Leon Kennedy

The hallway is empty when Leon catches sight of you locking your apartment door. For a moment, he simply watches. The distance between the two of you isn't large, but it feels larger than it should. Larger than it used to. His jaw tightens.

Ever since you decided the two of you needed to "stop," you've become an expert at avoiding him. Taking different routes. Ending conversations early. Pretending the silence hurts less than everything else.

Leon steps away from his door. Slowly. Deliberately.

"You're doing it again." His voice breaks through the quiet hallway.

Those blue eyes settle on you immediately.

"You see me and suddenly you've got somewhere else to be." He lets out a humorless laugh.

Not angry. Worse. Hurt.

His gaze drops briefly before returning to your face. "I don't get it."

A pause.

"You tell me this has to end."

Another step closer.

"Then you look at me like that." His expression softens despite himself.

Dangerously soft. Like he's already lost this argument before it started.

"You really gonna spend the rest of your life pretending none of this happened?" Leon folds his arms, trying—and failing—to look unaffected.

"You know what kills me?" His smile appears for a second. Small. Crooked.

Gone just as quickly.

"I think you're miserable."

The hallway suddenly feels much smaller. Much quieter.

"And I think you know it." Leon studies your face like he's searching for permission to keep hoping.

"Tell me to leave."

His voice lowers. "If that's really what you want."

He already knows you won't answer immediately. That's the problem. Because every hesitation makes him believe he still has a chance.

The annual tenant barbecue is never anything extravagant.

A few folding tables covered with paper cloths. Cheap fairy lights strung across the courtyard. Children running between lawn chairs while neighbors argue over whose burgers are burning.

Someone insists on bringing a karaoke machine every year, and someone else always drinks enough to think they're good at it.

Your husband moves comfortably through the crowd, greeting tenants with practiced smiles.

As the owner of the building, everyone knows him. Everyone likes him. Leon is no exception. Or at least, that's what it looks like.

He's standing near the cooler with a beer in hand, laughing politely at a joke he barely hears. Every few minutes, his eyes drift across the courtyard until they find you. Then they linger. You've barely spoken since ending whatever existed between the two of you.

Just polite nods. Brief glances. Enough distance to convince everyone nothing had ever happened.

It should've been easier this way.

Instead, every smile you offer another tenant, every quiet conversation with your husband, twists something inside Leon's chest.

By the time the sun disappears behind the buildings, he's had more to drink than he'd planned. Not enough to lose control. Just enough to stop pretending he doesn't care.

You slip away from the crowd for a moment, ducking into the building's small community kitchen to grab another tray of cups. The music outside muffles behind the closed door, leaving only the hum of the refrigerator and the buzz of fluorescent lights.

You don't notice Leon until the door clicks shut behind him. He doesn't speak immediately. For a long moment, he simply looks at you.

"You really know how to pretend," he says quietly. His voice is steady, but there's hurt beneath it. "I've been watching you smile all night."

A bitter laugh escapes him. "You smiled at everyone except me." He steps closer, stopping only when there's barely any space left between you.

"I keep telling myself I'm done chasing you." Another small shake of his head. "And then I see him put his hand on your back..."

His jaw tightens. "...and I remember you're going home with him."

For a second, neither of you moves. The music outside grows louder as someone opens another door somewhere down the hall. Leon searches your face, as if looking for one last reason to walk away.

Instead, he reaches up, gently cups your face, and kisses you. Briefly. Desperately. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

"I don't care if someone walks in," he whispers, his breathing uneven. "I've spent weeks pretending you don't matter. I'm tired of pretending."

The storm arrives with almost no warning. One moment the courtyard is full of neighbors carrying groceries and hurrying toward the entrance.

The next, rain crashes against the building in thick sheets, thunder rolling so loudly the windows tremble in their frames. The power doesn't survive long. Lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then darkness.

Emergency lighting bleeds into the hallways, painting everything in dull shades of red. Somewhere upstairs, a baby begins crying. A frustrated voice echoes from the stairwell. Another tenant calls out because the elevator has stopped between floors.

Your husband barely has time to think. As the owner of the building, every problem becomes his responsibility. He disappears almost immediately, moving from apartment to apartment, reassuring anxious tenants while calling maintenance and the electric company between conversations.

Before leaving, he asks one simple favor. The emergency supplies are kept in the basement storage room. Leon knows where. The request is innocent enough. Just two people grabbing flashlights while the building waits for the power to return.

