[OVER?] - Aureatescars

[OVER?] - aureatescars

[ OVER? ]: after a mutually reluctant (and unwanted but necessary) break-up, the sender calls/visits the receiver and tells them that they’re still in love with them. / @aureatescars

" Shit. "

The curse follows an inelegant stumble through the door of his apartment, fingers white-knuckling around the handle as he tries to find his feet. The room swims, or maybe his head swims and there's an unpleasant roiling feeling in the pit of his stomach plus a bad taste at the back of his mouth indicating he's gone well over the respectable treshhold of what a man's supposed to consume in terms of booze for the night.

Not that he really cares. Not that anyone really seems to care. A whole week since he'd been forced to shoot his whole damn team after already having lost them once and no one'd bother to check in beyond Hunnigan telling him to take some time to get his head back on straight and the usual text from Sherry. Not even━

Well. He's only got himself to blame for that one. If Leon had bothered responding to his texts even once, maybe━

The thought wrenches at his heart in a way he doesn't really feel like dealing with right now ( or ever, really ) and Leon pushes himself forward, throwing the door shut behind him. He doesn't bother turning on the lights, doesn't bother hanging up his coat as it drops to the floor. He fumbles at the cabinets, pulling them open at random, a low noise of triumph in his throat when he finds what he's looking for. He'd been respectfully told to clear the premises at the bar he'd been drinking at, but there's no one to stop him from drinking himself into an even deeper stupor in the privacy of these four walls.

( he refuses to call it home. this isn't home. he hasn't truly been home in months )

He screws off the cap with shaking fingers, cursing again when it slips from his fingers and rolls beneath the cabinets. Doesn't matter, he thinks. He plans on finishing the rest of this bottle anyway. Except when that first swig hits his tongue and burns down his throat, he's hit with the sudden and undeniable realization that his body's had enough. His surroundings blur around him, the walls spinning at a speed he can't keep up with any longer and a stab of nausea so sharp and acute has his stomach lurch painfully and his body shudder.

Leon only barely manages to turn, the bottle slipping from his fingers and hitting the ground, before he's emptying the contents of his stomach into the kitchen sink, coughing and retching miserably.

He sinks to the floor afterwards, panting, his face and neck covered in cold sweat. A shard of glass cuts into his palm, where the neck of the bottle had broken off from impact, and the booze seeps into the fabric of his jeans, but Leon hardly notices.

He breathes, in and out, shuddering and choking on dry sobs. He has no fucking clue what he's doing anymore. No fucking clue what he wants. He only knows it's not this: teetering on that brink waiting to finally fall off and hope there's some peace to be found at the bottom.

His phone is out of his pocket before he can stop himself and when a trembling thumb hits the call button on speaker for the one person he swore to himself he'd leave alone, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he hated himself for how things had ended, he can't even find it in himself to regret it. He's already fucked up in more ways than one, what's another broken promise to the mix? It's so damn late too, fuck knows if Sasha would even answer the━

" Leon? "

There's no time to prepare against the wave of emotion constricting his chest at hearing Sasha's voice through the speaker. God, he'd missed it. Missed him, like a constant ache around his heart. His lids screw shut, throat suddenly too tight to speak or utter more than a soft whimper as tears start trickling from the corners of his eyes. His fingers tight curl around the phone as he pulls it towards his chest, and he finds his forehead resting atop his knees. " Leon, is that you? "

" Yeah, " Leon swallows around the lump in his throat and finally finds his voice, hoarse and terrible as it may sound, the slur in his words unmistakeable. " Listen, I uh, know I've no right to ask you for anything after━, " their last parting. The supposed final one. " ━ but I... I don't think I should be alone right now. 'm afraid I might do something stupid and I... I couldn't think of anyone else to━. "

" Where are you? I'm coming over. "

There's no hesitation, no anger in that still so familiar gravel, the accent just as he remembers it and Leon can't stop himself from sucking in a sharp breath at the worry he hears, the care still layered through it even though Leon doesn't deserve it, shouldn't even be asking this much. But as ever, he seems just as incapable of denying Sasha; especially now, still drunk and more miserable than he's ever felt. " Uh, my place... gave you the key. 'bout an hour from where we used to... "

Used to live. Those words fail him, familiar pain stabbing through his chest again remembering everything he's given up and squandered away because he'd thought it better that way, less risky. Safer. It still would be, he knows that much, but at this point he can't really find it in himself to care. Not after everything he's been put through those past few months.

