23-year-old Leon Kennedy, Umbrella's finest agent, is sent to Raccoon City in September 1998, during the night of the horrifying outbreak. He's told to secure a sample of the G-virus and to get rid of William Birkin, as well as to kill any of the re...
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You haven't missed the station in the time you were gone. Part of you hates the fact that the dark, bloody hallways begin to feel familiar to you as you walk through them. The maps of the station are pretty much burned into your mind, even if you haven't used them that much.
The two of you find yourselves up on the second floor, in the hallway by the Art Room, ready to enter a new area you have yet to explore. While the sound of the fire alarm begins to fade out in the background, Leon inserts the tool into the wall by the shutter, making it go up. It shows another hallway.
Seeing no zombies around makes you feel beyond relieved.
On the left is a door with a heart key — the Chief's Office. Since you don't have a key, there's no way inside that place. Other than that, there's just stairs, and surprise surprise! You get to choose whether you'd rather get eaten in the basement or the storage room!
Yeah, no. This shit is becoming too much. Your sanity is crumbling with each passing second.
"Up or down?" Leon asks you, and you shrug carelessly.
"Humor me."
"Up it is."
While you're still your sarcastic self, he notices something awfully close to indifference and sadness in your behavior. It's in the way your shoulders hang forward, the look on your face, the tone of your voice. Yet your hands have been trembling even more than before ever since you left the Main Hall, though you don't even seem to notice.
He understands. He does. Shooting the two officers was difficult for you to see, especially since you really seemed to enjoy their company, and not just because of the outbreak.
He wishes he wasn't as attached to you as he is, wishes that he didn't need your pessimistic yet chirpy and fun behavior, sarcasm and pretty smile to get through the damn night — but he does.
Leon takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and you flinch in surprise when he gently takes a hold of your chin, wiping some of the blood away. He tries not to look into your big, wide eyes, because they're his absolute weakness.
You're becoming his weakness.
Shit.
"There was some blood on your face." He mutters softly but loud enough for you to hear. As sudden as the sentence may be, it's like he's comforting you, being the softest he's been with you so far. "C'mon. We got work to do."
You feel like he was gonna tell you something else, like he was about to confess something, but he swallowed his words right back in, leaving you wondering. He puts the handkerchief back where it was and proceeds to grab your hand.
His is warm while yours is cold. It's a nice gesture that makes your heart burst every time he does it, and you nod to yourself, knowing you have to keep going. For everyone you've met tonight.