Neither of you expects the swollen metal door to slam shut the second it closes behind you. Leon tries the handle. Once. Then harder. The lock refuses to budge.

A quiet curse slips under his breath before he leans his forehead against the cold steel. "...Well." He lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. "I guess the universe has a pretty sick sense of humor."

Outside, the storm swallows every sound. No signal. No voices. Just the constant rhythm of rain hammering against concrete somewhere overhead.

For the first several minutes, the two of you throw yourselves into solving the problem. The door doesn't move. Neither do the rusted hinges.

Eventually, even Leon gives up. He slides down the wall until he's sitting on the floor, flashlight resting across his knees.

For the first time in weeks, there isn't anywhere else either of you can go. No hallway to escape through. No apartment door to disappear behind. Just silence.

Another crack of thunder rattles the shelves lining the room. Leon glances toward the ceiling before shaking his head with a crooked smile. "...I've had worse dates."

The joke hangs awkwardly in the air for exactly one second. Then, despite everything, a quiet laugh slips free. It isn't much. Just enough to make him blink.

"...There you are." The words leave him almost absentmindedly. "I was starting to think I'd forgotten what that sounded like."

The room feels a little less suffocating after that. The silence changes. Not uncomfortable anymore. Just... familiar.

Time stretches strangely underground. Long enough for conversation to stop feeling forced. Long enough for the storm outside to become background noise instead of the center of attention.

Leon rubs the back of his neck, staring at the dim flashlight beam instead of you. "I hate storms." The admission comes unexpectedly. "When I was a kid, every bad memory seemed to happen while it was raining."

A quiet laugh follows. "Guess your brain never really lets go of stuff like that." He falls silent again.

The kind of silence that isn't asking to be filled. Only shared.

Another rumble shakes the building overhead. This one louder. Boxes shift on old shelves. Instinct takes over before either of you thinks about it.

The distance between you disappears. Leon freezes. His eyes search yours for only a second. Not assuming. Not demanding. Just... hoping.

His hand finds yours almost absentmindedly, fingers brushing together as another burst of thunder echoes through the room.

A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. "So this is how I win." He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh. "Locked in a storage closet." He shakes his head. "Didn't exactly picture it like this."

The smile fades. What replaces it is quieter. More honest. "I've missed you."

Nothing else. No speeches. No promises. No asking you to choose.

He simply closes the small distance between you, giving you every chance to stop him before his lips meet yours.

Outside, the storm continues to rage. Inside, for one fleeting moment, the rest of the world feels impossibly far away.

Wedding receptions always seem to last longer than anyone expects.

Hours disappear between speeches, champagne toasts and one dance after another, until the ballroom begins to blur into a sea of warm lights and familiar faces.

The happy couple is somewhere in the middle of it all. Your husband is too. As the owner of the apartment building, he'd spent half the evening shaking hands with tenants and catching up with old acquaintances, leaving you alone often enough that someone was always eager to refill your champagne glass.

By the fourth...

Even you had stopped keeping count. Leon noticed long before anyone else did. Not because you were making a scene. Quite the opposite.

You'd grown quieter. Laughing a little longer than usual. Holding onto the edge of a table for balance when you thought nobody was looking. Your husband never saw it. He was too busy congratulating the groom.

Leon did. Of course he did.

He'd spent months memorizing the smallest changes in your expression. The slight flush creeping across your cheeks. The way your smile softened when you were tired. The tiny crease between your brows whenever the room became too loud.

Without thinking, he crossed the ballroom. Not close enough to attract attention. Just enough to quietly guide you away before anyone else noticed.

The cool evening air outside was a welcome change from the crowded reception hall. The music became muffled behind the closed doors. Strings of lights swayed gently overhead while the garden sat almost empty, save for a few forgotten chairs scattered across the lawn.

Leon waited until you settled onto a nearby bench before finally exhaling. "...Four glasses." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I knew the third one was a bad idea."

He crouched in front of you, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face almost absentmindedly before catching himself and letting his hand fall away.

"If your husband saw you like this..." He laughed softly. "...he'd probably blame the bartender."

His smile faded. "Not me."

For a while, neither of you spoke. The distant sound of laughter drifted through the garden. Leon looked back toward the reception hall.

"They're going to come looking eventually." He knew that. You knew that.

Still...

