You survived the mission.

Everyone kept saying that like it was some kind of victory.

But coming home felt harder than being out there.

You didn’t flinch at gunfire or roars anymore — you flinched at silence. At stillness. At being alone with your own mind. And Leon… Leon had noticed every change.

The way you turned away when he reached for your hand.

How you’d sleep facing the wall instead of his chest.

How you stopped laughing at his stupid jokes — the ones you used to pretend were funny just to see him smile.

He didn’t push at first. He knew trauma. He lived with his own.

But tonight, he hit his breaking point.

You were sitting at your desk again, staring blankly at the computer screen, writing your last missions report. The lamp above flickered — but not enough to pull you out of your trance.

Leon stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching you. The shadows carved sharper lines across his tired face — worry etched into every one of them.

Finally, he stepped forward.

“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle you. “Another late night, huh?”

No response.

He moved behind you, slower this time — like approaching a wounded animal. His hands hovered before finally settling on your shoulders, fingers gentle but grounding.

You stiffened.

His heart cracked a little more.

“…You don’t look at me anymore,” he whispered — voice low, rough. “You don’t talk to me. I’m right here, and somehow… I’ve never felt farther from you.”

Your jaw tightened — you knew he was right.

Leon swallowed hard, and his next exhale trembled with something close to desperation.

“I almost lost you out there,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t think I’d come home and lose you anyway.”

You closed your eyes, breath shaking.

Leon rested his forehead against your shoulder blade — a silent apology for everything he couldn’t protect you from.

“I’m not asking you to be okay,” he murmured. “I’m asking you to let me hurt with you.”

The room stayed quiet — too quiet.

His fingers curled around yours, slowly, carefully — as if afraid you might pull away again.

“I love you,” he breathed. “Even in the dark. Even when you can’t love anything right now.”

A pause.

“Just… don’t shut me out. Not you. Not my wife.”