People Only Have Substance Within The Memories Of Other People, And That's Why There Were All Kinds Of

People only have substance within the memories of other people, and that's why there were all kinds of me's. There weren't a lot of me's per se; I was just inside all sorts of people, that's all.

sometimes you gotta leave because you love them too much bretha

the end. of the line. | Leon Kennedy

Leon Kennedy x Reader

summary: everything comes to an end, and it seems you and Leon have reached yours.

word count: 2.2k🤏🏼

warnings: angst bro, angst.

a/n: took my cold meds, passed out and woke up to this.

One suitcase. One suitcase containing everything you own.

It feels a bit pathetic as you helplessly stare at the plastic exterior, reflecting the harsh fluorescence of a singular bulb that lights the kitchen. It looks so small from the stool where you’re perched, the once hot tea having gone cold, bitter taste swirling around in the mug that you grasp so tight.

The apartment looks bare now, stripped away from its soul. The walls are empty, pictures of you and Leon that were once decorating it, now nowhere in sight, vanished like memories that never existed. No candle sitting on the coffee table, your books vanished from the shelf, the little potted plant that was once on the window sill gone to a better home. On instinct, your hand goes to grasp the golden locket that hung from your neck every day since you had gotten it as an anniversary gift but your hand only grazes empty skin.

Its eerily quiet this morning, a stillness in the air that nearly suffocates you, slowly dumping the old tea down the drain, rinsing the dirty mug and placing it back on the shelf like you had never touched it in the first place. A deep unease sets in your stomach, riddled with guilt and confusion. You should have left a few days ago, like you were going to, like you had planned, disappearing instantly with nothing but a letter for Leon to find.

But you were so weak when it came to him, tears cascading down your face as you wiped away any evidence of your presence in his life, guilt ripping you apart as you did all this while he was away god knows where, doing god knows what, no guarantee that he would come back to find his home empty.

And you were so close too, standing in the middle of the cold apartment, jacket tight around your shoulders, handle of your suitcase propped up and your ticket gripped tight in your fingers, nails indenting the paper when your phone had rung, the noise bouncing off the walls.

You had stared at it, still ringing in your palm, the glare of the contact number numbing you, recognizing the number instantly despite deleting his name from your phone. How could you ever forget something that you had spent night after night staring at, in vigil and in prayer that he returns to you in one piece, untouched and unharmed by the horrors of his life. Deafening silence greets you on the line before he breathes out a soft hey baby, I know its late but could you come get me please. I really want to see you.

Yes, of course. Of course, you will come. How could you not? How could you ever deny him? He who sacrifices his nights and days to keep the world safe, he who puts himself in between whoever dares to threaten the delicate balance of peace, he who pays with his body and soul so no one else has to. Of course, you will come. It’s the least you can do.

But can you do it anymore? Stand by and witness as he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, crumbling underneath it bit by bit, cracks deepening in his façade, losing his light and returning home to you with scars you’re not sure will be able to heal this time. You can’t, you can’t do this anymore.

But you will bring him home one last time.

Your heart breaks when you find him, fluttering in disobedience as your eyes drink in his appearance, head hanging low and eyes shut underneath the lamppost, leaning against it for support. The rumble of the car engine mutes as you kill the ignition and throw open the door.

He doesn’t open his eyes as you near him, feet splashing in the puddles without care. The soft utterance of his name from your lips wakes him, eyes slowly peeling open to see you standing at a distance, hands clasped in front of you, tugging at your fingers nervously.

Leon opens his arms and you find yourself helpless as you are tugged towards him, unblinking as you notice the ghost lingering in his hollowed eyes, tousled hair and bandages peeking out from underneath his shirt. He holds you close, gripping you tight into him, face buried in your neck, his breath fanning harshly against your skin as though he’s breathing for the first time.

Tears sting your eyes, words knotted in your throat, your fingers gently threading through his hair, confused if you’re trying to soothe him or yourself. And suddenly he feels real; broken and bruised, smelling of sweat and iron but real and present unlike the phantom of his presence that haunts your shared apartment.

No words are exchanged, silence now a usual companion as you drive back home. Leon has his head tipped back against the headrest and you would think he was asleep if it weren’t for the way he was holding your hand in his lap, thumb stroking against your knuckles. You would stare at him at every stoplight, memorizing the dips and contours of his face under the red hues changing to green.

He’s slimmed, you realize, the hollowness in his cheeks more pronounced, the dark circles grinded more firmly in his skin with small cuts littering under his jaw. You tighten yours, swallowing back tears.

The apartment door shuts with a resound click, Leon swaying where he stands, hunched over as your pry his jacket off his form. Your suitcase is nowhere in sight, hanging his jacket from the peg and discarding the keys into the small bowl on the table next to the door.

If he notices your missing keychain from the house keys, he doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t comment on the missing photographs from the walls as he drags you with him towards the bedroom, doesn’t comment on the glittering golden necklace that rests on the vanity instead of around your neck when he slips underneath the covers, pulling you with him.

 And you let yourself be consumed by him, submitting yourself to a moment of weakness. The pillow is cold underneath your cheek, facing Leon and staring into his eyes, noses nearly touching. The two of you breathe in shared air, his hand tracing lines into your back as you cup his cheek, holding him in place with legs tangled together.

The way he holds you is bittersweet, reminiscent of the days spent in bed, sharing laughter as the sun drizzled in, warming the atmosphere but all that’s left now is lingering memories, even the moon hidden behind a drape of dark clouds. There is no light this time.

