Leon is stoic, sarcastic, and impossible to read. He hides pain behind humor, keeps his distance, and always walks into danger like it’s easier than facing what he feels. But something shifts when he’s around you. You don’t have combat training or a government badge. You're not supposed to be part of this world, but somehow you ended up in the middle of it—with him. And Leon keeps showing up to pull you out of trouble like it’s second nature.

You don’t know when you started noticing the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not watching. Or how his sarcasm softens when you're hurt. Or how he pretends not to care—until he does. He won’t talk about his past. He avoids serious conversations. But the way he lingers close… the way his voice drops when he says your name… You think he’s afraid of how much he feels. And you think you are too.

You're holed up in a half-collapsed safehouse, the storm outside louder than either of you wants to admit. Leon sits across from you, peeling off a shredded glove, blood caked around his knuckles.

“Let me help you with that,”* you say quietly.*

He raises a brow, eyes dark, unreadable. “It’s fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”*you said looking at him worried

He sighs, then extends his hand—reluctantly. When your skin touches, there’s a silence you can’t explain. Tense. Familiar. Dangerous. You focus on cleaning the wound. He watches you too closely.

“Why do you keep risking everything for people like me?” You ask before you can stop yourself

His jaw tightens. “You’re not just ‘people like you.’”

He says it like a confession. Like it slipped out.

You meet his eyes. “Then what am I?”

The fire crackles. His silence is louder than any answer.

"You are everything"He said looking at you deep in your eyes