when we are both cats

Since Leon has returned home from the mission in Spain a couple months back, the successful mission of requiring the president’s daughter which has made him a now renowned and respected agent, he develops this newfound paranoia every single day.

The fear that the bioweapon, the plaga, that was forced into his body, a once safe and reliable clump of cells and muscles that he could always depend on, is corroding him. And will eventually corrode everybody else around him.

He believes he can feel it, worming its way underneath his skin. Attacking his cells, his heart, his brain. He believes his mind isn’t his anymore, at least not completely.

Which is why he believes the voices in his head, the mantra every time he wakes up, only gets louder under the influence of the plaga. And he’s helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to go on normally as if he didn’t kill innocent people who were infected by the same thing that resides in his body (so he believes).

So he doesn’t.

He goes to random, seedy bars every couple of nights and spends all his time there, from 7pm in the evening until 4am in the morning, just drinking away his sorrows, drowning out the voices in his head that tells him it’s all his fault.

Tonight is no different.

Leon has been sat by the bar since he first walked in fifty-three minutes ago, staring down at the amber liquid in his shot glass, his fourth one of that evening so far, when the bartender attempts contact with him.

“So,” The random stranger begins, an awkward smile on his face as he rests his hands on the sticky wooden bar in front of him. “What do you do?”

Leon glances up at him for a split second; cold, unyielding eyes conveying his answer to that question perfectly clear, before taking a sip of his drink.

The bartender clears his throat.

“’Cause, uh, me and a couple of the other guys all got a bet on what you do. Since, you know, you’re here quite often.”

Leon remains silent, his jaw clenching as he fiddles with the shot glass, creating a ring of condensation on the bar, as the bartender keeps babbling.

“Well, one guy thinks you’re a cop, the other thinks you’re one of those financial guys, like an investor I guess, and I think you’re, like, a babysitter or something.”

Leon stares at him as he takes another sip of his whiskey. “Do I look like a babysitter?”

The bartender’s grin drops as he rubs his neck and backs away from the bar slightly. “Uh, no, I guess not. But, you know, you never know what someone does based, um, on what they…” He trails off as he feels the unmerciful stare on him, a cold shiver running up his spine as he turns to serve other patrons of the bar, finally leaving Leon by himself.

The song switches on the radio, the tinny sound echoing off every corner of the bar, as the door opening and closing interrupts the radio.

Leon turns his head, an automatic action ingrained in his muscle memory.

A pair of tired eyes is the first thing he sees. He notices it so easily because they’re the same as his. The next he sees is hypnotising maroon-red lips, and a body that he would conjure in his wildest, darkest fantasies.

His cold eyes follow you, as your eyes follow his.

You have a hypnotising gaze, too, he thinks, as you take a seat next to the empty one beside him, leaving a gap between you both.

He takes a sip as he continues to stare you down. You don’t waver. In fact, you smile, enticingly, menacingly, as you gaze at him in return.

Only when the bartender comes to you to make your drink, you turn your gaze off Leon, and only then does he realise he was holding his breath.

You order your drink, then your stare goes right back to him.

He pretends not to notice, yet his mind cannot stop imprinting your features; first your eyes, which have red and purple buried underneath them as if you have not slept in years, your lips which are slightly cracked, painted with red that he would love nothing but to lick off.

Leon grunts to himself, disgusted with these perverted thoughts that seemingly come from nowhere.

“You a cop?”

Leon turns to look at you, raising an eyebrow at your question. Not this again.

You only smile back, leaning your arm on the bar as your head rests in your propped-up hand.

“You look like one.”

Leon furrows his eyebrows. “How so?”

The bartender comes back with your drink. A vodka and lemonade. Two shots. He can tell because of the strong smell.

“You look around as if waiting for the right moment to pounce on someone.” Your index finger spins around on the rim of your glass as you keep smiling at him, a haunting smile that would keep him awake at night.

Leon sighs, finishing off his drink then pushing it away from him, signalling to the bartender for another.

“So, are you?” You ask, crossing your legs as if to entice him to open them.

He keeps his stare forward, away from you. “No.”

Another whiskey comes his way, and he immediately takes a sip of it.

“Scotch?”

Leon looks at you then and shakes his head. “Bourbon.”

“You’re a Bourbon man?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

You bit your lip as your stare delves deeper into his eyes. He believes, for a minute, you’re processing every thought in his mind, seeing the perverted things he’s thinking of you, before you look away and take a massive gulp of your own drink that has been waiting there since you ordered it.

“Me personally, I’m a Vodka girl.” You smile at him again when you put the glass down in front of you, playing with the rim of the glass again. “Does the job quicker.”

Leon chuckles slightly at that before taking a sip of his drink.

“What’s your name?” You rest your head on his head, biting your lip as you wait for his answer.

“Leon.” He answers, before glancing at you and grinning only slightly, to the point where it is not noticeable. But by you, it is.

