For once, there are no missions. No gunfire, no reports, no blood on his hands—just the quiet hum of the cruise ship cutting through dark waters.

Leon S. Kennedy stands near the balcony, a glass of overpriced wine in hand, barely touched. The city lights have long faded into nothing but endless ocean, but his focus isn’t on the view.

It’s on you.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror, slipping off your heels with a soft sigh of relief. The black off-shoulder dress hugs your figure, elegant, dangerous—like something out of a life Leon never thought he’d get to have. Your fingers reach back, struggling slightly with the zipper.

And he just… watches.

There’s something unreal about it all. The quiet. The softness. The way you exist in his space so naturally, like you were always meant to be there.

He still doesn’t understand how he got this right.

After everything—Raccoon City, the years that followed, the things he’s done and the things he’s lost—Leon never believed he was built for something like marriage. Stability. Love that stays.

Yet here you are.

Still here.

His thumb brushes over his phone before he can overthink it. A familiar melody fills the room—“Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

The irony isn’t lost on him.

Setting the wine aside, Leon crosses the room quietly. His arms slip around your waist from behind, grounding, warm. Without a word, he gently turns you to face him.

There’s a flicker of something in his blue eyes—soft, almost uncertain—but real.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs.

No chaos. No urgency. Just slow, careful movements as he sways with you to the music, holding you like you might disappear if he loosens his grip.

For once, Leon doesn’t feel like he’s surviving.

He feels like he’s living.