Vievve Ur Not Slick. But I Am

vievve ur not slick. but i am

im very slick (a tear ran down my legs) thats so overused but like seriously i have too many assignments to be thinking abt this...ugifhgeoifraskldaskhdsald;as;ldsakld

save a horse ride a cowboy!!! my life motto!! 🤠🤠🤠🤠

Hot in the wild west 🫨

What bellakath said in Vaquero remix

How bout we go south instea-

🤠

actually stopped giving shits moments ago so... no im just done with my whole group atp cant wait to abandon them for new people at work!!

lowkey its the people who put barely any effort into anything, fail all their fucking classes and fucking do all this shit just to bear the success bc their parents are nice

but when i actually work for it im told no.

i swear if i could kill myself?

AHH I LOVE ME SOME PSYCHOTIC CRAZY IN LOVE LEONNNNN

omg when i first heard this song i had such vivid ideas for it but i was an aspiring daydreamer, not writer, so seeing someone put it into words was asjdalsjdklajsdlasjd it's just special

needless to say this is a special fic to me, always will be! spoilers under the cut rq

You love this, you crave this, found a way to weasel your way into this life even after death.

i love how she sees what she has with him as life, even though it's truly just impartial in the idea that later we see that others can see she's dead, so i wonder if she's just an exception to it??

He didn’t use a gun and he didn't go bare-handed, he’s not completely stupid. Leon just... came in through the back door with one of the knives from his kitchen and got to work. Leon hadn't thought a whole lot through besides his alibi, he'd just say he was sleeping, he's a college student, aren't you supposed to get sleep when given the chance?

i jUsT kIlLeD a mAn sHe'S mY aLiBi *insert spanish singing here* anyways its so lovely that no one will notice when he smashes the glass, like aren't the other neighbours stalkin u... I WOULD BE!

"No, officer, I didn't hear anything last night, what's the matter?" "I don't know anyone who would do something like that to that family! That's just awful!" "They've never upset me, and even if they did, I wouldn't kill them over it!" "Damn, do I need to get security cameras or something, officer?"

erm not the way he can lie out of any situation HELP STOP THATS SO FUNNY TO ME BECAUSE I CANNOT LIE FOR MY LIFE BRO.. "thats just awful" like you "i wouldnt kill them over it" WHO THE FUCK SAYS THAT?? NO ONE... unless you've actually killed them. cops are stupid asf but thats ok as long as bbg gets away with it!

What's he supposed to do with your clothes?

cosplay. become a femboy. once you reach 1m subs on prnhub she'll climb back through the window (trust this method is verified)

This is unbelievable, didn't you love him? If you don't come to him, he might have to come to you... somehow. He'll figure it out, he's pretty sure you're meant to be together. Come on, don’t you know he’d die for you? Leon can’t wait for forever.

is there a part two bc if there is I NEED IT. FERALLY. I NEED HIM LIKE SEARCHING GRAVEYARDS TRYNA FIND MY ASS THAT DONT WANNA BE FOUNDDD UGHHH NEED DESPARATE RE2R COLLEGE LEONNN

claudia yk a fics good when u relate to it. i relate to this so much (no i dont i wish) and once again this is a vv special fic to me. thank you so much pookie i love u so bad <33

she’s demonic and bloody, but she holds me tight

note : divider is from @/cafekitsune. this fix does have dark content in it if you don’t wanna read I understand <3 I also wrote this based off the song In My Room by Insane Clown Posse. I also got kinda in the flow when I was writing this idk if it really fits the song but I like how this turned out but the end is like really really rushed bc I didn’t know what to do :)

wc : 2.9k

tags : @withonly-sweetheart @rigorwhoring @cigarett3wif3 @bonesnplywood

desc : a college kid with a social life that's almost non-existent figures the dead girl that comes to his room every night is his girlfriend, some say that's a bad thing, he says it's everything he could wish for. who cares, anyway? it's not hurting anyone! well, not yet, at least. there's an endless list of things he'd do for you, you don't even have to ask. but why won't you come back after he takes care of a problem that would have torn you away from him? you love him, right? not-really established relationship (idk how to explain it), a bit suggestive, Leon is kinda gross, necrophilia, gore, au, fem!reader, re2r!Leon

back to the party <3

“You gonna let me in…?” Your voice is muffled from the glass pane of Leon’s window, chipped fingernails tapping against the surface. Of course he’s gonna let you in, when was the last time he had ignored you? You’ve completely fucked over his sleep schedule, you’re too good to turn down.

He’s lucky that he has the whole house to himself, it’s been like this since he started college, even if anyone is there, you’re always quiet. Leon was lucky enough to have some rich uncle that pitied him after the death of his parents and gifted his summer house to Leon so he could stay there for college. He doesn’t talk to a lot of people, he’s got a few friends around campus and he tutors the kid next door, but outside of that he’s alone, no one comes over outside of family.

You came along about halfway through his sophomore year of college, he was scared of you at first, who wouldn’t be scared when you wake up to a corpse knocking on your window? But he gave you a chance, best decision he’s made in years.

You… were something special. Not a zombie, Leon’s sure you would’ve cracked his skull open and torn his brain apart with your teeth by now if you were, he would’ve let you.

You poor thing, your boyfriend killed you when you tried to break up with him in your senior year of college, Leon must’ve been seventeen when it happened, it had been all over the news. Leon’s not sure why you came to him, you never told him, there are a lot of things you don’t tell him, he’s not sure where you go when the sun rises, either. But you’re the best part of his days, the lamp in his room is always on at night just so you know he’s home. He hasn’t even gone out to any parties because he doesn’t want to miss a visit from you, hardly even stays out past ten if he ever does manage to get out of the house.

“Leon, I can see you.” Your voice is a bit harsher, your palm comes down against his window and Leon finally tears himself from his homework, spinning around in his chair to smile at you.

He stands from his chair and takes a few steps to his window, it’s never locked, it doesn’t even have the screen anymore, he just has to open it for you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The smile that immediately blooms on your face makes his whole month, Leon offers his hand out to you to help you climb into his room, your rough, cold palm slides against his, you stumble slightly. Leon’s hands soon find their way to your sides, his face almost hurts from how much he’s grinning.

“Hey,” Your voice is always raspy, it’s prettier than any song he’s ever heard. You always wrap your arms around him when he welcomes you in, this time is no different, one of his hands take place on your lower back, the other on the back of your neck over your matted hair.