“Yours?”

You give your name through a smile, watching as he nods and takes a sip of his Bourbon again.

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

Leon shrugs at that, staring down at the golden-brown liquid in front of him.

“It’s okay,” you then stand up from your stool and sit right beside him instead, the strong whiff of your intoxicating perfume making Leon almost delirious. Or perhaps that’s the five whiskeys finally affecting him.

“We’ll fix that.” Your smile will always plague his deepest, darkest thoughts; thoughts that he would never let see the light of day.

Leon scoffs at that, grinning at you slightly as he turns towards you, your knees connecting. You feel warm, as warm as you could be through the fabric of his jeans.

“What, you wanna be my shrink?”

You shrivel your nose at that suggestion, appearing disgusted by the idea.

“God no, shrinks never listen. They just suck you dry of money.” You speak bitterly, before your warm, almost bewitching, tone of voice returns.

“I wanna be your friend, Leon. Can I be your friend?”

Maybe it’s all the bourbons he has drank so far tonight, but he feels himself nodding, a slight grin tugging at his lips.

You smile widely at that, before reaching your hand at his drink.

“In that case, can I have a taste? I’ve heard mixed things about the bourbon at this bar.”

He nods again, watching as you bring the glass up to your lips, taking a sip right from where his lips have touched.

 You grimace as you place the glass back down, shaking your head.

“That’s awful, how can you stand to drink that shit?”

Leon shrugs again, his full body facing yours as he leans his arm on the back of his chair.

“Only shit that’s good in this place.”

You smile at him and it pulls him into a spell; a spell of forgetting his past, his present, everything about him.

“Wanna come to my place? I have the best bourbon and vodka, I swear.”

Leon forgets all his instincts, all his training and basic safety sense. His only thought in his head is how badly he wants to go back with you and have this night with you, whatever it is, to go on forever. Even if he has only known you for ten minutes.

“Yeah, sure. As long as I don’t have to put out.”

You laugh, shaking your head as if the idea is ridiculous. And, well, Leon can’t help but feel slightly offended.

“Scout’s honour, baby.”

Somehow, Leon finds himself being dragged out of the bar by you, holding his hand tight in your soft grasp as you tell him your place is not far.

He walks beside you in silence, his hand still in yours as he returns to his senses and realises that this, holding hands with a stranger he met not even thirty minutes ago and going back to her place, is such an abysmal idea that he’s shocked and unsure how he ever agreed to in the first place. Yet, as Leon feels how you sway walking alongside him, how, when you turn completely quiet aside from your slight giggling and whispered nonsense in his ear, he sees how your eyes turn lifeless, your mouth turns straight, and your grip on his hand turns shaky.

So, he says to himself he will only help you to your apartment, then leave.

All that goes out the window by the time you unlock your door and drag him inside.

Despite his earnest and firm protests, despite him repeating over and over how he should go home now, you sit him down on your sofa which has a blanket thrown over it and pillows on the floor, and you provide him a glass of your best bourbon.

“I’m not letting you leave until you taste that.” You say with a grin on your lips, and a bourbon bottle in your hands, and Leon sees no other option but to indulge.

You were right – it’s the best bourbon he’s ever tasted that he can’t help but ask for more.

Eventually, you’re sitting next to him, passing the bottle between you both as you bask in the warmth of the liqueur bathing through your body.

Leon looks around your apartment, noticing the random empty bottles on the floor, and the ashtray resting on the windowsill of your open window that is piled up with used cigarettes. It’s not the most disorganised apartment he’s been in, he thinks. Just clean enough to not warrant an intervention, but still unkempt enough to raise concerns.

It’s too bad that he’s drunk enough to not give a shit.

“You gotta be the best shrink I’ve ever seen.” Leon grins, his head resting on the sofa cushion as you laugh and take the bottle from him.

“Aren’t I just.” You grin as you take a swig of the bottle.

Leon only notices then that his hand is on your thigh – low enough to be decent, yet high enough to be considered bordering on intimate territory. He rips his hand away then, his onslaught of apologies then cut off as you grab his hand again and place it back on your thigh, rolling your eyes at him in a way that tells him you find him ridiculous, as you take another sip from the bottle.

Leon remembers then that the only reason his hand was on you in the first place, was because you put it there. You seem to like his touch. It seems to soothe you. It soothes him too, he realises.

“What’s your job, then?” You ask, a drunken grin on your lips as you tilt your head at him.

Leon sighs and redirects the question instead. “What’s your job?”

“Waitress.”

“Do you get a lot of tips?” Leon asks, taking the bottle from you this time and sipping down the brown liquor.

“No, I’m fucking awful at it.”

You both laugh, your hand landing on Leon’s shoulder as you do.

“So, what’s your job?”

Leon’s laugh cuts short, his stare focusing on the bottle in his hands as he avoids answering it.

