Blinking Game

Chapter 3: Idiot 1 & Idiot 2

Sherry sat in front of Leon’s desk, looking at him in silence, a slight frown on her face.

“Well, at least she won’t think I’m a sexist pig,” he said with a nod, proud of himself, trying to avoid the rest of the details.

“Sexist pig…” Sherry repeated. Her tone was a question and a statement.

“Yeah. Grace taught me that one,” he replied, with a faint, cocky smile. “The FBI got it worse, huh?”

She just sighed.

“And how is Grace doing?”

“She’s doing fine. She finally found a good babysitter for Emily. I’m keeping the bedroom I set up for her at my apartment, though. You never know. She’s dating someone, too. Her girlfriend is really nice.”

“That’s so good to hear,” she said, warmly. “I hope to see her around soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to stop by and say hi one of these days.”

Sherry didn’t say anything for a while, looking thoughtful. She picked up the copy of your résumé Leon had printed from his desk.

“And what do you think of her?”

“Her?”

“Yes?”

“Grace’s girlfriend?”

“No, Leon. Your new secretary.” She showed him the résumé.

“Ah, right. She’s… good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Just good?”

“Well, uh… She’s… good. Great. Nice.”

“But do you like her?”

“Like her?” He almost jumped.

“You need to tell me if she’s suitable for the job or not. She’ll be your secretary from now on, remember? Lydia is leaving in two weeks.”

Leon felt his face burning. Sherry glanced down, suddenly looking insecure.

“Sherry. I trusted you with this, and you made a great choice. Don’t worry about it, really. And thank you. It’s not like you can trust me with every decision, either. You’re the only person here who understands this old man, apart from Lydia.”

He tried to reassure her because he noticed that his awkwardness was, in fact, making Sherry anxious about her work.

“It’s fine. I just don’t want to mess up, either.”

“Hey, no. You never mess up. The only messy person here is me, okay? I just need to get used to having a new person around. It’s been years with Lydia. That’s all.”

“Okay. Just try not to be, uh…”

“Hm?”

“Never mind. Anyway, I’m glad you liked her. Just make sure she’s comfortable with you. Everyone is doing their best.”

Two months later

Tomorrow is the day you'll find out whether you'll be staying at the DSO permanently. No one has changed their attitude toward you, including the higher-ups and Sherry, but Mr. Kennedy is the one who makes the final decision.

And him…

You know he’s a good person. But yes, he’s a little... special. You still can’t connect with him the way you have with the rest of the office.

There are still a few things Sherry handles instead of you: managing his schedule, coordinating meetings, asking him to sign important documents and packages, and checking whether he’s received any important emails. (That’s when you found out your boss has more than 1,000 unread emails, and Sherry has to filter them for him.)

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even if your work has been praised, you can’t get over the feeling that, perhaps, they’re comparing you to Lydia. The fact that Mr. Kennedy still doesn’t rely on you for those tasks doesn’t help. He only talks to you when necessary, but you don’t think it’s because he’s mean (or at least you hope it isn’t). He’s still extremely awkward around you.

The worst part is that you still like him. So you add your own awkwardness to the whole situation.

But even if you don’t end up staying at the DSO, you’ve learned a lot about the organization and met some really kind people. You actually feel bad because you thought the work environment would be toxic when you got here.

And you made a friend. Her name is Ann. She’s your age, and surprisingly, you had a lot in common and got along immediately. Your first conversation was about her Sonny Angel collection. You’re not really into them, but you showed her your Sylvanian Families figures instead.

Last month, you went to Miniso to buy Sanrio blind boxes and had cake at a café afterward. You both left your new figures on your desks. She looked really happy to have met you, and so were you.

There are two other guys around your age, too. When you met Ann, they were always hanging around with her. Their names are Morgan and Jordan. They always joke about how their names rhyme, and that’s what made them homies from the start.

You don’t have much in common with them, but you have lunch together. It’s mostly just small talk, but they’re funny… in their own way.

You also found out that the DSO suffered a major loss a few months ago. A group of agents died during a mission, including the person who had been Ann’s best friend here.

The DSO is a place where some people do their best to keep going, even in difficult times. Some people tell each other not to get too attached to anyone, because it only makes it hurt more.

Anyway, there have been fewer missions lately. An investigation led by your boss resolved some important issues, and the DSO has shifted its focus more toward reports and paperwork. There are still a few missions now and then, but you’ve noticed that Mr. Kennedy is always the one who goes alone. He’s been extremely reluctant to ask anything of anyone else. No one contradicts him, anyway, and it seems like a sensitive topic that’s better left alone.

“Her permanent contract is ready. I’m just checking that everything’s in order.”

“Good. She adapted pretty quickly. You made a good choice, see?”

Sherry nodded with a smile.

“You’re telling her, right?”

“Tell her what?” He almost jumped.

“That she’s staying, Leon…”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Uh… Should I?”

“Of course. You’re her boss.”

“Yeah, you’re right… I will. I’m talking to her tomorrow. How is everything else going?”

“She’s getting along really well with the agents her age, too. She has lunch with all of them.”

Leon frowned, turning serious.

“All. Three people,” he said in a bitter tone.

Sherry sighed, her gaze turning melancholic.

“I think they’re doing better after what happened.”

A mission. Six went. Two made it back.

“Yeah. I noticed Ann is doing a little better,” he said. “I was worried about her having only two male friends and nothing else. Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 look like they don’t give a damn.”

“Don’t be like that, Leon. They have names.”

“They only care about soccer, making bets, playing those stupid video games, and talking about porn actresses. Even if they didn’t go on that mission, they should care a little more. Gabi was the one from their generation who went there.” He paused, upset. “They do a good job as agents. But as friends, those assholes are no good for Ann.”

Sherry was at a loss for words, but then she remembered something.

“Well, the other day I heard that Ann thinks Gabi sent the new girl for her. I think that’s sweet.”

Leon smiled warmly and fell silent for a few seconds. That completely lifted his mood.

“That’s good to hear, Sherry. Thank you for telling me.”

Sherry smiled back at him. After a while, she grabbed your résumé, which was still on his desk, and frowned.

“Were the fonts on her résumé always so big?”

“No. I print my documents with bigger letters. I can read them better.”

“Where did you learn this?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Grace taught me. It took me a week to memorize the instructions. But I did it,” Leon explained, proud of himself. “I also learned how to zoom in on websites.”

“Good thing it’s not the original. This looks awful.” Sherry looked slightly disgusted.

“It’s just a practical thing,” he retorted, playfully offended.

“By the way, you need to tidy up your desk. Her résumé and the reports about her have been sitting here ever since she got here.”

“Yeah. That’s… right. That’s totally what I need. Tidying up.”

Sherry’s expression turned serious again.

“Leon. Do you really like her?”

“Why are you asking that?” He frowned.

“I’ve seen you in meetings or when you talk to her. You look… uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said clumsily. “It’s just that… well, uh…”

He swallowed hard and didn’t say anything else. Sherry looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Leon?”

“What?”

“You, uh…”

She paused, as if she was carefully thinking about what she was going to say.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you this, but…”

Sherry sighed.

“You’re blushing.”

Her words came out with concern… and a slight cringe.

Leon avoided her gaze, evidently uncomfortable. He didn’t say anything for a moment. He felt completely exposed because Sherry had already noticed.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he said, embarrassed.

“I would never do that. I’d never judge you, either. I’m just a little worried.”

“I’m not doing anything that could cause her any trouble. I won’t. I’m not that kind of person.”

“I know, Leon. I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself about this. These things happen.”

“It’s wrong.”

“I wouldn’t say that, you know?” She smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. But do you really want to keep her here?”

“Yeah, of course. She’s a good employee. This isn’t her fault at all. It’d be unfair to fire her because of this. I just need to find a way to feel comfortable around her. I’m aware I’m being an asshole. I’m pretty sure this is affecting her, too. I’ll try my best. And this will pass, for sure.”

“May I tell you something?”

“What is it?”

“But please don’t get mad.”

“Even if I’m already scared of what you’re going to say, I’d never get mad at you.”

She smiled softly.

“You’d look cute together.”

“Sherry.”

“It’s true, and it’s not bad at all, Leon.”

“Come on.” He sighed, overwhelmed.

“You said you’d never get mad at me, right?”

“I’m not mad at you. But you’re not helping.”

“I think I’m helping, actually.”

Leon groaned, putting his hand on his forehead.

“Anyway, I have some things to do. Don’t stay so late,” Sherry said, and stood up.

He just nodded, still embarrassed.

Mr. Kennedy had been out of the office the whole morning. You heard he was in some meetings, but well… that’s all you know, of course. So when you saw him arriving, you swallowed hard and tried to focus on your job.

Yes, you were literally shaking.

You didn’t even realize when he was finally standing in front of your desk.

“Hey. Hello. Uh… Good afternoon,” he said, like he hadn’t decided how to greet you. “Can you come to my office?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kennedy, sure,” you said, nodding, and grabbed a notebook and a pen.

