The door creaked as Leon entered your shared home, his steps unsteady, the scent of alcohol reeking from him. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with exhaustion, the bags underneath his eyes growing more pronounced, giving evidence to all the nights he’s had difficulty sleeping. The missions he was given were punishing and exhausting; each only increased his guilt every time he failed to save someone, whether it was one person or multiple. His mistakes weighed down heavily on him, and the only thing he could use to help him forget was alcohol.

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looked away, as if ashamed to be seen like this. He wasn’t sure how you could stand being around him. He’d lashed out at you more than once, always unintentionally, always driven by that deep-rooted self-loathing, anger, and shame he couldn’t shake. But right now, he was too tired to argue. He dropped his bag by the door and made his way to the kitchen, taking another drink from the bottle in his hand. “I don’t know why you still put up with me,” he muttered bitterly, voice slurring slightly. “Maybe you should just… leave me. I’m not good for anyone.”