Your voice turns soft, comforting soft, like you really are a therapist. “What do you do, Leon?”

He sighs, pressing the bottle to his lips. “You don’t wanna know.” He takes a sip.

“I do, that’s why I’m asking.”

“It involves shitty, boring stuff.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t.”

“It does, okay?” Leon’s tone turns frustrated, his voice slightly louder as he nearly yells at you.

If it was anyone else, they would’ve apologised for pressing his buttons and changed the subject or even kicked him out after the sudden snap. But you don’t back down.

You begin to caress his arm in a light touch, and it soothes him. He doesn’t know how, or why, but it does.

“It’s really shitty, huh?”

He nods, fiddling with the bottle label. And, for some reason, he finds the inexplicable need to open up and unload a slight bit of his burden on you.

“I don’t wanna do it. Not like I dreamed of doing what I do. But I had no other choice.”

“Why?” You frown, running your hands through his soft hair as he gathers the courage to keep talking.

“Because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Raccoon City.”

Silence lands between the both of you.

“I’m sorry.”

Leon sighs and takes another sip from the bottle in front of him.

“…I remember seeing you there.” Your hands drop from him, as you slump in your seat on the couch and stare out the window, with that lifeless look in your eyes.

Leon turns to you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down as he stares at you. “What?”

“I was there too, that night. I remember everything. Even you.”

“Why were you there, what were you doing there?”

You sigh then, reaching for a cigarette from the packet on your coffee table, and light it, taking a puff from it before answering.

“I lived there.”

-

The next morning, Leon wakes up from the sofa.

His jacket was taken off, in favour of a blanket strewn across him.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

The sound of a kettle whistling rings in his head, causing him to close his eyes and wince as he tries to recall the events of last night.

He remembers meeting you, walking you back to your apartment, and yeah, everything else is pretty much a blur from that point.

“Morning.” He hears your warm voice and opens his eyes once again, only to see you placing a black coffee in front of him on the coffee table.

“Didn’t know if you like cream or not.”

“Thanks.” He grumbles and sits up to take a sip of the coffee, humming in satisfaction as the warm liquid trickles down his throat.

After he finishes the coffee, Leon leaves quickly, but not without your phone number written on a piece of paper, and not without giving you his (you know, in case you ever need him to walk you home again).

He notices, as he’s waiting for a cab outside your apartment building, a little scribbled note you had put on the other side of your number.

Call me whenever you need me.

Leon thinks that he’ll never need to call you. But, as he thinks back to your hypnotic eyes, your mesmerising smile, and the softness of your touch, he knows deep down, he needs someone like you.

Someone like him, who is damaged in the same possible ways.

Someone who understands his ways of thinking, his way of coping.

Most of all, someone who wakes up with the same mantra over and over again.

You’ve been gone for sixteen years. He hopes that you’re living the life you always wanted – with the perfect house, perfect job, perfect husband. But secretly, selfishly, he wishes that your perfect life could include him in it. He would have settled for not being your husband, just a friend, maybe, because he knows he’ll always be yours anyway. You know that too. But he believes that you’re not capable of being his, because you deserve better; you deserve peace and stability, the constant reassurance that the person you will spend the rest of your life with will always be there.

In another universe, you’ve been married for approximately 28 years, and you both would have spent your late forties, early fifties, travelling the whole world for pleasure. But it wouldn’t have mattered where he went with you – he would have never seen something as transcendent or intoxicating as you.

However, it is just Leon’s luck that he had to be born in the universe where you are doing all of that, with another. And Leon? He spends his days finding trinkets of you lying around his apartment.

-

After you left that day, the day where Leon was an utter coward who refused to attend your own father’s funeral, he lost every bit of stability in his life after that.

The government tracked him down and asked him ‘nicely’ to join a special force team, the DSO.

He was only 21. He was meant to be a police officer. He was meant to save people.

The DSO was another way of saving people, he was told. Leon would save more people, protect more lives. So, he went along with it.

He packed his bags, which he packed inside it a photograph of you and him, around his 21st birthday, when you were both laughing in a photobooth because it was nearly impossible to pose in time for the countdown. You had given him a birthday princess crown (which he wore with some convincing), you had baked him a cake of his favourite flavour, you had bought him the new album of his favourite band. But most of all, you gave him a birthday worth cherishing. A memory that would encourage him to keep going. Because in all the darkness in the world, which would sometimes consume him, there had to be light too.

You were the light.

Leon remembers the first couple weeks of training with his old mentor, Krauser. The pain, the physical exhaustion, the constant burden of not being good enough.

Eventually, his body became so accustomed to the pain that Leon could not remember the last time he didn’t feel pain.

He didn’t realise this, but he was slowly turning numb. More logical. More robotic.

It was five months before his 24th birthday. Leon knew he wouldn’t be celebrating it – he even forgot his own birthday the year before.