“No, no, it’s not necessary for you to bring the notebook. Just… bring yourself.”

You let out a slight, subtle smile and started walking, once again feeling like a lamb on its way to the slaughterhouse.

You sat in front of him, and he closed the office door. You placed your hands on your lap, clenching your fists.

You could see that the desk was incredibly tidy. The last time you came, two days ago, it was an absolute chaos.

“It’s been three months since you got here,” he said, looking at you. He looked more composed than usual, which, ironically, made you feel even more anxious.

“Yes,” you said softly, nodding.

“And how are you feeling? Is it too much work?”

“I’m feeling really well,” you said, smiling. “Everyone is really kind here. I feel comfortable. And the work isn’t that much, in my opinion. I can handle it.”

Mr. Kennedy looked at you attentively, and after a few seconds, he started talking.

“I don’t want to prolong any anxiety,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “Your permanent contract is ready. Sherry is checking it, and then she’ll give it to you so you can also check if everything is alright. We need to send them signed tomorrow. If you want to stay, of course, I mean, eh–”

How many minutes did his composure last? Fuck.

“We want you to stay working with us,” he added, smiling slightly and nodding. “You’re doing a great job. We’re really happy with you.”

You have seen this expression a couple of times before. A proud, fond slight smirk. All the anxiety was instantly gone. You smiled at him. It was an involuntary warm gesture that made him lose his composure (again).

Mr. Kennedy frowned slightly and cleared his throat.

“And… I’m sorry,” he added.

He’s sorry?

You looked at him, puzzled, tilting your head.

“There are some things Sherry has been doing instead of you,” he explained. “It’s not like I don’t trust you. I wanted you to get used to part of the job so you could take care of the rest more comfortably. It was going to be too much information at once. I think you already noticed that… I’m not really an organized person. The desk is empty now, but I just left every document inside that cabinet. If you ever need to open it, please be careful. I don’t want to find you unconscious under a pile of reports.”

You giggled softly.

“Thank you. I’ll be careful. I’m being careful with the printers, too.”

“Good. By the way, we’re buying a new one for the reception. After what happened the other day, technical support said it was time to retire it. We’re only waiting for the budget to be approved.”

(What happened the other day: Mr. Kennedy put the wrong paper in because he told you he didn’t want to bother you, and the printer jammed. You’re using Sherry’s printer for now.)

“That’s some great news.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, and cleared his throat again. “By the way, I mean, no, changing the subject, actually,” he paused (again). “I saw you made some good friends here.”

“Yes,” you nodded happily, “especially Ann. She’s such a nice person. Everyone is nice, of course, but we’re pretty close now.”

“Is she doing well?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ve been worried about her, but I’ve seen her doing better, too. It’s good you’re here. Because those two… eh…”

He frowned.

“Are the others treating you well?” he asked, like he hesitated about what he was going to say.

“Yes, Mr. Kennedy.”

“If something happens, anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, just tell me. Alright?” He frowned and placed his elbows on the desk, but it wasn’t an annoyed gesture. It was more like the gesture of someone trying to make you feel safe.

You nodded.

“There are some people here… not that I think they’re bad people,” he explained. “But you never know. Please count on me for whatever you need. If something ever happens to you outside this office, the same thing applies. We can solve everything by having a good conversation.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy. Really.”

“No, don’t worry. And if you need to do something, go somewhere during office hours, like a doctor’s appointment, paperwork, or whatever, don’t worry about that either. Just tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You just nodded.

“So you’re staying.” He smirked slightly.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. So welcome again. You have all my support.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I’m telling Sherry that you’ll be in charge of all my things from now on. She’ll teach you everything.”

“Okay.”

Mr. Kennedy didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the moment felt uncomfortably long. He looked like he was in some kind of trance, lost somewhere inside his mind. But even though he looked absentminded, he was staring at you.

You looked at him, confused at first, but…

There was something that made your heart feel warm: you felt that, no matter what happened, everything will be alright. You tried to convince yourself that this was the feeling any person would have toward a good boss, but of course it wasn’t.

After a while, his gaze felt intimidating. You needed to break this uncomfortable atmosphere somehow, so you just smiled.

You had no idea why, but it felt like your smile disarmed him. Everything became even more uncomfortable. He shook his head softly, making you feel even more confused.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” You clenched your fists again.

He avoided your gaze and shook his head.

“No,” he said in a soft tone you had never heard before, and paused.

“It’s just… good to have you around. Thank you. You can go back to work.”

Why every time Leon tries to talk to you like a normal person he ends up doing something stupid anyway?

It’s true that it’s good to have you around. Somehow, you had given the office a new life. Or perhaps it was just because he was finally accepting that he likes you, after weeks of deep denial, and even more now that Sherry had… well… that.

You looked so happy with the news of your contract. He had actually noticed that you were feeling nervous before, probably because you didn’t know if you were staying or not. That made him wonder…

Why did you feel uncomfortable around him? Why did you consider the possibility of him firing you, if everyone was happy with you and your work?

The answer is pretty obvious: he behaves like an idiot whenever you both interact. But liking you wasn’t the only reason. There were a few concerning things about your presence at the DSO.

He’s sure you haven’t noticed. Those two idiots and a group of higher-ups look at you in a way they absolutely shouldn’t. They’re subtle, but Leon is a man, and he can see it clearly: they gaze at your legs when you’re wearing a skirt, they look at your ass when you’re wearing pants, they approach your desk, talk to you nicely, and when they turn their backs on you, they practically drool.

It’s gross. Nauseating.

The other thing is that he’s scared that being nicer will make it look like he’s somehow pursuing you. He has seen some of them: they’re obviously doing it. Leon doesn’t want to be one of them. The slight chance of making you feel uncomfortable is distressing. He doesn’t want to feel like the dirty old man who flirts with his secretary. Such a horrible, stupid cliché.

And he still felt this weird, familiar feeling that he has seen you before. Today, he stared at you for too long, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t only that, it was just that he tried to avoid you as much as he could, so he never gave himself the time to look at you carefully.

You’re really pretty, and having you in front of him gave him a better chance to look at you. A bad excuse, of course.

To make everything worse, he has been having a lot of stupid dreams about the New Year’s girl. In the most innocent ones, he stayed, kissed her again, told her his name, and asked to see her again.

But in some of them, he took her with him, driving to his home, taking off her mask and her–

“For fuck’s sake…”

While Leon was trying to gather his thoughts, someone knocked on his door.

“Oh, do we need to paint the ceiling, Kennedy?”

One of the older higher-ups was there, chuckling as he entered his office nonchalantly. A married, supposedly good man.

“Ah, you. What do you want?” he said in a deadpan tone.

“In two months it will be the soccer league. We’ll start training in three weeks. If you don’t join, I’m telling the President,” he said with an ironic smile.

Leon just groaned, still looking at the ceiling.

“Come on. We need our rematch with the Marines. How can we do that without our striker?”

“Will you leave me alone if I say yes?” he retorted, slightly annoyed.

“Don’t be so moody, man. You need to relax a little.”

“I don’t need to relax,” Leon said, not relaxed.

“What about some company?” The man smirked.

Leon sighed.

“I don’t want you to introduce me to anyone.”

“Ah, come on. They’re nice.”

“They’re escorts. Their job is to be nice.”

“Well, I’ll try again another day,” he said, totally chill. “So, are you joining us?”

“Yeah. I’ll fix my schedule. But just soccer. Not your weird parties.”

The man chuckled and left.

At least Leon would have time to prepare himself to play soccer with a group of old men who hang out way too much with younger agents here, denying they’re going through their midlife crisis with their boys’ club.

“It’s just good to have you around.”

Why are you taking those words in a different way? Like they’re not something a boss would say, but something a–

Now you’re at your desk, deep in a trance, telling yourself that it’s your imagination. It’s just because you have a crush on him. That’s all.

Yes, that’s–

“Boo!”

You got startled, coming back to earth instantly. Morgan and Jordan were standing in front of you.

“Oh god, you scared me.”

“Are we that ugly?” Morgan said, ironically offended.

“You’re the ugly one here, dude,” Jordan retorted.

“Pffttt. You know who’s ugly?”

“Your mom,” Jordan replied, grinning, and looked at you. “Hey, how are you doing?” he asked with a kind attitude.

“I’m signing my indefinite contract tomorrow,” you said, smiling joyfully.

“Woohooooo!!!” Morgan yelled, raising his fists. You’re sure the whole office heard him.

“We need to celebrate today then, huh? Let’s go for some beers. I’m telling Ann,” Jordan said.

“Now I have the best excuse to buy you a new mug,” Morgan said, grinning.

“Dude, you’ve been telling her that since you broke her bunny mug centuries ago.”

(He went to see you and dropped it by accident.)

“Her name is Miffy,” you clarified.

“A bunny is a bunny. I’ll forget that name tomorrow again. Ann and you like too much stuff,” Morgan said.

