Mrs.Kennedy

Yet now: here you were, sitting alone—or... not entirely alone—on a worn-out couch at one of the annual college frat parties.

You'd get to the not entirely alone part in a moment.

The music was deafening here, the bass pounding so violently through the walls that it felt as though the entire house was closing in on you.

and every room overflowed with strangers shouting over each other in a crowded room, while the red cups littered every available surface, and the air smelled like cheap beer, perfume, sweat and poor decisions— that everyone would probably regret by next morning.

Honestly? You already wanted to go home.

Because truth be told, this had all been Mia's idea – she had spent an entire week convincing you to come, promising it'd be fun, that you'd finally loosen up, and that you'd be thanking her by the end of the night.

You should not have said yes, yet you did.. and now rest was the history.

Well... you certainly didn't want to thank her anymore. If anything, you wanted to strangle her.

She had vanished almost the second you'd arrived, currently somewhere in the house making out with her boyfriend— and the last thing you'd seen before losing her was her lip-locking with him— leaving you to fend for yourself at a frat party you never wanted to attend in the first place.

Finally you sighed for what had to be the fiftieth time that night before folding in on yourself, resting your forehead against your knees. Your posture had somehow evolved into that of a defeated shrimp, that silently screamed, ‘Please... somebody get me out of here.’

Unfortunately for you no one could listen to what was going inside your head, and not to mention: one particularly persistent problem refused to let you breathe peacefully.

A guy named… Jake? James? Jack? Truthfully, you didn't care enough to remember.

He had been orbiting around you for the better part of an hour like an especially annoying fly, you desperately wished you could swat. "So..." he said for what felt like the seventh time, dropping onto the couch beside you despite the mountain of empty space elsewhere. "What course are you in?"

You sighed and straightened yourself while subtly scooting farther toward the armrest. "Criminal law." You said uninterestedly and avoided looking at him altogether, letting your gaze settle somewhere beyond the crowd by the gate, already dreading the conversation you knew was coming.

"Oh, that's cool," he said chirpily, utterly unaware that you wanted to push him down the stairs just for daring to exist within your vicinity.

Oh fuck off, you breathed in your head.

"You've got really pretty eyes," he said, resting his elbows on his knees, his chin propped lazily in his palms as he stared at you with that unbearably amused expression— the kind that made you want to gouge his eyes out for looking at you like that.

God, were you studying criminal law just so you could get away with murder? Christ.

At this rate, maybe you really could.

and..maybe you should start paying attention in your lectures after all.

"I see." You said sighing sharply, closing your eyes briefly, agonizing his presence.

He leaned closer, his breath sour with something fruity and artificial. "So... you got a boyfriend?"

You inhaled slowly, but for a few seconds... you hesitated, because your mind screamed something else entirely.

No—I don't have a boyfriend, but I'm in love. Fuck.

Instead, you swallowed those words back down and sighed. "No." The same answer you'd been giving everyone who asked about your love life.

"Oh, nice."

Not nice. Not nice at all.

Because try being hopelessly in love with an asshole for years. Try carrying feelings for someone you absolutely shouldn't. Someone who got under your skin, annoyed you beyond reason... and somehow still managed to occupy every—

Never mind.

You cut the thought off before it could wander any further, refusing to let his face invade your head yet again.

Anyways, you'd rejected James or Jack, seven times already. Apparently his dictionary lacked the simple word no.

"Look," you said, finally turning to face him. "I'm really not interested."

He laughed. Actually laughed. “You would be.”

God, what an asshole.

At this point, Mia owed you your favorite dessert for the next six months.

But still you weren't about to interrupt whatever romantic moment she was having with her boyfriend— that would make you feel guilty: but if this continued much longer, you just might.

Actually? No. Forget it.

You needed Luca. Your brother.

Because he'd probably finished work by now anyway, and would be somewhere at DSO headquarters doing... whatever mysterious government things he never bothered explaining.

So, without another thought, you pulled your phone from your pocket, and quickly opened your messages. Not bothering to double-check the contact, then quickly you typed on the thread:

Come get me.

Back entrance of the college auditorium, frat party.

I hate you.

I'm serious.

Just come soon.

Then send.

Immediately, your shoulders relaxed, in relief. Good. You knew Luca would come get you and even if he complain the entire drive home, and tell you he'd warned you not to come, while probably laughing at your misery.

But..He'd still come.

You believed in him.

"So..." Jake—James—Whatever-His-Name-Was asked, trying yet again. "Who're you texting?"

You honestly wanted to tell him, It's none of your business, asshole. But considering he'd already ignored your rejection more than once, you decided otherwise and thought just maybe mentioning Luca might finally get the message across. Hopefully, he'd take the hint and back off. Though, knowing him… You weren't exactly counting on it.

"My brother." You said through gritted teeth, and finally clutching your phone tighter in your hand.

"Oh?" He asked.

"He'll be here soon." you pointed out.

He grinned, his yellow-stained teeth stretching into a smile so wide it made your patience shrink even further. "Guess I get to meet him then.”

What? What the fuck was he talking about? You pinched the bridge of your nose with your free hand, already feeling a headache coming on. God, he was fucking insufferable.

You finally turned to him, stared at him in complete disbelief "No, I—" then you finally stood before he could continue. "I need to use the bathroom."

You didn't wait for his reply, instead disappeared into the hallway, weaving through clusters of drunk students until you found the women's restroom and slipped inside.

The moment the door clicked shut… you exhaled "Jesus.”

You walked over to the mirror before the sink and for a moment you just stood there: staring at your reflection, while slipping your phone inside your empty pocket. Then you noticed yourself, wearing your favourite dress. The way your hair was no longer sitting the way you'd styled it. Lipstick slightly smudged after mindlessly snacking throughout the evening.

You looked...Exhausted.

For one brief moment… you wished you could simply disappear.

Outside, the bass continued to shake the walls. You knew weren't leaving this bathroom anytime soon— because knowing your luck, James-Jake-whatever was probably still lurking in the hallway.

So you stayed. Then one minute became five, five became… fifteen, then you lost track. Long enough for the party to blur into nothing but muffled thumping and distant laughter.

You stood there long enough that you never noticed the message had been delivered to the wrong thread.

…

At exactly 8.07 p.m your phone chimed with a notification, you quickly pulled it out of your pocket, and this time; you didn't bother to see the name. But you did read what it said.

Outside.

Nothing else.

Okay that was strange Luca would never text in one word, but maybe he was just tired— or at least that's what you told yourself.

Still a strange calm settled over you. You straightened your dress, checked your reflection one last time, and stepped out of the restroom, slipping your phone inside your pocket again.

The hallway was almost empty now, and the guy was nowhere to be seen.

Good.

You made a beeline for the front door, and finally pushed it open — instantly the cold hit you like a physical blow, the winter air, sharp and biting, flooded your lungs, and goosebumps erupted across your skin.

Inside, with the crush of bodies and the heat of the party, you hadn't noticed how frigid the night had become. But now— your breath crystallized in front of you, and you rub your arms with either hand to warm yourself up.

And then you saw someone.

Leaning against a black SUV, arms crossed.... and that someone was not Luca.

It was Leon Scott Kennedy.

Of all people.

Seeing him, both of your hands fall either side of you and you feel a bit of irritation — or something along the lines of happiness which you would not want to admit, at all.

He looked up from his phone the instant you emerged, as if he'd felt your presence before he'd seen you.

His eyes found yours across the driveway, then he sighed— a long-suffering, familiar sound that transported you somewhere else entirely, for a moment he just stared at you with his eyes, that bruised your soul naked, then he straightened himself and cleared his throat,"You took your time." His voice was loud enough for you to hear him.

You could not fathom his words because your focus was elsewhere like on his leather jacket that hung open, revealing the white scarf looped around his neck.

The white scarf.

The one you'd knitted for him in a fever of misplaced optimism, ages ago. The one you'd assumed he'd lost, or thrown away, or forgotten in some drawer like the rest of your history together— no, but the truth that lingered was? there was no history together, you gave him this.. when… when.. you were a teenager.

Suddenly the memories itself burned holes in your brain like lobotomizing everything that was not him— no you won't go there.

You can't, still what was unexpected was your breath got caught, because it had been years. Hadn't it? Then why … Did he still have that?

No, it doesn't matter, you quickly thought to yourself.

Then finally forcing the words out, you managed to speak out, "What are you doing here?" And you just stood there because your stubborn feet wouldn't budge an inch.

He finally straightened and pushed himself away from the car, and with slow, deliberate steps, he crossed the space between you until only a few feet remained. This time, you didn't retreat.

"You texted me." He raised a brow, an amused huff escaping him as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"No," you argued, folding your arms before your chest, "I texted Luca."

"Check your texts, then." A quiet breath escaped him.

Your stomach sank at his words and yet you did. You pulled your phone from your pocket, ran your fingers over the screen, and finally found—

Leon (asshole)

Yes. That's what you'd saved his contact as.

Not that he knew.

And yes again you had texted him: he was right, in the midst of it all you forgot to check who you were texting at all.

…Shit.

No. No. No.

The colour drained from your face, and every trace of warmth sinking into the pit of your stomach, and seeing you pale he laughed not cruelly– but amusedly, "Maybe next time check who you're texting?” At his words heat crawled up to your neck, like snake around its prey.

god damn it.

Now he stood directly in front of you. Close enough that you could smell his cologne— something woodsy and expensive, the same scent that used to linger inside you ages ago, it hit you like a freight train, you shook your head quickly not wanting to go down that lane and realize that you couldn't lose this sharp-tongued battle.

Not to him. Not tonight.

"Even so," you said, clenching your jaw, "you didn't have to come."

He let out a slow sigh. "Story of my life," he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, I didn't have to, but—"

"I wanted my brother," you cut in.

You hadn't meant to sound so vicious, for a second his face fell but he gathered his usual persona back: with that shameless grin of his. “Yeah?”

You didn't reply for a long moment, instead your mind wanders again.

Honestly? You hadn't intended to act like that toward him either, because whatever had happened between the two of you belonged to the past.

Years ago... or, if you were being painfully honest with yourself, eight years, ten months, three weeks, and two days to be exact.

Not that he would remember the date, surely.

But you did. Because that was the day he…. You trail of mid-thought, because that was the story for another day.

Again… perhaps it didn't matter anymore. It was the past. Or at least, that was what helped you sleep at night.

but you did think whether the bitterness had lingered all these years, or whether it had simply disguised the fact that a part of you had never truly stopped loving— no, it didn't matter, and you also knew your feelings, your desire, could undo what had already happened, it could not change the past or the fact, that he wasn't into you.

So you buried those thoughts where they belonged; into the back of your head.

"But now I'm here instead of him," he said, pushing you out of your thoughts, "So can we go? Instead of pretending this conversation is getting us anywhere?"

"You can go." You shoved your phone back into your pocket. "I'll wait for my friend."

"No." He said flatly, running a hand through his hair.

You laughed, throwing your hands in the air. "I am sorry, I didn't ask you.”

"Too bad." His voice was firmer this time. Before you could stop him, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, ignoring every half-hearted protest that left your lips. The familiar weight settled around you, carrying with it the faint scent of his musk and his cologne— a feeling so achingly familiar it tugged at memories you'd spent years trying to bury, and for some reason you didn't remove the jacket insteas you let it rest on your shoulders. "I didn't drive two hours just to leave you here.”

Your heart squeezed. Two hours. Why did he spent two fucking hours to come here.

And for a moment, you saw that boy— the one who used to drive across the city at 2 AM because you couldn't sleep, who'd show up with your favourite snacks, and tell you terrible one-liners, and that lopsided grin which he used to give you— the one you fell in–

Stop. No. It was all in the past.

That boy was gone: and he was absolutely clear years ago what he meant when he said--you shook your head sharply as if doing that will help you, forget everything that has happened before.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. "For bothering you."

"You didn't." He answered immediately then he stepped even closer leaving only an inch between you and him. "But can we not do this? I'm already here. It's better if we go, no?"

"I don't want to go with you." You said looking down because suddenly the ground below looked way more interesting than anything happening right now.

Suddenly silence stretched between you, brittle and sharp. But he didn't back down. Instead, he frowned— something flickering in his eyes that looked dangerously like determination. "You'll have to," he said, and you looked up at him in those familiar ocean - blue orbs. "Either willingly, or I'll have to put you in the car against your will."

“What?”

“You heard me, dove.”

"Dove." The name hit you like a physical thing, like a bow meant straight for your ribs. The fact he said it so casually. Easily. As if years hadn't passed between the last time he said it and now.

Dove. The same teasing lilt he used when you were teenagers—when you'd follow him and Luca around like a shadow, when he'd ruffle your hair and call you his little dove, when you'd pretend to hate it even as you secretly memorized the shape of his smile.

Another memory slipped through your defenses, sharp enough to make your vision blur.

Summer evenings on Leon's porch came rushing back— your brother ducking inside his apartment to grab sodas while the two of you stayed behind, watching fireflies dance across the fading light.

Dove, look, leon had whispered in your ears, pointing at the first star, that fell through the sky.

Make a wish.

And you did. You never really believed in wishing on falling stars; it always felt like a childish superstition. But back then, whenever he spoke about them in that quiet, hopeful voice of his, somehow, you believed too. So you closed your eyes and wished—not for yourself, but for him. You wished that he'd be happy. You just hadn't known that one day, his happiness might come at the cost of your own. Even if you'd known, though, you weren't sure you would have wished for anything else.

But what you did mind was…. thinking Leon and you could ever be something. He could…. ever be… you didn't get to finish that thought because soon that memory disperse in the air leaving nothing but a pile of bitterness in your stomach.

Your heart squeezed, viciously, but you knew his game. He was watching for a crack— inside you, some hitch in your breath, some flush to your cheeks, some proof that the nickname still worked its way under your skin like it used to. You'd be damned before you gave him one. "Can you not, say that name?" You said instead, managing to keep your voice flat, and disinterested.

"You texted me." He said ignoring your question, stead of it he repeated his previous question.

"By accident, Leon." The words came out exhausted, frayed at the edges. "It was by accident."

A brief flash of hurt crossed his face— there and yet it was gone so fast you might have imagined it. But you felt it. That familiar twinge of guilt, sharp as a blade cut through you, "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I just... don't want to go with you."

"Either way," he said, and his voice softened even as his stance remained unyielding, rooted to the pavement like he was prepared to outlast the weather itself. "You have to." He doesn't give you a moment to speak again, as he continues, "And if you want to argue with me standing here?" A ghost of a smile touched his lips, but his eyes stayed fixed on yours— serious, and searching. "I'm way too happy to oblige."