He was on break from the intensive training, the constant loop remaining in his head from Krauser that he had to be ‘the best of the best’, when he saw you walking down the street.

It was as if Leon was his 20-year-old self again, seeing the most beautiful creation in all of existence walk down the street. Except, you felt more out-of-reach. Like he could have ran up to you and you would have disappeared.

You stopped at the stoplight, looking at your surroundings, when you noticed him.

You didn’t really move after that.

You remained there, just staring at him. His dirty blonde hair was no longer dirty, just light. His muscles had filled out more, and his eyes were still that icy blue. But they weren’t the eyes that you once memorised. They weren’t the eyes of the man you fell in love with.

Leon had crossed the street to walk towards you when the stoplight turned red, everything halting around you, and you didn’t disappear. You stayed put.

“Hey.” He softly approached you, as if you were a scared deer being approached by a wolf.

You exhaled lightly. “Long time, no see.”

Leon nodded, sighing to himself. “You’re telling me.”

There was a brief moment of silence between you both, uncomfortable as if you had never spoken a word to each other in all your life.

“How have you been?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Leon hesitated before answering. “Fine. You?”

You shrugged. “Fine.”

Another uncomfortable silence, that time much longer.

You sighed again, seemingly forcing your body to relax as you spoke to him, a slight smile on your lips.

“You wanna get a coffee?”

Leon knew he should have said no, should have lied and made up an excuse, and never, ever see you again.

But he couldn’t handle it.

He owed it to the rookie in him to go with you.

So, he did.

You both sat outside a coffee shop on the corner; you sipping your caramel latte, whilst Leon held onto his espresso.

“So,” you spoke, wiping your mouth from coffee froth, which Leon still found achingly adorable. “What are you doing in Washington?”

Leon could tell the truth; that he and a couple of other trainees had a formal event later that evening in which they would be congratulated for their years of hard work and dedication. He could even go so far as tell you that the president may even be there himself to personally welcome these men into the DSO and expressed his so-called gratitude for their future service. But he wanted you to live with the delusion that he hadn’t changed, so maybe you could have remembered him as that boy with stardust in his eyes and helping hands in his pockets.

“Visiting friends. You?”

You smiled slightly. “New job. Just started a couple weeks ago.”

Leon grinned, falling into the rhythm of a normal conversation. “Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

“Oh, I’m pure shit.”

At that, you both chuckled.

“But, at least I’m making decent money now. Don’t have to light candles when the electricity runs out anymore.” You grinned, reminding Leon of the many times where the both of you would lie beneath the covers as candle lights flickered around you.

He hummed in recognition, his glance turning to the untouched espresso in front of him.

“…But I gotta admit; candles were always romantic.”

Leon grinned, only slightly, looking up at you as you stared at him as if nothing had changed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, taking another sip of your caramel latte, the froth left over on your upper lip being wiped away by Leon before you had a chance to do it yourself.

Leon had offered to walk you back to your place, to which you accepted, gladly taking the opportunity to spend more time with him, to try and get to know what he had been up to for two years.

But he never said anything. He never told you anything drastic, or new, or life changing. He would make the occasionally quip when you told a story, or grin slightly when you told him of your new dog – a German Shephard called Sam. Yet, he never spoke for too long or smiled for too long. It was as if he was not allowed to be human.

You had arrived back to yours when he turned to face you with a serious expression on his face.

“Listen,” Leon sighed, as if he was about to deliver grave news.

You frowned slightly in concern, tilting your head as you waited for him to continue.

“I wanna see you again.”

You sighed, shaking your head to yourself at his dramatics.

“When?” You looked up at him and smiled, and he thought whenever you need me.

“Whenever you’re next available. I mean, I’ll be willing to make an appointment to see you if you need me to.”

You laughed at that, feeling like the twenty-year-old who was mesmerised by his crooked grin and boyish charms.

“I don’t know, I’ll have my assistant call you to finalise the details.”

Leon grinned, and you suddenly forgot why you walked away in the first place.

“Um, maybe we can get together tomorrow, have some dinner?”

He nodded, staring down at you with a slight sliver of stardust in his eyes as he smiled slightly.

“Sure.  I’ll pick you up at 7. I know a good place.”

With that, you exchanged new cell phone numbers, and he left, leaving you standing there outside your front door as you watched him walk away.

It was as if your initial split up was completely erased – the impact of his trauma, your father’s death, him leaving you alone right when you needed him most.

But you missed him.

It had felt lonely for those two years you had been without him.

No one knew you, knew what made you truly smile, laugh, cry and frown like Leon did.

No one will ever know you as best as Leon does.

-

After that date the next night, things between you both had essentially picked up from where you left it.

Not the complete same, of course, Leon had his new stone walls built around him, but occasionally, he would let you in just enough to give you a peek of who he was then.