" I'll be there in fifty. Stay safe. "

" I love you, " The words spill out unbidden, in a rush, his voice low and wavering, relief and defeat warring in his gut. " I never stopped... I'm sorry. Sasha. I'm sorry. "

There's a hitch of breath on the other end, a beat of silence. Then. " I'll be there soon, Leon. I promise. "

_____

He somehow manages to drag himself off the floor and into the shower, dazed and drained and wondering if that call really happened, wondering what he's afraid of more. That he somehow spilled his guts in a pathetic drunken haze or that he dreamed of hearing Sasha's voice. His mind swirls with half-formed thoughts and doubts, what if Sasha had moved on. What if he'd found someone else, what if Leon really had squandered it all. What if he'd inadvertently just brought even more pain on them by doing this. By asking this selfish, selfish thing.

He's shivering, despite the warmth of the shower, the effect of the alcohol slowly waning off leaving him feeling wrung out and nauseous. He clumsily bandages the cut on his hand after half-heartedly patting himself dry and struggles into something more comfortable. He rinses his mouth and brushes his teeth.

The bed feels too empty and too large as usual as Leon curls up beneath the covers, back towards the bedroom door and it's all he can do to simply keep breathing through the mess of emotions tangling in his chest and stomach. He's so fucking tired.

He's not sure how long he simply lies there before he hears the click of the lock, the sound of footsteps. Leon tensens, fingers curling into his pillow, his eyes shutting as if bracing himself for disappointment and the sting of shame. What would Sasha even think of him now. Pale, haggard, hair still dyed darker, too lean by half. A hollow shell of that rookie he met back then.

The footsteps close in on the bedroom and then stop, that same hitching breath sounding from behind him. He hears something uttered in Russian, followed by his name breathed out like a prayer and finds himself curling up a little tighter, unable still to turn around. There's the rustle of fabric, softer steps indicating Sasha had taken his shoes off and then, the dip of the mattress, the weight of an arm around his waist and the solid heat of Sasha's body against his back as the other slips into bed with him and pulls him into an embrace like he never left. And then, that voice, soft but firm, sinking into him like a carress. " I'm here. For as long as you need me. "

It doesn't take more than that for the tension to snap, the dam to break, his body shuddering under the onslaught of emotion as he turns around and clings to Sasha like a lifeline, almost keening when he feels lips against his forehead, hands touch the back of his neck and the length of his spine. It's not even sexual, arousal about the last thing he feels even if this is a dream come true, but the fact that he hasn't been touched this gently for so long.... the fact that Sasha is offering it without hesitation or demand...

God, Leon thinks. He'd been such a fool to think that this is the part he had to give up. To delude himself into he was doing the right thing when nothing he's ever done ever seemed to make a difference anyway. Wanting to protect Sherry, only to see her in the care of the guy who turned out to be a traitor. Wanting to save people, only to have to make unnecessary sacrifices of them time and time again. Wanting to love Sasha, but letting his duty take precedence when all its ever done is chip away at pieces of his soul until there would be nothing left.

He's done. The thought solidifies in his mind until it fills him whole. It's been enough.

He sucks in a deeper breath, feeling himself calm under that determination and finally, finally allows himself to meet Sasha's eyes, lips trembling as those beautiful amber hues look back without reproach, parting around words he should have said years ago. " I want to quit. I'm ... I'm done fighting their fight. I can't do it anymore. "

Sasha's eyes widen, shock, surprise, hope warring within his gaze; a wariness too, which hurts, but which Leon can hardly blame him for. He leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to Sasha's lips, an apology and reassurance wrapped in one, sagging in relief when Sasha kisses back. " Promise I'll repeat it tomorrow, " When sober. When he can tell Sasha he's sorry without stumbling over his words.

Right before he slips under in what promises to be the first restful night in weeks, he faintly hears I love you mumbled in a rough accent; and for the first time in a long, long time, Leon believes they'll be okay.

