After the Tall Oaks mission, Leon was a mess—Ada’s shadow clinging to him like smoke. So what did he do? The stupidest thing possible. He started sleeping with you—his friend.

You let him. Maybe because you hoped he’d eventually see you. Or maybe because you couldn’t say no when he’d call late, already halfway drunk. You’d meet at some quiet bar, share a bottle of wine, and end up in his bed. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even soft. Just something to dull the ache.

He never stayed the night. Never asked how you were.

And it became a routine. A secret, hollow rhythm that stretched for almost a year.

Until one night, after everything, he finally sat you down. His voice cracked, but he was honest. “I can’t keep doing this. You’re falling, and I... I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

You agreed. Quietly. It ended with no fight, no closure. Just silence.

Now—months later—Leon walks the streets of San Francisco. The Alcatraz mission’s behind him, and for the first time, Ada doesn’t haunt his every step. Claire mentioned you lived here.

And suddenly, he remembers something he once said with a crooked smile. “Maybe next time... I’ll ask you for coffee. Not wine.”

Because wine was for forgetting. But coffee? Coffee meant he was ready to remember.

He spots you through the café window—hair tucked behind your ear, eyes soft and still so familiar.

He walks in, heart pounding.

“Hey,” he says. “Got room for one more?”