“It’s cold out, do you want a sweatshirt?” He knows you don’t need one, but he’s been dying to see you in one of his favorite hoodies, he doesn’t even care if you get dirt all over it. You just shake your head and bury your face in the crook of his neck, he chuckles. “I gotta do some homework, do you want to sit with me?” You nod again and unravel your arms from around him, he pulls up his chair again to sit and pull you down onto his lap.

You love this, you crave this, found a way to weasel your way into this life even after death. You really weren’t trying to go for Leon, the night you emerged from your grave you just stumbled down the street, looking for a light in the window, you don’t know why. The only light on had been Leon’s, he was pretty enough, at least he didn’t call the cops when you climbed up the tree in front of his window and started knocking.

He loves you, you know it. You don’t know how or why, but God, do you love this feeling. You’re able to pretend for a few hours that you’re back to being a normal college girl, that your blood still runs through your veins and your boyfriend didn’t go nuts and stab you. You love him too, you guess.

You even help him with homework and projects sometimes since you took those same classes, you always hated it when you were in school, but you had a cheat sheet for half the shit Leon brings back from class in the back of you brain, why are you even able to remember that? Leon always holds you as close as possible, you're not really sure how he can stomach having you so close all the time, you knew he'd have you naked more often than not if you would let him see you like that, the closest he's even gotten to seeing you like that is when you took off your dress so he could stitch up the re-opening stab wounds that were scattered across your abdomen.

But he loves it, for some reason. He doesn't mind how rough your skin feels and how tight it is against your rotting muscles, doesn't get weirded out when he plucks a bug from your hair, somehow Leon loves when the two of you make out.

It’s a win-win, Leon gets you, you get Leon. He buys you cute things, short skirts, pretty tops, you play dress up for a few hours before you pull the blue dress you were buried in back on and leave for the day, just to come back and do it again the next night. He’s got a dresser drawer full of girly clothes that you only wear sometimes, he’s lucky he never has friends over.

Don’t even mentions the hickeys he lets you leave on his neck, those are the things his friends see and tease him about, interrogating him about who his secret girlfriend is. You don’t think he minds, he’s never complained when you sink your teeth into his throat and suck and bite until the blood vessels under his skin start to pop. Leon does the same to you, anyway, it’s only fair.

Leon doesn’t like when you’re in the house but not with him, if you get up to go wash the dirt off your skin in the shower, he trails after you and sits on the sinks countertop until you’re done. He’d join you if you let him.

Leon will never tell you this or even ask, but he wonders if you died a virgin. I mean, there’s no way, right? You were so pretty, alive or dead, he’d be lying if he said that he never thought about having sex with you. Who wouldn’t think about that? Theres no judgement from him if you’re a virgin or not, but maybe one day you’ll take his virginity. Maybe? He’ll take the dry humping for now and keep his hopes up.

Outside of wanting to have sex with you, Leon loves to hold you. You fit on his lap perfectly and your face always finds a way to the nape of his neck, you always cling to him like your limbs are still stiff and tight from rigor mortis and you’ll take him back to your grave with you.

—

You’re back again, shocking. Leon’s got you on his lap with your chest pressed to his, his fingers dig into the cold flesh of your thighs to slowly rock you against him as you nip at his lips whenever you pull away from one of your heated kisses, barely giving him time to breathe.

You have to leave soon and Leon has to start his day, the most sleep he gets is four or five hours the second he gets back from school, you come around midnight, who needs sunlight? He doesn’t spend most of his days out and you never do, Leon could live in total darkness and be fine with it so long as you stay.

Leon’s shaking a tiny bit underneath you, it’s always like this when you slip your tongue a bit further past his lips, you can’t taste anything but Leon loves the way you taste, good thing he’s not vegan. Though, Leon can’t really focus on kissing you back, you feel more tense than normal, your voice sounds choked when you talk now.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you and you huff. Leon’s hands instead move up to your hips, stopping his rocking.

“You okay?” You nod.

You’re not really okay, you were trying to avoid Leon asking you this because you knew he’d react badly. The kid he tutors next door saw you walk down the street, you even fucking made eye contact with the kid and kept walking until you were at the tree in Leon’s yard. You didn’t know if he was gonna tell anyone or just try to ignore you, play it off as a drunk girl not knowing what she’s doing. But you knew he’d tell Leon the next day, Leon always told you the kid liked to gossip. Even if the kid didn’t talk, you probably shouldn’t come back, at least for a little while.

“Sweetheart,” His hands squeeze your hips, you sigh and sit up straight. “What’s wrong?”

“I- that uhm, the kid next door… H-he saw me.” Leon’s eyes widen and his hands grip you harder, it doesn’t hurt but you feel his fingernails dig into your skin.

“What?” You’ve never heard his voice so flat, you chew on your bottom lip and look away from him. “He saw you?”

“Leon, he knows.”

“What? He can’t know, it’s not like… It’s not like it’s obvious that you’re dead.”

“Leon, be serious, it’s weird enough to see someone stumbling into your neighbors yard in the dark, but when they look like they’re fucking dead then that’s something else.”

“Baby-“

“He’s gonna tell someone.”

“He won’t,” A dry, humorless chuckle comes from his mouth, he shakes his head. “He’s not gonna care, the worst that’s gonna happen is he’s gonna tease me.”

“Yeah? What if he tells his parents? What if he tells his friends? Then what? He’s like, what, twenty? He doesn’t care if you ask him not to talk about it.”

“We’re gonna be fine,” His hand comes up to your face, brushing over your bottom lip and pulling you back down to his slowly. “Why would he give a shit?”

“I’m not gonna come back for while.” You announce, stopping a few inches from his face. You don’t want to talk about this anymore, you just need to do your own thing, you have all the time in the world to wait and let this simmer down. If Leon loves you, then he’ll wait, too.

“What?!” Leon bolts up, pushing you up with him. “No, no, no, no, you don’t gotta like, leave leave, okay? I’ll- I’ll take care of it, I’ll talk to him. Baby, please.”

“I don’t know, Leon.”

“We’re gonna be alright, I promise.” He kisses you again and your shoulders tense. “Okay?”

“… The sun will be up soon.” You mumble, leaning back from him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He sighs and runs his hands along your arms, looking over your face to try and determine what you’re thinking. “I love you.”