He tilted his head then, studying you with that unfair patience he always had. The one that used to make you feel seen and exposed in equal measure. "And between the two of us remember.." His smile widened, just a fraction, "...I'm much more stubborn.”

…

Before you could reply, the door swung open.

"There you are!" The guy—Jake? James?—emerged from the house, all easy confidence and drunken entitlement, you didn't have to look to know it was him.

after all you spent hours... listening to his annoying ass.

He strode towards you in an instant, and slung his arm across your shoulders like you were old friends, like you hadn't spent the last hour trying to escape him. "I've been searching everywhere for you."

Fuck. He's back. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they would escape through your skull.

You tried to shrug him off, but his arm was heavy, pinning you in place. Then Leon moved even closer to you and straightened beside you— some subtle shift in his posture that made him seem suddenly larger, and more dangerous. His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Take your hands off her."

You pushed at the guy's arm, but he didn't budge. Just grinned down at you with that infuriating, liquored-up persistence.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He finally turned his attention toward Leon, raising his free hand in mock surrender. His eyes swept over Leon's leather jacket, his stance, the white scarf. "Jack," he said, amused. "The name's Jack. Relax, man."

Leon didn't relax, instead he took one step forward towards the guy, and something in his expression made Jack's smile falter.

"Take. Your. Hands. Off. Her."

He said it like a verdict, like a promise. Each word delivered with such cold, controlled authority that the temperature seemed to drop another ten degrees.

Jack's arm finally fell from your shoulders. He took a small step back, putting distance between himself and Leon, then between himself and you. He looked from Leon to you and back again, that stupid grin returning but thinner now, uncertain.

"Oh." He forced a laugh. "Is he your brother or something? Who was gonna pick you up?"

Before you could answer, Leon scoffed— a sharp, humorless sound. "I'm not her brother." He held Jack's gaze, unblinking. "But I am someone who will break your hands if it comes to that. Do you understand?"

Jack understood. The color drained from his face. Then he muttered something under his breath— fucking psycho or maybe whatever, man and retreated back inside, the door slamming behind him.

The silence that followed was heavy, vibrating with the aftermath of Leon's anger. "Let's go," Leon said, already turning toward his SUV. "Before I lose what's left of my patience."

"I can make my own decisions." Your voice came out shaky despite your best efforts.

"Never said you couldn't, Dove." He didn't look back. Just walked to the passenger side and opened the door.

You refused to move. "You're fucking arrogant."

"Thank you."

"Insufferable too."

"Yes. I know."

He stood there, holding the door, the interior light casting his face in shadow and gold. Something about his patience—his absolute certainty that you would come—made you want to scream. "Get in the car," he said quietly. "I won't ask again."

You should have walked away, should have gone back inside, found Mia, called an Uber, done literally anything else.

Instead, with an angry huff that felt embarrassingly like surrender, you crossed the driveway and climbed into the passenger seat. Every bone in your body wanted to smack the self-satisfied look off his face, but you didnt neither.

And as soon as you settled inside the car, he closed the door behind you with a soft, definitive click.

….

You didn't want to talk to him, not really. So you sat in silence, scooted as close to the passenger door as physics allowed, forehead resting against the cool glass, and Leon was tense beside you— as you could see it from the corner of your eyes and feel it in the rigid set of his shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel— but he didn't speak, just the occasional hushed sigh, barely audible over the engine.

Soon the trees blurred past, as the moon followed your car, silver and indifferent, hanging in the rearview mirror like a witness. Finally, you broke the silence, still not looking at him. "You didn't have to do that and come here."

"I know." He agreed, his grip, on the wheel tightened again.

"Then why?"

A pause. Then, quietly: "Because I wanted to."

You wanted to say so many things. You don't have the right. I'm not some damsel, you could have just left. We are not anything.

Instead, what came out was small and simple: "Thank you."

"No problem." The words came out of him like a soft surrender.

You just hummed, forcing your attention towards the scenery instead, as the miles passed, you realized something uncomfortable— something that had nothing to do with Jack or the party or the cold.

Sitting here in the dark, surrounded by the familiar scent of his cologne and the ghost of everything, and all you could feel was want, desire, for him, like you did years ago.

Not the desperate, aching kind from when you were fifteen, but something deeper, something that recognized his silhouette in the streetlight and thought home.

You shook your head, tried to push the thought away, then you let your eyes fall closed, pretending exhaustion.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Leon blurted out, and just scoffed a little, as the question pushed past his lips : out of nowhere, and your eyes fluttered open and instantly you feel that weird sensation running in your lower belly.

God.

The reason.

How could you tell him? That you were holding a grudge, or maybe it was your love you were holding onto? That "moving on" had never actually happened. That you haven't dated a man since — no. yeah.

That would seem pathetic as fuck.

So you lied. "Nothing you did," you murmured, letting your voice go slack, distant. "I'm gonna sleep. Wake me up when... when we get to my apartment."

You didn't give him a moment to think there was more to this conversation and soon you just closed your eyes and let the darkness take you finally — or pretend to, anyway, slowly you let your breathing even out, let your head roll against the window. But still, you felt him looking at you eventually, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a touch.

And you wondered, as the car hummed beneath you and the road disappeared like a blur, if he knew you were faking. If only he could hear the way your heart was hammering against your ribs, too fast for sleep, or maybe he was letting you pretend, just for tonight, that you were okay.

…

The drive home had been quieter than either of you expected, soon you were lulled by the warmth of the SUV and the exhaustion finally catching up to you, you'd drifted into actual sleep.

"...Dove." A soft voice pulled you back. "Hey.. wake up."

You let out a sleepy groan, eyelashes fluttering open to find Leon watching you beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. "We're home," he murmured.

You nodded sluggishly, still half-dreaming, fumbling with the seatbelt, when you climbed out, your legs wobbled from fatigue, and his hand settled against the small of your back— light, almost hesitant, there and gone before you could fully register it.

As you moved deeper towards your apartment the front door of your building was already open.

Luca appeared in the doorway the moment footsteps hit the stairs. "There you are." He stepped aside, inviting you in, then immediately looked past you to Leon. His eyes shifted between the two of you, narrowing with suspicion. "What happened? you two look like someone was killed right in front of you."

Leon sighed, rubbing his temples, as if you gave him the biggest headache he ever had, "I had to pick her up from the frat party; because she texted me instead of you."

Luca blinked. "Wait...what she texted you?"

"By accident." You corrected, moving past him into the apartment.

"And you drove across town to pick her up?"

"I did," Leon replied as he followed you into the apartment. Only after both of you had stepped inside did Luca let out a quiet sigh, lingering for a brief moment before gently closing the door behind you.

The answer came so naturally that Leon didn't seem to realize what he'd admitted until after he said it.

Luca stared at him for a long second before shaking his head with a tired laugh. "You could've just called me, then I would have went and picked her up."

Then you glance back at Leon, because Luca was right— he could have. Could have forwarded the message, could have ignored it entirely, could have done literally anything else.

Instead, he'd driven across the city without hesitation. Endured your attitude at the fraternity, endured the silent car ride, never once complained about wasting his evening on someone who'd spent years — agonizing him.

That realization settled somewhere warm and dangerous in your chest. Kind. That's what he was and this was why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place.

Your gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat before you quietly muttered, tearing your gaze away from him, "...Yeah. You probably should've called Luca."

For once, he didn't have a smart remark ready. Then he turned a little red and rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling through his nose. "Maybe."

Then, as if the moment had become too heavy, he nodded toward you and deadpanned, “But….”

Leon couldn't come up with an excuse, because what the hell was he supposed to say? So instead he chose silence.

"What?" You frowned immediately.

“Nothing.”

Luca barked out a laugh. "You two are still the same." Leon merely lifted a brow, looking almost as though he thought he'd managed to slip off the hook. Then they both exchanged a brief glance— so subtle it would've gone unnoticed by anyone else. But not by you. It was a look that said only one thing: Tell her. Your smile faded, if only by a fraction.

You narrowed your eyes at both of them before pointing at your brother. "Don't change the subject." Your expression softened just enough for hurt to peek through. "You have something to tell me, I can tell from your body language."

The amusement vanished from Luca's face, and Leon noticed it too, quietly, he took a small step back, and headed towards the kitchen because whatever came next belonged to the two of you.

The silence lasted barely five seconds before Luca cleared his throat, "actually."

You looked up, stomach sinking at his tone. "I was going to tell you tomorrow." Luca drawled, looking anywhere but you.

"Telling me what?" You managed, you were dreading it because you knew… something terrible was happening or… maybe was about to happen.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I got offered a six-month assignment overseas."

The room fell silent, instantly, "Wh..what?" You choked on the air, and your eyes widened instantly, because what the ‘fuck.’

"I leave next week." He said, stepping closer to you.

You stared at him, waiting for the laugh, just kidding. It didn't come. "You're leaving?"

"It'll only be six months." He reassured you as he held your face in his hands, “Sis–”

He searched your face with quiet apprehension, hope peeking through the guilt weighing heavily in his eyes. And honestly...

You couldn't even find it in yourself to be angry.

Because you knew what this meant to him. Opportunities like this didn't come twice. It was the kind people waited years for— the kind that could change the course of a career, a dream, a life. Slowly, you reached up and rested your hands over his.

A small smile curved onto your lips. "That's great."

His brows pulled together. "What?" His eyes widened as if he'd misheard you.

"It's really great," you repeated softly, your thumbs brushing over the backs of his hands. "I'm happy for you. I really am."

The tension in his shoulders faltered. You gently guided his hands away from your face before lifting one to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss into his warm palm.

"Just..." You looked back up at him. "Promise me you'll be safe."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I want to tell you everything," he admitted quietly. "Every detail."

"Alright." You gave him a small nod, your voice gentle. "You can tell me tomorrow."

Just then, Leon wandered out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel. His gaze flicked between the two of you before a knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well..." he drawled. "That went better than I expected."

You shot him a look that earned an unapologetic shrug in return, without another word, you turned, intending to retreat to your room and let the evening settle.

"There is something else."

Luca's voice stopped you before you could take another step, you paused, and slowly, you turned back to face him, your brows knitting together. “Go on, then.” You said , looking at him.

He stood rooted where he was, fingers curling anxiously at his sides, as though he was searching for the right words— and dreading what would happen once he found them. "Leon's going to check in on you and stay here while I'm gone." He blurted out.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed, not believing what he had just said.

"You'll be alo—." Luca starts.

"I'll be fine," you insisted, scrunching your nose as you planted your hands on your hips. "I'm not made of glass."

Luca let out a slow sigh, tilting his head as he studied you,"I know you're capable."

"Then why do I need a babysitter?" You arched a brow at him.

"It's not babysitting." Luca says, shaking his head , while rubbing his forehead.

"It absolutely is."

Silence stretched between the two of you before Leon's voice cut through it, "I can say no."

Both of you turned, Leon leaned casually against the wall's doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame, arms folded across his chest "If this makes you uncomfortable," he continued evenly, looking at you instead of Luca, "I won't do it."

Luca shook his head. "No, that isn't an option."

You laughed bitterly, as you removed your hands from your hips, and rubbed your temples, "So I don't even get a choice?"

"It's for your safety," Luca said quietly, forcing patience into his voice.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. "I have friends, and they're perfectly capable of looking out for me."

His jaw tightened. "I'd rather have someone I trust with you."

“So, you trust Leon more than me?” you asked quietly.

“That's not what I meant.”

"This… is ridiculous" Your voice wavered despite your best efforts to steady it. "And this is worse than you leaving."

You knew you shouldn't have said it, but fuck, you were exhausted—exhausted from always being the one who thought twice, the one who cared so much about everyone else's feelings when no one seemed to do the same for you.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe you'd regret it the moment the words left your mouth. But right then, you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore.

After that long silence followed, even Leon cleared his throat awkwardly and swiftly you swallowed the ache rising in your throat, turned on your heel, and walked away before either of them could stop you.

A second later—

Bang.

Your bedroom door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the apartment and leaving an unbearable silence in its wake.

...

On the other side of the room, Luca stood motionless. "...I handled that terribly."

Leon leaned against the kitchen counter with a quiet sigh. "No."

Luca looked at him.

"She's not really angry about you." Leon stared at the closed door. "She's hurt that she thinks you don't trust her."

"But I do," he said, rubbing at his temples with a weary sigh. Luca looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "You don't have to do this, I mean taking care of her." Leon's gaze dropped to the floor, silence stretching between them as he stood there, seemingly lost in thought. Then, at last, he looked up, wearing that familiar I'll handle it smile — the one that never quite reached his eyes. "I know," he said after a measured pause, taking a slow breath. "But I will."

Luca studied him carefully, trying to read anything in his expression, but Leon gave nothing away. "Thanks."

Leon only nodded, though he couldn't pretend your words hadn't cut him.

god he just wanted to pull you so close--no, he can't have those thoughts no.

But he knew — that you didn't like him, at least not after what happened years ago, and he'd only just now caught up to the reality of it.

But no, that wasn't quite right either. Something had happened; and if he thinks deeply about it maybe it was indeed about that?

But that didn't make sense, did it? Because it happened years ago... it was after all just infatuation for you, back then, wasn't it?

Now: when he replayed every argument, every barbed exchange, every word thrown like a stone across the distance between you, he realized he hated being the reason for your suffering.

Honestly the last thing he'd ever wanted was to hurt you. He'd only ever wanted you happy — genuinely, stupidly happy, even if that happiness had nothing to do with him. That was the truth he carried, heavy and stubborn: your wellbeing mattered more than his pride, more than his ego, more than the ache… of not having you…

And he'd be lying— to the dark, to God if he had to—if he said he didn't want to be here.

Right here. In whatever capacity you'd have him. And if god himself placed that opportunity on a platter, silver and gleaming, held it out with indifference or grace or even resentment? He'd take it. He'd take it before the higher power above could change its mind.

…

Behind your bedroom door, you buried your face in your pillow with a groan that was half rage, half something you refused to name. "I don't need a babysitter..."

Your voice came out muffled, furious, humiliated. "...And I don't want him."

The lie tasted like ash. Because you wanted him, God, you still wanted him but the wanting only sharpened your anger, at Luca for forcing this. At yourself for the traitorous heat that still coiled low in your stomach. And unfairly, irrationally, at Leon for being impossible to hate cleanly.

He could have said no. Should have. But that asshole didn't.

The thought burned.