“Stuff for little girls. How old are you again?” Jordan teased you, grinning.

You remembered Mr. Kennedy telling you that if you needed something, or if you felt uncomfortable, you just had to tell him. But maybe in this situation, you’re thinking too much.

They were both nice to you, yes. But something about them feels off. They have been sticking around more lately. There was something about their attitude that makes you feel like they both wanted to get your attention, but it didn’t look like a rivalry.

So you're trying your best not to give it too much importance. They treat Ann like she's a dude, but she doesn't really care about it either.

There are some people at the office who look at Morgan and Jordan with something that felt like mistrust. The only exception were the higher-ups: you could even tell they were like friends. It was pretty obvious, since they played pickup soccer after work with people from other institutions. Almost everyone went there.

Mr. Kennedy only goes sometimes, which was always a reason to complain about him, because their chances of winning were way higher when he joined the team. When he hears their complaints, he just groans and ignores them. You have the feeling he didn’t like interacting with them too much. Well, it’s not like it’s your problem.

“Those two…”

You wondered what he wanted to say to you.

Anyway, you went with them and Ann to drink and celebrate, and everything went fine. When you got home, you saw two messages in your notifications. Morgan sent you a cute meme and wrote, “this you?” and Jordan sent you a “goodnight you little goofball.”

Before getting out of the car, Leon took a deep breath. Today you were signing your contract, which meant you were staying at the DSO.

Last night, he was thinking about you. About how to approach you in a way that would make you feel better, without annoying you or anything. But he needed to be more open, something that was already difficult for him.

He had been thinking of ways to make you feel that he appreciated you. He thought of a few things: he noticed you like sweets, the cute figures you had on your desk, stationery, colorful things, and tea.

You play music on your computer (he has no idea what it is, but it sounds nice), low enough so it didn’t bother anyone, and you pause it whenever someone was around.

You’re easygoing and considerate. And it’s pretty obvious that it’s difficult for you to see bad intentions in people. He doesn’t like to call it naivety, but you probably don’t have many prejudices against anyone. And something about you makes Leon feel that you didn’t see problems in your problems, if that makes any sense.

Leon promised himself to use all those things he knew to make you feel that you were safe with him and that you could rely on him. But it was difficult to do that without making it look like he was interested in you in a different way.

He needed to be a good boss, just like he was with everyone else, but…

Fuck.

He had lunch outside the office, a lunch that was actually a work meeting. On his way back, he saw a store with stationery and colorful things. He thought that perhaps it was a good idea to buy something for you as an official welcome gift.

When he entered the office, one of the idiots was talking to you: Morgan. Since Leon usually mutes them in his head while they’re talking, he tries not to pay too much attention to what they’re saying most of the time. But now, he wanted to try his best, just to check on you.

The guy was at a respectful distance, until something happened. A joke that he combined with leaning his body toward you faster than expected, putting his hands on your desk.

“Oh, let me check what you’re playing! Your elevator music again?”

He grinned, like he had just said the funniest thing in the world. His joke had a glimpse of lighthearted teasing, but in Leon’s opinion, it was pretty stupid.

Leon saw how you got startled by his gesture. Standing behind Morgan, you tilted your head and looked at Leon, smiling. The idiot turned around, and now he was the one who got startled.

“Oh, Mr. Kennedy. Good afternoon,” Morgan said, slightly nervous.

“I don’t think my secretary’s desk is a good place to do planks. You should hit the gym instead,” he said in a serious, almost severe tone.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kennedy.”

Leon looked at him without moving an inch. Thankfully, Morgan read the room.

“Well, I’ll take my leave. If you excuse me,” he said, and rushed back to his desk.

Once he was far enough, Leon looked at you.

“Is he making you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, I mean, it was unexpected, but I don’t think he did it with bad intentions. Thank you for your concern,” you said calmly.

“It’s nothing. May I ask what he means by elevator music?” He raised a brow.

“Ah, that,” you said, smiling softly. “This genre is called City Pop. Because of how it sounds, some people call it elevator music.”

Your explanation didn’t leave him fully satisfied.

“Is that good? Do you agree with that?”

“Hmm. Not too much, to be honest,” you replied. “There are songs that are too interesting to reduce them to that description.”

He smirked slightly.

“Well, you shouldn’t play this at an elevator, either. People will want to stay there listening to your songs. You could make it collapse, and more people need to use the elevator.”

He made a lopsided grin, thinking to himself that he had just said the most stupid thing in the world, even more stupid than the elevator music concept.

But you gave him such a wide, honest smile that it instantly made it worth it.

“It’s not necessary for you to pause your songs every time someone comes in, okay? They sound nice,” he added.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said, and nodded.

“Good. Did you sign your contract?”

“Yes. Sherry has it. I think it only needs your signature now.”

“Yeah. By the way, eh–”

He avoided your gaze, uncomfortable. No fucking way he was acting like this again.

“This,” he said, giving you the paper bag, “uhm… it’s a welcome gift. I’m kinda boring when choosing colors, everything in my life is black or blue, but… I tried my best. I hope you like it.”

“Oh, thank you so much. You didn’t have to.”

“I totally had to.” He nodded, content.

“May I open it?”

“Eh, yeah, sure.” He took a deep breath.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with your boss in front of your desk in all these months. And it wasn’t only that: he had bought you a gift.

It was inside a colorful floral bag from a stationery store. You smiled kindly and looked at him.

It was a notebook with a floral design from a brand that had beautiful stuff but was stupidly expensive, so you only bought things from there if they were on sale. There was also a floral mug from the same brand, with the initials of your name on it.

“I like this store and this brand a lot. I try my best not to go there too much, though. I always end up ruining my monthly budget buying things I don’t really need.”

“I had no idea you liked it. I just… saw those things and went in,” he explained, struggling. “I thought it was… a pretty store. I liked it.”

“It’s a pretty store, indeed. And you have great taste.” You nodded, looking at your gifts, but…

You had no idea how this conversation turned into something so uncomfortable (again). But you could see he was trying his best.

“I saw you using those white DSO mugs we have here the other day. Those boring things obviously don’t suit your desk. I saw you had another one before, with a bunny, but I haven’t seen it in the kitchenette lately.”

“Yes, Morgan accidentally broke it a few weeks ago. So thank you so much, I have a pretty mug again.”

“Did he break it doing planks at your desk?”

You giggled.

“No. It just dropped by accident. It hurt a little because I really liked it. The design.”

“Is that little bunny special?”

“Yes. She’s a cartoon character called Miffy.” You nodded.

“Huh? How do you write that?”

“M-i-f-f-y.”

You saw Mr. Kennedy grabbed his phone, typing.

“She has an article on Wikipedia, huh? Miffy.” He paused, squinting and looking at his phone from a much greater distance than necessary, and started reading:

“Miffy is a fictional rabbit appearing in a series of picture books drawn and written by Dutch artist Dick Bruna. The original Dutch name, nin… what?” He paused, unable to pronounce the name correctly. “...written in lowercase, is a shortening of the diminutive konij…” He struggled, squinting even more, “‘Little rabbit’ because Dick Bruna’s son wasn’t able to pronounce… konij–”

He paused, taking a deep breath.

“Well, you don’t need to be this guy’s son to not be able to pronounce this.” He made a soft grin, proud of his own joke.

You laughed shyly. But it was a totally genuine laugh.

“She’s such a cute and famous bunny,” he said, nodding, really interested. “I didn’t think it was so special.”

“Yes, but…”

“But?” He raised a brow.

“It’s… a little childish, maybe…” You swallowed hard, a slight embarrassment taking over your mind.

Because, actually, you couldn’t believe you were having this conversation with your boss. You looked around your desk: a Sylvanian Families cat figure, the Sanrio blind box figure you bought with Ann, your Hello Kitty pen holder, your…

“Childish?” he said, looking at your things. “You just like things. You can spend your money on whatever you want. Collecting things is a good hobby. If it makes you happy, you shouldn’t care, you know? And they’re really pretty. Your desk looks great.”

He paused. You could feel that he wanted to tell you something else.

“I like… things, too,” he said, scratching his nape. “Motorcycles. I’m not exactly lucky with real ones, so I started collecting scale models. I have a place at home for them.”

Mr. Kennedy nodded, smiling slightly, with an enthusiasm so endearing that it felt like you were talking to a happy kid.

“I have some model kits. You paint and cut the little pieces, and assemble everything,” he moved his hands like he was assembling an imaginary motorcycle. “They come with the paint, stickers, everything. I have die-cast, pre-built models, too. But the model kits help me. Assembling things relaxes me.”

“That sounds amazing. It’s a great hobby, actually. You should bring one to your office. They’d look great there.”

“Do you think so? Sherry says it’s like a dad-like thing to do. And I think I’m the most single-est person in this office,” he said in a subtle self-deprecating tone.

You smiled softly, while internally screaming: HE’S SINGLE!!