“Love you,” You mumble again before you stand from his bed and make your way back out his bedroom window, you glance back at him, he’s smiling, somehow.

Once you’re gone, though, Leon flops back against his bed, his hands coming to his hair to pull at the soft strands, he's never been so nervous in his life.

“Fuck.”

—

Leon’s not proud of what he’s done, but he did it for you, so it’s not bad, right?

He really did mean to just talk things out, tell his neighbor that you’re his girlfriend and that you come up through the tree in front of his room because it’s faster.

But the kid had already told his parents, thankfully none of his friends, though. Leon didn’t know what to do, because soon the neighbors would tell his uncle and then he’d start asking questions, and then eventually his neighbor would tell his friends and then Leon’s friends would find out and- he panicked. What else could he say?

Leon came back to his neighbors later that night, maybe ten, ten thirty? Who cares? The thing about his neighbors is that the parents loved him because he was willing to spend two hours of his day tutoring their son who got into school mostly due to his parents, why wouldn’t they give him a spare key to the house?

He didn’t use a gun and he didn't go bare-handed, he’s not completely stupid. Leon just... came in through the back door with one of the knives from his kitchen and got to work. Leon hadn't thought a whole lot through besides his alibi, he'd just say he was sleeping, he's a college student, aren't you supposed to get sleep when given the chance?

But now his hands were covered in blood as well as his clothes, he made sure not to get any on his shoes, he'll just wash whatever became bloodied. And if he couldn't wash the blood out, he could just feed it to the fire pit, maybe a tie dye shirt wouldn't look too bad on him, he's thinking red and black.

He's not used to the feeling of someone else's blood coating his skin, did you know what that felt like? No, that blood had been your own, but still, maybe you could've told him it would be warm. And God, the fucking stench of it, he's gonna scrub his skin raw when he gets back home.

Leon doesn't expect you to come back to him that night, though he still really hopes that you do. But while he waited, he cleaned. Did his laundry, washed the knife, looked for any splotches of blood left in his yard that would be seen as an immediate red flag, he even kicked in the glass back door of his neighbors house for good measure! He probably wouldn't have slept, anyway, the adrenaline of puncturing a soft body with something he uses to cook is still running through his veins. He wasn't too worried about the other neighbors, most of them were old, it was well past their bed time.

Was Leon disappointed when you didn't show that night? Of course. But if you needed a night to try to gather your thoughts then what kind of boyfriend would he be to not allow you that space?

And it was no surprise when the cops showed up at his door the next morning, Leon had gone through this situation over and over in his head the whole night, he just needs to play dumb and be polite.

"No, officer, I didn't hear anything last night, what's the matter?"

"I don't know anyone who would do something like that to that family! That's just awful!"

"They've never upset me, and even if they did, I wouldn't kill them over it!"

"Damn, do I need to get security cameras or something, officer?"

Of course the police told him to get the security cameras, it’s no big problem for him, no one has to protect him, he’s just waiting for you to come back. Maybe you’ll even stay longer once you do finally come back to him, there’d be no one to worry about, so what’s the problem?

—

Leon doesn't get it, it's been almost a month now and you're still not back. Why is that? Did you just not know what he had done for you and decided to wait a bit longer? Maybe he should've known that the girl who got fucking stabbed to death wouldn't like him killing a family for her, God, did he scare you off?

He went to your grave, it looks normal. He'd never gone now because he had no reason to, but the soil wasn't loose or anything. Should he try to dig you up? No, that would get him thrown in jail in a matter of minutes. You weren’t even showing up on the security cameras the cops advised him to get,

Leon can't stand it. He misses you, is that really so bad?

How long were you planning to stay away? Did you just break up with him without even really saying it? Was killing his neighbors worth it? It's like you've just vanished! What does he have to do to get you to come back?

The pictures he has of you - from when you were alive, newspaper clippings of your obituary and your memorial service after the funeral - don't sit right with him anymore. He's had them since you started coming over, he just wanted to know more about you, but seeing you smiling at him through the black and white paper doesn't sit well in his stomach.

What's he supposed to do with your clothes? He misses you, why can't you just leave him a note explaining things? And he can't even tell anyone. He's worried about you, what if something happened to you?

But he waits, like he does every night.

And he waits, then waits a bit longer, then waits even more, and a month turns into four way too fast.

Where are you?

Leon swears he can hear the tap tap on his window, but when he looks, you're never there. Now he has to deal with the weight of murder on his shoulders while the cops are still out looking for the killer. Were the cops why you weren't coming back?

This is unbelievable, didn't you love him? If you don't come to him, he might have to come to you... somehow. He'll figure it out, he's pretty sure you're meant to be together.

Come on, don’t you know he’d die for you? Leon can’t wait for forever.

Fortune's Cookies

They aren't very sweet, especially when you're fooled into taking the first bite.

a/n: gosh there's literally so much rookie leon art going around and the fever got to me, hope you like my twist on this classic trope! honestly everyone listed below contributed to this with their rookie leon pieces, seriously i stared at them while writing it helps seriously.

@chesue00 - you KNOW it.

@faintfill - MY SOURCE OF ROOKIE LEON SKETCHES NO KIDDING

@uhlillie - i hope you know which one im talking about girl... DAMN

@bunnivievve - FOODDDDDDD just like i said rookie leon is served

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: cavity fluff i hope i needed to brush my teeth after writing this (probably because of all the panda express fortune cookies i ate while typing), angst bc duh and i think thats it?

wc: 7k

“Your voice will bring a smile today.”

That’s what greets you, printed in those horrible skinny red letters, paper curled in your fingers. The styrofoam boxes are dotted with grains of undercooked rice and steamed vegetables, a treat you knew you deserved after such a long day. 

And this is what fate tells you. Good thing you’ve never believed in superstition. You crumple the paper and toss it onto the tray and scoff.

Like you’ll take advice from a cookie.

But as the number of people in the store starts to dwindle, and the night shift employees trudge in through the back door, you wind up with your eyes glued to the message, wondering what kind of voice it referred to. 

It’s been a long time since your voice has brought anyone joy, hasn’t it? Your job mostly consists of reminding multiple colleagues of their deadlines, only to be promptly ignored. Your existence only comes back to their minds two minutes before their reports are due, when they forward a hastily written piece that you don’t bother to read.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A hand waves dangerously close to your face, brushing your nose, and the contact is enough to startle you back, glaring up at the offender. Even with the harsh swinging lights stinging your eyes, you can see warm blue eyes and sunny hair. 