Because some small, treacherous part of you had hoped he would refuse, hoped he'd look at Luca and walk away rather than endure your company— and the fact that he hadn't, that he'd simply accepted it so easily, even if you were being difficult and giving him every reason to hate you, he still didn't. And that thought coiled tighter in your chest like a fence keeping your emotions securely trapped inside.

Though deep down, you already knew none of this was really his fault, and if Leon was going to be around for six months, checking in, hovering at the edges of your life...

How the fuck were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to keep your… feelings in check, you could not and even if it wasn't the end you knew that you were absolutely fucked.

…

There wasn't a sound of your boyfriend being home. Weird. You were sure he had his day off.

You frowned, setting your coffee down on the table and absentmindedly placing the half-eaten chocolate over the mug to keep it warm, "Leon?"

Your brows knit together as you looked toward the hallway, expecting his usual gruff "What?" or the sound of heavy footsteps. Instead, the apartment remained eerily quiet.

Only then did you realize he'd been suspiciously quiet for the last few hours, he hadn't make any sarcastic comments or wandered into living room to check on you, "let me just—" you muttered under your breath, and just as you were about to get up and investigate, when slow, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

You instantly looked up, and see him emerge before you and immediately you choked on the air, 'what the actual fuck?' You breathed and indeed it was the right word for it-- for what you just saw.

Because standing in the doorway..

Was Ghost. Simon Riley. Your favorite game character.

Well.. It was Leon dressed as Ghost.

he did look hot though, hotter than you think he would look, as you notice him wearing that skull mask. The tactical gear. The gloves. Even the headset.

As you looked at him completely star-struck, you found him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

You simply stared, frozen where you stood, "uh, Leon what are you doing?" and for a brief moment, though, you forgot to say anything at all.

His voice came out perfectly flat beneath the mask. "It's Ghost, Love, not Leon"

A laugh escaped you, and you bent over, clutching your side as you tried to contain it. "Christ," you breathed between laughs, before finally stopping and wiping the corner of your eyes with your finger-tip.

Leon let out a quiet scoff, and you could swore he had raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, "Wow. And here I was thinking you'd find this attractive."

"You do look attractive."

He tilted his head as he took a step closer, his gaze fixed on you. You let out a slow, steady breath, willing yourself to stay composed, because, honest to God, he looked breathtaking.

"So..." he drawled, letting the silence linger between you both. "Am I your favorite now?"

A smile tugged at your lips. "Baby boy," you murmured, your voice warm with quiet certainty, "you have always been my favorite."

He stepped right up to you, his taller frame all but swallowing the space between you, and towering over you, he dipped his head slightly, leaning down until you two were nearly eye level. "Mhm," he murmured, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth you could tell because of the tone he hummed in.

"Were you jealous?" You asked, cutting off whatever words were sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"No." He replied, almost way too fast, that you thought he was being defensive.

suspicious as hell.

and yet it was cute.

"You literally bought a Ghost cosplay, leon." You pointed out.

because you knew he didn't own it before.

"Fine." He let out a dramatic sigh before finally lifting the mask just enough for you to see the world's most offended pout. "You've liked one too many Ghost edits."

"Wait... are you serious?" you exclaimed.

"I've seen your likes," Leon said flatly. "On his edits."

"He isn't even real!" you protested, throwing your hands into the air.

"He also isn't me." The words left Leon with the most dramatic groan you'd ever heard. For a fully grown man, he was throwing an astonishingly convincing tantrum, dragging a hand down his mask with a sigh that screamed 'betrayal.'

You couldn't hold it in anymore, then another wave of giddiness exploded in your chest and you burst into laughter, "Oh, baby", you wheezed.

Before you could tease him any further, Leon suddenly leaned down, slipped one arm beneath your knees, and, with effortless ease, hoisted you over his shoulder like you were just a sack of potato, "Leon!" you shrieked, squirming and kicking your legs in protest as you lightly pounded a fist against his back.

He didn't so much as falter, his grip remained firm, one hand resting securely against the back of your thighs as he continued walking as though carrying you over his shoulder was the most natural thing in the world. "You done?" he asked far too calmly.

"No!"

"Alright."

You huffed dramatically, continuing your entirely ineffective attempts to wriggle free, while Leon merely chuckled, and remained completely unbothered. "Leon put me down, please."

"Oh baby, no, don't 'Leon' me," he sighed, pausing for a moment as he adjusted you more securely over his shoulder, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from slipping.

You let out an indignant squeak as you shifted against him, only making his hold firmer. Then, a little lower he murmured "You can thirst over Ghost all you want..." and your heart-beat quickened and you were sure he heard it though: he didnt point it out.

Instead he started walking toward the bedroom, the skull mask catching the dim light as he moved. "But in reality..." His voice dropped to a croon, smug and sure, the grin hidden beneath bone and shadow somehow audible in his tone. "I am all you need."

holy fuck, at his comment you literally had a tear run down your thigh, and you knew, now what Leon was about to do, or maybe-- show, what he was about to do. and you were damn sure that you would let him show you.

You finally let out a small giggle, and he answered you in a sigh that was theatrical enough to echo through the apartment— exasperated, and hungry.

Swiftly he carried you to the bed, tossing you onto the mattress , and you bounce a little as you settle on it and he did all of it with a confidence that left no room for doubt. "Now," he murmured, climbing over you, the mask inches from your face. "Let me show you why I'm the only man you need."

"Then show me", you challenged, gripping his collar with your one hand and removing his mask with the other, before finally crashing your lips onto his: and he groaned against your mouth "rest assured I will."

and he did exactly that — so completely and so relentlessly that, by the end of your little 'show', you'd forgotten how the two of you had ended up there in the first place.

Leon, who had been leaning lazily against the bedroom doorframe in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung far too low on his pelvis, giving you an incredibly unfair glimpse of his V-line, finally registered your question.

Slowly he lifted his gaze to meet yours, but your gaze lingered for just a second too long on there— okay... maybe a little longer than that, because they looked absolutely delicious.

Then a corner of his mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. "First," he hummed, his voice dripping with amusement, "my eyes are up here, darling." heat instantly rushed to your cheeks as you quickly looked away from his body, clearing your throat as though you hadn't just been caught in 4k. "I wasn't looking," you mumbled.

"Mhm," he replied, entirely unconvinced. "You were practically drooling."

You immediately puffed out your cheeks, doing your best to look offended. "I was appreciating the view," you defended yourself with all the dignity you could muster.

Leon stared at you for exactly two seconds before a laugh escaped him. "You look like a pufferfish right now," he blurted out, shaking his head at you as his shoulders bounced with quiet laughter.

"Hey!" you protested, stomping towards him brfore swatting his arm, playfully, which only made him laugh harder. "What?" he asked between chuckles. "Even if you were a pufferfish..." He paused dramatically, pretending to think. "...I'd still be the dolphin getting high off you."

For one long second, absolute silence filled the room, then you stared at him in complete silence before your face crumpled in disbelief. "Leon Scott Kennedy."

"Yeah?" He said, raising his eyebrow at you.

"keep your mouth shut." You rolled your eyes at him as though he were the single most annoying creature to ever exist.

Leon only laughed harder, completely unbothered by your glare. You pouted, folding your arms across your chest. "I can't believe you actually just said that."

His grin only widened at your reaction, "What? I'm pretty proud of that one." Then he continues, "But honestly i cant believe it either that i said that," he admitted through another fit of laughter then he wiped the tear that appeared at the corner of his eye. "But you walked right into it."

"Crazy," you breathed under your breath, though the corners of your lips betrayed you anyway. Eventually, his terrible— or, annoyingly, or maybe actually clever— one-liner got the better of you, and you laughed too.

Shaking your head in complete disbelief, you let out a soft sigh before looking back at him. "But," you said, trying to compose yourself, "back to the topic... did you still not notice anything?"

At your remark a quiet chuckled, escaped him before his blue eyes finally swept over you once... then twice.

You stepped closer to him, almost in front of him, ignoring his laughter, until you were both were just inches apart, then you looked up expectantly at him with those big, hopeful eyes he secretly adored.

He tilted his head thoughtfully, pretending to inspect you for another long second before finally saying, "No?"

Your eye twitched as you let out a long, defeated sigh, doing your absolute best not to get annoyed with him. "No." you repeated flatly, raising an eyebrow as though giving him one last chance to save himself.

He tilted his head, and blinked before smirking at you— as if it meant 'you dont know, what i know'. "Did you buy a new dress?"

"Really?" you asked, completely deadpan, summoning the best poker face known to mankind.

Leon only blinked back at you with practiced innocence. "Did you not?" He asked.

You slowly folded your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes at him. "You are way off the grid, buddy."

Leon narrowed his eyes dramatically, squinting at you as though he were trying to solve the world's hardest puzzle.

"You really don't notice anything different?" you asked again.

"I honestly don't," he admitted with a completely straight face.

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, as you, stepped back from him and twirl a lock of your hair, that rested against your shoulder, "I got a haircut."

Leon made a 'oh' sound and then looked at you. Then at your hair. Then back at you. "...You did?"

"You are so annoying!" You said though, some kind of dismay settled over you, as you noticed his unreadable expression, did you not look good? You thought.

Then you exhaled a sharp breath and marched forward and brushed past Leon, before making your way towards the kitchen to prepare the meal for tonight.

"I am never asking you anything ever again." You mumbled under your breath.

"Aw, baby, c'mon", he said following you like a lost puppy who found the one he wanted to go home with.

"Keep quiet, or else no physical affection for a month!" You said without turning to look at him.

"Hey! I would die, without it" He said, closing the distance between you and him.

"Good." You said, annoyance slipping into your tone.

You didn't say anything after that, instead you walked inside the kitchen, determined to ignore him for at least the next five minutes.

You barely made it three steps inside, before two familiar arms wrapped securely around your waist from behind, and you pulled your back flush against his chest, "Let me go," you remarked, trying to wriggle free from his grip, but he didn't budge an inch, yet you twisted and squirmed anyway, determined to win on principle alone, though you had to give him credit— after all, he was a highly trained D.S.O. agent, and escaping him had never exactly been one of your strengths.

"You look pretty."

"Stop, buttering me up." You scoffed.

"I still don't know what I did wrong," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Your knees nearly buckled beneath you. God damn it... you needed to stay strong. But how were you supposed to do that when this absolute puppy of a man made it so much harder than it needed to be?

"You didn't notice, my haircut" you finally said, "does it not look good?" You finally asked, relaxing yourself into his touch.

"I did," he murmured against your skin, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine. The gentle brush of his breath against your neck tickled, pulling an involuntary giggle from you despite your determination to stay upset.

You squirmed just a little, earning a quiet chuckle from him. "And for the record," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck, the unexpected warmth drawing the faintest sound from your lips, "I noticed immediately."

Slowly, you turned in his embrace to face him, fully intending to glare at him. Instead, all you saw reflected in those impossibly blue eyes was your own desperately whiny expression staring back at you, and your resolve crumbled almost instantly, shaking your head in disbelief, you narrowed your eyes anyway. "You liar, stop digging yourself a hole!", then you paused staring at his ridiculously handsome face, "or else I will bury you in that myself."

"I'm not lying," he said, his grin softening into something impossibly fond. "I swear on my love for you... I was just joking."

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. "Why?" you huffed, still trying to hold onto whatever was left of your indignation.

"Because," he admitted without a shred of guilt, "I wanted to see how long it'd take before you got mad."

"You little—" you start, feeling your cheeks burn with anger or just at his audacity.

"I am anything but little," he interrupted, his gaze briefly dropping down at himself before he looked back up at you with the most insufferably smug smirk you'd ever seen.

Your entire face heated instantly at realizing exactly what he had meant. "Leon!" you yelped, somewhere between horrified and mortified.

"Did I lie, darling?" he asked with infuriating calmness, while pulling you a little closer until there was barely any space left between you.

A small, surprised squeak escaped your lips before you could stop it, making his smile grow even wider, he shook his head with a quiet laugh, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you with unmistakable fondness. "That's what I thought."

"Shut up." you groaned.

He flashed you a shameless grin, his pearly teeth on full display. "Make me."

Before you had the chance to fire back another remark, Leon released his grip on you and, to your complete surprise, he sank down onto both of his knees in the middle of the hallway, just outside the kitchen.

You just stared at him in utter disbelief of his audacity, because what the hell was he doing?

Then he looked up at you with the most insufferable grin you'd ever seen on a man, then he dramatically pause before actually speaking, "My gorgeous, breathtaking, criminally beautiful girlfriend," he began, reaching for your hand, and you let him hold them, "May I formally apologize for pretending not to notice your beautiful haircut?"

You tried— like really tried—to stay angry, but finally a giggle passed through, and you let out a hearty laugh, that rose from your chest, "You are ridiculous."

"I am." He nodded, and guided your knuckles to his lips before pressing a soft kiss on them.

"You deserve to sleep on the couch." You teased, not pulling your hands away from his grasp.

"I'll happily sleep on the couch..." he pauses, "as long as you're on it with me."

"Absolutely not", you rolled your eyes and despite yourself another laugh escaped past your lips.

"There's my girl," he said triumphantly, "I love when you laugh."

"Stand up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said before rising to his feet, though he still held on to your hands.

your heart did a entire circus, when he said that.

You let out a quiet sigh and gently slipped your hands from his grasp, before reaching up, then you cupped his face between your palms, gently squishing his cheeks until his lips puckered into an unmistakable pout.

"You know why I lied?" He asked, trying to smile though you kept his face squished between your palms, which made it harder for him to form a curve of his lips.

Though he didnt complain.

"To see how long it takes me to get mad?" You repeated his sentence: that he had said before.

"Nope." He said, removing your hands from his face, wrapping them around his waist.

"Then why?" you asked curiously.

He smiled before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against your lips, lingering there for only a heartbeat before pulling back just enough to murmur, "...Because you're adorable when you're grumpy."

You couldn't help it, and you say his name like a warning and despite your best efforts to stay annoyed you giggled uncontrollably, and shaking your head, you lightly poked his chest. "No more kisses, for you, mister."

"Too bad," he whispered with the most adorable expression, like an innocent seal asking for something. "I already stole one."

Before you could say anything else, he closed the distance again, capturing your lips in another quick, fleeting kiss that left you smiling, after he pulled away, murmuring "and I will kiss you as long as I am alive, and you, darling, can't stop me."

wouldn't dare to stop anyway, your heart whispered.

Then you merely smiled to yourself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had won, but something in you knew he knew, that he already did, and maybe even if you had lost that little battle between you both— but somehow, you had still won the greatest prize of all: Leon.

and, for the first time that evening, a quiet contentment settled over you, knowing he had noticed your haircut after all.

Universe help you.

