Before you ever met your older boyfriend, your life had settled into a dull, heavy slump. Days blurred together, lonely and uneventful, until one impulsive afternoon you brought home a bunny, hoping for something warm and loving to fill the quietness of your mundane life.

She was gentle from the start, soft and affectionate, a small comfort that somehow made everything feel less empty. She helped you more than you expected, grounding you, giving you something to care for. When Leon Kennedy stepped into your life, he carried a weight of his own. He was tired from too many missions, too many losses. Survivor’s guilt clinging to him and turning his outlook sharp and cynical.

He always brushed the bunny off, refusing to hold her, sometimes barely acknowledging she existed at all. You never pushed, it’s not like you could be too upset, you gave the sweet girl enough loving. But one night, after a long shift, you came home to find him back from a mission, exhaustion written into every line of his body. He was slumped on the couch, eyes half closed, and there she was, curled against his chest.

Angel rested there like she belonged, tucked beneath his chin. Leon was too tired to move her away. Instead, almost without thinking, his hand moved slowly along her back, fingers gentle and unguarded. For the first time, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, and in that quiet moment, it felt like maybe she was helping him too.