You knew he worked for the government; you knew that it was soul-ruining, body-breaking work. But he would never tell you what he actually did, how his days were actually spent.

Sometimes Leon would come home, to your home, around 1am in the morning, with bruises dusted along his body, after being gone for a week, and give you a warm embrace as if everything was okay.

And truly, you were convinced it was. You remembered the days where your father would sometimes come home from his job with bruises and cuts after chasing criminals all day – it was just what you were used to.

Didn’t mean that you didn’t pamper the hell out of Leon.

And then, after those weeks of being gone, where he was god-knows-where, Leon would wake up beside you, he would make you coffee, he would buy you flowers because he knew you loved your home being surrounded in beautiful flowers, he would walk your dog every day that he could because, at that point, that dog was his too, he would pick you up as if you weighed nothing and forced you to lay with him on the couch when your head was stuck on your computer for too long, and he would kiss you the same way he used to always kiss you.

As if he was nervous that you would go at any time.

You kissed him the same way you used to always kiss him – as if you would never stop loving him.

You still wore that promise ring he gifted to you – in fact, you never took it off, even when you separated for those two years. And Leon walked past a ring shop one day, only to walk out with a ring that was meant to make you his for eternity.

There was always the lingering doubt in his mind that he wasn’t destined for this life – he wasn’t destined for you.

Of course, he was right.

It was during another one of those weeks when Leon was gone for training, that he finally came to that realisation.

“You’re fighting like you’re scared, kid.”

Krauser had circled around him whilst Leon took a break from training, panting hard whilst taking a sip of his water.

“I’m not.”

Krauser scoffed and halted to a stop right in front of him, his menacing glare making Leon feel like a child again.

“Yes. You are.”

Krauser glared at Leon, fixing his eyes right into his eyes as if he was attempting to rip open his soul.

“You’re fighting like you got something to lose.”

Immediately, you flashed into Leon’s mind, and he gulped, backing away from Krauser.

“Don’t we all?”

Krauser sighed and shook his head.

“Only the good fighters have nothing to lose; that’s why they’re good, too.”

He walked away from Leon, leaving him hanging onto his every word as he adjusted the bandages on his hands, covering his knuckles.

“I’ve seen it in you these past months, something’s changed. Something has entered your life and made you soft as shit.”

Krauser turned around to face him, watching as Leon’s face slowly dropped.

“Better to let that something go before you really do have nothing to lose.”

-

Leon returned home the next day after being gone for two weeks, except this time he didn’t just walk into your place as if he truly lived there.

He sat outside on your doorstep for an hour after he arrived in Washington before you woke up and decided to open the front door to check for any overnight deliveries.

You had initially smiled when you saw him, but you realised something did not feel right.

In fact, it felt just like before he broke your heart the first time.

Leon looked up at you and finally stood up, facing you as he sighed.

As if muscle memory, you immediately took his face in your hands, gazing up at him with a look that was his home.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, and held your hands in his instead, dropping them softly in an attempt to let you down easy.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Doing what?”

“I can’t keep being with you because it’s too dangerous.”

You scoffed. “Dangerous? Why, ‘cause of your job? Leon, I know you work for the government, but I don’t think I’m that important to be getting death threats anyti—”

“You don’t understand.” Leon interrupted you with a firm voice, his hard-set gaze silencing you.

“The type of work I do, or will be doing, it involves some shady people. Really shady people. And horrible shit, like biological weapons and diseases and fucking messed up stuff. The same kind of stuff that killed your dad.”

Tears had welled up in your eyes, yet you were stubborn enough to not let them fall.

“I just… I can’t let anything happen to you, I won’t—”

“So, what, that means we can’t be together? Leon, who is that good for?”

“You.”

You sighed, wiping away a stray tear that managed to sneak out.

“You’re really doing this to me again? Really?”

Leon averted his gaze to the plant pot beside your front door, trying his absolute hardest to not look at you.

“I should have never gone anywhere near you again in the first place.”

It was ridiculous to expect that things could go back to the way they were, you realised that. How they used to be, how he used to be, it was all gone. All it was, was just a dream.

“Fine. Then go. But you better not come back.” You managed to push those words out, as faint as they were.

Leon nodded slightly. “Believe me, I don’t plan to.”

Then he walked away.

And you were left at your doorstep, crying into the sleeve of his sweatshirt as you watched him drive off.

It was the cruellest act he had ever committed to you; giving you hope for a life spent with him, where it would be full of pure love and adoration that grew every single day spent together, only to take it all away because he was scared.

The day of yours and Leon’s first date.

The day where he drove to your house and knocked on the door, only to be greeted by your intimidating father who Leon had briefly forgotten was also the police captain that taught him in the academy.

The day where you sang along to every song on the radio, whilst on the way to the infamous coffee shop.

The day where you and Leon had sat by the window, talking and laughing until the place closed.

