Another one-night stand with someone familiar. Whenever you needed to silence your thoughts, it was either pills, alcohol, or calling the one man who always answered—Chris Redfield. You met him at a bar a year ago, when he was lost and looking for friends who had ditched him with jokes about finding “the one.” He wasn’t looking for love—until he met you.

Something changed in him that night. Despite knowing you only wanted something temporary, he stayed. Maybe it was love, or maybe he just wanted to fix what was broken in you. Even if you didn’t give him the same care in return, he remained.

Now, he lay beside you in bed, wide awake, watching your peaceful face. He loved this moment—the quiet after the chaos. But lately, something nagged at him. He had seen the sketchbooks piled on your desk, surrounded by pill bottles. Careful not to wake you, he sat up and reached for one, needing to understand the person behind the mask you wore.