“Mr. Kennedy, you just told me seconds ago not to care about that and to be happy with my music and the things I have on my desk. I’ll support you.”

“Support me?”

“Yes.” You nodded shyly.

“You… Uh… You’re right. I’ll bring one that perhaps you’ll like,” he said, enthusiastic. “It’s a Vespa. Google it when you have some time. It’d suit your kitty friend,” he pointed at your Sylvanian Families figure. “Maybe she’ll want to take a stroll around the city.”

“Bet she’ll have a great time, too.”

Those words came out more enthusiastically and happily than you had intended. And then, something happened. You looked at each other briefly, but it was enough to panic at the sudden realization that you were… lowkey flirting with your boss?

But when you looked at Mr. Kennedy again, he was looking down, and you noticed that his happy attitude had come back.

“Thank you. For your support,” he said, now struggling again.

He glanced at his watch and raised his brows in surprise. “Uh, damn, I have a meeting in exactly two minutes. Sherry must be waiting for me with welcome knives.”

“Thank you too, Mr. Kennedy. For the mug and your support, too.”

“It’s nothing. Well, eh, tomorrow morning we’re having a meeting about the transfer tasks. And next week you’ll have your new printer. Well, see you.”

“See you soon. Have a nice afternoon. I hope Sherry doesn’t hurt you.”

“If they call you from the hospital, you already know,” he said while walking away.

Your hippie brat friend looked at you while sipping her tea. If you didn’t know she was a pretty relaxed and open-minded person, you’d probably believe she was about to scold you.

But the only thing she did was laugh in your face.

“I can’t believe you took the older man thing so far.”

“Come on! If you’d seen him, you’d totally understand. But damn.”

“And do you really feel like you were flirting?”

“I don’t think so. Of course I think that because I like him. Of course I’m thinking about what I want to believe. I’m sure he was just being nice,” you said, moving your body while speaking, or rather swinging back and forth.

“Uh, what if he is your mysterious masked man?” she said, smirking.

You looked at her without saying a single word, but burst out laughing immediately. It was such a loud guffaw that you were sure your whole neighborhood heard you.

“No fucking way,” you said, cackling. “My boss is like a puppy. I mean, he is hot, but he behaves like a giant teddy bear. He’s too sweet and kinda awkward. The other guy was totally his opposite. The masked guy was, like, smooth, confident, you know? And anyway, I was too drunk to remember the rest. But it’s absolutely impossible. I mean, what the hell would my boss be doing there?”

Your friend nodded, convinced.

“You’re actually right. I wonder what that guy is doing right now.”

“Hmm. Probably on some badass quest, being a chick magnet.”

You looked at the ceiling, thinking of your charming, mysterious adventurer.

“T-thank you so much. I’m sorry. The babysitter can’t come tonight. It was too sudden.”

“Don’t worry. I was just… assembling a new model kit,” Leon said, grinning slightly.

“You’re having a little helper here, I guess.” Grace smiled and nodded.

“No. Your motorcycles are too boring, Uncle Leon,” Emily said, deadpan and straight to the point.

“Ouch. No pizza for the little lady tonight, then.”

“D-don’t buy her pizza, Leon. Please. I-I’m trying to make her eat more fruit.”

“I was joking. Alright, go before your nice boss calls you while you’re not at the crime scene.”

“Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

Leon closed the door and took off Emily’s bag.

“So, we’re having triple cheese on the menu tonight, huh?”

Emily nodded.

“Do you play with those motorcycles because you don’t have a girlfriend, Uncle Leon?”

Chapter 20: It's been a while

Leon drives in silence most of the way to the venue. It’s the same shit every year, except now everyone’s celebrating the glorious achievements surrounding the T-Virus antiviral. He doesn’t understand the protocols, the social norms, or the constant pats on the back.

Or maybe it’s because he just recovered from a hangover that lasted for days, one he cured by drinking even more. His method for years.

"So, did you manage to think of something?"

"Think of what?"

"What we talked about yesterday."

"Yesterday. You're asking too much."

"You'd better think fast if you don't want to regret it later."

Leon doesn't say anything.

"By the way, is she coming to the gala?" Chris asks.

"Pretty sure she won’t. She’s on medical leave."

Chris chuckles.

"What?" Leon asks, slightly annoyed.

"Nothing. Just keep driving. Every time I get in this car, I remember I need to take out a life insurance policy."

"You wanted me to do this."

"A little adrenaline isn’t so bad, huh? I already wrote my will anyway."

"Am I inheriting anything?"

"A kick in the ass. The rest goes to Rose and Claire."

"Pfft."

"By the way, do you have anything a little less depressing or something?"

(Playing: Staind - It’s Been Awhile)

"Why the fuck did I agree to drive you?"

"Come on. At least play some Foo Fighters."

Leon doesn’t answer right away.

"Dave Grohl… He’s an asshole."

"So you are."

Everything looks the same, just like every year: the same faces, the same conversations, a few congratulations, a few compliments. Words that go in one ear and out the other.

Do any of those words matter when he feels a horrible person?

Suddenly, a navy blue dress catches his attention.

No. It can’t be.

Leon looks at the woman, frozen.

Fuck.

There you are.

You're standing next to a girl about your age. That must be your PR coworker.

He feels his soul leave his body. He knew seeing you again would affect him, but not like this.

There are only two thoughts on his mind: you look beautiful, and he misses you so much. If he could, he’d hold you close and tell you how sorry he feels. But he doesn’t even know how you’ll react if he approaches you. His anxiety reaches unbearable, almost ridiculous levels.

He’s so distracted and disoriented that he doesn’t even realize he’s staring at you so obviously. He isn’t being subtle at all, and he’s sure the people around him have noticed. Even you notice, glaring back at him. You look so uncomfortable that guilt hits him instantly.

"Today’s your lucky day, huh?" Chris brings him back to this dimension.

Leon turns away with a groan. A group of subordinates is approaching, cheerful but still respectful.

"Alright, I’ll leave. If I stay here, you’ll probably throw me off a balcony," Chris says.

After some small talk about the internship, something changed the whole situation: he saw the government girl who helped organize all of this standing next to you and your coworker. She grabbed your coworker and walked toward his group. You followed them from behind, as if you had no other choice.

You know her. That catches his attention.

The government girl starts talking. Leon doesn’t know if it’s because he doesn’t like her, but her cheerful tone is really too much. He already feels dizzy, exhausted by her sickeningly sweet attitude.

What makes everything even more concerning is that you don’t even look at him. He feels like he doesn’t exist to you, like you’ve never met him. Like he’s a stranger. That hurts him right then and there.

Something brought him back to earth, but it was the wrong anchor. The government girl grabbed his arm, making his dizziness even worse. She introduced him to you, saying he was her favorite while clinging to him. It was uncomfortable and distressing. What if you get the wrong idea?

And then, she did the most triggering thing someone could do: call him a hero. Of the place that changed his life forever. The place where he couldn’t change anything. The place where he found betrayal and desolation. He’s many things, but not a hero.

"Well… that’s… a curious way to put it, I guess. But yes, you did a great job. We’re all really grateful," he said, trying to pull away.

When he studies you, he feels anguished. You’ve lost weight, and even if you look beautiful tonight, something’s off. He knows you well enough to realize you don’t want to be here. Like you were forced to come.

"I actually told him this was going to be a great chance to talk more, to spend more time together."

When the fuck did I say that?

The relief he feels when she lets him go lasts seconds. The government girl turns her back to you and starts talking about something he isn’t even listening to. You’re there, alone and lost among conversations you can’t join.

That’s when he realizes.

“There’s a coworker who hates me, and I don’t know why.”

No. She doesn’t hate you. Or she does, but not only that.

She’s a bully. Your bully, to be specific. Fuck, what were the chances it was her? Why is she acting like this, too? Now his aversion turns into a feeling he doesn’t like, but he can’t help it: he despises her. He wants her far away from you. Fuck. He needs to do something.

While he’s focused and rushing to think of a way to approach you, someone else solves the situation: one of his subordinates. He’s paying close attention to you, clearly fascinated. He shouldn’t be there talking to you, that guy is not the one who should be there. He frowns, upset, thinking he’ll tell him later that flirting at an event like this is inappropriate.

No, he’s not jealous. This is just inappropriate.

The government girl only adds salt to the wound, pulling his subordinate away from you. Good thing, he’s not talking to you anymore. Bad thing, you’re alone again.

Now he has a chance. And again, everything happens too fast.

Why the hell is Sherry here? She looks so happy to see you, and you talk like you’re lifetime friends. And of course, Chris is there too. Good thing he wrote his will.

His dizziness is enough to trigger one of his classic moments, when anything related to you makes it impossible for him to think properly. He’s already behind you when he realizes it.

“Hey.” He feels a small wave of relief. He’s close to you now. But he wants to be respectful, so he stands beside Sherry.

"Hi."

It’s just one word, but hurts like hell. Your attitude makes it so obvious that you don’t want him around. It’s understandable, but it still hurts.

