The Fight For Us Part III | Resident Evil |

13 - Like It's 2004

The emotion runs higher than anticipated. Confusion. Worry. Anger. Longing. Everything in one falls on the two of them. Nothing is exchanged between them besides a glance, a long and uncertain stare. Henry's still on the floor, he can feel the cold floor on his bare back. Leon's knelt beside him, he looks concerned.

Leon mumbles out, "Henry...?" And he's met with more silence. The brunette wonders to himself if he's dreaming, if this is all some made-up story in his head. Usually, you want to wake up from nightmares, but Henry isn't sure what he wants. Would he awake back in his drab little apartment? Alone?

Some part of Henry thought that he'd never see Leon again. He thought he'd never even hear his voice again. When he left, Henry thought that was it. They were done. Nothing more would ever happen between them no matter what he did, and he had tried to accept that. Now it's not true, and he's close enough that he could hug him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Henry cuts through the silence with a grunted question.
"I was gonna ask you the same thing," Leon replies. Henry then tries to sit up, he plants his elbows on the ground and bends his torso. A sharp pain jolts into his gut, he gasps in pain. "Stop, I sutured it but it's probably still tender."

Who the hell does Leon think he is? He took Rose and abandoned me, but now he wants to swoop in and play the action-hero and stitch me up? Am I supposed to be grateful? Does he really think this will fix anything between us? No 'I'm sorry for leaving you at the absolute lowest point of your life'? All he has to say to me is my fucking name, like we're old friends bumping into each other in a coffee shop or something? He can't do this to me, he can't play with me like this.

Fuck him. It doesn't matter. I don't need him, he clearly doesn't need me. I can find Rose by myself, this isn't a reunion. This isn't a rekindling, this is nothing. We're done. Nothing between us will ever be anything again. Fuck. I fucking hate his face. I hate how much I missed looking at it, those eyes. Ignore him. I need to move, I need to find my daughter. Leon can go to hell for all I care. He's gone to great lengths to show how little he needs me.

Rose. Does he know anything though? Would I have a better chance of finding her if he was helping me? Two pairs of eyes are better than one after all. Fuck. Henry groans, "They'll be back soon. We need to move."
"We?" Leon starts when Henry stands up, his face contorted in pain. His sutures didn't rip, that's a small win, "Woah—" Leon tries to help him stand still but the glare he receives for just trying to help is dark enough that it could make Edgar Allen Poe gasp.
"I can handle myself, Leon."

Henry takes a moment to gather himself. The pain is at a low simmer, apparently his body has gotten used to having a hole in its side. It hurts, but not nearly as bad as it could have. A small part of him is kind of okay with now knowing what it's like to be stabbed by his knife. It's rough."Here's your knife."

His knife. Henry takes it, he rubs some of his blood off its blade. Why is the knife so important? He remembers being tied up by that man in Raccoon City, he had a rifle to his head and all he could think about was his missing switchblade. Even when that freakish woman stabbed him, he was more worried about her breaking it than anything else. Then his sneakers, why are those important too? He knows this says something about him deep down. This sort of adherence to a certain version of himself. He wishes he was able to psychoanalyze himself sometimes. Maybe then he could finally understand his emotions.

Slowly, Henry takes in the room. It was old as he expected, oversized too. The bed is double the size of a king-sized one. This must be that woman's quarters. Then a chill slithers down Henry's bloody chest, goosebumps rise on his arms. He needs something to wear, this room has to have at least a coat. He spots the dresser Leon found the needle and thread in and makes his pained way over to it.
"I saw some stuff in there you can wear." Leon mumbles. Henry doesn't acknowledge him. He notices and it sort of hurts.

He feels it, that spark. Leon feels himself pining over Henry's bare chest. It pisses him off, the fact that he's still so deeply attracted to him even after all that's happened. What could Henry ever do to make him fall out of love with him? Is love truly unconditional between them? He thought when he left that meant their love ended. It was naive in retrospect, his admiration hasn't died. It's still snaking around his brain.

Old dresses. Oversized button-ups. Work slacks for a woman much slimmer than he is, there's even a hat. Henry groans impatiently, he ransacks each drawer until he finds a shirt that would fit him. A black long-sleeve, it's still tight but it's not unbearable. Then he finds a cardigan, plaid and knitted. It's warm enough to make him smile. The sleeves run a little long over his hands, but he simply cuts them down.

Leon just kind of watches. He fiddles with his shotgun a bit, but it's pretty basic, there's not much to fiddle. He isn't looking at Henry. He doesn't want to.

"Have you seen her? Rose?" Henry asks, he tucks his knife into his back pocket. He doesn't have a bow anymore so that's another loss.
"...no. Not since we were home."
"How'd you get here?"
"The BSAA. They broke in, gassed the house, and took us. They fucking shot my uncle. I'm sure my aunt's dead too." Why did Chris do that? He had to have had a reason, he wouldn't truly try to hurt them. Right?
"Doesn't matter. We need to get out of this castle."

Carefully, they move. Henry leads the way with his knife held out. Leon then notices he's missing two fingers, he's not sure how that detail evaded him previously.
"Your hand? What happened?"
"Lycans. Bit my fingers off. C'mon."
Expectedly, Henry isn't in the mood to talk about anything. Leon doesn't even know why he'd be so unfathomably angry at him. He would've left him too. He did it for Rose, not to be vindictive or cruel. He couldn't just rot in that house alone with her, she deserves more than that. She didn't deserve to be abandoned.

They slowly trudge down a hall. Henry's silently in awe of it. The castle is beautiful. It's old and ornate. It even smells good. Like old books and fresh pine. It'd be nice if there wasn't a nine-foot-tall vampire woman lurking somewhere. Speaking of that woman, Henry and Leon hear a scream. "Ethan," Henry mumbles, he's in trouble.
"Who's Ethan?"