Chapter Text
You weren't too elated from the permeating stench of the sewers down below, yet nothing could've compared to the stench of rotting flesh and burning flames. If you had to choose between the two, you'd jokingly be content with a small studio apartment nestled underground.
Still, you didn't have much of a choice with where you'd end up.
Narrow, concrete side paths stuck close to the walls, the pools of ice cold, tinted sewer water bathing the area in pleasant ripples. Unfortunately, the ladder dropped you right into knee deep waters, seeping straight into your boots, cringing chills shooting up and down your spine. Sewer water dripped from leaky pipes overhead, spewing down on your head and shoulders like rain off a slanted tarp, seeping into the back of your shirt. The cool atmosphere didn't help, no hint of possible warmth anywhere in sight.
Feeling your hands on the verge of trembling, you make quick work of helping Sherry out of the waters, which had reached up to her waist from where she stood. Gingerly, you say you're going to help her as you hoist her up onto the sidewalk ledge, getting a small thank you before you pull yourself up right after.
"It's dark in here," Sherry spoke up, watching your hand grab for the flashlight, the poor girl raising a hand over her head so no water could get onto her face.
"Yeah, could be worse. Do you wanna hold the flashlight so you can see better?" She nodded at your offer, taking it with her two hands. "Just point it ahead, It'll help us see where we're going."
It was quiet down here, all sounds that carried along were mostly water droplets from pipes on the ceiling or the water puddles around your feet, minor splashes with every slow, cautious step you and Sherry took. You had to be slow and cautious. If you ran, It could've alerted nearby zombies or whatever the hell was crawling around down here, causing an unsuspecting horde to chase after you. Then again, you weren't sure if there was anything down here that could be dangerous. It would be ironic if this was the place that was considered the safest in the city.
The sewers soon turned into an empty maze, every dark corner you turn just led to another, then more after that and so on.
Should you really be going this far? What if Leon and Claire thought you died? Or if you got the child in danger? Why did you so willingly agree to come down here?
What if Ada's shoddy plan on leaving a clue for the others to follow was a morbid farce? She wouldn't have done that to you, or to this young girl, would she?
"Look, stairs!" Sherry pointed the flashlight ahead at a dry stairwell leading to a fence door, displaying a well lit up hallway.
"Perfect, let's go!" You and her ran up the stairs towards the gate, feeling all sorts of relief once discovered it was unlocked.
On the other side of the gate were some strange, steel doors bolted tightly shut, similar to a vault. In some cryptic fashion, it reminded you of cells used for unstable prisoners or unstable, rabid animal experiments. The thought alone reinvited some unsettling memories of white, pristine walls, the stench of disinfectant permeating the air.
The silence was deafening as you approach, shoulders trembling from unease and the cold. Past these vault doors was a new door made of heavy metal with a darkened glass panel, similar to a doctor's office. Light shined from behind the glass, a glimmer of hope to a potential safe zone of sorts. Your optimism was dwindling at best.
The unlocked door opened smoothly without the slightest of creaks, greeting you to a large room full of strange vats, pipes connecting them together with reinforced bolts, decorating the walls around them. A long, grated bridge connected the massive gap in between rooms, suspending over a large drop off to who knows where. The faint rustle of water echoed the area, a welcome change rather than rabid dogs or festering corpses. Or mutated, elongated beasts, or strange, blood-sucking leeches.
"This looks safe enough, guess we'll wait here." You decide with a slow sigh, watching Sherry tentatively approach the bridge, peering the flashlight down at the cavern below, seeing nothing reflect the light down in the mysterious abyss before looking away, taking a few steps back.
Taking a few, cautious steps onto the grate bridge, your attention piqued interest at the large, complex door straight across. Similar to the vault doors outside, sealed shut with reinforced steel pipes, hiding whatever equipment on the other side. As long as it stayed sealed, you assumed you didn't have much to worry about.
Skin still tingling from your wet pants and waterlogged boots, you glance to Sherry, eyeing her soaked skirt and shivering shoulders. You wished you had a coat to give her, pitying her situation more than before.
"Will Leon and Claire find us in here?" Her words broke the silence, her cautious eyes sparkling with her tense expression. To be completely honest, you felt bad lying to her at a time like this. It was a stretch if anyone knew you both were down here at all.
"Don't worry," you proceed, trailing back towards her. "They'll find us. They probably run into your parents on the way and meet us here."
The possibility seemed to ease her mind enough, leaving her feeling a bit more hopeful at the possibility.