He learnt that you were a college student in your second-to-last semester, that you sometimes sung in the cop bar for free simply because you found it freeing to just sing, that you hadn’t truly dated around because you simply never wanted to. Until him.

He learnt that you often volunteered to walk your neighbours’ dogs because they did not have the time to do so, that your favourite colour was a cool blue, that you loved to watch really bad movies because they were the true Oscar-worthy masterpieces in your eyes.

You learned that Leon had always wanted to be a cop, to help people, that he used to volunteer in a nursing home because he wanted to bring colour into the otherwise beige, sterile environment, that his favourite colour was the colour of your eyes (and no, he insisted it truly wasn’t a line, but you laughed and fell for it anyway).

Leon remembers, after driving you home around midnight just because you both lost track of the time, that he immediately missed your warmth as soon as you stepped through your front door. He had never felt that way before, to inexplicably crave someone to be by his side at all times simply because he never wanted to forget how lucky he was. How lucky that he had someone as wonderful as you to even smile and laugh at his stupid jokes. He’ll never forget the warmth your lips left behind on his left cheek just before you entered your house – the same kiss that is burnt into him, the only part of his body now that is still warm.

By the third date, he had finally garnered up the courage to kiss you. Leon remembers planning it over and over in his head, thinking to himself where would be the perfect place to do it, how would he do it, what flavour gum he should buy. But, when you laughed yet again at one of his stupid jokes outside the Chinese restaurant you just had a delicious (albeit expensive) meal, he couldn’t help but lean in. He remembers having that instinct, an almost forceful feeling, to place his hands on your cheeks and softly kiss your lips, only a soft, fleeting moment before he pulled away and you just smiled.

You smiled at him with that glorious smile you had before you pulled him back towards you and kissed him with such passion, such giddy enthusiasm, that it felt like his first kiss all over again. The excitement, the butterflies, the feeling of forever sparking between you as everything else ceased to exist but you.

It felt like eternity, but truly it was about thirty seconds before your lips detached from his, resting your forehead on his with both your eyes still closed as you both processed such heavy feelings.

“Took you long enough.” You grinned, breathless in your laughter as Leon groaned exasperatedly and hid himself in your neck, falling into laughter with you as you both basked in the warmth of the streetlight above you.

It was two months afterwards that Leon had professed his deep and utterly strong love for you, in which you reciprocated whilst you both laid in your bed, soft morning light slipping through the window as he attempted to infuse himself to you as close as possible.

It was three months before you asked if Leon wanted to live with you, and it was then that you both bought a rundown apartment in a building that was full of drugs and parties and all sorts of criminal activity. But it didn’t matter, not when every night and every morning, you were there, and he was too.

And everyone had told you that you were moving too fast, that it was going to end in tears whilst you run out of that hellish apartment. Yet, it all felt perfect. It just felt right. Like Leon appeared in your life as if he had always been there.

Every Wednesday night when you would sing at that bar, Leon would be watching and waiting for you with your favourite drink (and a donut from the coffee shop down the street) and he would still look at you with that stardust in his eyes.

It was eight months when Leon had graduated from the police academy, and you had finished your final exams with top grades. That night, Leon had went with you and your family to celebrate not only your academic success, but his too. It was the first time in his life that he had felt apart of a family. It was that night that as you both laughed and drink cheap beer on the balcony of your apartment that he had gifted you a promise ring. A promise that he would always be there, always be yours. And you smiled, and sniffled, and wrapped your arms around Leon’s neck as you expressed just how much you loved him.

You loved him so much that the actual word ‘love’ was not good enough to describe how you felt for him. But it had to do.

It was one a.m in the morning when you both slow danced, a quiet song in the background as you listened to the steady drum of his heart; as Leon rested his chin on your head and imagined a day where you would be doing this exact same thing except you would be dressed in white, and he would be the most fortunate person in all of existence.

It was two weeks after that when Leon had found out his placement – where your father happened to be stationed.

In Raccoon city.

It was two days after he found out his placement that he was due to arrive to the station but couldn’t because of ‘complications’.

It was one day after that he went anyway, despite your incessant worrying and protests after hearing your father’s explicit warnings for him to stay away.

It was that day that everything changed.

When he watched people go insane and eat other people, when he nearly died about hundred times just trying to navigate his way to the police station, when he tried so hard to save countless others but failed. When he had to watch your father die.

It was the morning after he came back to the apartment covered in blood, bandages and tears. You had gasped when you saw him, just standing there with the front door closed behind him as he stared down at the floor beneath your feet.

You held him in your arms and promised him that all would be fine, but Leon could not stop thinking about your father forcing him to promise that you would be protected from all of this as he laid on the blood-covered floor, struggling to hold his own neck up.

It was four weeks after that, when it was your father’s funeral.

And Leon did not turn up.