"Wait, do you know each other?" Sherry asks.

"Eh… we do, what about you?"

That’s when Sherry explains about the PR who helped her last year. He remembers that, and it’s a nice coincidence. He’s not surprised at all, you're smart enough to impress anyone here. Leon tries to compliment you, but you still don’t give a damn.

"Leon is practically my dad," Sherry says. "I don’t know what I’d do without him."

"Leon is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met," Chris says, patting him on the back. "I don’t know what I’d do without him."

I’m throwing this fucker out of the car at 189 mph later.

You smile at him. Chris is the one who manages to lift your mood.

I’m throwing this fucker out of the car at 189 mph later.

"Sounds like he’s a dependable man," you say.

This is the second time you’ve looked at him. And yes, he understands what you meant. You don’t trust him anymore. Everything he’s done, every effort, thrown into the trash. Because yes, he’s an asshole. He hurt you.

He doesn’t deserve you.

You also look like you’re not feeling well. His anguish is now mixed with a kind of concern he doesn’t know how to deal with.

And if that wasn’t enough, Sherry is starting to realize something is going on. Chris looks almost amused.

I’m throwing this fucker out of the car at 189 mph later.

"It’s a little hot in here. I think I’ll go get some fresh air. Well, it was nice meeting you," you said politely.

"Are you okay, little lady?" Chris asked, looking at you attentively.

Little lady?  Who the fuck does he think he is, calling you that? He didn’t even call you pet names before, and he saw you first.

I’m throwing this fucker out of the car at 189 mph later.

"Uh, yes… it’s just a little warm in here," you say, uncomfortable.

"Alright. You dependable asshole, go with her," Chris said, pointing at Leon. "I think she might need some company in case something happens."

What?

He looks at Chris, trying to understand, still anxious and frozen.

"Did you listen, or Elpis left you deaf? Come on." Chris pushes him toward you. "Take her outside. She looks a little overheated. Help her feel better, for fuck’s sake."

I’m throwing this fucker out of the car at 189 mph later.

And now, Sherry has joined Chris’ plan to leave him alone with you.

(No. The only person he’s throwing out of his car is still Chris.)

And now he’s alone with you. Or he’s alone, because you’re ignoring him. But yes, you don’t look so good. He won’t let you walk anywhere alone. You can pretend he doesn’t exist, but he’s not leaving you. Not again. Not anymore.

“I can go alone, don’t worry,” you say, trying to walk away.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I’m not leaving you alone."

"I’m fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me."

There’s something triggering about your tone. You sound completely upset, almost angry. He remembers you grabbing his arm in bed, asking him to stay, turning a bad day into a good one just because he was there. That version of you doesn’t exist anymore. He lost that part of you, the right to comfort you. You’re pushing him away.

"Let me go with you. Please."

Yes, he’s reached that point of no return, even sounding pathetic. But he doesn’t give a damn.

You just sigh, annoyed.

"Whatever. Only doing it because of your friend."

But… he has this weird feeling.

What happened last month and your medical leave aren’t the only reasons you’re like this.

Leon has lost track of how many times he’s come to this place. He takes you to a spot he always visits when he needs to recharge his social battery, when he’s had enough of cynical conversations and everything that comes with them.

It’s a bench placed in a garden isolated from the rest of the venue. You both watch the forest around it, your hands on the bench, his hands on his lap. A fresh, luminous summer night with a full moon eases some of the tension.

You stay there in silence for a while, until he breaks the ice.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.” You don’t say anything else.

“I always come here during these events. You’re the first person I bring here.”

“Should I be honored?”

He doesn’t say anything. Your words sound bitter, almost ironic. He understands why.

“How is Lily doing?”

You unlock your phone and show him photos.

“Wow. She’s grown up.” He looks like a proud dad.

“Yes. I didn’t even realize. It was too fast. One month.”

“Now her ears don’t look absurdly big compared to her head,” he jokes.

“Her ears aren’t that big, come on.”

“No? I was starting to suspect she was an elephant.”

You smile for a few seconds, but then your annoyed expression returns. He’s beside you, but feels so far from you, a boundary too strong he still can’t cross, and he’s frightened by the idea that he never will.

Leon sighs. It’s a deep, uncomfortable sigh.

“It’s such a coincidence you met Sherry. She looked like she really loved you.”

“She was so kind and amazing to me. I can’t believe she talked about me like that.”

“She did. She adored you. I never expected that person to be you. It’s understandable, anyway.”

You don’t say anything to his compliment.

“You also looked pretty close to my coworker.”

Fuck.

“She–”

You cut him off immediately.

“Don’t worry, you don’t owe me an explanation. But I’m happy for you both,” you say, in a deadpan tone.

“What? Hey, no. We’re not dating. I barely talk to her.”

“I already told you, you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I do, and for more than one reason. But I should start by telling you that I’m not dating your coworker.”

Leon is officially distressed now. You really think he’s dating her. Why do you sound so sure about it?

“She’s been telling us these past few months while she was organizing the internship that she was meeting a DSO agent older than her,” you say, in an annoyed tone. “When you approached, she said she was going to grab his arm to show us who he was.”

He says your name and looks at you seriously.

“The closest thing to a personal interaction with her was her giving me a coffee and telling me the next one was on me. I ignored and avoided her for months. I wouldn’t even consider liking someone like her. Especially after what I saw tonight.”

“Oh? And what did you see?” You still sound sarcastic and skeptical.

“She’s the coworker you told me about, right?”

“Yes. Such a funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Does she know Lily, by the way?”

“Of course. I show her off everywhere.”

“I once showed photos of Lily after a meeting, a few weeks before the internship. She was there, and her reaction… was weird. She was insistent about who takes care of her when I’m out of town.”

“So you’re telling me she’s boycotting whatever we had in the past.”

“Pretty sure she liked me before that. That probably made the situation worse. But please, you have to believe me.”

You let out a humorless breath.

“And how is your space going?”

“That’s the other thing I need to explain to you.”

“Oh, so you’ll finally have the decency to explain things to me.”

Leon sighs again, stressed.

“Come on. Don’t make this more difficult for me.”

“Right. Because it’s so easy for me,” you retort, ironically.

“Can you please listen to me?”

“Fine,” you say, still deadpan.

“I’ll start with the internship. It was actually about everything that happened last year. I was the one who found the Raccoon City facility where Elpis was, along with an FBI agent. I had Raccoon City Syndrome. I almost died on that mission. During the internship, a DSO superior took me to a meeting. He had made a report on you. They knew everything about you. That’s when I found out where you worked. Things at the DSO aren’t going well. They even threatened me with an administrative hearing for having an undisclosed relationship with a government employee… from PR.”

He pauses, tense.

“…And they had photos. Of us.”

“Photos of what?” you ask.

“At the park with Lily. Me leaving your apartment. And the day we… the day I left. That guy told me that knowing you, a PR government employee, was compromising the internship, because you could leak information to the press. I trust you. I’m sure you’d never do something like that. But he… has a lot of unexplainable privileges. The only thing he was kind of right about was the risk of you getting dragged into gossip because of me. I already knew your boss treated you like shit. I couldn’t make things worse for you. I wanted to protect you. I needed to find a way to fix things. He told me I could leave the internship earlier. That’s why I came back before expected and asked you for some space.”

“You made me think I was a problem for you and then disappeared for a whole month. If I hadn’t come here, I still wouldn’t know any of this,” you retort, still upset.

“It’s just that… I found out you were on medical leave. I felt so guilty about it that I thought stepping aside was the right thing to do. I know I’ve been acting like an asshole this whole time. And you’ve just found out about all of this, and your coworker made this whole misunderstanding. I even suspect she was the one who told that guy. I understand why you’re upset. But I…”

He pauses, frustrated.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, but it ended up having the worst consequences. This was the last outcome I wanted. You’ve lost a lot of weight, and you don’t even want to look at me,” he says, his voice with pain and anguish. “And I…”

Leon looks down for a second and takes a deep breath.

“I started drinking again. I think this is the first day in weeks I’ve been sober after I found out about your medical leave. To be honest, I ended up losing track of the days. If it weren’t for Chris, I wouldn’t even know today was this stupid gala,” he says, sounding deeply ashamed. “It feels horrible… Hurting the only person I never wanted to hurt. I wanted to help you… to not make you carry your weight alone. But I only ended up putting more weight on you. I failed you. I’m so sorry.”

He sighs deeply, anxious.

“Well, that’s the whole truth. I’m an asshole, I know that. If you don’t believe me, I’ll understand. I know I don’t deserve you. I never did.”

For the first time in the whole conversation, you look at him.

You don’t say anything for a while. You’re trying to make the pieces fit. That day at the press conference, she asked you insistently about Leon. Her shock when you came tonight. The way she looked at you both when you left.

And Leon’s apology… felt somewhere between sadness and shame. You’ve never seen him like this before, and you don’t know how to react. His guard is completely down, his eyes are bright, his fists clenched with tension.