It feels as if the sky has descended to meet you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter back in response, clearing your throat, waving your tied words away. “All good here.”

He shifts away from you, maybe mistaking your inward gesture as shooing him away. You think of saying something about him, about assuring him, but you wonder why you feel that way. "Oh. I, uh, saw you seemed distracted. Just wanted to make sure you're okay." 

You wince, acutely aware of your frazzled appearance after the long shift. "Thank you, but I'm fine. Just tired is all."

“That’s not good,” he notes with a small frown, leaning back to press his heels to the ground. “Did you eat well?”

“Do you fuss over all strangers?” you muse.

“Oh, well, uhm, I see you a lot here, not that I’m watching you, just that I noticed that you’re here, a lot, so I thought you must like food-” 

“You talk a lot.” You raise an eyebrow, trying to cut off his flustered stammering with your motion.

“That came out a lot worse than I’d imagined in my head,” he admits with a slight dip of his shoulders. “Sorry about that, I got nervous. I don't talk to many people… or, uh, women... so I tend to be a bit of a dumbass.”

Surprisingly, as shitty as you feel, a small smile graces the corner of your mouth.

“You’re honest, aren’t you?” 

“According to a lot of people… yeah.”

“I don’t think I caught your name earlier,” you say, eyes scanning his vivid outfit for a nametag. There, pinned to his apron like a defining feature of his. “Leon?”

“That’s me,” he replies proudly. “And I already know yours!”

“Sorry?”

“Your… name?” Leon puckers his bottom lip, as if scarring it with his teeth will take back the words hanging between you. “Sorry… like I said, I’ve seen you here a lot.”

And he smiles shyly.

You’re flushed the whole way home, thinking of that sweet little smile, the way his eyes crinkled, his fresh linen scent, how you forgot how to breathe. 

And your carefully built world topples over.

<><><><>

You never expected to look forward to the little messages in your fortune cookies, but you blame it on the fact you know Leon’s handing them to you, standing behind the counter in that cute little outfit. Even if he has no idea what’s in them, you can gaslight yourself into thinking he deliberately picks the ones complimenting your smile, or telling you how pretty your eyes look.

Of course, he can tell you that all himself. You sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the stools that you think are meant to be mocking bar stools, but they have barely any space between them, so you’re crammed together.

You wait for him to move away, to tell you to put some distance between you two, but nothing comes. You watch his profile, that handsome face eat cheap noodles when he really deserves so much better.

The lights dim as the last employee clocks out. It’s gotten so late that the crickets demand entrance, chirping their redundant sound, silencing as you walk past the slouching grass like plant that tickles your bare ankles as you walk back to your respective cars.

“Well,” he says, twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, like he hasn’t been talking to you for the last two weeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, nodding. The grin that eats up his face is so infectious you can’t help but smile back.

The same smile drops from your face when you check your Uber texts, a system you’ve repeated so much over the last few months that it feels like second nature, but not very natural when you see that your driver had to back out of the deal at the last minute, suspiciously also taking your money with them, leaving you broke and without a ride. 

You stare at the small blue rectangle gripped in your fingers, heat rising to your face, realizing how stupid you must seem to the guy who must be pulling away right at this moment, and will he ever want to hang out with you again-

“Something wrong?” You hear his voice before you hear the knocks on his car roof, and he’s so tall that even at this distance you have to crane your neck to glower at him, and a lopsided smile overtakes his face.

“This isn’t fair,” you insist after explaining your situation, and the only response he gives is a slight shake of his head, as if exasperated. “I already paid all the money!”

“Crap, then something’s wrong,” he mumbles. “Do you usually always use all your money on the trip here?”

You falter. “Not usually.”

He arches a golden brow, a gate to your forthcoming confession. “Then…?”

“Well, I come out here to see you,” you admit quietly. “And then I go home.”

“Exactly how far away do you live?” His voice is smooth, but his expression reminds you of those times when your mother caught you doing something you shouldn’t be, doing something that shows how much you need that validation to survive.

“Not that far,” you assure, nodding your head, but you fail to convince the both of you. 

“Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly, softly, as if the night might intrude on your conversation.

“That would be nice,” you reply in a hushed whisper, as if further backing up the idea that the moon is listening, lighting up your words, shining on his hair as you both clamber into his car.

He apologizes for the mess in his spotless car, and you assume it’s just a courtesy, but he goes on and on about how he needs to get his life together. You don’t pay attention to the words that come out of his mouth, just his mouth in general. The amount of times you’ve done this slips from your mind, just another irrelevant number in your life.

If his life is a mess, your life must be a heap of shit.

Your address tumbles past strangely parched lips, well, at least it did, a while ago. But the ride was far too short, and he pulls up in your driveway, a bewildered expression on his face, as if he can’t believe this is where you live; a humble, simple abode, just like all your neighbors.

“So, this is goodbye, then?”

“Not forever, I hope,” he whispers, voice breathy.

“Uh, okay then? But let’s meet somewhere that isn’t your place of work?”

You were joking when you said it, but it seems he doesn’t pick up on it. His eyes are dreamy and thoughtful on his drive back, and by the time he gets home, he has a plan.

He’s going to stun you.

<><><><>

“Well?”

Leon’s gone out of his way to please you. Everything you’ve said during your time together, those vague comments about your favorite type of cheese, your opinions on the amazingly random topics you’re always switching between, it’s all right there.

You hope it's a physical display of his love.

His heart is spread bare, on the checkered, classic pattern of red and white, starkly contrasting with the blades of grass that bear your combined weight, not one, but two, so closely conjoined that you feel more at ease than you have in years.

You share a smile as you indulge in the simple yet delightful cucumber sandwiches, savoring each bite as you bask in each other's company. In the far distance, birds chirp, serenading you both, as if a soundtrack to these moments that seem to tick by faster than they should.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a softness in his gaze that speaks volumes. Time slows, encapsulating you both, a delicious freedom licking up your spine.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” you remark, wiping your face with a napkin, feeling content as you lean back, lying your head on your palms.

He mirrors your action, although his head twists to meet you, eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant if I didn’t know a few things, right?”

“Guess so.” You shrug and the afternoon wears on, the park imaginative and alive with the children that race around the playground, darting like minnows through the swings and slides.

