SAVEGUARD ⟼ leon s. kennedy

xxxvi. one more

ｃｌｅｍｅｎｔｉｎｅ
２：３７ｐｍ

The chains are cut, the ammunition is back in the firearms, Leon has his protective vest back on, the bruise on my face is already swollen... And the cabin's door is locked.

"God fucking damn it," Leon grunts under his breath as he kicks the door for the fourth time. Each time his face gives away just another small hint at how in pain he is. I think he has a broken rib, or at least a fracture.

"Leon you need to stop," I try telling him. "Let me at least see if it's a broken rib."

"No offence, but I'm done listening to you," he grumbles as he kicks it again. This time the handle budges a little and he tries to jimmy it open, but it's stuck. "How the fuck did he lock it without a key?"

I can't argue with him because he's right. But it hurts nonetheless. Because I never meant to hurt him.

He turns to look at me, but then his eyes scope the entirety of the room instead. His eyes land on me again, those baby blue eyes mixing with the hue of orange light piercing straight into my soul, before he shakes his head and sighs. "I mean Jesus Christ Clementine, how can you be so gullible?"

I shiver a little at the disappointment in his voice. "I had no choice—"

"No choice? You could've at least given me a heads up..." he continues, clutching his side as he leans against a shelving unit.

"Leon, he had a pocket filled with heavy grenades. He's not sane. He would've sank with this ship as long as we're on it."

I see the cogs in his brain turn as he considers this. "Yeah. Maybe."

I walk up to him. It makes my heart hurt to see his face busted up like this. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it through."

His face scrunches up as he exhales in pain, his eyes muddied by the agony, his fingers digging desperately into his side. "You're damn right you didn't think it through."

"Let me take a look at that," I tell him gently. "Please. We can find this ship's infirmary."

"No," he groans, turning to his side so that his afflicted side is out of my view. "I don't need any more of your—" He shakes his head. "I'll be fine."

My heart feels like it's breaking into ten different pieces. I have fucked it all up. But I need to push that all aside, push the mess of feelings aside, shove them deep down, and focus on making things better.

"Leon, you need painkillers at the very least," I say, placing my hand on his arm. He instantly jerks his arm away. "You know you can't go on in this condition. You know something's broken. Arguing with me is not going to improve anything. I deserve it, but this isn't the time."

He slowly hangs his head in defeat, his hair concealing his eyes, and turns to face me without looking at me, like a boy ridden with guilt.

"Come here," I tell him softly, pointing at the table where Arthur had rammed my face into the lighter fluid. "There's better lighting there."

He reluctantly walks up to the table, leaning against it, and slowly peels off his bulletproof vest. He doesn't look at me, instead very meticulously lifting up his shirt until one side of his torso is bare.

My heart sinks as I see the angry pattern of red bruises pooling around his ribcage. He has goosebumps all over his skin, and I very gently turn him around to see if the bruise reaches the back. It doesn't, which is a good sign. When he turns forward again, I see the marks I left on him what seems like an eternity ago. Small love-bites trailing down his side, just under his rib.