He didn't move. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, close enough that if you lost your balance, he'd catch you before you ever reached the ground.

He let out a quiet breath. "...You know..." A bittersweet smile crossed his face. "I hate that my favorite version of us is always the one nobody else gets to see."

The beach is supposed to be an escape. For once, you aren't thinking about the apartment building. The awkward encounters in the hallways. The conversations that end too quickly because both of you are pretending there is nothing left to say.

Your friends insisted on the trip. A small beach outside the city. Nothing luxurious. Just warm sand, cheap sunglasses, music playing from someone's old radio, and a day where nobody has to worry about anything.

At least, that was the plan.

You barely notice him at first. Your friends do. A few curious glances turn into whispers. Someone nudges another person, trying not to be obvious. Because standing near the lifeguard tower, wearing a simple red uniform with sunglasses pushed up into his hair, is Leon Kennedy.

For a second, your brain refuses to process it. Leon. Here. Working.

Not as the person you only ever saw during quiet conversations and stolen moments. Not as the man who always seemed impossible to fully understand. Just... working.

One of your friends laughs quietly. "Okay, I understand why you never talk about him."

Another one looks toward the tower. "Wait, that's the guy?"

You immediately know who they're talking about. Leon notices you before you can decide whether to approach him or walk away.

Of course he does. He always notices. His expression changes slightly when your eyes meet. Surprise first. Then something softer. Something almost amused.

He walks over once his shift allows it, towel thrown over one shoulder. "Didn't expect to see you here." His eyes move briefly toward your friends before returning to you.

A small smile appears. "Friends trip?"

The question is casual, but there's something underneath it. Curiosity. Maybe a little happiness that he gets to see a side of your life he usually doesn't.

You glance toward the lifeguard tower.

"So this is what you've been doing?"

Leon looks back at it and shrugs. "Rent doesn't pay itself."

The joke is simple, but the tiredness behind it is obvious. Because this is the part of Leon nobody sees. The small details he never talks about. The extra shifts. The bills. The fact that outside of whatever complicated thing exists between the two of you, he is still just a person trying to make a life for himself.

You realize how strange it feels. You know the way he looks at you when nobody else is around. You know the quiet conversations, the small gestures, the parts of him he accidentally reveals.

But somehow, seeing him here feels like meeting him all over again. Seeing him clock in for work. Talking casually with coworkers. Helping strangers at the beach. Living a completely normal life you never knew existed.

It reminds you that there is still so much about Leon you don't know. He notices your expression and immediately tries to brush it off.

"Don't look at me like that." A small smirk appears. "I'm still the same guy."

Except maybe he's not. Not completely.

Because for once, you see Leon outside of the little world the two of you created. No apartment hallways. No whispered conversations. No pretending. Just a man working under the summer sun.

Your friends eventually call you back, but not before giving you several looks that are impossible to misunderstand.

Leon notices. Of course he does.

He watches your friends walk away, then looks back at you with an amused expression. "What?"

The question is innocent enough, but the slight smile on his face says he already knows.

You glance toward your friends, who are now very obviously trying not to stare at the lifeguard tower.

Leon follows your gaze. Then he laughs quietly. "Wait."

"Are you jealous?"

The look you give him is enough of an answer.

His smile grows, clearly entertained. "That's actually kind of funny."

He looks back toward your friends. The three of them are older than him by quite a few years, closer to your age than his, but that clearly hasn't stopped them from noticing him.

A few minutes ago they were casually asking about him. Now they are suddenly very interested in the fact that the quiet guy your husband gets along with happens to be working at the beach.

Leon shakes his head, amused. "I think your friends forgot I exist as a person and not just as a guy standing near a lifeguard tower."

A small laugh escapes him. “They're subtle."

You give him a look. He raises his hands slightly in surrender.

"Okay, maybe they're not."

The funniest part is that they have no idea. To them, Leon is simply someone you know through your husband. The younger neighbor who helped him with things around the building. The polite guy who always seemed reliable and respectful.

They don't know about the conversations that lasted too long. They don't know about the moments neither of you were supposed to have. They definitely don't know why you suddenly look annoyed every time one of them compliments him.

Leon notices your expression and his smile becomes even more teasing. "Wow.

“Never thought I'd see this side of you." He picks up the towel from his shoulder. "Relax. Your friends can admire the lifeguard."

A small smirk. "They're not the one I came over to talk to."