Kennechenko【Slice of Life】

Please let me participate For @rerarepairmonth Week 1 - Fairytales, Domesticity/Slice of Life, On Holiday - May 1st to May 6th. ─something like poetry

He has returned to his normal life, but I have to go on a new battle. I have never seen him as a teacher. I wonder if I will ever meet him.

"I wanted to see you as a teacher, not as a guerrilla."

"You'll meet this teacher soon, because you've given me my life back."

Buddy's gaze, watching over his students with kindness yet strength, is a place that battle-weary agent long for.

[repose] A story about Leon falling asleep in Buddy's bed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I love this rare pair! Please let me participate. @rerarepairmonth Week 1 - Fairytales, Domesticity/Slice of Life, On Holiday - May 1st to May 6th

I usually speak Japanese. I translated it using Google Translate. It's a bit strange in places, but please look at it with one eye gently. I'll fix it if I can after looking at the folds. Sorry if the English is weird because it's Google translation

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When he went to Buddy's house...

When he entered with the spare key, Buddy was not there and the room was empty. Leon relaxed and took off his leather jacket,

(Is he still at school...)

Well, I see.

It was exactly 2pm. He hadn't called or emailed him to say he was coming today.

The room was quiet, somewhat cluttered, and lonely.

This time's mission. Leon was not splashed with blood, so quarantine was simple. He got naked with the Army Special Forces in charge of the joint operation and only had to take a disinfectant shower over his head in a long area separated by blue tarps.

When he checked his own smell, he could still smell the strong chemicals on his skin.

Even though he had taken three showers using body soap, the chemical smell had permeated his skin and could not be removed. The smell had invaded his brain.

(Speaking of smells...)

When he smelled the smell of this house, he somehow felt calm.

They say that maggots swarm among widowers, but perhaps because Buddy is in a wheelchair, his room is always tidy, and the room smells of Buddy's lightly scented massage cream. Sometimes there is also the smell of laundry detergent.

As soon as Leon sees Buddy's bed, his feet are drawn to it almost unconsciously.

Let's rest for a bit. Just lie down and rest for a moment.

When he lies down on Buddy's bed and presses his face against the pillow, Buddy's strong smell naturally fills his nostrils and face. Buddy

is precious because he changes the sheets and covers as soon as Leon comes.

The smell of the person you love always stirs your brain and heart.

But Buddy's smell is different... how should I express it? He always spends his holidays surrounded by his smell, so Buddy's smell automatically switches him on vacation...

Leon only remembers the moment Buddy's smell filled his brain.

─────────────

The next time Leon wakes up, it is night. He

sat up and looked around the room.

Buddy was already in his pajamas, had laid the sheets on the sofa, and was about to go to sleep.

When Leon saw Buddy, his eyes met and he asked,

"Are you awake?"

"If you're back, wake me up..."

"I've prepared dinner and put it in the fridge, so you can heat it up in the microwave and eat it."

"Buddy, are you going to sleep?"

Leon was about to get up from the bed when he noticed his situation. His shoes had been taken off, and his belt and collar were loosened.

He didn't remember, but maybe he had unconsciously taken them off by himself out of habit. No way...

"Hey Buddy, did you let me take off my shoes?"

"Yeah... Was it nice? You answered normally."

"...How?"

He had no memory

of it. "When I touched your feet, you suddenly raised your head, so I told you,

'If you want to sleep here, I'll let you take off your shoes,'

and you put your head back on the pillow and said, 'Thank you,' or something. It was only for a moment, but your eyes were open."

It seemed he had responded unconsciously. I had no choice but to believe Buddy's words, which he imitated with a strong Midwestern accent.

(Thank goodness...)

I didn't have to point a gun at Buddy.

I sometimes hear about cases where people point weapons at their families the moment they wake up on their first day back from the front line.

Buddy said,

"If you don't remember, I'll say it again, but if you go to bed, please take off your bulletproof vest and shoes that don't look like a bulletproof vest.

" "...If you took them off, you could have played a prank on me while you were there."

"----"

Leon tried to hide his embarrassment by making a joke, and a nervous look of disgust appeared on Buddy's face.

(Oh no...)

Buddy is an elementary school teacher.

