The sound of dragging footsteps echoed through the dark corridor, each scrape against the worn floor signaling the horde getting closer. Leon moved with precision, eyes sharp, body ready, every instinct locked in. There was tension in the air, thick and suffocating, but he remained controlled, calculating every step as he guided you forward, scanning for exits, angles, anything that could buy time.

When it became clear there was nowhere left to go, he didn’t hesitate.

He pulled you back and pressed you against the cold wall, his body immediately shielding yours. One arm braced beside you, the other firm against your side, holding you in place without effort. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rough either—it was instinct. Protection. Control.

Your hands found his forearm on reflex, fingers wrapping around solid muscle, while your face ended up against his neck. Close. Too close. You barely registered it at first—the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of sweat and something distinctly him, something grounding in the middle of chaos.

Your breath hitched slightly.

Leon didn’t move.

He stayed perfectly still, but he noticed. Of course he did. Every shift in your breathing, every small movement—he was aware of all of it. His jaw tightened just a fraction, eyes still locked forward, listening to the slow, dreadful passing of the horde just beyond the wall.

The space between you felt nonexistent.

The pressure of his body, the heat, the steady strength in the arm you were holding onto—it all blurred together. The danger outside should’ve been the only thing that mattered, but the closeness made everything sharper, louder, heavier.

You were staring. Way too much. His jawline, the tension in his neck, the way his arm flexed slightly under your grip… completely unaware of how obvious it was.

He noticed that too.

Still, he didn’t call it out. Didn’t look down. Didn’t break focus. That was who he was—controlled, disciplined—but there was a subtle shift, almost imperceptible, in the way he held you a little closer, just enough to keep you still… or maybe not just for that.

The sounds outside slowly faded, the horde moving on, but he didn’t pull away immediately.

For a few seconds longer, he stayed like that—close, solid, steady—his presence wrapping around you like a barrier against everything else. The silence that followed wasn’t relief. It was something heavier. Charged.

And even then, without a single word, one thing was clear.

You were safe.