Village of sorrow ~ Ethan Winters x Reader

The Night Falls

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Chapter IX.
Wordcount: 3137

The two of you finally came out of the crawling space, greeted by a room filled with barrels and kegs. You dusted your mild ash covered dress off with a sigh.

Ethan looked at you with an unreadable expression. 

"What?"

"Did those freaks give you that dress?" He quietly checked a new magazine into his gun. 

"You just noticed?"

"Yeah." He stopped and gave it an up and down. "Well at least you--I mean it looks... good, on you."

You stared at him with slightly widened eyes. "Oh, you... really think so?"

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows, throwing a defect mag on the floor. "What?"

His features stiffened upon realizing what he just said. Shit, of course you'd be confused by a comment like that. He looked down at the floor and readjusted his collar. "I don't mean nothin' by it." He walked towards you and awkwardly grabbed the gun he just gave you out of your hands. "I forgot to say it but this one is still empty."

"Empty?"

Ethan's hands worked fast as he pulled a few bullets out of his yellow jacket and slid it in the revolver with ease. His head pulled up to face you again, blue eyes warm and gentle. "Yes, empty. Revolvers need to be reloaded manually. That's the case with this one, at least."

There weren't many times where you were able to get a good look at his face, for the both of you were always on the run for whatever was haunting your steps. But by the heavens, he was attractive. His soft features completely threw his actions off, the amount of mental and physical strength Ethan had was not recognized in his face. He was a walking example of a wolf in sheeps clothing. Of course, the dark circles and constant look of alertness gave some of his trauma and fear away.

When pressed all the bullets into the revolver, the silence returned. He felt the desire to escape this situation, for this weird feeling in his chest made him feel oddly insecure. It's just that his legs were nailed to the damned floor for some reason, forcing him to stand in front of you like some fool. "It's a pretty dress. Reminds me of one a bride would wear." He finally said, thankful for the words in his mind having clicked well enough to make a semi-respectable sentence.

You smiled at him. It made him feel that discomfort again, so he just looked away again.

"I wonder if I'll ever be one."

"A bride?"

You hummed. "Life's been too chaotic to even think about something so complex, but I sometimes wonder-" You walked towards a wine bottle on the table. It was half-opened.

"-Wonder... what?" Ethan inquired quickly, his curiosity keeping him from patiently waiting on you to finish the sentence.

Your eyes were glued on the label, and you picked it up while you distractedly spoke: "If anyone would have me." 

"Hm." Ethan fiddled with the gauze on his hand. "Well, I don't think you have to worry about something like that." His words were hesitantly picked, but sincerity dominated his hesitation. "Whoever marries you will count themselves enough of a lucky bastard. Just... be careful, yeah?" He came to stand next to you, also distracted by the bottle in your hands. "Beauty doesn't translate well with a lot of men out there. Just pick a good fellow when you are ready to settle down." He gave you a small smile and looked at the words on the etiquette. "What's that?"