Leon held you tight throughout the night as slumber pulled him under, lips brushing against the top of your head as you lay there listening to his steady heartbeat, tears soaking the soft cotton of the pillowcases.

His warmth still lingers around you as you stand in the kitchen, staring pensively at your suitcase, your ticket heavy in the back of your pocket. His footsteps are quiet as he approaches from the bedroom, the knots tightening in his stomach when he had woken up to find your side of the bed cold, all neatly made up, devoid of any sign you had been there in the first place.

The sun is finally out but it does little to make itself known, hiding just like the moon like it can’t bear witness to this finality. Leon stands a million miles away from you, sleep having done nothing to relieve him from his exhaustion, if anything he looks more tired. He doesn’t flinch at seeing you on the threshold, meekly standing with your packed bag. But his eyes betray him as you see them shatter. What a blessing and a curse that you know him better than you know yourself.

“Please...” He croaks and this time you flinch.

“No,” You shake your head, growing smaller under his watch, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Tell me how to fix it.” The wobble in his voice nearly kills you, the lump getting heavier in your throat, “Just tell me how and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You can’t,” You whisper, staring dejectedly at the ground, unable to witness him come undone, “Not this time.”

There is desperation in his voice, “I can try. Please, just don’t do this.”

You look up to him, vision blurring and heart aching to see him look so small, hands bundled into fists by his side, pleading so strife on his face. You hate yourself in this moment for being a contributor to his hurt but you need to do this to spare each other from the inevitable.

His chest starts to move faster, the tips of his ears glowing red, face contorting in disbelief, “You’re not even going to let me fight for us?”

“I can’t stand-by and watch you kill yourself, Leon.”

It comes out louder than you intended, hitting him like a ton of bricks. The silence is back, raw and all consuming. Leon’s erratic breathing is all you hear as you fight the tears that are threatening to spill. “Every single time that you come home, it’s like a piece of you dies. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t see it and I can’t keep pretending to be strong for both of our sakes. I…I’m tired of pretending that I don’t suffer seeing you like this.”

“You knew this before, you knew what it meant to be with me,” Leon whispers, dejection set heavy in his shoulders.

The smile you offer is watery, barely put together like haphazardly piecing together broken china, never quite the same ever again, some pieces lost forever. “What a fool I was.”

“You don’t love me anymore?” Leon asks, hesitation in his voice as though the mere idea of it will cause him to vomit.

And his words feel like a stake through your heart, tears falling freely down your face. This isn’t what you wanted, this is exactly why you wanted to leave before he came home. You didn’t want to add on to his already unending pile of hurt and certainly never wanted him to doubt your love for him: its why you needed to let him go.

“Leon,” A sob pulls through your entire body as all he does is watch in agony, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you two and hold you in his strong arms, stopping you from crumbling in front of him – helpless, again, as all he can do is watch you suffer, “I love you so much. That’s why I’m making this choice for us, I can’t hold on to false hope thinking that there won’t be a day where I won’t get the call that you aren’t coming home.”

“That’s unfair.”

You laugh bitterly, “I never said it was. But it’s the way it is, no? I can’t ask you to not save the world, to stay here with me or run away with me someplace far away where it’s just us. Because that’s not who you are, and I would always question if keeping you here with me is selfish.” Tears dribble down again. “And I want to be selfish, so much, but I think doing nothing would break you far more.”

“So what? That’s it?” Leon asks, sounding weary to the bone, ready to fall to the ground at a moment’s notice.

“Yeah,” You wipe away your tears, sleeve damp as you pull away, “I suppose it is.”

This time the grip on your suitcase’s handle is firm, holding you upright as strength saps from your legs, overwhelmed at seeing blues of Leon’s eyes dampen, silently accepting what’s happening in front of him. You don’t feel real in this moment, more akin to a stranger barging in on an intimate moment between two people you don’t recognize. The four walls surrounding you feel foreign, devoid of their usual familiarity.

A reel of moments flashes in front of your eyes; your first dinner date where he had cooked for you, spilling wine down your cashmere sweater, eyes blown wide open in worry as all you could do was laugh in absurdity. The first night you had spent after moving in with him, falling asleep together on the couch as a movie blared on the TV, long forgotten by then.

The balcony where the two of you had kissed, counting down excitedly to welcome the new year, a tall Christmas tree standing resolutely in the background. The long hug of goodbyes at the front door where he would bury himself in you, whispering promises of coming back to you, promises that he could not keep but still made. The teary greetings when he would return, beaten and bruised, melting in your arms with whispers of assurances.

You take a step back, feet heavy as they move, Leon moving forward on instinct, panic flashing in his eyes. You shake your head at him and this time he plants his feet, unmoving and turning away, unable to watch you leave. Your presence fades, melting away, the dim sound of moving wheels ceasing.

The door shuts with a resolute click.

Resident Evil Gaiden (2001)

little PSA: one of the most common "facts" I see about this game is that Leon dies. I've played this game twice and Leon does NOT DIE! I understand where the misconception comes from, there's a chance he died, but ultimately it's not an open and shut case so for the love of god stop saying that Leon dies in Gaiden like it's a fact because it's absolutely not correct.

Anyways I love this silly little game, feel free to hit me up if you're curious about it! I'm really happy to answer any questions and just generally talk about it :3

pullin up to the club after saving the president’s daughter like

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

The Jill we could have had if capcom weren’t cowards and losers 😔