Chapter Text
The music was loud, loud enough that you could feel it thumping against your ribs. You sit, slightly hunched forward, hand holding a cold drink. The glass was wet from the condensation inside of it, and you let that feeling sink into your skin, grounding you in this reality.
God, you were tired. Even now, you could still feel the way it was seeping into your bones, heavy and unrelenting. You were tired; you wanted out.
But you knew that wasn’t possible. You’ve given up on ever going back a long time ago; nowadays, you merely drift along. Only ever running away when shit catches up to you.
However, you should have at least a good couple of months (hell, even a year or two if you were being generous. Not to mention, you were hoping that they’d get busy with the uh, present you had left for them that they would halt their relentless pursuit of you for a good while) before that happens, you’ve made sure to hide better this time around.
You were here today to forget about your own existence for a bit. If only for a little bit, you could sink into this, lose yourself, forget about everything you’re not supposed to know about.
Forget about where you were.
If only for a little bit.
Someone sits next to you, close, too close. His presence was bleeding into your space in an uncomfortable sort of way. He’s been trying to make conversation with you for the past 20 minutes, and no amount of I-dont-give-a-fuck attitude could get him to leave you be. You look down at your drink, pouting slightly, already missing the comforts of home.
“--ther drink.”
A drink was placed in front of your face, nudging into your line of sight. You finally look up.
What did he say his name was?
Simon?
Your hand, without really thinking, reach up to grab the offered drink, lifting up, sloshing it back and forth.
Something about the drink makes you pause. Warning bells from a lifetime ago ring inside your head.
It looked wrong, cloudy.
Oh.
Your gaze flicks back towards the man beside you. He was watching you, a smile on his face; easy, almost boyish, charming even, it looked so innocent that you almost started doubting your own initial assessment.
Almost.
But you’ve worked on enough cases like these to recognize the signs. You remember the reports you’ve had to write, the patterns. You remember having to talk these women through the fog, watching the horrific realization settle as they understood what was done to them. You remember feeling angry with these people. Wanted to do something, but was unable to do anything but offer a cold, silent comfort.
Look at you now.
How far you’ve fallen. It was a testament of how much this life has ruined you beyond anything you thought you were, now, being presented with that exact scenario. You find yourself considering it.
You could pretend to drink it, let him take you. And take care of him once you were sure that no one else was looking. Rid of him. Make the world a better place.
Do something good with this life you’ve been given for once.
Lucky for him, though. Tonight, you wanted to die.
Unlucky for you… Someone else was paying attention.
As you lift the glass towards your lips, a strong, firm hand closes over it. Stopping you in your tracks.
Slowly, you look up. Blond hair, tired but attentive blue eyes, a familiar face. In more ways than one.
This had been the third time you had seen this face.
The first time was when you were 30, you bought your first game that your best friend couldn’t stop raving about, and you got hooked on the series.
Another time, last year, when you were 25, in a different life. A different body. You had stabbed him and basically left him for dead. Hoped to never run into him again.
And now. You’ve run into him.
Again.
Looking at him now, you were almost convinced that the gods had it out for you.
Looking at the face of Leon Scott Kennedy, you wanted nothing more than to punch him in his perfect teeth.