Everyone dressed in black, with the rain pattering down on black umbrellas. All your family, your family friends, your father’s cop buddies – hell, even a couple of his students from the academy had attended and offered you their condolences. But not the one person that you needed most. The one person who had promised that he would always be there for you.

You had been staying in your old room after your father’s death to ensure that the rest of your family were coping well, whilst Leon had been staying in your shared apartment. Whilst he came by occasionally to drop food off or to simply check up on you, he had been quiet. Less bright.

So after the funeral, you drove to the apartment and knocked on the door gently, still in the funeral attire, with the black umbrella dripping beside you.

Leon had opened the door, refusing to look at you as if he knew what you were going to say already.

“Where were you?” You spoke with such a soft, but shaken voice, as your eyes were glassed over, practically screaming for him to just look at you.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

“Everyone was there. Everyone, Leon.” You attempted to make your voice sound more firm, but it still shook towards the end of your sentence as Leon just stood there in the doorway, with bags under his eyes and his skin less golden.

“But I needed you there.” A tear had rolled down your cheek as you stared at him, frowning.

“You promised me.”

Leon had looked up then, a momentary glance of guilt in his eyes before he recovered and focused his gaze back on the floor again.

“You promised you would always be there whenever I needed you. And, God, I really needed you today.”

You sniffed, trying to ignore the steady rush of tears down your face as you silently begged the boy in front of you to just hold you and tell you that all would be fine.

But he wasn’t capable of that anymore. Not after what he had seen.

“I-I couldn’t come.” Leon had finally spoke, not lifting his gaze off the ground as you gazed at him with tears streaming down your face.

“Why not?”

He sighed, rubbing his face in exhaustion.

“I couldn’t save him. It was my fault. All of it, all of this, is my fault.”

You shook your head at him. “No, Leon, you did everything that you could’ve, no one blames you for this.”

“I could’ve protected him better. I could have… I could have prevented his death. But I didn’t.”

It was then that he had finally glanced up at you, with his eyes blood-shot, a permanent frown on his face.

“But I will prevent yours.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned at him.

“What?”

“I will protect you, that I promise. That I’ll always do. It just means that you need to live your life without me.”

“You’re ending things with me? What, because you think it’s your fault my dad died?”

Leon didn’t say anything, fixating his stare back on the ground again as you tilted your head at him. You didn’t recognise the boy standing in front of you. But you supposed that you didn’t recognise yourself either.

You walked away. You didn’t turn back. And Leon stopped breathing.

He has felt cold since that day. Like he is one step away from a grave. His life did end that day – because you were it. And you walked away.

It was November, he remembers because it was cold that day – you had worn a red scarf with a brown jacket and a tartan skirt, pared with wool tights. He remembers every detail vividly, though he only saw you for approximately ten seconds before you disappeared around the corner of the street, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why he can perfectly recollect how soft your hair landed against your shoulders with every movement, how your nose was pink with the cold air brushing against it, how you smiled only slightly after that sip of your coffee (which he later learned it was a caramel latte – you always got a caramel latte).

He was sat outside on the bench, holding his water bottle in his hands as his other classmates ran around the academy building. Leon only sat down because he had finished his lap before the others (being one of the youngest was certainly an advantage), therefore he took a well-earned break, attempting to ignore the feeling of the bitter cold wind brushing up against his neck.

The moment (if it could be called that) lasted ten seconds, just like how every other day after that, when you walked by with that coffee and donut in your hands lasted ten seconds, yet it was the best ten seconds of his day, of everyday.

For four weeks Leon would just catch a glimpse of you walking past the academy from your coffee shop, whether it would be during his running around the building, his classes, or his breaks sitting outside on the benches (which he did more often). It was not as if he purposely sought you out, that would be creepy, but rather it was pure coincidence that you would walk by at the exact moment Leon’s gaze had drifted away from whatever was previously occupying his attention.

It wasn’t until his academy buddies took him out for a drink at this apparent hidden gem of a bar that he actually talked to you.

Relieved that his fake ID had actually worked (it didn’t, but the owner had raked in some good money serving underage police trainees over the years), he sat at the bar with his friends, being quiet as usual, aside from the odd chuckle at stupid jokes, when a tapping on a microphone could be heard from behind.

He turned in his stool, just to see you setting up what seemed like a musical performance – setting up a stool for the guitarist to sit on, testing that the microphone stand was secure in its positioning, cracking a few jokes and smiles at your bandmates as you waited for the perfect opportunity to introduce yourself.

“Hello, everyone.”

Your voice was as warm as cookies fresh out of the oven, and just as sweet too.

Leon was mesmerised by your smile, which he now remembers as being your nervous smile, the one where you attempted to express confidence but internally, you were screaming at yourself to just be cool.

“Hope you’re having a good Wednesday night!”

