Chris Redfield x Reader

Nineteen

"Man, this shit reminds me of really dark times.", you laughed as you and Chris wandered on a small path with dead crows dangling from dry tree branches.

Whenever the cold winter air stroked through the strange objects that were spread throughout the trees, the sound of bones hitting against each other filled the air.

It smelled a bit like a graveyard, but there were no flowers to cover the eternal sadness that death had stuck to it.

Small beads of glass were mixed into the strange ornaments. They seemed religious or maybe there was still a crazy old woman around which refused to leave the place of her birth.

The soft strands of sunlight got caught in the glass and painted small pictures.

Chris did not pay attention to the hint of beauty in all those strange things. He moved quickly, as if he wanted to run away. Not from this place, but from you.

"Hey, Redfield.", you gave him a gentle bump to the back.

Suddenly, he stopped, ripped his head around and looked at you. His facial expression was pure anger, but the glimmer in his eyes was more of an annoyed one. He was close to snapping.

But you didn't know why.

"Gee, don't start talking. You look like you're about to explode, Redfield.", you laughed in a joking manner, but it didn't make anything better.

It probably made things words.

But he didn't show you. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As his calmness returned, he opened his eyes.

"You're taking this a bit too easy, don't you?", his voice was so cold, it bothered you.

"I'm trying to make the best out of it. I mean look around. We're standing in a forest that is covered in hanged ravens."

"We are just passing. Just keep your eyes straight forward and you can leave out the comments."

He turned around again, wanting to walk on. He did not have the nerve to talk to you. He didn't want to find your stupid little comments funny. He wanted to be angry, because even though he did not want to admit it, he was.

He was angry with you.

But what was even worse, he was angry with himself. He was angry that whenever you were around him he felt strange. He wasn't even able to further explain it.
An annoyed sigh left your lips.

"Christ, Redfield, at this rate you'll loose the last glimpse of happiness you have left in life. What's wrong? Somebody stole your sense of humour? I don't understand why you have to act like this.", you stopped in your tracks, creating a bit distance between the two of you.

You didn't want to suffer a fist to the face in case his mood was worse than you thought.

He stopped, freezing for a moment. His breathing was so loud and harsh, it was the only thing that filled the silence between the two of you.

When he turned around, your heart almost stopped in your chest.

He was angry, so angry that his face had turned a slightly red color. With his lips pressed together, he stared at you, his green eyes burning with anger. He took a step closer to you.

Startled, you froze, your heart began to beat wildly in your chest. You had rarely seen him angry, and when you had, his anger had never been directed at you.

This was the first time he looked at you like that. It scared you a little.

"Redfield.", you hesitantly took a step back as he dropped his gun in the snow and came toward you. "What... what's going on?"

He suddenly stopped. The anger froze on his face. Instead, he had to smile bitterly. Then he suddenly stopped and his mouth twisted.

There was suddenly something.

Exhaustion.

He looked tired, his shoulders suddenly hung so low and he could barely stand up straight.

"This question.", he said, closing his eyes as if he had a headache. "Always this question. You keep asking me what's wrong with me. But you are the problem."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Excuse me?", you had to laugh.

He didn't. When he opened his eyes again, he seemed as cold as ice.

"Why are you surprised? You are usually so smart. So how can you not know what I mean? I'm an open book to you. I can understand you without speaking a word to you. And you can look straight through me."

"Good soldiers can communicate without words.", you said. "It has saved our lives many times. Our cooperation."

He nodded.

"But good soldiers are not like us. We are not good soldiers. We don't work well together."

You frowned, not quite knowing what he was getting at.

"Be clearer, Redfield.", you demanded. "I can read you well, but I don't perform miracles."

He laughed, amused and bitter at the same time.

"So you want me to speak plainly?"

You nodded.

"I beg of you."

"Good. Let's talk plain.", he dropped his gun in the snow and undid the fasteners on his vest to take it off. "Fine, I'll talk. I'm tired of constantly doing things with you that simple soldiers don't do. We don't work well together, we work like a fucking clock. Even better than that. We work like one and the same person."

"You are angry.", your voice was clear and calm.
He nodded.

"Yes! Very much so.", he pulled a face as if disgusted with himself. "I'm angry with you because you keep running into my life and messing it up as you please. And after all we've been through and done, you can't even call me by my fucking first name."

You pressed your lips together, suppressing the urge to laugh out loud.

"You're mad because I call you Redfield?", you tilted your head.

He growled.

"I'm mad because you treat me like a toy. Whenever you feel like it you act as if I'm all you need. And the next moment you call me Redfield, as if I'm a fucking stranger to you."

Your eyes flinched.

"You... you are... mad because...", you hesitated. "Are you... mad because I..?"

"I'm mad because we keep moving back and forth without making progress. And I am stuck in the middle between feeling like a normal person and falling off the deep end."