Love From The Other Side ☆ Leon S Kennedy X Reader

32 ☆ Honesty Is Overrated

I crouch down (with a few clicks of my already aged knees) and analyse the blood on a few of the mirror remnants, seeing a hundred different pieces of myself scattered across the floor. I sigh, unable to figure out the reasoning behind the broken object.

"One possibility is that a larger broken piece of glass was used as a weapon and later thrown on the floor, but that should've made two sounds... one to get the glass, one to break it." I explain, glancing over to her as she purposely avoids eye-contact, fiddling with a grey button on that damn patch-filled jacket she loves so much.

"Another is that blunt force smashed the mirror. A punch, a shove, a fight..." I continue.

"I don't care. Let's keep looking for my dog." She mumbles, her eyes darting down to the mess on the floor. She doesn't look up for even one sore moment.

I just roll my eyes and silently walk on, grabbing a diamond shaped key laying on the closed, off-white toilet seat. There's not really anything to dwell on in here, anyway.

"So, wanna elaborate on your little drug business? You lied to me, didn't you?" I ask, biting my lip as I wait for her response. I attempt to listen to her faint footsteps behind me, the silence engulfing this building almost acting as a repellent.

"Of course I fucking lied to you." She snarls, a disgusted expression enveloping her god-favourited features.
"You're on the other side of law."

I still love you. We could've been like Romeo and Juliet; but divided by the manmade law and order of society instead of the rivalry of a family tree.

"Yeah, we are. I get why you don't trust me." I shrug, trying to see both sides. "But I've figured you out, so why don't you explain it to me now?"

"Because you'll report back to your little cop friends, and I don't want any of your scummy business to even know that I exist." She huffs, stubbornly.

I want them to know that you exist. I want to show you off to them.

"You'll have to explain it when I put you in a questioning cell." I retort, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"...God damn you, I'll keep my mouth shut until I die." She threatens.

I'll still love you after you do die.

"Why are you in this alone?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows and staying professional. "If there is others, where are they?"

That got her. I see a flash of anguish and rage in her eyes, and she trips over a raise in the floor which interrupts her thought process. She yelps, sitting up from practically kissing the dirty, vintage rug and holding her hand out to me.

"My leg still hurts from when I got shot, help me up." She commands. I don't move from my position.

"I won't always be here to help."

"Neither will this wound, now help me up!" She demands, even more forcefully. I feel inclined to pull her up, launching her straight into my chest. At least that was better than her missing and going straight for the wall behind me.

Let me fix the layout, incase you're confused:

She fell over the steps to get to the stairway. A step leading into the room, which shouldn't really be there, because it's at the end of a damn hallway. But this girl just loves making a fool out of herself.

She pulls away, and we ascend the stairs; this time, extra cautious not to fall over any. She doesn't know that I'm walking behind her incase she trips or gets attacked from behind; the most vulnerable spot. It's a safety measure.

"You didn't answer my question. Where are your friends?" I ask, another loud crash echoing through the halls. And another, and another.

I glance back to the girl. The banging and crashing seem to be like drawers or large objects falling over, which seem to be suspiciously spaced out; every few seconds, giving us a little time to process the presence. Which could very well be bait.

She hesitates, before speaking with a certain venom in her words. "At home. Probably sitting on their asses, listening to my brand new American Idiot vinyl. It came out a few months ago, back in September. Have you listened to it?"

I nod. "Yeah, I have. I like," You. A stupid drug dealer punk that hates my guts. "Rock music. Green Day, Avenged Sevenfold. All that stuff."

She shrugs, peeking into each room to look out for clear signs of somebody else being here with us. You know, those mood swings of hers are utterly baffling.

"Why aren't you with your friends?" She audibly groans at that, placing her thumb and index finger against both sides of the bridge of her nose. She sighs, glancing over to me.

"Will you stop pestering me about this?"

I shake my head dedicatedly. "I'm doing my duty."

"What, are you a professional nosey bastard?"

"No, you little shit. Answer my question."

"I don't fucking know, okay? One of them stole my dog and lured me to London, and the rest of them took her back with them to wherever the hell they were going." She huffs, irritated with my questions (or 'pestering', as she called it).
"And now we're in fucking Devon."

"I see. I actually thought you ran away from them, trying to escape us. That you knew we were coming. That's why it's important to tell us these things-"

"Shut up!" Y/N snaps, rubbing her hands together like a fly to create some thermal energy. "You think I'd abandon the only people I have!? How disloyal do you think I am? I'd go down with them, and I thought they'd do the same..."

"Don't tell me to shut up." I mumble.

"Shut the fuck up, don't tell me what to do."

"You're a rude little prick, aren't you? I just used to tolerate it." I mutter.

"Don't call me that, you... you... beautiful bastard."

Oh. Maybe she just needed humbling? No comment. We just continue without a word. A million thoughts go through my mind, yet not a single one escapes through my lips.

One room in particular sends a shock through the both of us; directly in the centre of a bedroom lies a slippery floor, drizzled in pure, thick, crimson blood. I crouch down to analyse it, as per usual, when I feel a cold sensation on the top of my head.

I glance around, expecting to see that scoundrel touching my hair, but I'm instead met with a startled and horrified gorgeous punk staring just above me in awe. Her lips are parted in shock and her hands are trembling as if she'd just been electrocuted.

"Pepper..." She forces out, her voice catching in her throat as her fingers press up against her suddenly dry lips.

Oh shit.