The joke of "pranks" that warriors, agents, and strong men and women would laugh at, but Buddy has a completely different idea.

I seem to be more tired than I thought.

"Ah, no, I just wanted to tell you that I wanted you to wake me up. Tickling me, pinching my nose, playing with me..."

"Hmm,"

Buddy replied coldly,

"Well, that's fine. If you think I'm the kind of man who gropes sleeping people's bodies, I would never have let you step over my threshold again."

"No way, that can't be true?"

Leon had intended to play a sexual prank on me, and Buddy knew about it, but it seemed like he was willing to forgive me. I'm glad he

was hanging on by a thread.

But...

I can't believe it. The agent was asleep while the teacher took off his shoes and loosened his belt and collar.

In fact, Leon woke up for a moment during that, and he has a vague memory of it. But it's just a dream memory.

"Leo, your shoes are covered in mud, so you have to take them off when you get into bed, right?"

- Saying this, the gentle, slender, white hand loosened my shoelaces. It was the

hand of a woman who knew nothing of fighting, and it didn't exist in the world that Leon knew now.

Under normal circumstances, "Professor Kozachenko" would have remained with his supple, soft hands, and would have lived a life surrounded by his wife, children and students, without ever being involved in revolution or massacres.

I wanted this gentle man to be happy. But if this world were just like that, we would never have met.

What if I dreamed about her, even though I no longer remember her?

"Did I say anything else, Professor?"

"He was mumbling."

"What could you understand?"

"Well, I was a bit... you had a strong Midwestern accent..."

You're fluent enough in American English to know that it was a Midwestern accent (although more than half of it was Leon's fault), but you're going to say "I don't understand a word"?

I heard something that I can understand, something that I'd be better off hiding.

Did I just say... "Yes, Mom"?

I want to shoot myself in the head right now.

If it was an American man or woman, they would either tease him a lot or tell him in his sleep in a silly way. They'd add something like "It was cute."

Because Buddy is an old-fashioned type who is obsessed with his reputation as a man. Leon, who is often progressive, often treats him as if he were the same as himself, and he pretends not to see or ignores any actions or behavior that he considers shameful as a man, without pointing them out. By

the way. This attitude of Buddy is also found in America, and men and women who work in jobs related to machismo often treat him like this at work.

However, it's rare in private.

I'm glad Buddy is an old-fashioned type. Even though he's always complaining about Buddy's old-fashionedness

... In reality, Leon is a man who seems advanced, but is poisoned by classical machismo.

The rural town where he grew up in his youth was hardly advanced. In the 80s, men had to be manly and women had to be feminine, or they were rumored to be gay or dykes and suspected of having mental disorders. As the saying goes, a child's character lasts a century...

Leon S. Kennedy always wants to be on the side of the protector. He wants to act cool, be seen as tough and cool, and not show his weaknesses. Especially in front of the person he likes.

He'd rather die than be seen as a mama's boy.

He has to prove his manliness.

Leon gets up, takes off his bulletproof vest, and sits on the sofa where Buddy is.

"Buddy"

"Hey, you're tired enough to fall asleep, aren't you? Why don't you go to bed quietly tonight?

" "As soon as I saw you, I was full of energy.

" "I'm tired.

" "I see..."

Leon was disappointed for a moment, then said,

"But let's sleep together in bed."

"...Okay."

Buddy tried to get up and move to his wheelchair, but Leon stopped him and picked him up. He

gently lowered Buddy's body onto the bed, not forgetting to bring the wheelchair next to him. When he woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to move, he didn't want to wake Leon up or let him fall out of bed.

When Leon slid in next to Buddy, Buddy's sullen expression flashed a smile for a moment,

"I'll put you to bed."

"You're wide awake now."

"I'll read to you."

Buddy leaned back on the pillow and reached for the bedside table.

"Oh."

He's more like a mother now.

I don't want Buddy to be a mother. I want our relationship to be more immoral.

If you're awake, there's something I want you to do, not read me a book.

Leon had been grinning the whole time, but when he saw the cover of the thick book in Buddy's hand, his smile faded.

(There's no need to choose such a book...)

If the famous, world-famous "Brothers Karamazov" comes, even I can't win. I will definitely lose.