"Sherry, is your... parents' lab really down here?" You had to know, the question prodding your brain ever since the second you first stepped into the damn elevator. Eventually, she nods her head yes, combatting her short-lived denial earlier. You know very well of secret labs in the most inconspicuous places, you've been to many, lived in very few. Yet you've never, ever heard of one here in Racoon City.
"I didn't mean to lie," she proceeds. "I just got scared. I didn't want you mad at me."
Again, sympathy struck like a bolt to the chest. Shaking your head, you sigh through your nose and smile a little. "Everyone is mad at everything right now, but I promise I'm not mad at you."
She seemed a bit relieved to hear, assuming you were the angriest at her out of the group the minute you met.
"Was that lady your friend?" Sherry then questioned, changing the subject. "The lady in red?"
You contemplated that thought, recalling the last time you encountered her, being a little younger and naiver. She was the exactly as you recalled; The cocky attitude, the double cross, her quick and mysterious escape before you could even acknowledge she was gone.
Was she your friend? Your encounter was quick and easy, given how you assumed she wasn't interested in your presence until you caught her. She definitely didn't look like she had bad intentions, but she was good at that.
"It's.. kinda complicated," you say as you maneuver yourself to your knees, finding a comfortable spot to sit to rest your aching feet. "If you ever find coming across someone who acts the way she does, you wouldn't really know either."
Sherry face twists with a puzzled look, not really understanding your answer. Hell, you didn't know why exactly you said that towards a child who didn't understand shallow encounters with grownups.
"Do... you have friends?" You ask, your turn in changing the subject. Sherry shook her head no, her gaze shifting downwards, peering down at the darkness through the grated bridge.
"Not really," she replies, proceeding to sit criss cross beside you. "The others at school don't talk to me, I try to make friends, but they're not nice."
Oh.
By now, there must've been a word greater than sympathy. Was this empathy? A burning ache that melts into warm concern, bubbling in the back of your throat until you spewed honeyed promises to ensure comfort and stability to this little child? Last you could recall from public school, no one really liked sitting next to a kid who constantly reeked of cigarettes. Maybe you had a little more in common with this kid than you expected.
"I get it. Some kids can be mean."
She grinned a little, her expression further softening up, appearing more comfortable than fearful less than an hour ago. "Are we friends?"
Your eyes widened, a slight huff leaving your nose. "Do you... wanna be friends?"
Smiling at your offer, she nods excitedly. Ironic, given how just about a short while ago, you denied wanting to follow after a stranger downstairs into an assumed basement, now sewers. Sherry raised up her free hand, balled up into a little fist with her pinky outstretched. "Pinky promise?"
Both brows rose, perplexed at her gesture. Looking at her face before back to her hand, you proceed to copy and repeat her gesture, watching her finger immediately latch onto yours, enforcing a handshake. You laugh a little, both confused and amused at the scene. Thinking it off as some silly child's play, you chalk it up to that and release your finger, ensuing an invisible pact with the girl.
A loud, booming thud strikes against steel, sending a shocking echo throughout the room. Both of you jumped, heads turning towards nowhere other than the vault door on the other side of the bridge. Instantly getting to your feet, the boom struck again and again, like fists bashing on the other side. With your assumption being that strange, gray monster somehow finding you, you get Sherry on her feet and behind you, your hands tightly gripping your gun.
"Sherry," you call to her, a calm voice in the midst of a fourth chaotic punch, then a fifth before it stopped. A short silence ensued, but you believed the worst was coming fast.
"Run when I say go." You say, glancing over from the corner of your eye. Immediately, her trembling head shakes no, not wanting to leave your side.
A piercing screech irritates your ears, the clanging of steel bolts falling out from its hinges clank to the concrete. Another boom ensues before three, massive spikes burst through the thinner metal panels, striking alarm in your chest. The monster didn't have claws this big.
As quickly as they arrived, they retract in an instant, the door giving fully away with a loud whine to reveal a shadowy, tall creature standing on the other side. Thick, heavy heaves left its engorged chest, nearly human mixed with lower octaves of something foreign, something unknown to you.
Each stagger from the overtly tall being invited him into the sewer room's factory lighting, greeting your vision with a panicked, terrifying view and daunting realization.
