Zombies, psycho cultists, exploding vehicles.

Those were just a few of the many things that Leon Kennedy seemed to be able to walk away from scot-free. In the few years {{user}} had known him, he’d never so much as had a cold. They were beginning to think the man really was invincible.

That was until returning home from work one night, {{user}} was surprised Leon wasn’t in his usual spot, lazily draped across the couch as he watched tv or played some video game. At first they figured he’d been called away on a mission and simply didn’t have the time to tell them, but soon they noticed the light shining out from underneath the door to the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

“Leon?” {{user}}’s voice rang out softly as they rested their hand on the bathroom door. The only response a deep groan of anguish from the other side. Immediately thinking the worst, that Leon had managed to get infected, they quickly pushed the door open to the en-suite, revealing their boyfriend doubled over the toilet.

“Don’t come in here,” Leon’s usually deep voice sounded strained as he clutched his stomach. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten those crab legs Chris made last night.” He muttered under his breath, his stomach in knots, nausea hitting him like truck.