Then pushing yourself out of your trance you dragged your gaze away from him, trying to calm your thoughts, or at least pretending to do so.

honestly, it had only been two months since you started dating him, and the two of you had agreed to take things slow. He had figured out pretty early on that you were rather shy, so he'd simply told you, "We'll go at your pace." And for that alone, you were endlessly grateful to him.

and yet there were already so many dirty-not-so-shy things flooded your mind—thoughts you couldn't quite bring yourself to say out loud, so here you were, 'admiring' your man from afar, as if he is still just a 'crush', though he wasn't, he was something precious now— he was yours, and that single word still melted across your tongue like honey every time you thought it.

anyways... now as you see him completely covered in sweat as he worked through another set, those quiet, strained little grunts escaped him with each curl— which, to your complete embarrassment, sounded far too much like music to your ears.

meanwhile, he curled twenty-kilogram dumbbells as though they weighed absolutely nothing, making the whole thing even more unfair to witness.

as you stare at his straining biceps— veins mapping rivers beneath his taut skin, muscles flexing with every shift of his weight, you could not help but imagine what it would feel like to bite them, to feel them pressed against your finger tips, to feel that power wrapped around your neck, while he pins you down as he pounds into you, relentlessly.

Christ. You didn't want to think like this, and yet here you were, imagining exactly that— and soon heat crept up your neck, flushing your skin.

You shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the dampness pooling between your thighs, your underwear clinging where you were already slick and aching.

But could anyone really blame you? For thinking like that? First of all he was yours, second who wouldn't admire that kind of view— standing right in front of them?

Jeez. now, you weren't focused on yourself, or your workout, or whatever the hell you were supposed to be doing. Your attention was entirely on him. This hulking man barely seemed to struggle through his sets, making each rep look effortless.

He looked like a Greek god who had casually stepped down from his heavenly abode just to work out at the same gym as everyone else.

and just as soon as his eyes met yours, he sent a sneaky wink your way, and you looked away instantly, legs pumping faster on the treadmill as if you could outrun your own pulse. But the thoughts had already wrapped themselves around your veins, coiling tight, begging you to stop pretending you didn't want exactly what they were offering.

Caught in hecking 4k.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He could not hear your thoughts could he?

Well you want him to hear everything swirling inside you, but.... maybe just not ... so soon?

by the way those words just jinxed-- something: you will know, what--soon enough.

also thats not possible, telepathy, you think to yourself and run faster onto the treadmill below.

Leon and you always worked out here every evening for an hour. It had become your little routine together.

He'd disappear into the locker room for a few minutes before coming back out wearing that black compression shirt— the one that looked like it was holding on for dear life just to keep those pecs together.

Oh fuck. Just to feel them. Once. Or... you trailed off, mid-thought. perv. fucking perv. that's what you were.

Leon usually caught you immediately, after changing in his gym clothes, and a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he always leaned down just enough for only you to hear, as you swallowed thickly, your gaze stuck on his chest, "Like them?" he chuckled, and you let out the tiniest squeak imaginable before immediately turning your face away from him, your cheeks burning so fiercely they could've rivaled the gym's heating system, while Leon's quiet chuckled deeply, as you said "no." Before moving away from him.

this was kind of a ritual now, for him, to tease you, endlessly— you won't say you didn't like it though.

as the memory fades, and you stare at your man, from across the room, he pass you a quick smile and soon, almost without warning, Leon set his dumbbells back onto the rack before walking straight toward you.

Your heartbeat instantly betrayed you. You hurriedly jabbed the stop button on the treadmill, the belt gradually slowing until it came to a halt beneath your feet, then stepping off, you fanned yourself with your towel that rested above the handle of the machine, though at this point you couldn't tell if you were trying to dry the sweat clinging to your skin or cool the warmth steadily spreading through your stomach.

Leon strutted towards you stopped directly in front of your face and meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin, your ears turning completely red, as he kept his unwavering blue irises on you, and his one eyebrow lifted, "Babe..." he drawled, a teasing smile already tugging at his lips. "How long are you gonna keep staring at me?"

Your brain quite literally short-circuited, and you tore your gaze away from him as quickly as you could, clearing your throat before mumbling, "I wasn't staring." You placed particular emphasis on the last word, hoping he'd get the message. Unfortunately, only you knew you didn't mean a single bit of it.

"No?"

"Absolutely not." You responded.

Leon smirked as if he could right through you, then he hummed softly as he leaned down, gently backing you up until your lower back met the cool frame of the treadmill, the chill seeping through your shirt. A smug little smirk tugged at his lips as he took full advantage of the unusually empty gym. His fingertips brushed lightly across your cheek before he murmured, "You've been admiring me through the mirror for the last ten minutes."

"I was... looking behind you." You corrected trying to squirm away from him, but he doesnt let you instead he, puts his head on your shoulder, and let out a quiet chuckle which rumbled through your entire frame, "There was a wall behind me, babe."

caught again. god damn, his instincts.

You refused to meet his eyes, licking your lips as you desperately searched for anything that would change the subject. "Someone might get the wrong idea about what we're doing," you murmured, but your body and your voice was shaking at the closeness of his proximity. Then a slow teasing grin spread across Leon's face. "Then they're more than welcome to."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how flustered he'd made you. Your heart was already racing, warmth blooming across your cheeks as you gently shoved at his chest, for a second he doesn't move.

"This gym is empty," he pointed out again.

"I uh - ah- you are so annoying!" You say pouting pushing him away again, hitting on his chest.

He laughed softly at your pathetic attempt to "hurt" him, and this time, he let himself be pushed away with surprising ease. Taking a step back, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his joggers, still watching you with that infuriatingly smug smile that said he'd won anyway.

The moment he moved away, the air somehow felt colder without him, and you hated that it he moved away, "Well, anyway..." he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Did you like the view atleast?"

"Gosh", your face exploded with heat and with an embarrassed huff, you grabbed the front of his compression shirt and tugged him along before he could tease you any further. "C'mere."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you practically dragged him toward the quiet hallway beside the common washrooms, and his hands flew out of his pocket as he tried to maintain his balance, "Babe?" he laughed, his eyes crinkling with each syllable, "Where are we—"

Before he could finish, you stopped directly into the dim hallway and cupped his face with both hands, and, before your courage could abandon you, you pressed a quick, flustered kiss to his lips and instantly a soft, surprised sound escaped him as his arms instinctively slipped around your waist, drawing you just a fraction closer.

Your heartbeat immediately quickened, pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. the kiss lasted barely a second before you pulled away from him, and just as quickly, your cheeks burning brighter than ever as you stared anywhere but at his eyes. "There, now shut up."

Leon simply stared at you, completely ignoring your muttered, 'now, shut up.' Instead he whispered, "wow" then he, let out quiet soft whistle, "and two seconds ago, you were worried someone might see us."

You lifted your chin, trying your best to look smug despite the warmth creeping into your face. "I can be bold."

He bent forward until he was nearly doubled over, laughing so hard he had to brace himself, rolling your eyes, you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, and he shook his head leaning into your touch, "hm." Then he straightened up and slowly stepped closer to you until there was barely any space left between you and him, "I like this side of you, more than anything."

Your confidence began to evaporate almost immediately, and before you could reply, he merely shrugged, as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary, then achingly slow, his fingers found yours, gently intertwining them with an effortless familiarity.

"Right now..." he says, his gaze lingering on your flushed face. "...This sweaty, this flustered..." He paused just long enough to watch your expression crumble before a teasing smile touched his lips. "You look tasty enough to eat."

You swatted his broad bicep with playful indignation, trying to hide the way your stomach fluttered all over again. His laughter only grew louder, warm and unrestrained. "But..." he continued, leaning in until his forehead rested gently against yours, and a teasing smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes briefly. "You should know," he crooned softly, amusement dancing in his voice, "if you keep surprising me like that..."

You swallowed thickly trying to drink every drop of your emotions, "yeah?"

"I'm going to have a very hard time letting you walk away with just one kiss."

Your eyes flew wide just as he suddenly pulled you into a quick embrace. "Leon!" you shrieked, your voice breaking into startled laughter as your arms instinctively wrapped around him.

He laughed warmly, pressing one soft kiss to your forehead instead, "Relax," he said, smiling at your flustered expression. "We've still got another twenty minutes of our workout."

You groaned, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder, the heat of exertion still radiating between you. His voice dropped, low and intimate against your ear. "When we get home," he breathed, sliding his palms lower until they found the dip of your spine, "can we kiss one more time?"

The question lingered between you, hanging in the quiet air. He looked every bit the gentleman— though, at the same time, he reminded you of a patient puppy, silently asking for something and waiting to see if he'd be allowed to have it. And if the answer was no... he'd simply accept it.

His hands pressed gently, guiding you to arch into him, and you responded instinctively, your back curving, breath hitching, and you felt way too responsive, beneath his touch, and for a hot second you wanted him to take you right here, slowly your shyness dissolved entirely under his touch.

you simply nodded, cheek still pressed to the damp fabric of his shirt, and aderaline took over you body, "maybe... we can do something far more than a kiss?" you whispered, your throat swelling instantly as you finally let your heart speak, then he sighed and grunted your name, into your skin, and kissed your neck, whispering something, crude, which almost felt like a promise, from him, to ruin you completely.

then after the workout, when you two finally stumbled through the front door, you spent the entire evening doing another type of cardio—sweat-slicked bodies and breathless moans, while burning something far more than mere calories.

Leon, who had been quietly eating beside you, paused for the briefest second as he processed your words. His expression remained unreadable, betraying none of his thoughts, and not thinking much of what you just called him, he simply reached for the salt shaker and slid it across the table without looking up. "Here."

"Thanks, bro." You intentionally put weight, on the word 'bro' trying to gouge out his reaction.

His jaw tightened for a moment, as he finally realized what you just called him, and he gritted his teeth before stabbing the food that remained lifeless in front of him, and as soon as he does it you almost felt bad for it.

Though you'd won— at least in your own mind, because God knew he hated what you called him. He'd never admit it out loud, but you knew because after all you could see it in the every twitch of his muscle whenever you called him that.

Then you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.

Honestly, this whole ridiculous thing had started as nothing more than an experiment. If you had to give it a name, it'd be Operation: Crack Your Boyfriend. (Pun absolutely intended.) It wouldn't become that kind of operation until much, much later, when you would, indeed, crack your boyfriend— but for now, your objective was far simpler: to see just how long it would take before you finally broke his composure.

The truth is Leon could be so unbelievably aloof sometimes— calm, composed, almost impossible to fluster that you had decided to take the matter in your own hands and spend the entire day calling your boyfriend bro just to see when he'd finally lose it.

And apparently... you little plan has somehow worked.

...

After that things were quiet, or maybe you were, but a few hours later, you wandered into the living room where Leon sat on the couch with his laptop balanced on his thighs, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Bro," you chirped, smirking while you stepped closer to where he was seated, "You look good today."

The rapid click-clack of the keys stopped, instantly, then he looked up at you, "Stop calling me that," he huffed, finally stabbing another key a little harder than necessary.

You blinked innocently, at him, and stick your tongue out at him, "Bro, why?"

"So that's how it's gonna be", he muttered under his breath, then before you could give a sarcastic reply to him, he closed the laptop with one decisive snap, and threw it aside on the couch, before standing up and stepping closer to you, "now tell me who am i?"

You instinctively took one very confident step backward. "Bro?" You mused, as you gazed into his ocean blue orbs.

"Hmm." He says slowly stepping towards you.

You took another step back.

He took one forward.

"Leon..." you breathed, thickly swallowing whatever , emotions that were building inside your gut.

"No no. I am your bro, right?" he repeated flatly, as he strutted his way, towards you, swaying his hips, with every step of his.

then another step, another one, until your back gently bumped against the hallway wall, with a quiet thud.

"Holy mother of— he had cornered your ass and yet instead of fear, all you felt was an undeniable thrill, your pulse quickening as something entirely different coiled low in your gut, and your core throbbed with the— need of him.

Slowly he planted one hand beside your head, trapping you with effortless ease, and the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So..." he murmured. "I'm your bro now, right?"

Your heart quickened with every syllable that slipped past his lips, and you savored the unfamiliar feeling blooming inside you, and a strange ache stirred in your chest, threatening to spill from your lips in the form of a kiss, but you swallowed it down, holding yourself back. Instead, you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. "Mhm."

Then he leaned down brushing his nose against yours and you feel his warm mint breath, tickling your skin, "so your boyfriend just got bro—zoned?"

"Seems like it." You closed your eyes briefly and force those words out, trying to sound composed — but you knew you were anything but that.

He hummed thoughtfully, making no move to pull you closer or close the distance between you and him with a kiss. "That's a shame," he murmured.

"Why?" you mused, lifting your gaze to meet his, and what you found wasn't annoyance at all, but his desperately whiny expression hovering over yours, and God... the ache it spread through your chest was almost unbearable, and all you wanted in that moment was to pull him beneath your ribs, let him make a home there, and have him fall asleep to the lullaby of your heartbeat.

"Because if i was your boyfriend I would've kissed you." He crooned.

"But I meant it romantically though." You argue, feeling greedy for the kiss, while your cheeks turned pink and warm beneath his gaze, as he kept your frame pinned right there.

"You think that makes it better?" he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly then he leaned in, his lips hovering mere inches from yours.

Fuck. every instinct inside your body: screamed at you to close the distance and kiss him yourself, but this— this whole drolling game the two of you had somehow found yourselves playing, kept you stubbornly rooted where you stood, and you hear him chuckle lightly as you desperately try to feel him against you, then he continue, "You've got one more chance, before I show you what I can do, when I actually lose my patience."

You grinned, sneakily and feel his words shoot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, "so, what actually are you gonna do, bro?"

Here you go, you said it again, testing his patience, testing what he could do.

"Alright then," he muses, and without another word he leans down, again, while his other hand presses softly past your stomach to your lower belly, sliding lower, lower, and you suck in a breath— you want him right there.

darn it. he knew how to play dirty.

He just made a quiet sound as you squirmed beneath him, and soon with a groan he slides his fingers past the waistband of your leggings, his palm coming to settle just above your underwear, he could feel your wetness through your cotton fabric, but he doesn't push his fingers inside. Instead he lets his fingers rest right there, drumming against your slit, and you shudder against him, feeling your breath tremble.

"Tease," you breathed under your breath, so softly you doubted he'd caught it. The word escaped anyway, slipping from your tongue with the effortless grace of a skater gliding across an ice rink.