It was a man; a large, mutated man standing higher than any human being possible. Weakened, staggered legs carried a large, muscle strained torso, awkwardly proportioned into a grotesque, bulbous figure. Wonky, uneven and strong. Tattered clothes did little to hide his overly stretched skin, splitting to reveal twitching red muscles straining against themselves, pulsing and shivering with power.
Bits of shagged blonde hair clung to the man's blunt skull, his own face stretched thin like melting plaster, features barely recognizable from this horrid change, like pieces of a jagged puzzle. His right arm alone was the main attraction; overly large muscles expanded like grand balloons, encasing a bulbous, bloodshot yellowed eye from between his sinewy upper bicep. What was once a human hand was now a massive claw; each of his flanges replaced with indescribably large, greenish talons, strong enough to cut through a steel door, let alone the damage it would cause to a human body.
Stunned was an enormous understatement; you were terrified for both Sherry's safety and your own.
The beast huffed from hidden lungs, emitted from its slack jawed face. Shortly after, he bellowed out a strained, angered roar, his crooked legs taking step after step towards the bridge that separated you from him. Steel support beams cried in loud anguish from the sudden, uneven weight distribution, shaking the bridge with each step, trembling the rails. Thinking fast, you fired at the only thing you could fully see that could possibly be a weak spot; the eye.
The monster bellowed louder than a lion from the three bullets that pierced through the glistening pupil, staggering as the eye gushed thick, bloody tears. The muscular tissue of his bicep proceeded to close around it like an eyelid, pulling together like a fierce pucker, shielding it from any further damage.
Fuck. His ability to protect himself weakened your resolve once he gathered himself, refocusing his attention on his approach, leaving you no other choice to aim at his head. However, the closer he came, the more your concern grew for the only person that mattered in this fight, the one who cowered behind you in absolute terror.
You didn't tell Sherry to leave, forgetting the word itself as you turned around, proceeding to shove the girl back as hard as you could, forcing her off the bridge to land on secure cement. Her scream fell on deaf ears as the bridge began wildly trembling with the sudden charge, rattling violently underneath your boots. After seeing Sherry hit solid ground hard, your startle grew into utter awe at the sight of two familiar faces abruptly entering the room, Leon and Claire sharing a barrage of debilitating horror at the scene they ran into after following the sound of your gunfire.
Ada's plan had worked.
"Look out!!" Their screams registered but came too late. You assumed the worst, turning around in a tense, shrill suspense and abrupt acceptance at the raised claw that came swatting down in your direction.
Brute pain erupts throughout your torso, uppercutting you with a brute force that stole the air out of your lungs. In the next second, you were airborne, flying off the bridge towards the farthest right wall, traveling with screams of your name in an alarming wail. The sharp, piercing impact was immediate; your shoulder striking first, barely cushioning your skull from bashing crudely against steel pipes, your vision vanishing to black.
Your body went limp like a rag doll, your body slumping forward before it dropped, vanishing into the abyss far down below. Out of those who screamed, Leon's throat ran dry from the sight, Claire's lungs rubbed raw from the panic. The petrifying ache that formed in his chest aggravating combined with his inability to save you was debilitating, bathing him in a helpless dread that piled higher and higher above his shoulders.
All eyes trailed back towards the mutated culprit, his eye reopened with a flared pupil, pulsing and focusing on each face in the room. Then, it stilled, iris flaring bigger as it focused on the child still sobbing on the ground. Claire's instincts were to shoot at the head, machine gun bullets thudding against reinforced, thickened skull. The beast didn't stagger, emitting a grunt as if more of a nuisance than an inconvenience, doing little to nothing. "What the hell? It's not working! It worked with everything else!"
Every enemy they've encountered so far always had a weak spot, a candy center that was most vulnerable. Leon's next big guess was the bloodshot, yellowed eye with throbbing veins encasing the surface.
Claire changed her direction without being asked, both pairs of bullets piercing straight through the eye, spewing blood and a thick, viscous slime that dribbled to the metallic grate bridge.
The beast roared louder, red flesh further sealing the eye in an attempt to block the bullets, but shotgun shells persisted perfectly. Mag after mag emptied in effort to puncture through weak skin and thick sinew, the beast staggering backwards with its now raised, widened hand shielding himself like a broad fan, protecting himself with reinforced bone.
Due to the weight shift from the mutated creature's body momentarily leaning against the thin, unsupportive railings, pipes creaked, and bolts snapped, concaving easily as he toppled over. His weaker hand made a failed attempt to grasp for structure, his body inevitably dropping far down below with a massive roar, diminishing in seconds into the darkness.