If you had met Leon in your childhood, would things have been different? Would you still be where you are today, arms brushing, only held apart by the barrier of remains scattered between you both, a battlefield of scarred napkins and damaged plastic utensils, a war fought to keep you separate.

He is caring and decisive and rational, the most reliable person you know, and you faintly register it’s been half a year, and you haven’t progressed any further with each other. The battle has come to a standstill, and neither side dares to make a move.

You think that half the problem lies not with you, but with Leon, and what he does with all his free time. He’s not the type to laze around; you think you know him well enough to make that assumption, but you aren’t sure anymore.

Cue example one: the mysterious phone calls that have begun to grow in frequency, the ones that always sour Leon’s mood, leave him sullen and unfriendly to talk to. Eventually, you grow tired of his monosyllabic answers, and make your absence known, still wondering what goes on in his life.

With a furrowed brow, he glances at the caller ID, his expression tightening with concern. You watch as his once-relaxed posture stiffens with some unseen burden. With a sigh, he excuses himself to take the call, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts.

You can sense the tension tinging the area, Leon’s clenched jaw betraying the stress he tries to conceal as he stalks back to you, shoving his phone into his pocket, evidently agitated.

“You don’t need a ride home, do you?” His voice contrasts his request; he obviously isn’t in the mood to drive you home. 

“I’ll get a cab.” You shake your head, not wanting to be the instrument he releases all that pent up anger on.

He casts a shadow over you, standing tall and easy, in the dying sun he looks like a dying angel, his eyes soft and sad, skin begging to be touched. And while you want nothing more than to reach out and caress his cheek, tell him it’ll be okay, kiss his troubles away, you don’t know what you are right now.

Friends? Would a friend do that? So you offer him a supportive smile, trying not to seem deliberate, and amidst the fading light of the park and the cooling breeze that accompanies you back to your divided lives, you already regret it, watching Leon speed off, just a distant thought in your memory. 

You should trust your gut more often.

<><><><>

As the car glides through the shadowy city streets, you catch sight of the new monument in the distance, the one Leon must’ve told you about. Surprising yourself, you decide to take a spontaneous detour. You tap your driver on the shoulder, and she smiles encouragingly. For the most part, the drive was silent, but you don’t mind her soft voice explaining the history behind why they decided to construct it in the first place.

She pulls around the corner, approaching the area near the monument, but the statue quickly is pushed to the back of your mind. It’s the flashing police lights and a sense of urgency in the air that catches your attention. A crime scene tape cordons off the area, and officers are stopping all vehicles passing through.

A stern-faced cop approaches your cab and instructs you both to step out. The driver uneasily abandons her car where it’s parked, then weaves through the forming crowd effortlessly, as if she’s gotten used to the downtown mobs of people.

You, however, barely come to this side of the town, where the city lights are always attacking your eyes that are comfortable with the soft sunset across the farm, where the people are always knocking against each other like clumsy goats, everyone bustling with a purpose.

As you also try your best to push your way through the throng, a knot forms in your stomach at the sight that greets you in the center of the commotion. The blood reaches up to where your footsteps falter, where everyone steps back to avoid staining their footwear.

Splatters of crimson paint a macabre picture that sends a shiver down your spine. The wail of sirens pierces the night, flaring lights casting an eerie glow that dances like amethyst flames, illuminating the limp body that uniformed figures crouch near.

And one of those figures, someone you’d never expect at the grim scene of a murder, is Leon, his unfamiliar stony expression cast in a stark light against the backdrop of chaos.

You draw closer, questions threatening to unravel the fabric of your reality, steeling yourself for the confrontation, because you thought you were close to him, a person he could trust. Was that such a silly thought? To think that you might have had something?

Apparently it was.

“Leon?” you demand, pressing yourself into the caution tape, warning bells ringing in your mind at the neon yellow bending to your will against your stomach.

“What?” He glances up and around, scanning the entire world until his eyes land on yours, going wide slightly, and his position stumbles, as if his legs give way.

“Get up, rookie,” another cop barks. “Focus! And you, stop distracting him!” Someone bats at your face, but you just sidestep the blow and storm closer, in the tension of the moment.

If you had just a speck of your sense at the time, you might’ve forced yourself to step away, to take a few calming deep breaths, but seeing his face dappled in such an unnatural light, to see his warmth be taken away to something that’s real, something like a life gone. 

You always saw him as your solace, away from your life, something that was unreal, just for you. You forget to see him as a being of his own, with feelings of his own. And sadly, you don’t know the difference between impulsive and intrusive. 

You’re surprised when Leon rises to meet your eyes, albeit it only lasts for a moment until he’s towering over you again, and there’s a sense of authority there that wasn’t there before, eyes strict and narrowed.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he says, in such a final tone it doesn’t occur to you that you could argue back. But his voice, a splinter of your Leon, the one you know, slips through. “I promise.”

So you stand back, near the patrol cars, their wails ratting your skull, but you grit your teeth and force yourself through it, eyes directed on Leon. It’s a while before the crowd clears, presumably because the idea of a murder is enticing until they see how long it truly takes, as compared to television.

But you stand there, leaning against the side of the car that you know is Leon’s, recognizing it as the one that you’ve rode in so many times, and you wonder why he’s taken a fragment of your time here, to this place outside of your relationship.

Eventually, Leon makes frantic motions to the top of the monument, stretching to the sky before gesturing back to the body, and everyone around him offers a pensive expression and solemn nods before someone calls out something you can’t hear.

The sirens die down immediately, and everyone claps Leon on the back. He flushes and stumbles with them to the cars, and you promptly ignore everyone’s gaze on you as he approaches. But there’s someone with him. 

Feline eyes meet yours, an arm draped over his shoulder, competitive expression and this mysterious woman and Leon saunter over to you. She’s dressed in a long, beige trench coat, and her black sunglasses rest low on her nose, perched just right so that she can lift her face to offer you the most cursory of glances before turning away.

And she has the audacity to peck Leon on the cheek before she gives you a smug smile with the side of her face that only you can see before waving goodbye, somehow gracefully, and stalking away to what you assume is a fancy sports car.

“Look, I know you have a lot of questions.” Leon holds up his hands in defense, before grinning, and involuntarily, you feel the corner of your mouth quirk upwards.

“Lot of is an understatement,” you grumble.

“Talk over dinner?” he offers.

“Is this you trying to impress me?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Is it working?”

