Love From The Other Side ☆ Leon S Kennedy X Reader

38 ☆ Tired? Or More?

"Like me? What the hell are you talking about!? If you're trying to trick me into thinking there's some sort of skinwalker out there or something-"

"No, no, no! I'm not saying that, I'm not-..." I cut her off and groan frustratedly, running an agitated hand through my scruffy hair. "I told you, it was probably nothing."

Y/N furrows her eyebrows, stepping over to the window again.
"I don't think there's anything out there like that. Maybe it was my reflection."

I force out a short laugh.
"I think I would know if I saw your fucking reflection in the window."

"Don't you speak to me like that." She huffs, giving me a dominant glare. I nod, apologising under my breath.

I don't know why I suddenly got so snappy, but I can't help it. She's pissing me off, and the only reasoning behind this all seems to be tiredness. But I'm not even as exhausted as earlier.

All I remember seeing is someone, or something, looking similar to Y/N sprinting past the window. It looked directly into my eyes, and that moment felt as like my soul was dragged into the pits of hell. Because that wasn't Y/N. And it wasn't her reflection. So what the hell was it!?

Whatever the hell happened, it's put me on edge. And not only that, it's made my emotions fuck themselves up! I'm pissed, I'm scared, my blood circulation is going wild, increasing my heart rate and focusing on my crotch. Shit, I'm horny. I place my hands on my lap subtly, leaning against the wall and hiding any physical proof.

That's just great.

Along with being horny, I'm also agitated, vaguely sleepy, lazy yet anxiety-ridden.

I glance up to Y/N, debating on pulling her close. She's... what the fuck is she doing?

Half hanging out the window, this woman is leaning outside and observing the area like her life depends on it. She eventually pulls herself back inside, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

"Nope, nothing. You're just tired, babe." She smirks to me, proud of her conclusion. "We need to relax. That's what we're here for, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." I sigh, thinking of another way to relax.

"I'm hungry. What do you want?" She asks me, leaning against the wall in contemplation.

"You."

"How about noodles?"

"How about you for desert?"

"How about noodles for desert?"

"For desert?"

"Noodskis for everything, bucko."

I huff disappointedly, although her stupid way of speaking when she's fed up of me instead of getting mad always amuses me.

"Leon. I'll be in the other room, making ramen." She grins, waltzing into the kitchen and blasting the radio. As those shitty new 'pop-punk' songs echo throughout the cabin, I let out a long, tense sigh, pushing any urges to the side.

One thing to point out is that there are some weird ass thoughts going through my head right now. Weird ones. Like, 'open the window',  'open the door', 'go outside', and so on. But I can't find a single rational explanation to do any of these, so I don't.

I push everything to the side for a moment, stepping into the kitchen to check on Y/N. As per usual, she's out here looking pretty and being helpful.

I flash her a smile and sit on the counter, the wood creaking ever-so slightly under my weight.

"Hey, gorgeous. We should go and get logs from outside." I suggest, resting my elbows on my knees as I lean my body forward.

"At this time? Are you crazy, it's pitch black out there!" She replies, furrowing her eyebrows at even the thought of it.

"Yeah, but we can just bring a lantern with us. There's a few around." I shrug.

"...Leon, if we go in the daytime, we'll have an extra arm to carry logs with instead of a lantern." She counters, flicking a noodle at my face.

I peel it off, flinging it back at her-- landing it directly into her mouth as she attempts to speak. We both collectively giggle, and I jump down from my position to ruffle her hair.

"If that's what you want to do."

It's still only around 8:30pm at this point, and I'm extremely bored. I take over the cooking for us both, letting her relax while I take my mind off my little episode.

Once I'm done with both making and eating the food, I simply admire Y/N closely. The way she picks at her food when she's finished is something I'll always notice.

"You don't have to eat it all, you know." I reassure her, having a hunch of the issue.

"Yeah, but... you made it." She mumbles, avoiding eye contact. "I feel bad."

"But you ate what you can? As long as you enjoy it, I don't care."

She felt guilty for not finishing her food. I've noticed that back at home, too, but I just always assumed that she was too lazy to scrape it, never bothering to dig further. The only thing I can theorise is the possibility of being forced to eat her dinner when she was younger or something along those lines.

For dessert, we have a steamy makeout session. Woohoo! Next, roughly around the time it hits 10:30pm, my girl falls asleep securely in my arms, cuddled up in the warmth of the thick bedsheets.

And I thought I was supposed to be the tired one here.

As I live in lavish for the moment, all I can focus on are these random thoughts telling me to do things that I would infact find no pleasure in doing.

Stuff like, 'push her off', 'go outside', 'let me in'-...

Wait, what!? Let me in?

No, I'm just paranoid.

I roll my eyes, staring at the curtains that are now covering the windows. Thank God for that, I don't know how much longer I could've stayed sane while seeing the outside world.

Let's just... never do this again! That's a good idea.

I pull her limp figure closer, her slow, even breaths warming my chest through my shirt. Trying to sleep once again, I close my eyes in hopes of an unconscious rest.

The world denies my request.

Restless, I pull her closer in hopes of further comfort whilst trying to keep movement to a minimal, not wanting to wake her. We keep this position for an unfortunate amount of time, and...

I feel like my thoughts are dragging, but I'm so tired, damn it!

Throughout the night, everytime I find myself nodding off, I hear these... quiet, scratch-like noises beyond the wallpaper. It lies on the outwide walls of the cabin, reminding me of a sinister cat scratching on a door. Except their goal isn't cuddles or food-- it's clawing your face off.

I want to go home.