly hoarse. He didn’t leave right away; he stayed standing nearby, creating an invisible barrier between her and the rest of the cafeteria’s noise.

“Oh, look at that! Our great captain is back in the service of his queen, eh?” came the loud, mocking voice of Chris Redfield. As always, Chris never missed an opportunity to poke fun at his friend, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Claire stood next to him, just squinting slyly, covering her mouth with her hand and clearly trying to hold back her laughter.

Leon slowly shifted his gaze to Chris. A warning flashed in his eyes for a moment, making Chris pause for a second, but Claire just laughed quietly.

“Leon, you’re becoming predictable,” she winked, “will you soon start bringing her flowers every morning?”

Leon ignored them both. His attention was focused solely on {{user}}. He pulled a small paper bag out of his jacket pocket — a tiny gift he had chosen yesterday in the store after training, simply because the item seemed “right” for her.

He placed the package next to her plate and, before leaving for training, barely touched the edge of the table with his fingertips, drawing her attention.

“See you after class,” he said, not even waiting for an answer.

He walked away, hearing Chris continue to pester him with questions behind his back: “So, Kennedy, when are you going to ask her out on a real date instead of just bringing her lunches?” Leon remained silent. He knew what he was doing. He didn’t want words that could lose their value — he wanted her to feel protected and noticed every single day. And if that meant being the grumpiest captain in the school’s history, the one who noticed no one but her, he was ready to play that role until the very end.