<><><><>

“Right, and you didn’t think telling me you were a fucking cop was important?” Your spring roll is devastated, its insides spilling everywhere on your plate, bits of cabbage and carrot dotting the cardboard.

“I didn’t think it would change anything between us,” he mumbles. “So what difference would it make?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You push away from the table, and his eyes follow you when you stand up, and his actions seem to come naturally, as an instinct, when he trails you across the empty store.

“You know what it means!” he protests.

“Maybe I don’t, Leon, so maybe you should explain,” you retort. “Explain why you thought it was okay to lead me on like that, all this time, when you have a girlfriend! Which one of us are you really cheating on?”

“What?” Now he looks genuinely confused, and his confusion seems to spark some doubt in your own defense, breaking down your sure walls. “Girlfriend? Cheating?”

His eyes are glazed over with tears, and if he starts crying, you’re not sure what you’ll do. You take a step closer, but now he’s the one to recoil away, shaking his head, wiping his eyes.

Leon inhales sharply. “How could you say something like that? I told you when we met, I’m not… not very good with these kinds of things.”

“But she-”

“Kissed me?” He scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like your mother’s never kissed you goodnight.”

You misread everything. That smug smile was her approval, on those curved lips, those narrowed eyes that were… well, just always narrowed. How could you get something so wrong?

"I... I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "I didn't know... I thought..." Your words falter as you struggle to find the right ones to express the whirlwind of relief, a gust of skittish butterflies pattering against the walls of your stomach, trying to find release.

"I should have been honest from the start," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "My job… it can hurt people. You saw. I want to keep you safe."

“You’re not mad?” you ask quietly.

Leon's eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he responds, "How could I ever be mad at this cute little face?" He playfully puffs your cheeks together, a gesture meant to be endearing.

Before you can fully process his teasing remark, Leon's demeanor shifts once again, his voice lower and more intimate as he adds, "Or... these lips." And with a sudden, decisive move, he leans in and presses a tender kiss against your lips.

And your fragile world topples over.

Again.

<><><><>

Leon never ceases to surprise you, that much you can definitely expect. You shut your computer, ready for your lunch break, when someone calls your name from the lower floor. That much you’ve come to expect, but while you’re gathering your belongings, someone else calls out something else.

“Hey, hurry up! Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting!”

To say you stumbled would be nice. You somehow manage to trip over the arm of the chair, end up with all your papers fluttering to the ground, but you ignore the mess and file it away for later, trying to tame your hair (an impossible feat in three seconds) as you storm down the stairs.

Your heels click on the tiles as you make your descent as graceful as can be, minus that one part where you trip and lurch forward before gripping the hand railing for safety. You see him standing at the entrance, talking to the receptionist guy, a box nestled between his arms. 

“Doughnuts?” you ask, staring at the box enticingly, recognizing the bright pink and rainbow sprinkles from your childhood. 

“Got some free time,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before opening the box. It seems that you really have everyone’s attention now. “And coupons!”

You toss him a shit eating grin to show your returned affection before immediately curling your fingers around a glazed doughnut. And eventually, once the first person timidly approaches, quietly asking if they could maybe have one, Leon beams.

“I brought enough for everyone!” he proclaims, and he steps to the side to reveal three similar boxes, all presumably stocked with the same doughnuts.

“Looks like you’re an office favorite now, huh?” you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He shifts from your impact and returns the gesture, in the process of doing so smears chocolate frosting on the underside of his nose.

“I’ll always be your favorite officer though, right?” he jokes in response.

You don’t respond, you’re too busy staring at that one smear of cocoa against his skin, and suddenly you’re itching for a napkin, so you twist over your shoulder to grab one.

“Righ-” His echo is muffled by the napkin stuffed into his mouth as you gently dab at the area, squinting your eyes. 

“Yeah, of course, totally,” you mumble absentmindedly, satisfied with your efforts. You take the excuse a little further just to stare at his amused expression, the quirk of his brow, the tilt of his eyes softening.

Your colleagues will never let you hear the end of this.

Either way, since he’s on break and he’s on the manager’s good side, bribing her with a few Boston Cream doughnuts, she allows him to hop upstairs with you.

“So, if you’re a cop,” you ask while rubbing hand sanitizer into your palms. “Why’re you working at Panda Express?”

“They lowered the income rate for the citizens of Raccoon City, including the police force,” he grumbles, swinging his legs from where he’s perched on the side of your desk. “Which I think is totally stupid!”

“So you think you shouldn’t have applied at all?” you query further.

“Well, honestly? I’m glad I applied,” he admits, and at your questioning expression, continues, “I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Hooray, taxes,” you say numbly, flipping through the giant stack of papers left on your desk, all jumbled up from your earlier mishap.

“Hooray, taxes, indeed,” he agrees.

“I was being sarcastic.” Leon scoffs, twisting over his shoulder to lean down and meet your lips. When he pulls away, there’s an endearing yet mocking look in his eyes.

“I’m not that stupid.”

<><><><>

Nothing happens that day, you don’t see a black cat anywhere, you don’t walk under any ladders, and if you do walk on cracks, well, you do that every day, so your luck must always be this horrible, right?

You’ve somehow scored this moonlit masterpiece strolling beside you, a being born from the clouds, so maybe you’re not all that unlucky.

Usually, you get a warning when bad things happen. But all you can feel is the jittery, warm feeling that you get when you’re brushing hands with Leon, trying to bring him closer to you. You think he notices, and doesn’t say anything.

You invite yourself into his car, but the first of many problems to come arrives in the form of water that splashes on Leon’s face, just above his eyebrow, and he quickly slides into his seat.

You absently brush the area, admiring his hair, his boyish qualities, and suddenly wonder if he’s always looked this young. Far too innocent for the world.

“It’s nice in here,” you offer.

He sinks back into the seat with a gentle, relaxed smile. "Well, either way, get comfortable. Looks like we’re expecting rain.”

You nod, legs unsteady, and find yourself nestled in leather beside his cologne-scented form. The engine hums to life, and he shifts gears, pulling onto the road as traffic flees.

He glances over, moonlight caressing sculpted cheeks. "What’s wrong?"

“Do you have any water?” He gestures to the water bottle in the cupholder on his left side, on the driver’s door. Your knees knock against each other as you reach over to grasp it, ducking under his outstretched arms, averting your eyes to your right rather than the other direction.

