No more tears - Leon Kennedy

Chapter 18

"𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞."

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After spending the night in his arms, talking and enjoying Leon's company, we woke up to a beautiful winter day, with the sun seemingly extending its wide-open arms to embrace us with warmth.

Breakfast was unusually quiet; Leon only had a coffee and already seemed immersed in his problems again after receiving a call from Hunnigan, likely negotiating a scheduling change.

I ate my toast while observing the scene, Leon looked as if he had just emerged from a nightmare, his tense features twisted into an almost angry smile.

After ending the call, he sighed deeply and regretfully explained that he'd have to return to work in three days—far from ideal since we had planned for me to stay two weeks with him in Washington.

Being far too accustomed to these situations, I didn't take it personally. Instead, I focused on the idea that since we only had three days, we needed to make them count. Our first day was starting with a visit to his childhood home in Ohio.

I quickly dressed accordingly: a blue wool dress reaching midway down my legs, black tights, and heeled boots. I kept my makeup simple yet elegant, occasionally glancing at Leon. He paid little attention to my efforts, throwing on just a fine-knit sweater, jeans, combat boots, and, of course, a leather jacket.

I almost wanted to thank the good spirits when I noticed the jacket he was wearing was worn out—meaning my gift for him was perfectly timed.

As we got into the car, he insisted on stopping for pastries, explaining that the drive would take four to five hours and that it was better to have something to snack on along the way.

During the long trip, I decided to snoop around and discovered a collection of rock albums Leon had likely owned for years. Basking in the sunlight, I savored the cupcakes he'd bought me.

After some time, he started sharing bits about his childhood, giving me a glimpse of his past for the first time—movie nights with his guardian, the sheer boredom he experienced in high school, and how he and his friends killed time with silly dares and endless debates about comic books.

When we finally arrived, I rushed out of the car to stretch, taking in the sight of a house that seemed strangely normal compared to what I had imagined. It looked slightly rundown and aged compared to the other homes on the street but still didn't look out of place.

Standing on the porch, Leon pulled an old key from his pocket and unlocked the door, going in while I nervously glanced around.

"Hope you're not allergic to dust..." he remarked as he made a few more steps inside, prompting a soft laugh from me.

Allergic to dust? That would be ironic for a girl like me.

Curious, I followed him inside. Despite the heavy air, which Leon quickly addressed by opening every possible window, I finally had a clear image of where he'd grown up.

The entryway featured a long hallway with three doors leading elsewhere and two arches that appeared to connect to the living room and kitchen. A large staircase led to the upper floor.

As I entered the living room and noticed the framed photos on the walls, I couldn't help but gasp in surprise—because it wasn't Leon in the pictures, but James, alongside what seemed to be his wife and kids.

"They were found dead one night when James came home. A gang incident, just one of many." Leon explained as I stared at him in horror, barely suppressing another gasp at his initial words.