"Leon—" you start again, as he presses his fingers inside, from just above your underwear, but he doesn't wait for you to finish your sentence, instead he kisses you, gently, a little short, but just long enough to steal every single breath your lungs were holding "If I was your boyfriend," he murmurs against your mouth, "I would have done more than this."

Then he pulled away, completely withdrawing his hand from your underpants, and leaving nothing but the lingering warmth of his touch behind. You could only stare at him, your cheeks burning, lips slightly parted as you try to form a reply, but it seems every word, seemed to abandoned your tongue, right at this moment.

Jeez. It backfired quickly. You thought.

"Please, Leon." You pleaded.

Leon smiled in complete satisfaction. "Please... what?" he prompted, his voice rich with amusement, you opened your mouth, desperately trying to force something— anything past the stone in your throat, but every coherent thought had vanished the moment he looked at you like that, and your cheeks burned again as you stood there, utterly speechless.

He chuckled quietly before brushing his thumb across your flushed cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Now," he murmured, his blue eyes dancing with mischief, "try calling me 'bro' again."

You shook your head, your lips curving into the faintest smile, and whatever teasing remark had been on the tip of your tongue dissolved, and all that came out was a soft croon, "Baby."

"Thats fucking right , thats what I am." He grins triumphantly.

He kisses you again, and you feel the low hum of satisfaction vibrate against your mouth. When he pulls back, you're laughing, giddy, breathless— and the sound seems to spark something molten low in your stomach. You grip his hand and press it between your thighs, right on your core, with a desperation that surprises even you, and you start to grind yourself against his palm with a hunger that demands more.

"My, desperate, girl", His smug expression immediately melted into the softest smile, then in the quiet of the room he gave you what exactly you were silently begging for.

and that was the day you realized you'd never tease him by calling him "bro" again, or maybe you would, you hadn't decided it yet, because if every teasing ended up being like this, then it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

Now you somehow found yourself sitting alone on the couch in the darkened living room, and the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon slipping through the curtains.

And in your hands rested the pregnancy test that had been hidden away inside your drawer for the past week, because you were supposed to tell your boyfriend, Leon. Your only one, the love of your life.

That you were going to be a mother, and he was going to be a dad. Like at times he had talked about it to you. The thought alone should've filled you with nothing but excitement. Because it had always been something you dreamed of someday, and now... it was real, and it did, at some point.

You were thrilled… at first, but it was overshadowed by something….far more worse— a dread.

Maybe that's exactly why you couldn't tell him.

Because the Leon you loved wasn't entirely himself anymore. No, he still loved you— you never doubted that, not for a second. But as he continued working under the government, somewhere along the way, he'd become lost, he says he'd seen far too much.

He needed help, you knew that, and you had tried to help him numerous times, told him, he should take therapy, he refused that, upright, because he was never that vulnerable— with you or anyone. It was like he was holding himself back from things that could hurt you, yet you both still made it work, loved each other not perfectly but purely, and maybe that was enough… at least for a time being.

After that; his drinking habits had slowly crept into his life, one bad day bleeding into the next until it became something neither of you spoke about anymore.

But you have tried. you stayed up waiting for him on countless nights. You talked to him. You pleaded with him. You asked him to talk to you, promising that no matter what was weighing him down, you would be there to carry it with him.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes your pleas reached him, and instead of reaching for another bottle, he reached for you, then sometimes he stopped drinking for an entire month, slowly becoming the Leon you knew again, and for a while you let yourself believe the worst was finally behind you.

But then, just as suddenly, something would happen— a difficult mission, another sleepless night, another burden he refused to share with you, he would slip right back into the same cycle all over again.

leaving you like a pitless hollow, that gnawed in your gut like a leech feeding on your own misery, and sometimes you were ashamed of yourself for not being— enough, not doing enough.

But what were you even supposed to do? when… both of your hands were tied, in cuffs of the ruins of your relationship?

And now, as your trembling fingers tightened around the pregnancy test, which showed two pink lines, confirming there was something growing inside you, and all you could think was one terrifying question.

Would this make him happy… ...or would it only become another burden for a man already drowning?

and you didn't want to be selfish. No. You were better than that. You knew that. But you can't keep hiding it from him.

So, finally, you decided to tell him you were pregnant. You didn't know how he would react. Maybe he would be happy— exceptionally so. Maybe he would be completely shocked. Or maybe... he would leave you, even though deep down you knew Leon would never do that.

Still, after everything the two of you had been through, after all the ups and downs, you weren't sure what to expect anymore, maybe unpredictable was the only word that seemed to fit him lately.

But it was either this or letting him continue living in the dark. So you chose to tell him. Whatever happened afterward, you would face it.

"Let the worst come," you muttered quietly to yourself.

Little did you know, something far more catastrophic that was already waiting for you in the quiet of the night.

…

When Leon finally came back home, it was well past midnight, 12.45 a.m. to be precise and you had unknowingly fallen asleep with the pregnancy test still clutched tightly in your hand.

but the moment you heard the familiar shuffle of his boots outside the bedroom, you jolted awake, your heart jumping into your throat.

In a panic, you quickly hid the test behind your back. A second later, Leon stepped inside and flicked on the bedroom light. Strangely enough, he was completely sober.

but instead he just... looked exhausted. More exhausted than you had ever seen him. And soon as your eyes met, you climbed off the bed and hurried toward him, discreetly slipping the test into the waistband of your jeans before wrapping your arms tightly around him. He didn't hug you back immediately. For a moment, he simply stood there, looking... lost. Like his mind hadn't made it home with the rest of him. Then he let out a long, tired sigh and slowly pulled you into a tight embrace.

You melted into him instantly, but only after a few seconds. Leon gently pushed you back from him, and the moment you looked into his eyes, your entire body went cold, and you realized something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Instantly your heart lurched straight into your stomach, your gut twisting so painfully it felt as though it wanted to crawl up your throat. Fuck. He looked awful.

His dark blond hair had fallen messily across his eyes, making him look even more worn than usual. Instinctively, you reached up to cup his face, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, but before your fingertips could brush his skin, Leon caught your wrist midair. Your fingers slowly curled inward in defeat.

"Leon..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, as he finally loosened his grip on your wrist, and with disappointment you let it fall to your side, then you let out a small squeak, finally managing the words that have been haunting you for far too long, "I... I want to talk to you."

You knew this wasn't the right time. But maybe... just maybe… If you didn't tell him tonight...

You would never get the chance.

So you worked up your courage, yet, the words refused to come out of you, and for one long, unbearable second, Leon only looked at you, like you were a complete stranger standing inside his home— and that look pained you more than anything you have been through.

…

Leon didn't know how he was supposed to tell you.

He didn't know how he was meant to look into your eyes and say that he couldn't do this anymore, because the moment he looked at you, he saw it immediately— you wanted to talk to him too. He knew it was important. ‘Tell her,’ every part of him screamed. ‘You love her,’ goddamn it. But he couldn't bring himself to say those words. How could he?

Instead, his mind drifted to every memory the two of you had shared. The nights you stayed awake with him, calming him down after another nightmare. The times you held him while he emptied his stomach after a mission had gone wrong, and he drank himself to the point of getting hospitalized. Sometimes he told you what had happened. Sometimes he didn't. Because he couldn't bring himself to pull you into the same rabbit hole he had spent years trying to crawl out of.

He couldn't ruin you— but he knew he already had, and that part of him was sick— for being so selfish, for not setting you free.

And the thought that haunted him most was the one he buried so deep he barely allowed himself to acknowledge it— was that he needed to protect you.

Because he didn't know when the day would come that he wouldn't make it back. He couldn't bear the thought of you standing beside his grave, forced to bury the man you loved.

Out of everything that terrified him, that was the strongest fear of all.

and so, for numerous reasons or excuses Leon had rehearsed this breakup in his head hundreds of times, yet, he could not bring himself to tell you that.

But he knew he had to do this today.

…

"I think... we should break up." The words left Leon's mouth before he could stop them. Fuck. There was no taking them back now. He swallowed thickly as he watched your eyes slowly turn glassy beneath the dim glow of the bedroom. Instinctively, he reached out toward you, wanting to hold you before you hate him, but the moment his fingers moved, you stepped back. His hand froze in midair before falling uselessly to his side.

He hadn't known breaking your heart, breaking his too, and it would hurt like this. This— painful. This... wrong.

...

The ground disappeared beneath your feet. It felt as though the floor had slipped away entirely, leaving you endlessly falling. Your eyes burned, stinging with the only word your mind could hear.

Break up. Break up. Break up.

"W-Why?" Your voice cracked into a broken sob. "Did... did I do something wrong?" The sound of your voice nearly shattered whatever resolve he had left.

"No. No. No" His own voice trembled, mirroring yours, and your heart ached with something more than a breakup, a heartbreak, and all of it felt too much, like, you could not breathe, "That's not—"

"Then why?" You asked, cutting him off mid-sentence, feeling your knees buckling at the overwhelming emotions of his words.

He closed his eyes for a brief second. "Because..." His throat tightened painfully. "I don't think I can give you the life you deserve." He forced himself to continue despite every instinct screaming at him to stop. "I don't think... I deserve something so good."

You stared at him: tears already spilling freely down your cheeks. “And I don't get to have a say in it?”

He shook his head, frantically, running a hand through his hairs, his chest heaved shakily, before his shoulders slumped down, in defeat, "I want you to have a better life... without me." he admitted finally meeting your gaze, and when he looked straight into your eyes, the realization of what he losing hit straight into him, and all the breath that his lungs held seemed to leave him all at once.

"I don't, I want a life without you, Leon.” The answer came so quickly it made his heart stop.

God. That's what he wants too.. more than anything, in this world. But you were more than what he asked for, and he can't lose you by being himself.

"But I do." The lie rolled off his tongue far too easily, and it killed him, fuck. The minute he said it you nodded your head like you were processing his words, your jaw clenched as you looked down at the floor, completely still.

He wanted you to snap at him, fight him, hurt him too. But you just stood there, like someone took your heart, and left you to bury the pieces of what was left.

Maybe that's what he was doing?

he wanted to tell you he was lying. He wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you he couldn't imagine breathing in a world where you weren't beside him.

But the truth was uglier than that. He wanted you to have stability.

A family.

A future where you didn't spend every night wondering if someone would knock on your door carrying his tag instead of him.

so leon just wanted you to be happy even if that future no longer included him.

"You... don't love me anymore?" You asked looking into his eyes which seemed glassy now too, as if he was doing this because something possessed him to do so and, a part of you?— it wished.. he didn't mean anything he said, and it was just a nightmare, but you knew better than anyone. That he meant it.

"I do." His answer was immediate, as he let a single tear fall to his face, "more than anything."

Leon rarely cried. In fact, he had spent years teaching himself not to. But tonight, he was painfully sober, and every ounce of that pain hit him all at once.

It felt as though someone had deliberately shattered a glass bottle inside his chest before forcing every jagged shard deeper into his heart, demanding that he say the words— or they'd cut straight through his artery. His voice cracked. “But sometimes..." He looked away because he couldn't bear the hope still lingering inside your eyes. "...sometimes loving someone means letting them go.” A bitter laugh escaped him before he whispered, "I'd rather have you hate me... than bury my drunk ass one day."

That was it.

...

So... he wasn't going to fight for you either. your touts churned deep inside your stomach.

The realization settled quietly inside your chest, somehow hurting more than the breakup itself, you knew though… It was selfish of you. Because you saw it long ago— but what hurt was even when it was breaking your heart, he is doing it so gently, like peeling your skin, but applying a balm right after on it so it would not hurt much.

But yet it did.

You broke finally, and a sob ripped itself from your chest as your knees gave out beneath you. you crumpled onto the floor, one hand clutching your chest while the other pressed desperately against the hardwood, as though you needed something—anything—to keep yourself from completely collapsing.

“Please—”Leon said shakily, and soon as he said it he was beside you instantly, his face now was nothing but painful emotions residing on it. it had nothing but regret. Regret of doing this, without any other word he reached for you without thinking, but the moment his fingers brushed your arm, you weakly pushed against his chest.

It wasn't enough to move him, but it was a silent plea from you to him, to not touch you, he swallowed thickly, before letting his arms fall to his sides and yet he didn't leave your side entirely, “don't— do this, I don't deserve it,” he pleaded.

"It's okay..." you whispered through your tears, and finally wiped your face with the back of your trembling hands. "I... I get it."

Those five words hurt him and struck right through his chest, more than if you had screamed, because you weren't fighting him. You weren't begging him to stay.

You were simply... accepting it.

He knew it was for the best, but… logic doesn't work best in situations like this.

Slowly, you forced yourself back onto your feet. Leon stood too, panic flashing across his face before a gut-wrenching, dreadful feeling flooded every corner of his body. "Stay here... please," he said, forcing a composure that was just as fake as the facade he'd been wearing ever since he told you he wanted to break up. "As long as you want. I'll stay at my other apartment. You can have this place until you figure everything out.”

“Dont worry.” Then you murmured, burying everything already beneath your heart and locking it in one of its chambers, then you shook your head, at him, "I'll manage."

Leon didn't expect that, either, that how quickly you gained your composure back. and you accepted his decision with a quiet dignity that made something splinter deep inside his chest. Because…

Why? Why weren't you asking him to stay?

Why did it hurt so much that you simply nodded, as though his decision was final?

…

What Leon didn't know... was that the moment your hand instinctively brushed against your stomach beneath your sweater, it held the answer to everything.

Not that he would ever know now. The irony of it really tasted bitter in your mouth.

The words I'm pregnant lingered on the very tip of your tongue, desperate to be spoken. You wanted to tell him. God, you wanted to. But you swallowed them back down, just like every other feeling you had buried tonight.

Because you couldn't do that to him.

After all, your baby—his baby—should never become an obligation. Never become the reason he chose to stay.

More than that? something else was your greatest fear. That somewhere, deep down, you were not telling him because you wanted him to choose you. To stay. To love you enough to not leave you.

without baby being the reason for it.

No. You couldn't bear that thought of im staying because of the baby.

So instead, you swallowed everything, your love, your grief, your silence— and let it settle quietly inside your heart, treasuring it like the last piece of heaven you would ever be allowed to keep.

“Goodbye, Leon.”, that's all you said that night after everything.

…

Three months later

Time had a way of blurring after the breakup: weeks collapsing into each other, now the grief no longer felt like a scream but a dull thud, like a persistent ache lodged somewhere behind your ribs.

Though one thing never stopped was Leon's texts, asking how you were every single day. You never replied. Not because you hated him, but because you didn't have the heart to talk to him— not while you were still trying to figure out how you were supposed to manage a life without him.

But it didn't mean you didn't miss him, god you did, more than you will let yourself admit, because even now Leon was still living inside your heart. Like it was his own, and you just carried it and forgot to return.

Though you tried not to let it consume the fragile scaffolding of a new life you were attempting to build, and you found yourself on Claire's couch, then in her spare room.

"You can stay as long as you need," she'd said when you first arrived with your duffel bag and red-rimmed eyes, and you'd offer a week, maybe two. But weeks became months, and Claire never once made you feel like the imposition you feared you were. She simply accepted you, and kept your secrets. Especially the big one.

"Keep it between us," you'd begged her that first night, your hand splayed across your stomach in a gesture that felt both protective and desperate, as you told her everything happened three months before, "Please, Claire. He can't know."

She'd agreed, though her jaw had tightened with reluctance, and now she was your shadow at every appointment, or maybe accomplice, if you could call it that, maybe that's exactly what you should call her— now she sits in plastic chairs in sterile waiting rooms, holding your purse while you changed into gowns, studying the ultrasound monitor with you as the technician moved the wand across your growing belly.

She was supposed to be your baby's godmother, and she knew it. In fact, she was more than happy to be one. Even though you were only three months along, Claire had already ordered tiny gifts online, unable to contain her excitement for the little life that was already so deeply loved.

Not only that now she knew your prenatal vitamin schedule, the way you needed silence in the mornings when the nausea was bad, how you talked to yourself, how you still missed him, and called out his name in your sleep.

But maybe she knew you weren't ready for that conversation, even if you missed Leon like he was the beat to your heart.

You were grateful she never pushed you, never forced you to speak before you were ready.

Still, the guilt quietly drowned you. You knew that everything Claire was doing for you could never truly be repaid, and nothing you could ever offer her would feel like enough.

For that, for her— you knew you would be grateful for the rest of your life.

…

one evening…you sat alone in her living room, the ultrasound image clutched between your palms. The grainy black-and-white picture showed nothing more than a curved spine, a faint heartbeat made visible, but to you it was everything. "Little bean," you whispered to the photograph, your thumb tracing the outline of what would someday be a face. "Your Dada loves you. More than you'll ever know. But he doesn't know you exist. And if he did..." Your voice cracked, thin as paper. "If he knew, he'd tear the world apart to keep you. So please—" You pressed the photo to your chest, eyes closing, as tears gathered in your heart, "Please never hate him for not being here. It's not his fault. He just... doesn't know."

"Talking to the peanut again?" You flinched for a second, before relaxing back onto the sofa because now Claire had developed a habit of materializing beside you— three months of shared space had attuned you to her presence, as the soft pad of her socks on hardwood, the particular way she settled into cushions.

"Something like that." You sighed and tucked the photo into your pocket.

Claire sank into the couch beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. She was studying your face with that particular brand of Claire-intensity— the look that saw too much, that had always seen too much, even when you wished she wouldn't. "You love that baby," she said.

"I do, and I am scared I would mess it up, when the baby is born." You sighed and rested your chin onto your chest, as thoughts of a new life, and your past, your love… flooded your brain.

“You would not.”, Claire said it like a fact, and for one hot second you believed her, “Because you are the most amazing person I have met.”

You murmured a silent thank you, to your best friend, who just hummed in response then a silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid. Then she cleared her throat: "Leon is a mess, y'know"

Your head snapped toward her, as pain, hurt clouded your pupils until they widened enough to explode. "Claire—"

"I know, I know. You don't want to hear it." She sank deeper into the cushions, pulling her knees to her chest, not looking at you. "But I'm telling you anyway. He's terrible, sweetheart. Worse than when he left. Worse than any of us expected."

"I see." Your voice had gone flat, mechanical, though, your heart ached terribly, sewing itself shut at the thought of him, being miserable without you.

Though that, part of you, the pity part, was happy, that he was suffering too.

"He misses you, and talks about you all the time." She finally turned, her eyes soft, pleading, almost in the way, that said 'whatever broke you two can fix it,' but you don't know if you believed it. "I never told him about the pregnancy— you made me promise, and I haven't. But he's crumbling without you. Lost in a way that... that he wasn't before, even with his… drinking habit ." She pauses for a second, then continues, “which brings me to the point that he has stopped drinking.”

“Good for him”, then you closed your eyes, as the image of him, disheveled, broken— rose unbidden behind your lids, and you shoved it away, though what you didn't admit was it still lingering like a ghost, trying to pull you over, "But he made his choice."

"I know he did."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because he loves you." Claire's hand found yours, her fingers warm and steady, you held hers and she smiled a little, "Not the idea of you. You. And I think—no, I know—that if he understood what he threw away, he'd crawl through broken glass to fix it."

Your laugh was hollow, bitter as a tear fell down on your cheek. "So what should I do? Call him up? Surprise him at work with a belly bump and a confession?"

Then you shuddered, “I am sorry, I can't just..” you trailed off.

Claire nods, in understanding, “you don't have to apologise to me, and I think you should give him a chance," she said gently. "Tell him. Let him decide what to do with the truth."

"But what if—" You pulled your hand away, wrapping your arms around yourself, around the secret you carried. "What if he only comes back because of the baby? What if he looks at me and sees obligation instead of... instead of me?"

"And what if he chooses you?" Claire countered, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What if he comes back because he realizes he can't breathe without you? What then?"

You opened your mouth, then soon closed it, because what if she was right?

But you couldn't let yourself hold onto that hope. Not after Leon had thrown it away so easily. No matter how hard it would've been, the two of you could have made it work— you knew that.

You would've fought for him, for the life you had dreamed of together. But you forced those thoughts back down where they belonged, burying them before they could hurt you any more than they already had.

As the ultrasound photo seemed to burn against your thigh, a tiny heartbeat waiting to be acknowledged, and outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the room in shades of amber and shadow.

The time dissolved into your heartbeat, as you thought of Leon— his hands, his laugh, the way he'd looked at you like you were the only person in any room and you thought of the future stretching ahead, vast, terrifying and unknown, without him.

But still you didn't have an answer. Not yet.

And sitting in here, with Claire's steady breathing beside you and new life fluttering inside your womb, you realized you were running out of time to find one.

…

One week later

Yeah... you mentally counted to yourself. I have the groceries. Sauce, eggs, whipped cream... sushi for Claire... Before you could think of anything else— before another thought had the chance to form, your vision blurred.

Then everything went black.

.

.

Next thing you know or saw was that the fluorescent lights hummed with an electric drone that seemed to vibrate inside your skull.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the ceiling tiles swam above you— blurred white grids that slowly sharpened into focus. Your mouth felt cotton-dry, your tongue thick and useless.

Then you felt it, the sting of something piercing through your hand then you looked down. A cannula pierced the blue vein of your left hand, taped down with translucent medical adhesive, clear tubing snaking from your wrist to an IV bag that swayed slightly with the current of the room's ventilation.

The bedframe groaned— a metallic, tired sound, as you shifted your weight, trying to push yourself up with a low grunt.

Fuck what happened…? Your thoughts pounded like a vampire outside a door.

Your first thought wasn't about yourself.

It was the baby.

"No... no..." you whispered, panic surging through every vein as you shook your head frantically. Your trembling hand flew instinctively to your stomach, your heart pounding so violently it hurt. "Claire?" Your voice emerged as a rasp, barely audible over the hospital's ambient machinery, you turned your head.

“Yeah, I am here” she looked exhausted, and you felt a pang of guilt over your body, she had been holding your hand, and you realized only after, her fingers squeezed around yours still warm against the cool hospital linen.

But she wasn't alone, as you looked past her, your every thought that you gathered dispersed in air, and your heart didn't just skip, it vaulted into your throat, a physical obstruction that cut off your breath, your thoughts, your ability to process anything beyond the figure standing at her side.

Leon.

Shit.

He looked different, as if someone had carved away the softness you'd once known, leaving only angles and shadows. He wore a leather jacket you didn't recognize, and his hair had grown longer than before, but those eyes— that impossible, unfair blue, were exactly as you remembered, fixed on you with an intensity that made your chest ache.

Claire mouthed silent, 'Sorry.' Then she finally spoke, and you turned your attention towards her. "You passed out right outside my apartment with groceries still in your hands. Chris found you and called me. We brought you straight here." She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before quickly adding, "You're okay. The doctors said nothing is wrong with your….." she trails off as she realizes who was beside her.

You let out a long, shaky breath, relief washing through your body.

Before you could grill her about the 5 '11 man beside her, "I didn't call him," she said aloud, her voice gentle, "Chris did, and..." She hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and Leon. "Nothing else. He didn't know anything else."

She squeezed your hand once, a silent benediction, then stood. "I'll be outside. You two should talk." Then she walked out of the door and it clicked shut behind her with soft final thud.

You lay back against the pillows, squeezing your eyes shut against the burn of tears that threatened.

You finally heard him move, the scuff of his boots against linoleum, the scrape of the plastic stool as he pulled it closer to your bedside. Then, his hand found yours, instinctively. As if no time had passed, as if he still had the right.

His skin was calloused, warm, and his thumb traced a familiar path across your knuckles. This time, you didn't pull away. You couldn't. Your strength had evaporated, leaving only this— this touch that you had craved in the darkest hours of the past three months.

"Please," Leon whispered. "Tell me what's wrong. Chris, Claire— no one would tell me anything."

His voice broke on the last word, and you felt the vibration of it through your palm, through your wrist, straight into the hollow space where your heart used to be. "Maybe I don't deserve an answer," he continued, his grip tightening on your hand, not crushing, but desperate on you. "But I can't lose you. Not again. I can't—"

Your throat worked, muscles contracting around words that had calcified inside you for months. Words you'd rehearsed in mirrors, screamed into pillows, whispered to the empty dark. You wanted to scream at them now—you walked away—but looking at him, at the cracks in his composure, at the man beneath the armor, something in you cracked too.

He didn't look like the same Leon. And before you could assemble the fragments of your courage, he spoke. "I'm sorry." The words fell like stones into still water. "I shouldn't have left. I stopped drinking. I can't just—" He stopped, jaw working, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can't expect you to believe that, but I could not live without you."

The room tilted. The fluorescent lights swam again, but this time it wasn't from anesthesia or exhaustion. It was the vertigo of possibility, of a future you'd buried so deep you'd convinced yourself it was dead. "Leon..."

"Yes?" The word was immediate, hungry. Then, softer: "Darling."

Darling, The endearment slipped from his tongue with devastating ease, as if you were still his to name, his to claim.

As if the months of silence were merely a pause, not a period. His hand squeezed yours again, slightly harder now, grounding you both. The confession rose in your throat like bile, like prayer, like the only truth left in your body. "I'm pregnant." you blurted.

Silence.

Leon blinked, rapidly "What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant." The tears finally spilled, hot and traitorous, then sweat tracks down your temples into your hair. "I'm pregnant, Leon. With our baby."

The color drained from his face so rapidly you thought he might faint. His lips parted, but no sound emerged. "Why?" The question was barely audible. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to." Your voice cracked, splintering into pieces. "The day you left me. I had the test in my hand. I was going to tell you that night."

His face transformed— grief carving new lines, guilt etching deeper ones. He looked physically ill, as if your words had become knives.

"I wanted to tell you," you repeated each syllable with its own small violence. "But I didn't want our baby to become the reason you stayed."

You turned your head to look at him fully, meeting those blue eyes that had wrecked you and rebuilt you so many times. "I wanted you to choose me."

Leon made a sound— something wounded, animal, as he closed his eyes, feeling tears forming into his eyes too.

"So I let you go." You admitted softly.

His breathing became ragged, uneven. The hand not holding yours rose to his mouth, fingers pressing against his lips as if to hold back the sob you could see building in his chest. "You've..." He looked down, finally, to your stomach. Hidden beneath the thin hospital blanket, the small swell of three months' growth. "Our baby?"

You nodded. "Three months."

He shook, and removed his hands from yours, and covered his mouth with both hands now, shoulders beginning to shake. Then, suddenly, the hell of his feelings broke.

The sob that escaped him was ugly, raw— nothing like the controlled, stoic man the world knew.

It was the sound of a heart breaking open, of walls crumbling to dust. He bent forward, forehead pressing into the mattress near your hip, his entire body trembling with the force of his weeping. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. "God, I'm so sorry."

Then he stood abruptly, the stool scraping back, and leaned over you. His forehead found yours, skin against skin, "I know you won't forgive me," he whispered, breath hot against your face. "I know I don't deserve—"

You answered by reaching up, your free hand finding the back of his neck, pulling him down. Then he collapsed into your bed beside your arms, folding himself against your chest with a desperation that spoke of sleepless nights and empty words, when he pushed you away.

Now he held you like something sacred. Like prayer. Like penance. "I never stopped loving you," he murmured against your shoulder, the words vibrating through your collarbone. "I broke up with you because I thought I was protecting you. I thought you'd have a better life without me. Without... all of this."

You smiled through your tears, the expression feeling strange on your face— almost like remembering a language you'd forgotten. "You are stupid."

He laughed through his tears and pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. His were red-rimmed, devastated, but there— present in a way he hadn't been for years. "I never stopped loving you," he said again, as if repetition could make it true, could make it enough.

“Neither did I”, you breathed against his skin.

His hand finally moved to your belly his large palm spread across the slight curve, fingers trembling where they touched you through the thin fabric of the hospital gown. "...Hi, little one," he whispered.

Fresh tears spilled down your face, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead— soft, lingering. Then your cheek. Then, he shifted his weight down, sinking to his knees beside the bed, he pressed his mouth to your stomach through the blanket, a kiss meant for the life growing there. "I don't deserve either of you," he said against your body.

"No," you whispered in a tone that had i am joking written all over it. "You don't."

He just hummed, in agreement, "But… if you give me the chance I would make it up to both of you."

You cupped his face, forcing him to look up at you, to see the seriousness in your eyes. "If you're staying because you feel obligated to the baby, you don't have to. I won't trap you. I won't—"

"I'm staying," he interrupted, his voice fierce and immediate. then he finally rose from the bed and climbed down while reclaiming his seat on the stool, reclaiming your hand in both of his. "I'm staying because you're my home. The baby is... everything. A miracle. But you..." He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss there. "You're my choice. You always were. You will always be."

He then stood and rested his forehead against yours once more, the gesture becoming their own language, private and wordless. "You've always been the reason," he breathed. "Even when I was too broken to see it. You were the reason I got up. You were the reason I stopped. You are the reason, I exist.”

His words settled slowly deep inside your heart and for the first time in months, with Leon beside you, the future didn't feel frightening anymore.

It felt like home.

Not anymore. Not after you.