Leon ran towards the edge of the bridge just in time to watch him disappear, Claire joining by his side as the bellows diminished into silence. There was no sound of impact, no loud crash or dull thud.
"Is it dead...?" Sherry's whimper came from the sidelines, visibly more shaken and disturbed. The silence was deafening, a wave of relief accompanied by a blanket of remorse at the loss of their new partner. The loss of Sherry's new friend.
"It damn well better be." Leon mutters, stepping back from the opened edge, sheathing his gun. His tone of voice failed to conceal the conflict of losing yet another person towards something he couldn't control or get to in time.
You were a survivor, terrified and afraid from what you were facing, but strong enough in your final moments to throw yourself in harm's way to protect Sherry. That took incredible guts, it immediately earned his respect.
A loud croak bounced off the walls, following a dangerous rattling underneath Leon's feet. Claire panicked, stepping back before grasping the closest handrails, maintaining her balance. The bridge foundation behind Leon was the first to go; bolts and screws bursting from their concrete support, the bridge collapsing first in the opposite end.
The foundation that Leon stood on fell from under him, sending him downwards with little to no time to grab for any sort of support. He shouted out in alarm, quickly losing sight of Claire's flailing legs as she clung to the rails of the bridge edge that remained, screaming his name.
Darkness clouded his vision, his body tensing from what impact he might face down below. Bracing himself, his flailing hands grasp hold of his own head, expecting a heavy, painful fall or instant, painless death.
A fierce splash of water invaded his uniform, surrounding his body with freezing cold water. His back thuds against a sharp, textured surface, his back soaking the shock of impact he spared the back of his skull from. His body wasn't sure which to register first, crisp, dirty water sending his nerves haywire, hands flailing outwards in an attempt to swim. His boot braced against that same, textured surface prior, a piece of the fallen bridge. Pressing against it, he pushed himself upwards, exposing his head towards crisp, yet stale, humid air with a loud gasp, blinking water from his vision.
Swallowing each heavy breath of air, Leon takes in his surroundings, making out a dark hallway with shallow, faint industrial lights plastered scarcely along the walls, illuminating a sewer that appeared ancient. Faint pipes and other flooring from the bridge laid scattered about, the waters rippling past or through all the same.
In a newfound panic, his head turns in search of the beast. There was no blood or large, lingering carcass strewed about, nor any whereabouts to where it could've possibly gone, it just simply disappeared. Maybe it was still alive, taking to the shadows or wandering off in search of his next victims.
Maneuvering himself towards the nearest concrete edge, he hauls himself over with whatever strength he had, his waterlogged uniform encouraging his heavy body to plaster itself against the surface, his eyes closed in heavy exhaustion. In the silence, he processed just how the hell he was going to return to Claire and Sherry, now having to figure out an escape route from the sewers and out of the city.
Zombies and mutants be damned, he should've taken your advice and left hours ago.
Turning himself over, he pulls himself to his knees, despite the deep aches in his muscles. A heavy hand reaches to his holsters, finding only one of two guns he had carried. One of them was now long lost in the waters, his luck striking thinner by the minute.
A daunting thought returned in his mind, morbid realization making his breath hitch. You fell down here first, which meant your body could've been right nearby. Assuming the worst, he fights his hesitation and leans over, staring down over into the waters in search of you. He squints, trying to use the sewer lights as best as he could to search.
There you were, just a few short feet away from where he'd fallen, your face slightly submerged under water, your skin slightly paled from the drastic drop in temperature. The crude vision of present-day Ophelia, your eyes submerged to your lashes, water lapping into your nose. No blood seeped out from under you, but that didn't mean there wasn't drastic injuries. It made his heart stop and fall heavy into his stomach.
"No.." Leon exhales, instantly swinging his body over, throwing himself back into the waters. His boots touched the bottom ground just enough for him to make a better effort in catching up to you in seconds. His arms enveloped your torso, pulling your head further out of water, clutching you close to haul you to higher ground. Leon struggled, the consistently splashing water making it harder to pull you upwards without awkwardly dropping you, but he managed. Water pooled off the edge of the sidewalk after Leon returned himself up to your side, settling you flat on your back.
"Come on, come on," he mutters repeatedly, scraping wet hair off your forehead. He looks you over, possibly for any sight of blood or other possible injury he couldn't make out. Severe head trauma, broken collar bone, internal bleeding, spinal fracture resulting in paralysis. After combing the back of your skull for a possible head injury, His fingers land against your neck, shifting towards the other side repeatedly in search of a heartbeat.