“Can I…?” You gesture to the bottle. “Or should I just like, you know, waterfall, or whatever-”

“We’ve literally exchanged saliva,” he states bluntly. “I don’t think I have a problem with you drinking from my water bottle.”

“Ugh, you weirdo.” But you’re the one drinking like a starved woman, which you suppose that you are, but that of which you’re really dragging your gaze over isn’t the water.

And you suppose, logically, Leon’s 70% water.

Water that evaporates under the heat of your eyes, drifting up to the previously cloudless sky, forming puffs of sorrow that cry back down to you, tears slamming against the windshield. You ponder how he can even see the road through the downpour.

Eventually, after grumbling under his breath, Leon pulls over, gazing into your upturned face with a question in his eyes, older than his years.

“Would you, uhm, mind if we just went to my place? It’s closer anyways, and I don’t want to risk driving any further than I have to in these conditions…”

You smile, and he can see your answer woven in your eyes.

<><><><>

Leon forgot to mention his (adoptive) parents live right next door. So of course, when they’re just out and about casually watching him through the door camera, they might just happen to say a dashing young lady walk out of his car.

And said young lady is unfamiliar to these judging, supreme figures that must decide Leon’s fate for him, because he’s just a boy. Their precious little baby.

So that’s what you assumed happened when Leon’s parents clambered out of their door, calling for you to wait, his mother pulling her cardigan around herself tighter against the chill.

And now here you are, facing two people that, no offense, look nothing like the man seated next to you, fingers entwined, foot tapping out a nervous beat on the wooden floor.

“So, darling, how’s work going?” Another placeholder question for what she really wants to know: how much do you make in a year? Do you have a degree? Did you even finish high school?

You respond with everything they must want to hear, like those questions on the backs of those 2000’s magazines with the answer that’s always right, the one that has the perfect amount of sense in it, the Goldilocks rule.

Goldilocks must have been gobbled up by the bears this night, because every answer seems to deepen the furrow forming between their brows, as if they’re in sync, and you wonder how you can manage to screw up something that should be simple.

Meeting the parents, check. What’s next, falling into the cake at the wedding? You must be planning too far ahead judging by their unimpressed looks.

“Mom,” Leon groans. “Cut it out!”

“I’m just getting to know her, sweetie,” she replies sweetly, voice dripping like molasses, and you can tell there’s a lot more she’s keeping behind her tongue. "Well, dear, do you have any hobbies or interests you're passionate about?"

"Oh, I just love cooking!" you exclaim, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up your face. Maybe you’ve finally found something to impress them with.

Leon's father leans in, his interest piqued. "What kind of dishes do you enjoy cooking?" he asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I love trying out new recipes from different cuisines," you reply, your excitement palpable. "Right now I’m learning how to cook Thai cuisine!"

Leon's mother nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Cooking is such a beautiful art form," she muses, her face softening. "It's wonderful to see someone so passionate about creating delicious meals. Someone who can share that love with our son."

You wonder if any other girl had waltzed along, marveled at cooking with them, would they have dropped their judging character immediately, just as they had with you?

You suppose it’s a mystery you don’t need to solve.

Besides, you don’t have to worry about facades with Leon.

Of course not.

But you do wonder why he hasn’t touched any of the food.

<><><><>

You sit back, sly fingers curved around the tender flesh of his waist, pressing your head further into the crook of his arm. You watch his chest rise and fall like the arrival and departure of the sun, bringing you warmth under the blanket that restricts your movements, tucked in around you like a burrito.

He must be hot, you realize, he’s sweltering under the blanket, but when you offer to turn on the overhead fan, he shivers like he’s cold at the same time and shakes his head.

In moments of silence, you catch glimpses of a far off-look in his eyes, a horror movie long forgotten, as if his thoughts have wandered to a place you can’t reach. There’s shadows of things he doesn’t say, things you know he wants to say.

“Hey, are you good?” You shift your weight to look up at him, where you might’ve found yourself admiring the curve of his chin, or his dappled skin, but now you only feel concern.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, mouth stretching in a yawn. “My new case is taking a bit longer than I’d hoped.”

“Mhm?” you press gently, wanting to get more clarity on the situation without seeming nosy. His response is delayed, a different, pitiful expression grappling to take hold.

“Oh… the, uhm, pharmaceutical company? Something that has to do with… was it rain?” Leon shakes his head, clicking his tongue in the back of his throat. “You know what? Forget it. Tonight’s our night.”

He says ‘our’, but he pays you little to no attention for the next three hours. 

Your first thought is that you're boring him. Have you already become so insufferable that he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore? You had expected it, of course, you’re not a very animated person, but he loved you, didn't he?

Leon’s gone quiet, silent, like he’s back in that box in his mind you can never seem to pierce. The light that used to dance in his eyes now flickers dimly, like a fading ember struggling to hold onto its warmth.

He carries himself with the same grace and poise, like a practiced act to a play you weren’t a part of, and you can’t push it away anymore. But of course, as all things in your life seem to follow, when you finally find yourself gaining the courage to confront him, he's gone.

<><><><>

Missing. And no one knows where he is. And some part of you blames yourself, you obviously must've scared him away.

“You know what’s wrong!” You bite your tongue to keep you from raising your volume, not so much fearing the fish beneath you but the woman leaning against the shipping containers, scrutinizing slender nails with feigned boredom.

If Leon trusts her, she should hear your first plea. She knows him better than you do, much to your dismay, but it could work out in your favor currently.

Her expression remains stony.

"Please," you beg, and a sliver of emotion slips through that mask- confusion? "Help me save Leon. I know you care for him, even if you can't show it."

Her crimson lips quirk. "I have… undisclosed reasons for ensuring his well-being. But my work takes precedence, and I can’t disclose anything to you." 

You glare through lingering tears. "No deals, no games. You tell me where he's investigating right now." 

A long pause, then she sighs. "Very well. It seems you really won't leave me alone, hm?" She grins coldly. "Shall we play the heroes, just this once?"

Playing the heroes is harder than it turns out to be, it seems. 

"Evening, boys. My associate and I have a… delivery." The guards blink, stupefied, then waves you through with dopey grins, mostly directed at her. Ada smirks. "Pathetic."

A floorplan materializes in her hand, every room and hallway illuminated with ghastly blue precision. "Samples are held in labs B5 through 7. Avoid guards, cameras. And try not to set anything off - we're on a tight schedule."