He was staring into emptiness. You tilt your head, glaring at him, and he looks at you, but looks away in a fraction of a second.

Admitting something like that in front of you must have been awful for him. You’re still confused about bitch coworker’s role in this situation, but right now, this isn’t about her at all. He looks so fragile and vulnerable in front of you that you feel like you need to do something.

You bring your hand to his face slowly, carefully. You run your fingers over the lines of his face, his forehead, the corners of his eyes, and every single wrinkle, gently. He closes his eyes, frowning. Your touch ends with your index and middle fingers smoothing the space between his eyebrows.

“I had always wanted to do that,” you say warmly, with a soft smile.

He smiles slightly, a little embarrassed, still not opening his eyes.

“I don’t even know what to think about that.”

“Nothing bad.”

You fall silent for a while.

“I started doing weed again, too. So don’t feel that bad.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, but you notice your words trigger something in him again.

“But… fuck.”

He looks down, stressed again.

“That only makes me feel worse, you know?” he says in a low, concerned tone.

“I wish I had done the right thing from the beginning. The real right thing,” he adds, still sounding vulnerable.

“And what's the right thing?” you ask. Your tone is no longer sarcastic. You’re trying to sound reassuring, understanding.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he tries to open his mouth to say something, then immediately regrets it.

“Fuck… I don’t even know how to properly talk to you. Where to even start. I want to be honest with you, explain everything. I’m an asshole. I’ve always been.”

He sighs deeply, overwhelmed.

“Look, I think that… I mean, I’ve been thinking, now, seeing you… that I’ve never allowed myself to be happy until I met you. I’ve always seen life as something that requires a strategy,” he lets out a humorless breath. “But I, eh–”

He takes a deep breath, looks at the moon, then looks at you again, taking another breath… again. This guy…

“Alright. Perhaps I should start with the most important thing,” he says, nodding as if he’s talking to himself or thinking out loud in real time. “Look, I–”

Here we go. Awkward Leon is back. You don’t even see a loading icon anymore. This is a blue screen. And honestly? You’ve missed this so much.

“Alright, fuck it.”

He sighs so deeply you can feel it in your chest. Then he looks at you.

“I love you. I… I really love you. I’ve always loved you. I still love you. And I only love you. I love you. Only you. There’s no way in hell I could love someone else, because no one else is you. You have no idea… Lily and you changed my life. I love you both so much.”

What.

You can’t help but look at him. Your face is burning, your heart beating so fast you feel like you’re about to throw it up. He pauses, takes a deep breath (again), and runs a hand through the back of his neck. Is he… blushing too?

“The thing is…”

A pause… again. If he keeps going like this, you’re considering punching him in his adorable wet puppy face.

“I wish… I wish you could give me a chance. To make things right. To find a way to make it, staying by your side. I promise you that I will. I can’t pretend you don’t exist in the meantime, you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I don’t want to leave you alone again. I just can’t. I can’t allow myself to do that. I don’t want to, either. Not after what’s happening.”

Leon paused, nervous.

“You’re right that if you hadn’t come, things would be different. But ever since I met you, I thought the best thing for you was not having me around. But something always draws me back to you,” he says, letting out a small, warm laugh. “You are… one of the few good things that has happened to me, something I truly believe I don’t deserve. But you keep coming back to me. I’m not the kind of man who believes in things like this, but I want to take it as a sign.”

He’s so nervous he doesn’t even realize he’s not giving you any chance to talk. So you just let him be.

“If you don’t feel the same way… I’ll understand. We can still be friends. I really want that. I miss you so much. And I miss Lily. I still have her toys at home.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, like his operating system is restarting.

“Perhaps I should, well… uhm… eh…”

Fuck, he needs to stop.

“Do you wanna grab dinner after this? When I called you during the internship, I told you I wanted to take you to a place. Well, I actually said two places. I was planning to tell you everything after that. Ask you out properly. We can go later. Both places. Consider it a… proposal. An offer. An invitation. Whatever you want to call it. I feel too old to call myself a boyfriend, but that’s… that’s what I’d like to be. I mean, I wish you could be my girlfriend, if that’s okay with you. Just… think about it, okay?”

You smile warmly, roll your eyes, and then look at him, fondly.

“You’re so goofy.”

He stifles a soft snort.

“Well, if that makes you smile, I guess it’s not that bad.” He looks at you, a slight smirk on his face that finally melts you.

“I wasn’t complaining.”

You take his hand gently. His first reaction is to interlace your fingers with his, in a shy, insecure gesture.

“Is this the dress you told me about?”

“Hmm-hm.” You nod.

“I was right, see?"

“Do you like it?”

“Of course. You look beautiful. Don’t you know? You won an Oscat for best dressed of the night.”

You let out a natural, wholesome laugh and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too, cat dad. I missed your lame jokes.”

“I love you. I missed your laugh. I don’t wanna make you feel bad again,” he says, turning his head to look at you.

You look at him, and that’s when you notice you still feel nervous, fragile. You let go of one tension only to replace it with another. Everything that’s happening tonight is too much. Leon has regained his usual composure, and brings his hand to your face, gently caressing your cheeks. You’re trembling, and you look down, scared.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, softly.

You can’t. You just tilt your head slightly, leaning away a little, trying to protect yourself. You feel vulnerable, shy, and stupid. He just asked you out and you still can’t react.

Leon leans in and rests his forehead against yours. He places his right hand on your stomach, holding you gently, while his left hand caresses your cheek.

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere, okay? Never again,” he whispers.

That feels so good.

You nod, smiling softly, and something inside you is in awe: he found your Achilles’ heel, something you didn’t even know yourself, something you did unconsciously. When you feel vulnerable, you always try to cover your stomach, like you’re protecting it from being hurt. It’s another piece of you he was able to notice and understand, and leave in its place like nothing happened. Another proof of how attentive he's to you.

There he was. The Leon who always makes you feel like everything was going to be fine.

You lean in and give him a soft, shy peck on the lips. He presses a little more, stretching that single second. It feels like he’s enjoying the feeling of being home again, little by little, relieved.

The kiss feels like two teenagers who have never kissed before. You brush your lips and tongues together, clumsily, like you don’t know what you want more. It’s a little weird, but it feels right.

“You have no idea how much I love you, pretty,” he whispers, giving you a soft peck.

“Pretty?” you giggle softly.

“I’ve been thinking of pet names for you,” he murmurs, proud of himself.

“I like that one… I love you too, handsome.”

“Handsome?”

“In case you didn’t know, you also won an Oscat tonight, old man.”

“Good thing. Sharing awards with such a gorgeous lady.”

“Hey… please don’t think you don’t deserve me. People aren’t trophies. You’ve done a lot for me, too. You’ve also changed my life. I’m so happy I met you.”

He smiles, brushing your nose with his.

“That’s so good to hear… Thank you. And hey… don’t think I forgot. You haven’t told me if you want to be my girlfriend. We need to specify that in our amendment,” Leon murmurs, playfully insistent.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” you say, teasingly.

“It’s fine, you can take your time to think about it. But will you let this old man take you out for dinner, at least?”

You nod, reaching up to his forehead and kissing him.

“I think it’s a good idea, since we’re dressed up so elegantly. Ideal for your fancy place.”

“Good. I agree.”

“By the way… I think we should go,” you say, pulling away softly.

“Yeah. We’ve been here for a while. You should go first, just to be safe.”

“Yes. I want to leave this place soon, so tell me how we can do it.”

“There’s a parking lot at the back gate. My car is there. I’ll be waiting for you at the gate. Don’t worry, it’s private. No one will see us. I’ll be there at 9:00.”

You just nod and start walking. 

While you’re leaving, you get an incoming call from Camille.

“Girl, where are you?”

“Still here.”

“Where? I can’t find you.”

“I’m outside. Did something happen?”

“No, no. I mean, boss just asked me where you are. I told him you went to the bathroom, and I moved to another place so he couldn’t find me to ask about you again. Wherever you are, you better come here. But… are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Really fine.”

“Really fine, huh?”

You just giggle.

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

You hang up.

Your mind is a whirlwind of confusing thoughts, mixed feelings. You feel a little bad that you didn’t answer Leon if you want to be his girlfriend, but you feel so dazed and you still cannot fully understand bitch coworker’s actions.

Or perhaps you’re just scared as fuck.

You go to the bathroom. Your makeup still looks good, even your lipstick is still decent enough to have just kissed Leon. When you leave the bathroom, you see the young DSO agent you talked to before, with another girl.

“Hey! We lost you.”

“I went outside. It was a little hot in here.”

“By the way, she’s one of the internship masterminds too,” the guy says, pointing at the girl, a DSO agent about your age. She looks at you gently.

“Nice to meet you! How’s everything going?” you ask.

“Fine! But you know, there’s something… uh… about your coworker,” he says, referring to bitch coworker, “she kept complaining all the time about how you disappeared.”

