Echoes of You || Leon Kennedy

1. Too Loud to Breathe

The music was too loud.

Y/n didn't belong here — she knew that before the first chord even hit. But she stood frozen in place near the back wall of the venue, her body tucked into the deepest corner she could find, trying to blend into the peeling paint. The crowd around her surged like a wave, soaked in sweat and screaming lyrics back at the stage. Everyone moved with the beat. Everyone belonged to it.

Except her.

Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest, and her breath came in shallow little sips. The lights above were too bright, flashing in strobes that made her eyes sting. Her fingers twisted into the cuffs of her sleeves, nails digging into the fabric like she could anchor herself to something.

She hated how loud her mind got in places like this. The thoughts weren't words so much as spikes — jagged, sharp, constant.

You shouldn't have come.
You're in the way.
Everyone can see how wrong you are.

Carlos had asked her to come. She hadn't wanted to. Not really. But when Carlos looked at her with those soft, tired eyes — the only person who didn't speak to her like she was broken glass — she said yes.

Just for tonight.

Just this once.

The band was already halfway through their set when she arrived. She didn't push toward the stage like everyone else. She stayed where it was dark, where she could see without being seen.

That's when she noticed him.

Leon.

He moved across the stage like it was a throne. Hair messy and sun-gold, sweat dripping down the side of his neck. He wore a tight black shirt that clung to every line of his chest and shoulders. The microphone was his scepter, and the smirk on his face could've started wars.

He didn't sing so much as command. Voice smooth and rough in all the right places — like leather and sin. The crowd worshipped him. Women screamed his name. He looked down at them like a god bored of his worshippers.

He was beautiful, yes — but in the way fire is beautiful. And Y/n had been burned too many times to forget what it felt like.

Still, she watched. Couldn't help it. There was something about the way he moved — unbothered, arrogant, like the world had never told him no. He didn't smile with warmth; he smiled like he knew every secret in the room.

He probably does, she thought, bitterly.

And then, somehow, his eyes found hers.

It was a glance — maybe less than a second. A flicker through the lights. But for a moment, he saw her.

And she saw the way his head tilted slightly. Like he hadn't expected someone like her to be standing so still, looking so out of place. Like she was a crack in his perfect show.

Y/n immediately looked away, heart hammering in her throat.

Was she imagining it? Did he really see her — or just look through her, like everyone else?

When the music ended, she didn't clap. She couldn't. Her hands were shaking.

She stepped outside as fast as her legs would carry her, into the cool air of the alley behind the venue. Her skin felt like it didn't quite fit, her pulse like a drumline in her ears. She pressed her back against the brick wall and tried to breathe.

Tried to forget the way his eyes had felt like heat.

Carlos found her a few minutes later.

"Hey," he said softly, stepping up beside her. "You okay?"