“Dude, Ada already has a MySpace,” Leon says, scrolling through her page. “And… you’re in the number 1 in her top friends!? What the fuck?” He slouches back in his seat, the chair squeaks underneath his weight. Jet black strands fall over Leon’s eyes as he stares up at the ceiling. He hates his ceiling—all crackled and bumpy, makes his skin itch.

“And Wesker is in the number 2 slot.” He groans, his hand sliding down his face. You’re sat on Leon’s bed, a permanent marker in one hand, and your converse in the other. “You have a MySpace?”

“No.”

You finally look up and throw Leon a quizzical look, “you don’t have a page but you’re complaining about her top eight?”

“I think she should leave the slot open to show commitment to our friendship.”

A comment that earns a snicker from you. Leon turns his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re laughing at Ada’s clear betrayal of our friendship. Wow,” he deadpans, sinking down in his chair again.

“I think it just means you should make a MySpace, dummy.”

“I’m not a dummy.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“The longer you argue, the longer I stay in her number 1 spot.”

Leon gasps, straightening in his chair. “Dude, you’re right.”

You watch as Leon clicks the sign up button, his fingers moving across the keyboard. Only his name and email is entered before he comes to a standstill.

“I need a cool username. Something that’ll wow the babes.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you suggest, “loser underscore Leon.” Leon scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “That’s way too on the nose.” The way the fabric stretches taut around his bicep catches your attention. When did Leon get muscles? Leon has never been a weak man but he didn’t have noticeable biceps before. Seems the training at the academy is doing him justice.

Leon reaches over his desk to grab his can of monster, taking a long gulp. When he sets the can down, he gives his first suggestion, “what about lost in raccoon city, like a play on lost in Hollywood?”

“Mm…” you consider his suggestion, looking back at the converse that you’ve been decorating for the last twenty minutes. “Sounds cool. But it doesn’t give Leon Kennedy. It gives System Of A Down groupie.”

“You’re right. The Kennedy brand is important,” he agrees. Resting his chin on his knuckle, he’s slouched over in his seat.

“How about Killa Kenz? Edgy to represent my street cred.”

“Killa Kenz?” You repeat, voice pitching higher, and your brows furrowed in confusion. “What exactly are you killing? Because you didn’t even kill that spider yesterday.”

Leon glances at you, “I didn’t want to get my new vans dirty. Plus, you were closer.”

“You shoved me towards it.”

Leon shrugs, the corner of his mouth turning up in amusement. “Uh, I don’t recall that.” He laughs when you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I guess that’s a no to Killa Kenz.”

A critical decision required thought, this username would be attached to him forever. His computer went into hibernation awaiting his final decision. Leon watches the WindowsXP screen saver bounce from corner to corner—turns out choosing a username is like naming a child. Stressful. So many ideas churning in that monster energy fueled brain.

“What about cannibal Kennedy? But cannibal is spelt with a K instead.” Is Leon’s next suggestion.

“Ooh, that’s a good one.”

Leon flicks his snake bite with his tongue, mulling over this suggestion. This was the Leon Kennedy brand he was thinking about. It has to show how seriously scene he is.

“Bro… what about kandi-bal Kennedy. Because all you do is make kandi.”

Leon locks eyes with you—well, one eye, his fringe is covering his left eye. “Dude…” he says in awe. Leon lets out an amused hum, “when did you become Shakespeare level smart? That’s the best idea ever.”

Shakespeare level smart? Well, it’s a compliment. You think. You fell asleep during the class reading of ‘The Merchant of Venice’ and cheated off Ada’s quiz.

Leon’s fingers fly across the keyboard. With his hand, he beckons you over. “Look.”

Setting your shoe and marker down, you rise from his bed. Heading straight to Leon, you stand behind his office chair. Your chin rests on his head as you lean down to view the computer screen.

xXx_Kandibal_KennedyxXx

All it needed was your seal of approval.

“Sweet. Your page is going to get so many hits.”

Now that a username was chosen, the real test was about to start. Hours spent CSS coding.

“You think Ada will put me in that number 1 slot?”

“Over me? Hell no.”

—

Ada does put Leon in her number 1 slot after Leon begged her. Bumping you down to second place and Wesker to third place.

The smile on Leon’s face is wide. Wider than when he got accepted into the police academy. Walking down the sidewalk to Leon’s apartment, his arm slings around your neck. “Don’t worry, babe. We can’t all be number one.”

“Bragging when my heart is broken? Low blow, Lee.” An exasperated sigh leaves you, leaning into Leon’s embrace. There’s no true offense to being bumped down to second place.

Not because you don’t care but…

Ada sent you a text before she made the decision.

u r still num. 1 in my heart 💋

From Ada: