Future Dr. BladeStar

“It was easy. We got in, grabbed him, grabbed evidence, and left, but…”

You heard Chris release a shuddering sigh.

“The bastard wanted to breed it into people. He experimented on pregnant women and their fetuses. His lab… I couldn’t… even Leon was speechless. And there’s something else, but I don’t… I can’t… fuck.”

You were barely keeping it together, as it was, and this had you forcing back tears.

“Do you need anything?” you asked Chris gently, hoping your voice didn’t sound wrecked.

A pause.

“Can I come over? Not for… you know. I just need—”

“Of course,” you whispered.

“I’ll text you when I’m close,” Chris replied, “See you soon.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you and hung up the call as you stepped through your apartment toward your kitchen. You figured some feel-good snacks were probably in order after something so grueling. You floundered for a moment, however, when memories of Leon came rushing back. All the times the two of you had hung out after particularly rough missions and ate junk food while watching shitty movies. But now, though, the role of comforting companion was not something either of you had anymore. Leon had Jen, and you had Chris.

With a frustrated huff, you dumped some frozen wings into your air fryer and set about heating them up. How the fuck were you supposed to show up to Leon and Jen’s party this weekend and act normal? The bitter part of you wanted to go and flaunt your relationship with Chris. The rational part of you reminded you that, aside from being a shitty thing to do, you and Chris had also made no moves to make things official. As far as you knew, you were a convenient situationship while he nursed a broken heart—not that you could even be mad about it without being a hypocrite.

As bitter as you were, your mind was clear enough to know that trying for something serious right now would be a bad idea. You'd never considered yourself someone with commitment issues, but you'd also never tried to commit to anyone other than Leon, really—you'd known him most of your adult life and had been smitten with him that entire time.

The more you thought about it, the more pathetic you felt.

The buzzing of your phone pulled you abruptly from your reverie and you pulled it out to check the notification.

»Chris: Just a few min away.

»You: alright. got some wings about ready for ya <3

»Chris: You’re so good to me, thank you.

»You: anytime

Fuck. You needed to pull yourself together before he arrived. The last thing anyone wanted after a shitty mission was spending time with someone wallowing in despair.

Yeah… you definitely were not emotionally ready for something serious.

Chris’s knock on your door came just as you took the wings from the air fryer, and gently laid the basket on the stovetop before heading toward the front door. You pulled it open, a greeting on your lips, only for the breath to whoosh out of your lungs as Chris pulled you in for a bear hug before you could say or do anything. You reciprocated the hug as tenderly as you could while walking both of you backward into the apartment, lest any nosy neighbors pass by. You let Chris hold you and be held by you for a minute more before softly urging him to sit on the couch.

“Do you want anything with the wings?” you murmured once he was seated.

“Ranch and some water,” came the response.

You nodded at him, but he was looking blankly into the distance. In your time knowing him, you’d never seen Chris Redfield so preoccupied, and it was making you nervous. What had been so horrible about this most recent job to have him like this? And, fuck, was Leon ok?

Your mind was a mess as you plated the wings and got you both some water, you nearly stumbled on your way back to your couch—clumsy in your absentmindedness. Normally, Chris would ask if you were alright, maybe even make a quip about being so clumsy as an elite agent, but he was quiet and pensive on your sofa. He took his food and drink with nothing more than a nod, but you knew not to be offended by his lack of thanks.

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” you assured quietly, “But I’m here if you do.”

Finally, for the first time since arriving, Chris finally looked you in the eyes.

“Is Leon the man who broke your heart?”

That was not what you were expecting.

“What?” you wheezed.

Chris sighed and set his food on the coffee table, then dragged his hands down his face, “Shit. I’m sorry. That’s not… it’s not my business.”

You were shocked, to say the least. Your mind reeled as it tried to catch up with the moment. You had mentally prepared yourself to handle Chris’s grief in anger, not to handle yours or share it with anyone.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Chris repeated as he realized just how poorly his question had landed, “It’s just… he told me on the mission he has a girlfriend now and—” He cut himself off abruptly and clenched his jaw as his gaze fell down to his lap—something akin to shame on his face.

Something terrible bubbled up inside you. Like a pot left too long to simmer on the stove, all your horrible feelings crept up to the surface at once, spilling out of you in a fit of despair.

“Leave,” you said lowly, “I’m not doing this, I can’t.”

Chris gave you a look like a kicked puppy, “I’m not gonna force you to talk, but, well… when was the last time you talked to someone who wasn’t the DSO-mandated therapist?”

The question gave you pause and you hated how he was reading you so well, stripping you bare of the walls you put up. He was right and it fucking hurt like a bitch. Since Leon had told you about his girlfriend, it had made it even harder for you to feel comfortable spilling your guts to him—it had been like pulling teeth. Leon had been your mentor, your protector, and you knew it killed him a little each time you were hurt on a mission, whether physical or emotional. The thought that you could ever be one of the reasons he drank himself into a stupor made your skin crawl with disgust.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to talk about it,” you whispered. Confessing it felt like a weight off your shoulders and a knife to the heart in equal measure. “I’ve loved him for so long, kept it to myself for so long, I don’t know how to talk about it. Especially not to him. I don’t ever want to lose him. I’d rather deal with him sleeping with other women or having a girlfriend than not have him in my life.”

Chris reached a hand out to you and pulled you gently to sit beside him on the sofa. You buried your face against his chest and began to cry. He’d come over to seek comfort from you and here you were, having a breakdown in his lap like a child, crying over another man.

“I get it, you know,” the man murmured as he stroked your back soothingly, “I really do.”

You sniffled and looked up at him through teary eyes, “Tell me about her?”

The smile he gave you was wistful as he began to speak, “You know her, too. Jill Valentine. My partner since the nineties, and the woman I’ve loved since then.”

It made so much sense. You’d only met her a handful of times, but you could still tell how close the two were in those brief interactions. And that was even after all that Jill had gone through during her time under the control of Albert Wesker. To be loved is to be changed, and true love endures through change, and Chris still loved her even after all that her trauma had wrought.

“I told her about my feelings only a week before you and I met in that bar. She told me she wasn’t sure she was even capable of that kinda love anymore,” Chris continued bitterly, “she told me to find someone else who could love me the way I deserved.”

You flinched, “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t regret our time together, even if it was short,” he assured, “as I’ve said before, I hope we can stay friends. Being with you has been a lot of fun.”

You gave him a tiny smile, “Yeah, it has. I… I wanna be friends, too.”

Chris pressed a kiss to your forehead—affectionate and fleeting, and oh-so-sweet. It was quiet for a while afterward, and the two of you held each other tight. You grieved for the loves you wanted but couldn’t have. Grieved for what you had tried and failed to build together. Celebrated what you had ended up with instead.