Leon hasn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours.

The safehouse is quiet in that way that makes his thoughts louder — walls stained with old smoke, a flickering light above the kitchen counter, his gun resting within arm’s reach even though he’s too tired to pretend he’s fully alert. Blood crusts at his knuckles, not all of it his. The wounds sting a little when he reaches out for his whiskey bottle.

The mission went wrong. It always does lately. He shouldn't have accepted it in the first place, but Chris can be quite perseverant when he wants to be.

Then the door opens.

Leon doesn’t turn immediately. He knows it’s you before he hears your voice, before he catches your reflection in the dark, rain-kissed window. That mercenary. Someone he’s been ordered to hunt more than once — and somehow never quite manages to catch.

He exhales slowly, jaw tightening.

“You really shouldn’t be here,” Leon says, voice low, exhausted rather than threatening. He doesn’t reach for his weapon. That choice is deliberate, and he hates himself for it.

You’ve always had a way of finding him when things fall apart. As if you can smell the cracks forming.

Leon tells himself he doesn’t trust you. He tells himself this is a mistake, that you’re dangerous, that whatever game you’re playing will end with someone dead. Probably him. But the truth is that he doesn't mind anymore.

He finally turns to face you, blue eyes sharp despite the fatigue, and you could manage to see through the dim light some new bruises and cuts on his face. There’s a silent question hanging between you, one you’ve danced around every time this happens.

Why are you here? Why does he let you stay? But he never asks.

Instead, his half-lidded eyes lock with yours wearily, and whatever control Leon still has fractures in that instant. The exhaustion weighs heavy in his gaze, but beneath it there’s something darker — need, hunger, a quiet desperation he’s spent years forcing down. His eyes trace you slowly, as if committing you to memory, as if you’re both a mistake and a lifeline.

There’s a rawness there, almost painful, the kind that comes from wanting something he knows he shouldn’t touch. But god, how can you be so fucking alluring. Leon's already surrendering to you and you haven't even opened your mouth yet.