SAVEGUARD ⟼ leon s. kennedy

xvi. necessity versus desire

𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖

Leon's head on my lap, warm and heavy, is making me sleepy. I can tell he's asleep because his chest is rising and falling slower, and it makes my heart happy, to see him finally get some rest.

Seriously, the dude looks like he has slept a total of ten hours the past year.

The sun is coming up over the horizon, and I check my watch: it's been thirty minutes since he dozed off.

No sign of Chris' helicopter coming to our aid though, and it's worrying me. I hope he has the right co-ordinates.

I don't know how much longer I can take being on this ship. If Leon wasn't with me, I don't think I'd be strong enough to not give up.

I hear rattles coming out from behind me, from somewhere inside the ship, and I feel my muscles tense up, anxiety oozing out of my chest.

As if sensing me and my worries, Leon shifts in my lap, and turns so that his face is now facing up, and my heart skips a beat as I look at him for a second. His face looks like it was chiseled by angels, each long eyelash so beautifully crafted. His full lips, very slightly parted, makes my face flush so I have to look away, careful to not move, to not wake him.

The pain in my arm from the bite is still stinging, and I feel like I need to stretch, but I don't, because I don't want to move him and wake him.

After a while of trying not to look at him (and failing), I hear even more loud clashes and rustles from the cabin right behind us. The doors leading to the veranda that we are on, are both closed, seemingly heavy enough not to be opened by those things, but I start panicking.

What the hell made that noise?

I stretch my neck slowly to try and see if I can spot something in the veranda windows, but I hear Leon sigh softly, and quickly turn to look at him to see if I've woken him up.

"Were you looking at me while I slept?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and sitting up awkwardly.

"What? No, I wasn't..." I say, the lie making my face burn.

"No need to get so defensive," he says groggily, and groans as he stands up.

"I'm not," I say, and roll my eyes. "I have other things to worry about, you know."

Leon nods slightly and grabs his thigh, pressing his fingers into his skin. The blood around his knee has now dried up and congealed.

"Are you good?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says. "We need to get to the observation deck. Wait for Redfield."

His sudden tone, full of seriousness, takes me by surprise. "So you're rested up?" I ask.

He sighs. "Yes, Clementine. Thank you, but I can take care of myself."

I do a double-take at him, now very confused. Where is this attitude coming from? "Okay, I was just worried about your leg."

"Don't be. We'll both be fine," he says, and stretches his neck. "We need to focus on getting out of here—"

Before he finishes his sentence, another crash comes from inside the ship, right from the room that leads to the veranda.

"What the hell is that?" He asks, his gun at his side.

"I've been hearing it for a while," I say, trying to peer inside.

"And you didn't wake me?"

"No, it didn't seem worth it."

"So. Risking our lives is worth it to you?" He asks, shaking his head and checking the ammunition in his gun's mag.