No strings attached / Leon s. Kennedy

Chapter 13 - Leon

I open the door, and for a moment, she's frozen. The way her chest rises and falls too fast tells me everything I need to know before she even speaks. She's panicking. Her amber eyes burn, focused on something deeper, and her blonde waves cascade down her face like she's trying to hide behind them. She doesn't need to tell me why she's here—I already know. She's come for the letter. And I'm the only one who knows she'll never find it.

I keep my face neutral, calm, like I have no idea what's boiling beneath the surface. "What do you want?" It feels good to have the upper hand. She's losing control, and I'm standing here, completely calm. Maybe too calm. But I know why she's here, and I know she won't find what she's looking for. The calm irritates her, I can tell by the way she tenses, but I don't care. 

She doesn't answer. She can't even look at me. Her breath is shaky, her whole body vibrating with something I can't quite understand. For a second, part of me want to reach out, to ask her if she's alright, but I don't. There's a wall between us, and I don't know how to get past it. Instead, I watch as her gaze darts past me, into my apartment. I can feel the desperation rolling off her in waves.

Before I can stop her, she pushes past me. I feel her shoulder brush against mine, and I let her go, stepping aside as she charges in like a storm I can't control. Her urgency leaves me momentarily frozen, watching as she tears through the place, her hands shaking as she rips open drawers and throws things aside like nothing matters but finding that document.

That's what she's here for, the document. The one I made damn sure she wouldn't find. There's a part of me—twisted as it might be—that enjoys watching her like this. Desperate. Powerless.

"Amber, what are you doing?" I try to keep my voice steady, but I can feel the frustration building.

She doesn't stop. Her breath comes out in shallow gasps as she searches every inch of the apartment. I step closer, watching her, my chest tightening as I see the raw panic in her every movement. Her fingers tremble as she tosses papers to the floor, her desperation so palpable it's like I can feel it clawing at me.

"Amber," I say, louder this time, frustration creeping into my voice. "What the hell are you doing? Stop."

But she doesn't hear me. She's lost in whatever this is, and I don't know how to pull her back. I watch her tear through my things, my patience fraying, but underneath it, there's something else. Concern. I can't help but notice the way her face is etched with fear, her eyes darting around like she's trapped in a nightmare she can't wake up from. And even through my annoyance, I notice how beautiful she looks, even now, even in this chaos. Her golden hair falling over her face, her eyes filled with something raw, something I don't understand.

Right at this moment, she's pushing me to my limit. "Amber!" I grab her wrist, spinning her around, forcing her to face me. She's trembling, her pulse racing under my fingers, and the moment I meet her eyes, something shifts. I can see it—she's not just angry. She's terrified. The hate I feel for her is still there, but for a moment, it falters. For a moment, I just see the woman standing in front of me, breaking. And it's harder to hate her when she looks like this.

God, she's beautiful. Her eyes, wild with emotion, lock onto mine, and for a second, the world stops. The softness in her that she's trying so hard to hide. Her hair falls across her face, and I have to fight the urge to brush it aside. 

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice quieter now, softer. "What's gotten into you?"

She blinks, and her whole face crumbles. Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She looks so small in that moment, so fragile, like she's barely holding herself together. "You don't understand," she whispers, her voice breaking. "You don't understand... I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even breathe."