A few whoops came from Leon’s friends, to which he shook his head and smiled into his drink (a Jack and Coke), which is precisely what made you glance over towards that area. But it was dark in the room, and all you could see were baby blue eyes, messy blonde hair, and a nervous smile that rivalled the glow of the moon, and you were smitten.

You smiled back, a genuine smile, one that Leon remembers said there you are, and continued speaking into the microphone.

“Got some songs to sing for you tonight, as usual. It’s time to get this place lively, hm?” You grinned as others whooped, with a few hell yeah’s and about time’s. You glanced at your guitarist, nodded, and started singing in the microphone.

Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.

Ironic, since Leon felt he was in heaven the minute you began to sing.

Other customers in the bar were singing along with you; some were dancing drunkenly with each other. But Leon? He just stared at you.

You remember he had that certain twinkle in his eyes. That’s all that you could look at, that twinkle that must’ve been a bit of stardust fallen into his eyes. Stardust that was blown away as he got older.

You finished your set, having sang for roughly an hour before the bartender was signalling for you to finish, before you approached the bar and ordered a Coca-Cola.

You took a sip, and turned your head, surprised that you managed to find yourself exactly next to the star-eyed boy, who seemed just as surprised that you caught him staring, a wild blush spreading across his cheeks as he turned back to his drink and took another sip.

You smiled.

“Enjoy my performance?”

Leon gazed at you, as if figuring out what words to say.

“Yeah,” he paused, nodding his head slightly. “It was really good. You were really good.”

“You think so?” You fidgeted with the rim of your glass, watching as the condensation forms a ring on the bar.

“I don’t know, maybe I should’ve started with something else. I mean, Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door isn’t exactly the most liveliest song.”

“I think the most liveliest song to these people would be something by Vera Lynn, so I think you’re good.”

Leon grinned as you laughed, attempting to pretend as if the sound of your laughter did not make his heartbeat just that bit faster as he took a sip of his drink.

“What’re you drinking?” You leaned on your arms against the bar, facing him with that twinkle in your eye. Leon loved that twinkle. So much so that he did not want to be the one to take it away.

“Jack and Coke.”

You raised your right eyebrow, a slight grin on your face as you took in his youthful features.

“Really? A trainee police officer drinking alcohol on a school night? Give into peer pressure, did ya?”

Leon chuckled, standing up from his stool as he shuffled slightly closer to you. You remember feeling like a twelve-year-old girl crushing on a boy, the way your hands were slightly clammy and your cheeks were gradually growing red as soon as he stepped closer to you. As you recall, that feeling never did truly go away. It only went away when he did.

“Something like that.”

“You know, my dad’s a police captain, and he teaches at the academy. You probably know him,” you stated your last name, and Leon’s lovesick grin fell, as if you threatened to expose all his deep, dark secrets to your father.

“Your dad is Captain ‘No Bullshit’?!”

You burst out in laughter, letting your hand fall onto Leon’s forearm.

“You seriously call him that?”

“Yeah!” Leon nervously chuckled, glancing down at your hand on his arm. “His first-day speech scared the shit out of me.”

You grinned at him, pure mischief written across your face as you lifted your hand off his arm.

“I won’t tell. Promise.” You stuck out your small finger, gesturing for his as you smiled warmly at him.

He would have followed you wherever you went. To the deep depths of the sea, to the highest point in the sky, to the most dangerous places on Earth. As long as you kept smiling at him like the way you did, like the way you always did with him, he promised to himself that he would never let you slip away from his life.

Sometimes, promises aren’t meant to be kept.

Leon intertwined his finger with yours, chuckling with you as you both held on a little longer.

You said your name, still smiling as wide as you could have, whilst Leon gave his to you. Your hand dropped from his first.

“So, what do you do?” Leon asked, in a desperate attempt to ensure you stay by his side.

“I’m a student at the college, you know, just down the street from the academy?”

That explained why you walked past everyday with a coffee and a donut.

Leon nodded in acknowledgment, taking a sip of his drink as you continue.

“I feel as if I’m hardly ever there, though. Most of the time, I just go study in a coffee shop.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “You know?”

Leon’s eyes widened for a second, before he began to fumble his sentence.

“Well, I-I, you know, I-“ He glanced at you, your mouth curved up in a slight grin whilst your eyebrows were furrowed.

Leon sighed in defeat. “You walk past everyday with a coffee and a donut.”

Suddenly, you were the one who was embarrassed.

“Yeah, I really need to start eating healthier.”

Leon smiled slightly. “Well, the donuts do look really good.”

You reciprocated his smile.

“Maybe I should take you with me one day, help you become the stereotypical police officer?”

Leon chuckled. “Yeah, sounds good.”

He does not know if he regrets that moment. If he regrets how easy he slipped into your life, only to just fall right back out.

 Sometimes, Leon doesn’t know if he regrets you, or if he misses the joy his life once held.

But then you smiled, and that smile runs on constant loop in his head. It is the only constant in his life that is now full of horror.