“Ah, well… she’s like that.”

“Tch, why are you telling her this, you stupid?” the girl says to him. “Does it matter?”

“It’s just that… uh… you were with Kennedy, right?”

You look at him, slightly appalled.

“I mean, he went with me outside to get some fresh air.”

The DSO agent girl looks at you like she’s thinking about something.

“May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Is that girl your friend?”

Your expression is somewhere between disgusted and amused. You can’t help it. Both agents laugh.

“Oh, good thing,” the girl says, genuinely relieved. “I fucking hate that bitch so fucking much.”

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that,” the guy says.

“Are you defending her? Man, she’s already really wasted over there. And for fuck’s sake, she’s so clingy with Kennedy. You just told me she grabbed his arm earlier? Disrespectful bitch.” She’s slightly drunk, but she still manages to look cute and decent while ranting.

“But whatever, Kennedy doesn’t like her. So?” the male agent says, shrugging.

“Doesn’t he?” you ask, like you don’t know anything.

“Of course not? We think he’s dating another girl, actually. Oh shit, I think I’m talking too much, heheh. It’s just that you look nice, you know? Like someone you can say stuff to.” The girl giggles.

“You can just drop the bomb and leave it there, you know?” You try to pretend you’re just curious and your heart didn’t skip a beat.

The male agent laughs, pointing at you like you’ve just said the truest truth of all truths.

“She knows ball,” he says. “Come on, tell her. I mean, he’s the fucking chad. I’m a straight man but I’d date him anyway. Kennedy gossip is good gossip.”

And they say men are not gossipers…

“Don’t tell this to anyone, okay?” The girl looks at you, smirking.

“Of course not.” You make a gesture of sealing your lips.

“Look, first of all, we love and admire him a lot, okay? I mean, he has his moods, you know, a little grumpy and with awful dad jokes sometimes, but he trained me and my friend here. He’s our mentor, basically. All the things we know, we’ve never told them to anyone and we never will. Just us and our friends who’ve been working on the internship know about this. It’s just that, argh–”

The girl looked upset again, so his friend continued. 

“Well… at the DSO, he’s the man, he literally founded it. But they treat him like shit sometimes, especially lately. He must be in the most useless meetings ever, and he’s always going on missions a rookie could easily handle alone just to supervise. And it always looks like the higher-ups need to know where he is and with who. It’s really shitty.”

“They treat him like a fucking K-pop idol. We’re sure the culprit here is a superior who’s there because of nepotism. He hates him. We think it’s because that dirty old man is ugly as hell,” the girl retorts, finishing her drink, indignant.

You smile and nod. You’re already thinking about printing a photocard of Leon with Lily.

“Anyway, about your coworker,” the girl says, taking a deep breath. “That bitch doesn’t know how to read the fucking room, you know. All the men look at her ass at every single meeting, except Kennedy. I mean, she’s got a nice ass, you know,” she adds, her tone somewhere between unbiased and drunk, “but he tries to avoid her as much as he can, but it seems she doesn’t understand. She’s pretty, but it’s not his style, I guess? I mean, we don’t know what the other girl is like. Physically.”

“And who’s that girl?”

“I’m tired, you go on.” The girl commands her friend, but it’s just an excuse to get another drink.

“Alright, sir,” he says, ironically but lighthearted. “Here’s the thing. Last month he told us he had a cat, and man, it was so unexpected to see a man as stoic as him so soft about a kitty. He’s not like that with anyone. He was bragging about how high the cat jumps and everything. It’s weird coming from a man like him, you know.”

“Yeah… I bet it does.” You try to look as nonchalant as possible. Good thing they’re drunk enough to be more focused on what they’re talking about than your expressions.

“Well, we think he’s dating the girl who takes care of the cat while he’s away. He mentioned her that day, like, it was pretty obvious he was into her,” the girl adds.

You try to hide your shock. You didn’t find the tea, the tea found you. It’s insane.

“That sounds cute.”

“Listen, we’ve seen this a couple of times. It wasn’t our intention, actually,” the guy says.

“Yeah, one time it was because you lazy fuckers were watching that damn Arsenal match during working hours, so we had to stay late,” the girl says, frowning, jokingly angry, tilting her head to look at him.

“The London time zone is different from here, you know?” the guy shrugs, like it’s the most valid excuse ever.

“Whatever,” the girl resumes the story. “Kennedy always stays late because of what we told you. Tons of work. I believe he never realizes we’re still there, because before leaving he used to call someone, asking about a Lily. We first thought she was a kid. But one day he said something about a pet-friendly place.”

“Wow… you were really listening.” You cover your mouth, trying to hide your laugh. It’s not an amused laugh, it’s embarrassment at what’s coming.

“That’s because he’s really noisy. I mean, everyone in the DSO knows when he sneezes. It’s a rite of passage to get startled the first few times you hear him when you’re a rookie.”

You burst out laughing. Everything sounds so him.

“Anyway,” she continues, “Kennedy has curtains on his office windows, and when they’re closed you can still see the shadows moving. Normally, when he talks on the phone with anyone, he doesn’t even move from his chair and he’s deadpan serious. But with this person? He’s always walking around the office while talking, I don’t know how the hell he doesn’t end up dizzy. The thing is, he always tries to end the conversation by telling her to meet up. He even sounds happy, you know. Well, it’s not like he’s unhappy or anything, it’s just that he’s too serious. It’s just that switch, you know?”

“And what does he say to her?” You raise your brows.

“Come on, man,” she says to her friend. “This is your moment to shine.”

The agent looks at her, confident and proud.

“RAHHHHH!!! Fucking FINALLY.”

He clears his throat, as if about to perform, putting an imaginary phone to his ear.

“Hey, you.”

That’s enough to make you start laughing and avoid the guy’s face. You don’t even want to know what’s coming next.

“How are you?” He nods, like he’s listening to the person on the other line. “Good, good. And how’s Lily doing? Is she behaving well this time?”

He makes a pause, then adds in a playful, disbelieving tone:

“You sure about that?”

The girl pats the guy’s back firmly, laughing. You cover your mouth because you can’t stop laughing either. He’s impersonating Leon so damn well. But you notice it isn’t with bad intentions. They’re really fond of him.

“Wait, wait, there’s more,” the guy looks at you, satisfied with your amused reaction. He resumes his acting with a solemn posture.

“Hey, well, eh… I saw this Korean restaurant. Near the station. I mean, you said you wanted to eat Korean food the other day? I was thinking, eh…”

“And that’s how he goes, but it always takes him an eternity to actually tell her to go. Like, he starts talking about something completely different, or maybe she does? We don’t know. Anyway, we once timed it, and it took him 45 minutes to actually tell her to go wherever he said that day.”

“Not to mention how that poor girl can stand his jokes. He’s so damn cringe,” the guy adds. “I mean, don’t misunderstand me. He’s such a cool guy, it’s just funny to see him like that. He’s been in a really good mood lately. And he deserves it, you know. Lucky girl who’s dating such a bachelor.”

“You gay as fuck,” the girl says.

“I’m not gay, man. I’m stating a fact. The one who’s gay here is you. Drooling over Hunnigan every time you see her.”

“Oh, Hunnigan… the woman that you are,” she looks at the ceiling, like she’s praying to a goddess.

“So he doesn’t like my coworker?” you ask.

The girl bursts out laughing.

“There’s no fucking way he does. She’s so dumpling squishy labubu. Bet she dates him and starts asking him to do TikTok boyfriend challenges or some airhead shit like that.”

“Don’t be like that, come on,” the guy says.

“Am I lying? He deserves better,” she snaps at him. No room for debate.

“Well… let me tell you, you’re really good at gossiping. You even remember the conversations.” You say, amused.

“Don’t mistake us. We’re investigators,” the girl says, raising her index finger in clarification.

You cackle, but you’re already so nervous with all this information that your phone slips through your hands.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m a gentleman,” the girl says in a sloppy but funny voice, picking up your phone.

When she sees your wallpaper, she squints. You can tell she immediately figures everything out.

“Your cat is so cute,” she smirks, handing your phone back to you and not saying anything else.

“Oh, so you’re a cat person too! Let me see!” the guy says.

“For fuck’s sake, man, we should leave this poor girl alone. Bet she has better things to do than being here listening to your poor DSO impersonations.”

“Pffft, okay. Anyway, one last thing,” the guy says. “We’re having some drinks after this. One of my friends told your other coworker too. Not that coworker, I mean. You can join us if you want.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll let you know.”

You gaze to your left. A few meters away, your boss is looking at you. He doesn’t look pissed at all, just attentive.

“Well, I think I have to go. It was really nice to meet you guys,” you say gently.

“See you!” the agent waves at you kindly.

The girl looks at you and smiles. You walk away as fast as you can, because you’re blushing. 

You approach your boss.

“Oh, there you are. I thought you had left. Camille told me you were still here.”