You dart through shadows, cautiously approaching the correct hall. Surprisingly, nothing contradicts your journey, as if the whole building’s been abandoned. Guess it’s your lucky day. 

You're wondering just how lucky you really are when you turn to usher Ada ahead, only to freeze as you turn the corner, and there, just a few feet away, he sits.

So calmly, so pristine, as if life was just as simple as sitting on the floor, in the middle of a hallway, in a building where you don't belong, after ghosting everyone who knows you for two days.

And yet there's something different. Haggard eyes stare from a chalk-white face, lips twisted in a feral snarl. That face, once so stunning you had to think about his existence, now only conveys hatred.

"L-Leon?" you breathe. But those eyes betray no recognition, only hunger. As your stare, transfixed by fright and grief, a click sounds behind you.

"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here." Ada glares down the barrel she points to Leon's head, somehow still perfectly composed. You want to rip off her head. "Now, are we all going to play nice?"

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Leon's eyes flicker, awareness filtering into his eyes by slow degrees, and he stands up at half that speed, as if time is against him.

But then he jolts back, as if something's clicked, and suddenly he's back with you, standing in front of you, gasping for breath and clutching you tightly.

You wait for a moment, not quite sure if you're imagining things or not, before a dry, unamused chuckle rips from your throat and slowly morphs into the laugh you're used to sharing with him.

Leon leans closer to you, resting your forehead against his, cupping your face as he stares down at you, recognition so evident in those open eyes. “How'd you find me?”

“Well, it's not like the department was going to notice,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. Ada scoffs in reply, but her head tilts to the side.

“And your endearing girlfriend here wouldn't let me get away that easily.”

You suppose her tone is light enough that you can let it pass as a joke, and at the moment you're so overwhelmed with relief that you aren't too worried about her idea of you either way.

“Seeing you… gosh,” he groans, pressing a palm to his temple, hissing. “I can barely think straight!”

“I know, baby, I know,” you coo comfortingly, keeping your voice soft so as to not alert any guards that might've pulled up around the area.

“No, I can't…” His eyes go fazed again, blank, emotionless, and once again he's slipped through your grasp like grains of sand on a beach, only there is nothing tranquil about this situation.

“Leon, listen to me. You’re going to be just fine,” you affirm, nodding your head, hoping he'll copy your motion.

He doesn't. "I...I can feel it," he gasps. Beads of sweat run tracks through the grim on his face. "It's… stronger than me..."

You grip his hand tight, ignoring the growing feverheat. "No, Leon, you can beat this. You always do." But even you can hear the desperation in your voice.

And you wait for Ada to chime in with some classic, yet somehow sassy third-wheel dialogue, but it never comes. In fact, she's vanished into the shadows, presumably already so far away you can't hear the click of her heels on the sterile floors.

Leon groans, and your attention snaps back to him, face contorting. "Go," he grits out. "Drive… and don't look back."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you proclaim, and his eyes soften in confusion as you sling his arms around your shoulder.

You're sure half the population must've heard your racket at this point, but it seems something else has gotten the security's attention.

As long as it's not you, you don't mind. Leon’s lower lip wavers, unshed tears sparkling in his eyes, and you want to peck everything that hurts until he's okay. But you can't be sure of anything until you're both safe.

The first responders always seem to pick up the prank calls from the teenagers that don't need their help, but it seems like hours go by the more Leon's blood coats your fingers, and inevitably, your phone screen.

He's stopped responding to your questions, and you fight to keep just a fragment of his conscience there with you, but his eyes, the vivid blue gone dull, meet yours and offer no further response.

When the ambulance finally arrives, they leave you outside the gates, denying you entry, with those ruby dusted hands and diamond streaked face.

You suppose you've always wanted to be the jewel in the night that races to the hospital to see their lover. And now that just seems silly.

<><><><>

Three weeks.

That's all the time he'll have with you. And even then, he's not truly there. He struggles to formulate his own thoughts, and now, whenever you see him, all you can think of is who he used to be.

As for Ada, you haven't seen her since. She hasn't snitched on you, so you suppose that it wouldn't hurt anyone to keep the events of that day between the three of you.

Two of you, now.

He isn't a person anymore. He isn't your Leon. But that's hard to remember when you've never been good at seeing what's beneath the surface, the dense, complex layers that create a person.

You see his soft, peaceful face that is like second nature to you, and you wonder if he'll respond to you today, even after hours of repeating the same truth that you know somewhere, deep down, you’ll never believe. The doctor's left the room already, decreeing two hours of treatment should do something for him, save him, much like removing a tumor.

“I went to our place, picked up some lunch for us,” you murmur, knowing he can't hear you. “You weren’t standing at the counter like always, and I almost lost it. Again.”

You can imagine him, if he was really here, chuckling, shaking his head at your questionable behavior. Not just a shell, a half of a person, but a whole that somehow also completed you.

See, this is why you failed math. Are you half a person without him, or whole?

“I got us a fortune cookie!” you say, trying to keep your voice upbeat, as if your positive energy could transfer to him, in a magical, mystical manner, and he'd come back to you.

“Let's read it, yeah?” No point in waiting for a response when you know it'll never come.

Thin, pale letters. How odd, they resemble Leon's strangely flushed face.

“Today, your voice will bring a smile.” You suppress one of those and instead roll your eyes. “Your friends can’t think of new content, can they?”

You stuff the paper into your handbag, slung over the plastic chair near his bed. You've blocked out the rest of the world, now is time for just you two, however far away he may seem. Which is why you scowl up at the doctor, slightly confused at her sympathetic look, and then your ears ring and you shift back to reality. The reality of the situation.

The reality of the flatline.

The reality that, no matter how much you thrash in the security guard's arms, Leon's not coming back. He’s gone.

In a way, he's been gone for longer than you've chosen to accept. Maybe it would've been easier to let him go sooner. You're marched straight out of the hospital, a beeline for the exit, and you have little time to shout your goodbyes.

But you've grown used to taking advice from cookies. After all, they've gotten you to this point. The sarcasm you had so long ago seems silly to you, now, the fact that a biscuit could decide your fate.

To Leon?

Your voice keeps him smiling all the way up to the clouds.

FUCK I ALMOST FORGO5 😭

ALSO KITA UR A AESPA FAN 💍💍💍

AESPA SOLOS RELEASE TOMORROW !!!

who wants to be chained to me for eternity