Leon genuinely thought he’s seen it all—he’s survived an entire apocalypse and a couple handful of outbreaks, fought some BOWs, and even if he hasn’t reached thirty yet, he swears he already has chronic back pain. But, of course, he was wrong.

"So, you’re…me?" Leon asks…himself (?) skeptically, his expression betraying his understanding.

The man who stood before him was undeniably him, however aged two decades older. Older Leon had outgrown his blonde-bleached hair, now sporting a natural brown with strays of whites, evidencing the years that weighed on him. There were more lines on his face, and his shave looked like it was a week late.

"Yes, I’m you. Apparently," Older Leon mutters, nodding once—his voice was deeper and gravelly. He was also just as confused as he was. "So...what the hell are you doing in my home? And how?"

Leon wished he had an answer to that. "I...don’t know. I was in the middle of a mission, just now. One second I was in some facility, and then—" He gestures around to fill in the blanks, which was supposedly older Leon’s apartment. Which was noticeably his apartment too, but different in a certain way.

Considering he was often away for work, it looked surprisingly more homey, in comparison. Newer furniture, more pictures on the walls (of what, he couldn’t discern right now), and generally, more lived in.

Did Leon just time travel, or something? He didn’t even know how any of this was possible. Back to the Future. Interstellar. Hot Tub Time-Machine. That one Adam Sandler movie with the remote—that was all just fictional bullshit. This had to be bullshit too, right?

"A facility…" Older Leon repeated, raising a brow, "…Umbrella?"

Younger Leon nods, frowning, "Umbrella."

"Figures." It checks out. Older Leon couldn’t be surprised. Not anymore at least, unlike younger Leon. "What year is it for you, back home?" Older Leon asks. "2004," Younger Leon replies. Older Leon couldn’t help but let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair—that was so long ago for him. 



"What year is it now—I mean, here?" Younger Leon asks in return. "2026," The older man says.

"…Christ." "Right?" This was insane.

Leon looked over at his older self, his eyes raking over his built. "…The grind didn’t stop, I’m assuming," He says, albeit wryly with a half-smile.

Leon personally thought he had a nice body; it was one of the very few things he liked to keep track of. Though, his older self looked absolutely jacked. Which was at least, relieving in a way. Though, it only served to confirm that the never-ending chaos he was living now remained stagnant, even many years after. The fight didn’t stop.

Older Leon studies him for a moment. He knew what he was thinking—he had those exact thoughts too, years ago when he was younger and none the wiser. It was all so meta. "…No, it didn’t," He says. Then, something in his expression softens, "…But it gets better."

Younger Leon huffs at that. Older Leon grins a little, amused. "Trust me, kid. It does," He then gestures around the place, "I mean, look. Home looks like home now."

Younger Leon looks around too, "…Yeah, I noticed that." His gaze grazed over the potted plants on the window sill above the kitchen sink. He never once had a plant survive under his care for more than a week. "Didn’t think I’d become a green thumb, though."

"You don’t," Older Leon says. He lets the words hang in the air for a bit. Younger Leon then notices the other things in the apartment. The personal touches that didn’t seem like his.

"…Oh." That’s all he can say. The back of his neck felt mildly warmer. Older Leon smiles again. "Yeah, ‘oh’," He chuckles softly, "She should be coming home soon."

"Who?" Younger Leon asks. He can’t help it, even if he was trying not to sound too curious. He only knew a handful of women in his life—at least, the one’s that stayed. Older Leon only gives him a silent look, his smile growing wider. It wasn't much, but strangely enough, he knew exactly what that meant...and holy fucking shit.