"Shit, come on," he huffs out in a stifled panic, shifting himself before lowering his head down, pressing his head directly against your chest. The relief that soared through his body once he could make out your weak heartbeat, nearly confusing it with his own rising panic.
Readjusting himself, he locks his fists together over your chest and proceeds to perform CPR. Your head nearly bobbed with each compression, his gaze intense on your face for the entirety of the process, watching for a switch or a shift. For you to wake up and push him back cause he could be causing you more pain than good. Anything.
His hands tilted your head upwards after stopping, fingers brushing any lingering droplets from your mouth, hands incidentally cupping your cheeks before he takes a deep breath, pressing his mouth to yours.
Your paled lips were soft, plump and slightly cool, not warm like a faint little thought he had imagined. Your temperature worried him more as he tried to bring air into your lungs. The last thing he wanted on his mind was something precariously stupid. If that was truly the case, he had an excellent reason for it: To save your life.
At least he told himself that.
Your body didn't respond at first, Leon's frantic hands resuming compressions again. By now, he would wince at just how hard you would jolt from the pressure, apologizing in his head for the moment. You could blame him for the chest pains later, punch him for every cracked rib, he just wanted you to be alive. He needed you to be.
He pressed his lips to yours again, waiting for a twitch or a fist to the face, any movement at all. He believed he imagined it, the slightest tremble of your shoulder, only for your head to lift, your nose nearly bumping against his, your neck arching up in a jolt from a fierce burn in your lungs.
Leon pulled away just in time as you choked yourself awake, gargling on putrid water that threatened to escape. Your head turned, vomiting out sewer water followed by a short cascade of bile tasting cackles and heaves. He eased back, every breath he took being that of warm salvation at your living, breathing self, mixed with utter consolation. His hand remained stuck to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze after every cough had run dry, listening to your wheezing after breathing full breaths of air.
You were at a loss; shivering from aches and pains all over, arms weak and trembling by your sides. For a moment, you couldn't move them, just as you couldn't feel your legs, even when they trembled from being soaked to the bone.
Leon's voice grabbed your attention, his arm gently scooping your upper torso from the cold ground, raising you up with gentle care. Your scathed throat burned with every sip of air, your eyes struggling to adjust your whereabouts. Eventually, Leon flooded your vision entirely, even when you didn't register what he was saying. Resting you up on his propped-up knee, he questions you on yourself. Your body, what hurt or felt broken, if you could feel your arms and legs. You simply stared ahead at him, feeling lost completely in the moment.
You blinked again, your chest heaving harder as you recollected the series of events that brought you here.
"Sherry..."
Your croak nearly startled you as it did him, your voice almost foreign. Panic immediately filled you, eyes growing wide and wild as your head turned, forgetting or not understanding where you were now.
"Where... where is she? I need to... help her-"
"Hey, hey hey, wait," Leon urged, your arms raising up against his chest, pressing against his uniform vest. Your legs, while slow, began swinging towards the edge of the sideline, rubber boot soles scraping against cement in your struggle against the man who tried stopping you.
"Wait, wait!" He'd persist, but you couldn't listen.
Sitting up more fully on your own, your body stiffened before the dread of retching silenced every other physical and mental need. Your stomach gurgled as a foul taste was reintroduced into your mouth, making it difficult to breathe before you threw up more water.
"Where is she??" You cry out after, grasping hold of your throat as you looked around, seeing the casualties of an event you remembered in flashes. The beast that erupted from a seemingly ordinary human man, your effort in saving Sherry before you believed you were dead.
"She's okay!" Leon's hands remained stagnant on your shoulders, his effort of preventing you from falling and submerging into the cold waters once more. You shook your head, now heaving in your frightened state as your hands plastered against wet cement, maneuvering yourself out of his grasp to make an effort onto your two feet.
"No, no. What happened??," you wail, assuming the worst in your struggle. "Where is she? I pushed her out of the way, I-I tried to save her—!"
"She's fine!" Leon states as he rose further up on his knees, shifting to directly remain in front of you, grabbing hold of your forearms before you could stand.
"Sherry's fine, you're right. You saved her, okay? You saved her." There Leon was, staring down at you worriedly with those mysterious, color changing eyes, shining like quicksilver from the water ripples that reflected on them.
"She's fine, Claire's fine, and we're fine. You saved Sherry, okay?"