Not after what you gave him the taste of. Love.

Not that either of you knew, what it was, or were willing to admit to that.

And now, if you rewind everything and looked back at what had actually led the two of you here, it would still shock you, even after months of being... together or simply existing in each other's presence— you still wouldn't have a name for it.

Well, if you had to tell the story about it, you would have told everyone that it started one night after a mission where you had almost died.

Cliché, wasn't it?

So, moving on, he had saved you after you almost died in a mission— that much was expected of him— but what wasn't expected was the way he'd pulled you into his arms afterward, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, as though if he let go you would disperse in the sand, below you both, as if letting you go would hurt him, more than anything in the world.

And of course neither of you understood why he did it at that moment— why he hugged you like that and when he finally pulled away, you looked at him with trembling eyes and, in the smallest voice he'd ever heard from you, asked if he could kiss you.

He didn't answer you instead, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours.

and fuck, you still remember that kiss like it was yesterday— the softness and desperation of it, while his hands roamed all over your body.

Maybe that was expected, because you two used to dance around your feelings, deflecting them, joking, or turning away from it and when the hell broke loose?— it flooded your lungs with the love you both refused to name.

After that...? it became an everyday occurrence.

The kisses stolen between missions that became too natural, the lingering glances across briefing rooms. Late nights spent awake talking about everything and nothing until one conversation blurred into another.

Then, before either of you realized it, one thing led to another.

And soon you found yourselves sharing the same bed, and then you were being fucked like there was no tomorrow, and later staying entangled in each other's breath after, and your crazy heart? It knew you would fall helplessly.

and you did. Pathetically so.

But what hurt the most was that neither of you ever named it. Neither of you ever gave a label to something that had already become far too deep to pretend it was casual.

God, you wanted it to be more. How could you not? But fear... fear of ruining this— whatever it was the two of you carried between you like a cassock, like a prayer, something far too sacred to lose always held you back. And so, you never said the words your heart screamed at you every single day, even as it tangled itself deeper and deeper into an eternity of pitless hollow, of loving someone while carrying the bruise of being the only one who loves.

So instead, you both remained suspended in that strange space between almost lovers and something far more dangerous, where everything felt real... except the words neither of you were brave enough to say.

And one day, when you casually slipped into his living room after kicking off your shoes by the doorway, you found him standing in the kitchen, making coffee despite the ungodly hour of the night, and instead of looking surprised, he simply glanced over his shoulder, greeted you with a quiet, "Hey," and went back to stirring his coffee, like he was way too okay with it-- your presence, as though he had expected to be around you like this, hundreds of times.

"Will you stay tonight?" he asked in that rough-strained voice of his, and a mug of coffee balanced in one hand as he was finally done preparing it and then he walked toward you. His hair was adorably disheveled, and the sight of him moving towards you in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, while his bare chest remained on full display, it stole the air straight from your lungs.

"If you want me to, then yeah," you replied with a casual shrug, moving deeper inside his apartment before settling onto his couch like you belonged there.

"You know I want you to," Leon said quietly, and moved towards you before settling on the sofa beside you, and setting down his cup on the coffee table.

"Then why even ask?" You let out a tired breath, turning to look at him.

He frowned his brows at you, as his blue orbs, deepened with shade of greys you have never seen before. "Because I wanted to know, if you want it too." He crooned then, he turned his gaze towards the ceiling and leaning his head back on the head rest of his couch.

"Okay." You said, pouting your lips and murmured, "Yeah, I very much like to stay here with you."

Leon only laughed softly and without another word, he was pulling you onto his lap. A surprised squeak escaped you, quickly followed by a giggle as his arms settled comfortably around your waist, and somehow, every bit of frustration you'd been carrying slipped away the moment he held you close against him. Then slowly he sighed and rested his chin lightly on your shoulder and smiled to himself. "There," he chuckled. "Was that so hard?"

"Crazy."

"‘For you? Yeah,’ he whispered back, his tone carrying a quiet certainty, as though he meant every word. And that was enough to send every unspoken emotion you had buried inside into a panic.

after that, night, you spent even more time together, reaching for each other, tangling more of yourself into the quiet of yours and his emotions.

You hated it, though. Hated how the two of you knew each other inside and out, completely. How you knew every scar he carried, every mole hidden beneath the layers of his clothes. How you knew exactly what he liked for breakfast, and who he became when he wasn't Leon Scott Kennedy— just Leon.

And Leon? He knew you just as well. He knew every fear you tried so desperately to hide, and somehow, the very thing you were most afraid of was the one thing you'd always wanted. He also knew you couldn't fall asleep unless he was beside you, holding you against his chest, his heartbeat quietly reminding you that, for one more night at least, he had made it home.

It seemed perfect.

Until it wasn't.

Until it started to hurt even more.

Until the feelings between the two of you became far too much to carry in silence, then Leon began putting walls between you whenever they grew too close. He would leave for missions without a word, retreating behind the version of himself that believed distance was safer than honesty.

And sometimes, you did the same. After spending an entire night together, you would slip out before he woke, because waking up beside him had become far too sacred, and that terrified you more than anything.

So neither of you said a word about that, and you kept pretending everything was okay, and somehow... it all went on like that. For another few months.

Until , the day reality of what you two actually were, came crashing down on both of you.

after all, feelings can only be hidden for so long. And at some point in your life, you have no choice but to face them— to accept them, sooner or later, no matter how hard you've tried to outrun them.

And then the day you had both been dreading arrived on the most ordinary of Wednesdays, disguised as nothing more than the post-mission success party.

Though neither of you knew it then, but by the end of that night, whatever fragile feelings the two of you had been desperately holding together would finally be forced into the light.

...

Leon was buried deep inside you, panting loudly, his voice hoarse against your ear. "Tell me," he demanded, "what are we?"

You wriggled beneath him, shaking with pleasure, unable to form a reply as you teetered on the edge of your third—or maybe sixth—orgasm of the night. (Estimating that those many times you both came) and your eyes burned with unshed tears, as his voice rumbled deep in your chest.

The sheets below now were soaked with the evidence of both your arousals, your bodies slick with sweat and sex, honestly you'd lost count of how many times you'd come tonight, and now you felt him tense, felt the moment he thrust his release into you with a guttural groan, before getting— hard again mid-blow of his seed into you.

Truth was you were both drunk— completely, hopelessly. And this? This had started hours ago, born from some argument or confession you could barely remember now.

"I'm asking you something, sweetheart," Leon growled, thrusting his cock deep again until he hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur. "I don't k—" you sobbed into the sheets, shamelessly arching your back to meet him. He slapped his thighs against yours, his cock creating a wet, filthy sound as he moved, inside you with a rhythmic movements.

"Wrong answer," he said, voice tight with control, then he fisted your hair and pulled it hard, arching your neck back until you had no choice but to move at his pace, taking everything he gave you. "Try again."

...

You knew exactly why he was acting like this, though, but what you didn't know was that Leon was capable of acting this way— of being this cruel. Or maybe... this was what he looked like when he finally lost control. Not that you complained about it, because that maschoist part of you loved seeing Leon like that, craved him like that.

But over that argument? You didn't know what to think of it. Because if this was truly because of what had happened, then it meant he did feel something too, and that realization frightened you more than anything.

Because now as he was inches deep inside you, how were you supposed to say that, you loved him too? How were you supposed to accept feelings that made you feel so suffocated yet so free?

...

A few hours earlier, the two of you had been standing in the hallway, arguing over something that now only lingered in your memory as scattered fragments.

You couldn't remember every word, only the feeling of it all. How you couldn't answer when Leon had asked what he was to you. More than anything, you remembered how jealous he had been— so unbearably jealous that, for a moment, you genuinely thought he was about to admit whatever the two of you were in front of the entire post-mission party.

You remembered the way that man had touched your arm so casually, and how Leon, who was always so calm and composed, had nearly murdered him with nothing but a look, but above everything else, you remembered the argument. Not every sentence, not every word... only the parts that had carved themselves into your heart.

"Why did you hesitate," Leon said, pinning you between his body and the wall behind you, "when he asked what I was to you?"

"What did you expect me to say to him?!" you yelled back, feeling tears you hadn't signed up for burning in your eyes. "Did you want me to say, 'He's my fuck buddy'? Is that what you wanted?"

"So that's what we are," he said, his voice dangerously low. He pushed his knee between your thighs, and you sucked in a sharp breath, at the sensation of his knee on your wetness. "Then if not that, then what are we, Leon?" you bit out, trying not to give in to the pleasure coiling low in your stomach, trying to hold your ground.

"I—" he started.

You cut him off, with a snide remark "You don't get to be jealous, Leon."

"Why not?" he said, leaning down until his lips were just inches from yours, his breath hot against your mouth, and you feel the warmth of his musk, and alcohol seeping deep into your body.

"Because you're not my boyfriend," you said, finally, your heart was beating so fast that you thought it would tear it way out of your chest, painting everything in red of you blood.

He stilled, for a moment, then something vulnerable flickered in his eyes, hurt, maybe, or want you didn't know— and before you could gather your thoughts, he pulled you into a kiss that stole your breath, and you moaned into it, your hands clutching his shirt, pulling him closer as you gave in completely.

Then?

A blur.

Now, the only thing you remember is this— the present, the weight of him against you, the fog of arousal clouding every sense you own, drowning out everything except his skin on yours.

...

"Do you still not know what we are?" he pressed, angling his cock against your G-spot with devastating precision, his cock dragged against that rough, tender edge inside you as he held one leg over his shoulder like something weightless, the other lying limp against the sweat-damp sheets. He shifted, pushing into you from another angle entirely, that has you panting his name like a prayer, god you didn't know how he still possessed this kind of stamina— as if he could hear your thoughts he pressed his length against your spot again and the pressure started to coil deep in your belly, tight and overwhelming, and you screamed his name convulsing beneath him.

Before you could form another thought, your mouth flooded with something bitter. More tears spilled down your face as you sobbed openly, hard against his chest, your voice breaking as you stammered, "I—you—I love you, I have for a long time, the second you embraced me after the mission I almost died."

Fuck. Was that really what you wanted to say? You didn't know. But you couldn't take it back now, so you simply closed your eyes, letting the words settle somewhere deep between the two of you. Honestly you never imagined they would come out like this— when everything was on the verge of falling apart, when you were so emotionally wrecked you could barely think straight. But it wasn't a whim. God, no. There wasn't a single impulsive thing about it. You had meant every word with every part of your being, with every inch of your soul that had loved him long before either of you were brave enough to admit it.

Then your throat burned, as the words hung there, raw and unprotected, waiting to be held by the man, fucking you like a whore.

He stilled inside you for a second, your pussy clenching against him— and then he waited, just for a breath, just long enough to meet your eyes. Then his forehead fell against yours, his voice rough, strained, almost unrecognizable. "God... you think I don't?" he whispered against your skin, "I've been ruined for anyone else since the day I touched you." His hand found yours and tightened over it ever so slightly. "You're mine. That's what you are." His eyes searched yours, raw and vulnerable with things he never said, but finally breaking tonight with aderaline and love he carried inside for months. "And we are each other's soul. That's what we are." He let out a shaky breath before adding, "No one else gets to have this. No one else gets to touch what belongs to us— not this, not you, not what we've built together."

You moaned—a yes,that tore from your throat as a guttural sob, tears spilling on your face, as the sound rolled off your tongue and settled somewhere in the fragile glass of his heart. He moaned in response, snapping his hips forward, his pace quickening again inside you relentlessly. Then to your surprise he pulls his cock completely out from your hole then he slams it back inside which makes you scream so loudly that you are sure, you broke your vocal chords for a minute. Then he moves again: "I—" .thrust. "am—" .thrust. "your—" .another thrust. "boyfriend—"

You shook entirely, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around him, and then he screamed your name— raw, guttural sound, then he is spilling his hot seed deep inside you, emptying himself with a violent shudder.

For a second you savour how his cum touches your womb like a reverent kiss then your own dam of pleasure broke seconds later. You came undone completely, toes curling on the sheets, his name gasped into the dark, eyes wide, back arching as if possessed. You finally twitched around him, feeling his cock pulse and contract, that warm flood settling deep in your belly, and your orgasm crashes over you as white vision blurs your eyes, and a moment later, you squirted around him, slick and messy, and finally you relaxed into the mattress.

He groaned, breathless and smug against your ear: "That's my beautiful girl."

You just sighed in response while your bodies remained tangled together, limbs knotted, breathless and spent. Eventually, you relaxed into the peace while still being flushed and entwined in each other, and slowly you feel his cum drip from the hole where you were still joined with him, but none of you made any attempt to clean it away.

Then his voice, finally becomes drowsy against your hair as he finally relaxes over you and sprawls his body over yours with a loud grunt, his cock semi-hard still throbbing with after-shocks inside you, which makes your wall twitch in response: "Don't forget this by tomorrow... or I'll have to make you remember what happened today, all over again." He coos against your neck, which makes goosebumps rise all over your body.

He said it like a warning before holding you close to him, and you just shuddered in response, letting out soft squeak which quickly turned into a low satisfactory moan, and your breath slowly turns even, as you finally, fall deep into him and the world of dreams.

And then? Nothing. Just, darkness. Content. Peace. The confession. And the only truth, that echoed in your heart, that you are finally his, and he is finally yours.

Then you stole one last lingering kiss before pulling away from him in the middle of your make-out session, and resting your forehead against his with a hopeful smile. "Can we get a kitten?"

Leon pulled back slightly from you, confusion or maybe a bit curiousity etching on his face, as he narrowed his eyes slightly at you, "A kitten?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sitting up a little on the couch as you rubbed your hands together in excitement, a bright smile already spreading across your face. "Can we?" you asked hopefully.

He let out a quiet nervous laugh, which you already know the meaning to, it said "no" but politely, then he brushes his thumb across your cheek. "That's not possible baby"

"Please?" you pleaded, deliberately jutting out your lower lip into an exaggerated pout, your eyes shimmering as though you were only seconds away from tears.

"No." He said gently, but in a firmest tone, as held your face in both of his palms cradling your jaw softly.

... sometimes this man was a tough cookie to Crack.

Your jaw dropped at that, fuck, you were, offended, now, "What do you mean, 'no'?" You asked.

He chuckled at your offended expression before squishing your cheeks together in a fit of cute aggression, forcing your lips into an adorable pout. "We're barely home as it is," he said with a fond smile. "I'm still a rookie, you're busy with your own work, and neither of us has a schedule that makes any sense to have a kitten at home."