“Yes, I came to the bathroom and then ran into those DSO agents. But I want to leave soon, if it’s not too much trouble. At 9:00.”

“It’s okay. Are you doing fine?”

“Yes, I’m doing well. It’s been a nice party.” You look so stupidly happy that it’s impossible not to believe you.

“Good to hear. Good thing you came.” Your boss looks pleased. Finally.

You nod and leave quickly, taking a deep breath in relief.

“Oh girl, you’re here! Cami told me you were in the bathroom. I told her to go check if you were doing fine, but she insisted on not worrying. I thought you might be having an anxiety attack or something, since you don’t like crowds and you were–”

“I’m totally fine.” You interrupt bitch coworker with a wide smile, because you remembered the dumpling squishy labubu joke.

And the DSO agent was right: bitch coworker is really, really drunk, and more bitchy than usual.

“Oh? Totally fine? That sounds curious. Did you match with someone?”

“What happened with your DSO friends?” You avoid her question.

“Ah, screw them. They were so boring.”

Bullshit. They were the funniest people ever.

“Hey, is it my idea or you were with Mr. Kennedy? We saw you leaving with him. Did you give it a shot? Since you had this situationship with an old man…”

Now that you know the truth, you understand everything. She’s been competing with you, and you had no idea. She’s been degrading you all this time, running a race alone that she lost from the very beginning.

But your real answer comes in a deadpan, indifferent tone:

“He just went with me to get some fresh air. We talked a little.”

“Figured. Well, he’s really hot, but he’s in the big leagues. And I’m in line first. If he’s looking for a sugar baby, her target would be Cami… or me.” She grins.

The only thing you want is to tell her something like: “Yeah, he’s in the big leagues, the big leagues of kissing me minutes ago.”

Camille snorts. She can’t even help it.

“What? You don’t agree?” she looks at Camille, slightly upset.

“What makes you think she’s not his type?” she asks, amused.

“I mean… sugar daddies prefer curvy girls, I’ve heard.”

“Girl, if that’s what you heard, you must be deaf. He wasn’t even looking at you. He wasn’t looking at me either,” Camille retorts, looking at you. She never does something like this, but deep inside, you can tell she’s done with her. She pauses before her next jab.

“I mean, Mr. Kennedy was really bored with your conversation,” she continues.

Bitch coworker is at a loss for words, but Camille ends the conversation with the final blow.

“By the way,” she says, “the DSO agent I was talking to gave me his phone number. He told me they’re having some drinks after this and invited me. Did they tell you?”

“Of course they did. I’m going too. What about you? Did they invite you?”

The question is directed at you, but you’re distracted by something you noticed a few minutes ago.

Leon is there, at a considerable distance, talking to some people, but his eyes keep locking onto you from time to time. You’re not looking at him when she asks the question, but you’re still thinking about his puppy expression he’s been keeping since he saw you here.

“I ran into two of them and invited me. They were really nice and funny. I don’t think I’m going, though,” you reply.

“Damn you’re so boring. By the way, Leon fucking Kennedy is there! Oh my god, he’s so fucking hot. I’d rather have a private afterparty with him…”

You feel like she’s expecting you to encourage her. But both you and Camille look at her, trying to make her understand this is a really bad idea.

“Fuck it, I’m gonna do it. I’ve been waiting for this for months, you know? Working on this from day one. I want it, I get it. Wish me luck, girls.”

“Hey,” Cami says, “before we met him I thought it was fine, but he’s a really important person. Don’t you think it’s a–”

“Why are you being this boring tonight, girl?” She rolls her eyes and waves at Leon to come over, with a smug, almost malicious attitude.

She needs to do this in front of both of you.

Fuck… this is dangerous. You better be careful.

Leon approaches, relaxed.

“Oh, Mr. Kennedy! I’m sorry for interrupting our conversation earlier. We can resume it now, can we?”

Her flirty attitude was on the verge of something sickeningly slutty.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” Leon is polite, but his eyes betray him. He looks at you long enough for Camille and your coworker to notice. You look back at him too, but immediately look away. You almost feel like a teenager about to giggle.

“Mr. Kennedy, say… I have a question for you.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Camille looks at her, half concerned, half cringing.

“Who’s your type of girl? I mean, do you like them curvy, tall, short, skinny? Do you like younger girls?” Her voice is sloppy, and she takes a sip of her drink, not aware of how wasted she is.

Leon looks at her, baffled, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, if you had to choose, for example, among the three of us, who would you ask out? Just hypothetically, eh? Not like you have to ask us out now, right?”

She giggles, playing with her hair, and looks so confident that you’re already sorry for her. But you have no idea what he’s going to say, so you’re as concerned as Camille.

He takes a deep breath.

“I like smart women. Someone I can talk to about interesting things, music, hobbies, life, not just our jobs. Or someone to do fun things with, for me, of course. I like going to the park and relaxing there, having coffee, going to a restaurant, taking a stroll out of the city. Understanding each other is key. Loving cats is a must. And definitely not shallow people only interested in a particular type of body.”

Even if he sounds like he’s giving instructions for a mission, you need to look away because you’re smiling like an idiot. He’s saying literally all the things you always do.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh? Perfect answer,” she smiles playfully. “But what if you had to choose?” She smoothly points her index finger between herself, Camille, and you.

Leon frowns. Now he looks genuinely upset. You get tense, secondhand embarrassment taking over your mind.

“Well, firstly, not you,” he looks straight at her, his tone serious enough to sound slightly harsh. “I like women, not girls. And even less drunk girls.”

He pauses. That only makes the atmosphere worse.

“You’re pale and drunk, so you should go home, eat something, and get some rest before your boss sees you talking to a DSO agent like this. I know him personally, he’s a really nice, serious man. Your institution is important enough to expect a more professional attitude from you, considering how hard you’ve worked these last months and how much you’ve helped us. You should be careful. Your friends are respectful and nice, so you’re not helping them either. Consider this advice from an old dog. Now, if you excuse me.”

When Leon is about to leave, he looks at you, giving you a smile, subtle, but still warm. You shiver instantly and smile back at him.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Wanna pee,” bitch coworker says, pissed off as hell and fully aware of what actually happened: he gave his answer without saying a single word.

When she turns around, you hear her gasping, but you don’t know why. Maybe it’s better not to find out.

“I’m scared she’ll start gossiping about this,” you tell Camille, subtly anxious.

“She won’t. She did something ten times worse. Look to your left,” she murmurs.

Her boss is right there, one meter away, his back turned to you. Camille grabs your arm so you can move away from him.

“He listened to everything. In fact, I’m sure he stayed here when she started talking to Mr. Kennedy,” she murmurs.

“Oh my. That’s why she gasped. She’s cooked,” you murmur back, trying to keep your conversation as discreet as possible.

“Yes. But he certainly didn’t see that man looking at you like he was about to propose,” Camille whispers, giggling.

“Shh! Don’t say that!” you whisper back, blushing.

“But what happened? You both look actually happy.”

“He explained everything to me, apologized, and… confessed? He asked me out and everything. We kissed, but I didn’t tell him if I wanted to be his girlfriend or not.”

Cami snorts.

“Isn’t kissing him practically saying yes?”

“Of course not! I just… slipped, okay?” You almost stutter. At the end of the day, you’re just as awkward as him.

“Yeah… must’ve been the wind.”

You laugh.

“Well, he made you suffer, so he can wait a little, I believe. By the way, why did she say she was meeting Mr. Kennedy? He literally rejected her in front of us.”

“It’s kinda a messy story. I’ll tell you everything on Monday.”

“Alright. Leaving me with the gossip like this. And what are you going to do? Apart from slipping?”

You smile and roll your eyes, glancing at your phone.

“I mean, we’re having dinner together. I’m leaving at nine.”

“Ah, of course. The wind will take you there for sure. Where will it take you later?” she smirks.

“I don’t know,” you smile. “By the way, are you going to have drinks with the DSO? I saw you talking to that guy. Did you like him?”

“Considering what just happened, I don’t think I’m going. But he told me to see each other another day.”

“And?”

“I’m asking the wind, too.”

You burst out laughing.

“By the way, you manifest too hard, dude. You should manifest that we win the lottery or something.”

“I’ll manifest that the wind takes you to a good afterparty,” she says, blinking at you.

8:50 p.m., and you are in the bathroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. You feel like the entire evening has been a fever dream and a rollercoaster. You’re legitimately dazed.

You put cold water carefully on your face to refresh yourself. When you open your bag to reapply lipstick, a door opens.

It’s the DSO girl who saw your wallpaper. You get startled.

“You’re fast, huh?” she jokes. “I’m glad I found you. Just wanted to tell you not to worry about that, queen.” She makes a gesture of sealing her lips.

You smile softly at her.

“Thank you, really.”

“By the way, I loved your vibe,” she says. “No wonder why you’re that person.”

“Thank you.”

“So, we’re going for some drinks?”

“I can’t. I have plans.” You instantly blush.

She smirks and pats your shoulder.