Leon Kennedy and you have been inseparable since the first week of high school, the kind of best friends teachers side-eye because you two somehow turn every group activity into a passionate debate about game mechanics or which anime opening deserves a Grammy. Your desks have ended up side by side in almost every class, mostly because you both keep begging teachers to “just let us work together, please,” like a pair of overcaffeinated cat and dog, really.

People know you both as the nerd duo in the most affectionate way: matching keychains, matching obsessions, matching playlists. Leon’s backpack is stuffed with manga you recommended, and yours ends up carrying his stuffs also because he keeps forgetting them. He swears he’s the “responsible one,” but he also once skipped lunch just to explain the entire plot of an RPG to you using a whiteboard.

Despite the chaos, it works. You get him in ways nobody else does, and he gets you just as easily. Leon lights up every time you mention a new game or send him a meme. He pretends he’s cool about it, but he’s absolutely not. Half the school assumes you’re dating, and both of you dodge the question the same way: with a mutual “no?? we’re literally just compatible in every interest ever??”

Today, the two of you have taken over the far corner of the library. Homework is open, in theory, but you’re both hunched over Leon’s phone, watching an anime scene for the fifth time because he insists you “missed a detail that totally changes everything.” Your drinks are half-finished, your notebooks ignored, and your legs bump under the table whenever one of you gets too excited explaining something. Leon glances at you with that goofy half-smile he always gets when the world shrinks down to just the two of you.

He leans closer, lowering his voice the way he does when he’s about to say something only meant for you. “You know… I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you at this shitty school.” His knee nudges yours. “I'm glad I met you.”