He made a fair point, but God, you'd wanted a kitten for so long. Before, your own unstable circumstances had made it impossible. Now, the one person you loved perhaps a little too much— your boyfriend was the one telling you no. "We can manage," you insisted, trying to make your case.

"We'll be gone on work." He argued.

"We'll figure it out," you promised softly, and gently, you slipped one of his hands away from your cheek and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it, hoping the small gesture might sway him.

He let out a quiet hum and shook his head, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." he said, looking anything but apologetic, though the glint in his eyes, told an entire different story and you could tell he was tempted too.

You crossed your arms dramatically, and flared your nostrils at him, "So that's your final answer?"

"for now, yeah," he said, and squeezed your hand back a little, in 'i am sorry baby', way.

You sighed loudly enough to earn another laugh from him. "You're a meanie, and absolutely hate me." You declared.

"I love you," he murmured softly. "And I know one day we'll have one. It's just... not the right time yet." Before you could protest again, he pulled you into one of his 'let's make up hugs', his arms wrapping around you with quiet reassurance. Reluctantly, you let him, because you knew his decision wasn't going to change, and somewhere deep down, you knew he was right.

Even so, it didn't stop the dull ache settling in your chest, so with a small defeated sigh, you slipped your arms around his waist and hugged him back just as tightly, silently mourning the kitten you wouldn't be bringing home.

Or so you thought.

....

Nearly a month later, you'd still really not forgotten about that conversation, but well, life had carried on, and Leon had made it up to you in a hundred little ways that reminded you why you loved him.

And you knew he had been right— it simply wasn't the right time so you stopped bringing it up altogether.

So one evening and later, after a particularly exhausting day, you unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside.

The moment it clicked shut behind you, you frowned, because the apartment was strangely quiet.

Huh. You knew something was wrong, but didnt know what.

"I am home" you called.

No answer.

this was suspicious.

"Baby?"

Still no answer.

Okay this was strange, you saw Leon's shoes outside, but why the heck is he not answering, your heart beat palpitates with emotions, that made absolutely no sense to you.

you frowned in the quiet of the room before slipping your shoes at the doorstep off before walking farther inside, and just as you were about to move into your living room, you heard a soft little, "Meow."

Your body stiffens completely, wait... did you hear that wrong? Maybe, no, but it sounded suspiciously like a kitten.

Another thought popped up inside your confused brain, did Leon bring a cat home?

Nope. Not possible he was against it.

So he can't possibly do that.

"...Leon?" You called out again mid-thought, before walking deeper into your room.

Then another tiny meow echoed through the living room.

Okay that was exactly a meow.

You dropped your bags right there and quickly rounded the corner of the living room, only to find Leon sitting cross-legged on the floor with the tiniest orange kitten playing in his lap.

Your mouth fell open as your eyes met his, pure shock written across your face. Then your gaze dropped to the tiny kitten before darting back to Leon, your brain struggling to catch up with what you were seeing. You stood frozen in the doorway, your legs refusing to move an inch. You tried to say something to ask him a hundred questions at once— but nothing came out. Not a single word. Then finally you squeaked out, "you have got to be fucking kidding me."

Leon looked up, trying, and failing— not to smile at your "horrified" expression, which actually meant 'impressed'. "I'm pretty sure I don't meow," he teased.

"No... no. No," you breathed, shaking your head in utter disbelief. "No you did not." You repeated it again, your voice trembling as you stared at him, because, God—you couldn't believe he'd actually done this.

"I may have changed my mind." He said, already understanding what you meant.

"But you looked me in the eyes and said no." You said again, an expression of pure love masking your features.

"I remember that, but—", he starts.

You shook your head, silently stopping whatever explanation he was about to give, and before he could say another word, you rushed toward him and dropped to your knees at his side, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

You captured his lips in a quick, grateful kiss, and he smiled into it, letting out the softest hum before you pulled away almost immediately, your attention already stolen by the tiny ball of fur nestled beside him, "so pretty." You said looking at the cat.

"Yeah, she is." He said looking at you instead, though your attention wasn't on him but on the small kitty that he held carefully.

The kitten immediately turned to you and crawled into your arms and began purring, your eyes watered, instantly as you picked her little feather body into your trembling palms, and a sob escaped your throat, as you cradled her softly, "so so..."

"I waited until our schedules settled down," he said quietly cutting you off, gently reaching out and scratching beneath the kitten's chin, who immediately purred again in your arms, "I wanted to make sure we'd actually have time to take care of one." His eyes found yours instantly, softening. "And... I saw how sad you were, even though you never said anything. I figured you were trying not to let it show, but I knew you weren't really happy."

You looked back at him, with tears still clinging to your lashes, "You... did all that?"

He shrugged instead of saying 'yes' like it wasn't a big deal. "You were right." Instead he admitted.

"I was?" You asked confused, nuzzling your chin on the kitten's head.

"Yeah," he said with a small, knowing smile, tilting his head as he looked up at you. Pulling his hand away from the kitten, then he met your eyes. "I think... we can manage."

You laughed softly, unable to stop yourself, then you leaned over and kissed him again, but hard enough to make him smile into it, before pulling back, and then you looked down at the kitten curled happily against your chest.

"so what are you gonna name her?" Leon asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

Your smile was so bright that it made every bit of planning, waiting, and keeping the surprise a secret feel completely worth it, "Rookie."

"What?" Leon asked, looking at you with mock offense.

"Rookie," you repeated, pointing at the kitten. "That's her name.

His eyebrows shot up, in amusement, "You call me Rookie too!"

you grinned shamelessly. "Well, now we have two Rookies in this house: which means double the love."

Leon let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Hey, you already love her? It took you a whole month to say 'I love you' to me."

"Well..." you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. "You weren't as cute."

He rolled his eyes dramatically before clutching a hand to his chest in mock agony, as though he'd just been shot, despite the theatrics, he couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Ouch, you already picked your favourite."

"Just kidding, you will always be my favourite rookie, number one, by the way", you said giggling and holding that little furball close to your chest.

"Is that so?", Leon teased, then you laughed whole heartedly, while little the kitten kept meowing between the two of you.

Meanwhile, looking at you so happy, Leon decided then and there that hearing you laugh, and seeing you like this was worth everything you had ever want in your life.

And for Leon, it was more than worth it, little what you didn't know was that he'd spent the past month quietly rearranging his schedule, making sure the two of you would actually have enough time to care for a kitten.

He'd read guides, taken notes, and learned everything he could about raising one properly. Not because you had asked again— you hadn't, but because he wanted to give you the one thing you'd wanted for so long.

and to him, you deserved every happiness he could possibly give you, and if it was within his power, he'd do everything he could to make sure your wishes, your needs, and your dreams never went unanswered.

and you just stared at him stupidly— perhaps, as though you'd been struck by thunder and lightning by Zeus himself, truth though: was, you were a little bit tipsy, and your thoughts started to scatter beyond reason by standing this close to him, and there was nothing in your mind now but only him— and the fact he was so close to you, maybe asking for something you never dared say out loud, gently, as if he listened to what you were thinking, through your eyes.

And he straight up, looked like he wanted to swallow every little thought in your mind. Then slowly he guided his hands towards your face and lifted your chin up just a little, making you meet his eyes, while your heart beat quickens so slightly, as you search the truth of your feelings reflecting back in those ocean-blue irises, which were usually so calm and composed and now as if already found out what reside in your heart, they crackled like the embers of a bonfire, and their warmth deepens as the moonlight caught them, while his pupils dilates ever so slightly beneath its silver glow.

and his gaze drifted down to your lips before slowly finding your eyes again. "Can I kiss you?" he breathed softly, the scent of his cologne lingering beneath the faint trace of alcohol, both carried by the salty breeze rolling in from the waves.

in that moment: you could sense the faintest hint of desperation beneath his calm exterior, and the crack of his usual composure break was seen beneath as his skin turned a pretty shade of crimson, as though he was fighting thoughts he'd tried so hard to keep buried inside himself, only to finally lose that battle and act on them.

And, truthfully, you were glad he did.

You couldn't speak after— and could only stare at him, while your eyes overflowed with the hundred things you longed to say to him, every unspoken feeling trembling between you both and somewhere in your chest and smile, and yet he didnt rush you, even as you stood speechless before him.

instead, he traced his thumb slowly across your lower lip which almost felt like a feather-light touch against your mouth, and your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation while your breath comes in uneven, shallow breaths and you swallow hard the air that felt too heavy to hold in your lungs.

he smiled at your reaction— that soft, knowing curve of his lips, that said 'I know you want this much as much as I do" then you drew in a shaky breath, which makes a low sound of approval rumble in his chest, as a contented sigh left him, and gently he pressed his thumb past your parted lips.

You kept your eyes closed for a moment, then you lifted your gaze to meet his through your lashes, head tilting down just a little as you held his eyes unflinchingly.

At last, you parted your lips even wider and wrapped them around him, sucking his thumb softly. "Oh, love," he murmured, closing his eyes for a brief second.

You sigh at his remark and pressed your tongue against his thumb, nibbling gently on it and his smile turned into a seductive smirk as he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, with a relieved sigh you closed your eyes again, licking and tasting his skin until he slowly withdrew his thumb from your mouth while trailing your own saliva across your chin, after he asked again, his voice rough, "Can I?"

"Y...yes..yes.," you finally managed to say.

he moaned your name like a orison and leaned down ,crashing his lips against yours— and finally you sighed into his mouth, as you breathed his minty and musky breath inside you, which made every little sound escape you involuntarily pleasurable and your hands fly instantly to tangle behind his neck, and between each desperate, hungry kiss, from him, it was still peaceful, like home, after a moment of kissing you, he restlessly spoke into your mouth, "Fuck... how long I've waited to do that," he breathes, "You're so sweet, love", he smiles against your lips, then he pulls back a little, completely red under faint silve rays, and whispers, "I want to devour this pretty little mouth." before diving his tongue back into you.

God, the kiss was everything you had ever desired and everything you had spent years trying to convince yourself you didn't.

Fuck. Leon's lip... tasted like sin— the very sin you had spent years running from, only to realize you had never truly wanted to escape it.

"Mpphh," you gasped into him, and your fingers curl into the back of his hair. "Oh, Leon, I've loved you for so long."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to search your face, his eyes dark and blazing, boring into yours, "You did?" he asked, and even though the question lingered, was something, that he already knew answers to: and before you could speak the 'yes' hovering on your tongue, he kissed you again: deeper this time, like a man drowning and you the only air left in the ocean was— you.

His breath shuddered against your lips, and the kiss turned slick and desperate, the wet heat of his mouth breathing life into yours. "Because I have loved you for so long too," he murmured into the space between you. "God, I wish I'd done this sooner." He pressed one last kiss to your mouth— almost reverent, before resting his forehead against yours, while his ragged breathing was the only sound in the quiet of the night.

now standing silently in a world where only the two of you existed, with nothing but the quiet sound of love blooming beneath the silver light of the moon above, and your heart drummed with a song that chimed inside your veins: only with his— name.

Meanwhile, you were quietly reading your book, your free hand lazily combing through his soft blond hair, and he made ocassional pleased sounds which made you smile to yourself, you were at it for a while: but your wrists started to ache and the moment your fingers stopped moving, he immediately pouted, tilting his head back to look up at you with unmistakable disappointment written all over his face, clearly unhappy that you'd stopped playing with his hair.

Which, let's be honest, you'd been doing for the past hour— and you only stopped because your hand was starting to ache. seriously… was he a cat?

Looking at his face now, you were almost convinced he had been one in a past life before getting reincarnated as a clingy little kitten… who somehow ended up becoming your boyfriend.

Honestly, My Boyfriend Who Was a Cat in His Previous Life would make one hell of an anime title.

The thought alone makes a little bubble of laugh leave through your lungs.

"Baby, I'm tired," you tried to reason, with a stifle of your laughter, though, he didnt catch it at all, then gently you pull your hand back from his soft hairs, "Uh-oh..." he crooned, quickly catching your wrist before you could escape. "Don't you love me anymore, baby?" he asked, adding an overly dramatic fake sniffle that immediately made you snort. "Leon," you sigh playing along with him, "when did I ever say I don't love you?"

"You wanted to stop playing with my hair, didn't you?" he replied with exaggerated offense. "That's basically you saying it."

You shook your head, finally letting a hearty laugh take over. "You're so dramatic, baby," you teased. "And I never said that." with that, you let your book slip from your left hand onto the bed, your full attention shifting to him instead.

"You wanted to," he insisted dramatically, still holding onto your wrist, while his phone slipped from his hand onto the bed, as if forgotten entirely now that all of his attention was on you.

"Nope." Then you stick out at your tongue at him.

"C'mon," he pleaded, completely ignoring your weak, half-hearted "nope" and well, honestly, you had given up resisting him a long time ago. "Just five more minutes, please." he says again.

and you actually contemplate doing it.

Because how in the world was anyone supposed to say no to that beautiful face? With an impossibly hopeful look, "baby" he mumble and gently nudged your hand back toward his hair. "Just five more minutes?" He repeated.

You rolled your eyes at him, yet you let him do it, and playfully smile tugged at your lips that betrayed you completely. "And what do I get in return?" you asked, completely serious, with a hint of amusement slipping in your voice.

"Hmm..." He muses, and didn't respond for a moment, instead, his thumb lazily grazed the underside of your breast, "I'll make you feel good," he murmured. that was all it took, and you sighed in defeat, or maybe pleasure: already knowing you'd lost the argument.

"Yeah?" You sighed dramatically before your fingers finally disappeared deeper back into his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

Leon let out the happiest little hum, practically melting against you with his eyes fluttering shut.

"There," you teased, smiling down at him. "Happy now?"

"Mhm," he hummed contentedly, already melting beneath your touch, "after this I am at your service ma'm", he says with a lazy grin, and before you continue, he chimes in "i knew you'd cave in."

"Only because the deal is too good," you murmured.

"Then..." he trailed off lazily, "I'll make sure I'm well-rested before we..." His words faded into a satisfied sound, as your fingers found just the right spot in his hair.

With that, he let his eyes drift closed, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as his breathing slowly evened out completely in your arms.

Not to mention, he fell asleep barely five minutes later, and you didn't have the heart to wake him up so instead, you stayed there for another hour, quietly holding this oversized baby in your arms while gently massaging his scalp.

Even in his sleep, he mumbled a few incoherent words that suspiciously sounded like, "love..." and, "my girl," after that you felt your cheeks burn and felt your entire body melt into a puddle beneath him, while your heart felt far too full with his love and words.

and even then, as you looked down at him with nothing but love in your eyes, you realized there wasn't a single place in the world you'd rather be than right here— with him.