You nod along slowly in return, your breathing growing slower and more calmed, your chest aching with a pain you couldn't describe. Your body felt weak, waterlogged and in all sorts of uncomfortable, clammy soreness. Your shoulder felt the worst of it, blooming brighter and brighter with a throb that promised a massive bruise in the future.
"Why am I... why are you down here?"
Leon huffed a bit through his nose, recalling from what he now felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner. "The bridge collapsed after that thing fell down here."
"The what??" Your voice rose, which Leon was quick to soothe.
"He was down here, but I don't see him," he reassures, glancing around over his own shoulder. "At least, I don't think. Was my fault really, stood too close like a dumbass."
You weren't sure whether to laugh or what, still stunned to picture that image in your head. Your head slightly droops, taking more steady breaths through your nose.
"Sounds like a dumbass thing to do," you mumble, your eyes shutting from exhaustion. Leon huffs again, a short smile forming on his lips. Releasing your arms, his hands rest on your shoulders, gently supporting you upright. "Hey, talk to me. Are you okay?"
"Mhm," you would say after a couple seconds of silence, your face slowly meeting the warmth of his shoulder. Feeling as weak as Leon assumed, he brought your shivering body closer, letting you settle against him for warmth and comfort.
Water fills the void with its endless tune, from the river beside you both to the dribbles leaking from the cracks in the walls. You were grateful for the warmth, even if it did little to soothe your raging thoughts. How the hell did you survive this? How did Leon survive this drop? It was nothing short of a miracle.
"I thought I died," you whispered, remembering nothing of the fall. It was instant, like falling asleep while reading a boring book, not remembering which word or sentence set you off into the land of limbo, lacking dreams.
Leon's head shifts, glancing down at your wet head, darkening the color of your hair.
"I wouldn't let that happen," he replied, his voice lowered to a breathless murmur.
His response nearly made your heart ache; a fluttery drum that both felt achy and delightful.
Despite each of your wet clothes, his presence was warm, comforting and inviting. You could've sworn you could feel his heartbeat, a battering war drum pulsing from beside his neck, evading the shell of your flushed ear. Your trembling hands slowly ball together in between your bodies, settling in between you both for further warmth he provided. It took you a short second to register that his arms had gently settled upwards over your upper back, avoiding anywhere lower for modesty's sake.
Your head shifted, sparking Leon's attention as he caught a glimpse of your face in the dim, industrial light. The blood in your cheeks bloomed after fully regaining oxygen, the angle hiding the shade of your lips from his view. Would they be warmer if he felt them again?
He said nothing, feeling his fingers slightly tremble in nervousness from his own thoughts.
You head leaned up a bit further, sparking a pang of panic in his head. Could you hear them? Did you have some secret power of knowing what was going on inside his consciousness?
He paused, now registering the entirety of your face as you stared directly at him. Eyes soft, tinted pink from your distress, the tip of your nose flush from the cold.
He quietly pleaded for you to speak, or act, anything.
"You saved me." Your voice held a whimper of hope, breaking the dissolution that buried you in your own soul. It was a daunting realization that someone had made an effort to pull you from underworld's waters, someone had taken the risk of treating you like someone that had to be saved, just on their own regard.
His lips parted, pupils flaring in the weight of your question, the proximity of your breathing body in his grasp a physical play on his good graces for you. The way you stated it nearly startled him, as if you were subtly questioning his reasoning behind it.
"Of course I did," he replies, leaning his head a little bit downward as he took a good look in your eyes, wondering why the hell you'd even wonder a logical reason.
The act of what he must've done played in your head, enveloping your cheeks in a bloom of heat. There was only one way to save a drowning person, and the awareness of what Leon had done left you both startled and embarrassed. And grateful.
Leon found his heart warming as he watched that puzzle piece click; the way you quickly evaded his gaze, looking too nervous for your own good. He knew it would bite him back, from a different perspective, he expected the punch to the face to be brief.
Instead, you clear your sore throat, nearly wrapped up in your flustered giddiness and chastising persistence on how to maintain mental order within your head to not physically overreact. In the end, you managed.
"Thank you, Leon," you say, slowly settling back out of his arms, blessing his brain with an honest sincerity in those tinted, mesmerizing eyes that broke something in him, spilling a fine dust that stuck to every valve and nerve in his body.
"You're welcome," he forced out, realizing his critical mistake on the spot.
It made sense now why he originally grieved; he was starting to really like you. Still does.