Chapter Text
The living room was quiet, the only noise being the muted thump of rain beating against the window.
The room was dark, that was how Leon preferred it after coming home from work with the usual migraine. Tonight was like every other night, two oxycodone tablets and heat on his joints to ease the ache. Ah, the joys of getting old.
Now, all he had to do was finish dinner and flop into bed. Only to do it all again and then some tomorrow.
“Ey, you're okay?”
He dragged his eyes to Luis. He had already finished his food a while ago, but insisted on staying with Leon until he was done. He’d always been stubborn like that.
Leon sighed. He could feel the medication kicking in. “Yeah. ‘S kickin’ in now.”
Luis looked relieved at that. He brought a hand down to rest over Leon’s, their fingers instinctively intertwining with each other. Even after two decades of being together, it still made Leon’s heart dance in his chest like he was a kid with a crush.
Leon’s eyelids fluttered shut and he breathed deep. For the first time today, he didn’t feel the buzzing under his skin, or the burn of each blackened bruise scattered across his body. He just felt the weight of his husband's hand in his, and the slow beat of his own heart. He just felt normal again.
For a moment, everything felt quiet.
Then the controlled voice of a news anchor drifted through the room.
“—In just two weeks, communities across the Midwest will observe the 28th anniversary of the 1998 Raccoon City Destruction Incident, with a candlelight vigil in remembrance of the 100,000 residents who lost their lives to the disaster.”
Luis’s thumb paused where it had been rubbing back and forth against Leon’s hand.
They’d both known about the vigil for a while now. Sherry was the one who told Leon about it in the first place. He thought it was a nice idea, honoring all of the innocent lives lost to such human greed. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to face it yet. To go light a candle for each person that had slipped between his fingers. All the good lives, needlessly lost.
Before anything could be said, the anchor continued. “But tonight, a troubling discovery has investigators worried that the disaster is still claiming victims.”
Leon felt his face twitch.
Part of him was surprised about how quick the news broke. He had only left the crime scene of the fourth victim hours ago.
Another part of him, however, expected this.
“Authorities have confirmed earlier tonight that a fourth body has been discovered with the same black markings associated with what medical professionals are calling Raccoon City Syndrome.”
There it was.
The reminder that he was living on borrowed time.
More and more bodies were being discovered across the city, all with the same…sickness. The same black bruises. The same blood residue on the edges of their mouths. The same bone deep weakness Leon felt every single day.
Every crime scene felt like a glimpse into the future. His body crumpled on the concrete of an alleyway, veins black and cold, blood making its slow descent from his mouth to the ground.
Even worse, it felt like a glimpse into his family’s future.
It could've been Claire, Jill…Sherry.
His stomach did an awful flip at the thought of it.
“Ey,” Luis was shaking him. “Leon, amor, it’s okay.”
Leon let out a sharp breath, his eyes finally focusing on Luis. “Huh?”
He could feel Luis’s hands on him, one gripping his arm, the other rubbing circles into his knee. “Ah…you were kind of starting to freak out,” his brows were pinched in worry. Leon hated worrying him. “I didn’t want you to spiral.”
Leon sighed. Shame crawled up his spine. “‘M sorry.”
“No. No te disculpes.” Luis pulled him into his chest, one hand buried in his hair. Their plates were abandoned on the coffee table, forgotten now.
Leon could feel Luis’s heartbeat even through their sleep shirts. It was steady and strong, like the beat of a song only he was allowed to know. He wrapped his arms around Luis’s waist and clung.
His throat was so tight he struggled to speak. “I always do this,” he swallowed thickly. His eyes stung. “Even at the crime scene. I was a goddamn mess.”
“That’s okay, mi amor,” Luis answered. “You’ve got a damn good reason to not be 100% right now.”
The hand that was buried in his hair shifted down to the fresh black bruise blooming on the side of his neck. Luis’s thumb brushed over it gently, careful not to irritate the skin.
“I just worry,” he continued, pressing a kiss into Leon’s hair. “They should be giving you time off. Sick leave. Something. How many years have you been loyal to the D.S.O?”
Leon closed his eyes against Luis. “…28 years.”
“Exactly.”
“They give us plenty already.” Leon’s chest ached. He wasn’t the biggest fan of working while sick, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about Sherry doing F.O.S while sick, but he wasn’t ungrateful for what he did have. “A government funded house and free healthcare is enough.”
Luis suddenly pulled away and Leon’s heart jumped in his chest.
“Leon,” Luis started. “You are sick. Sherry is sick. Claire is sick. So many people are sick and yet the D.S.O is not giving you a choice to work.”
“I just…I think it’s not fair. I think you push yourself too hard, amor.”
The words hit Leon like a punch to the gut. Because Luis was right. It wasn’t fair. Neither him nor Sherry were approved for sick leave, even unpaid. He could still remember the way Sherry cried when she found out.
A pained noise slipped through Leon’s lips. “I know.”
The TV continued to drone, something about the upcoming vigil. Luis reached for the remote.
“Let’s turn this off, sí? It’s hurting more than helping.”
He clicked a button, powering the TV off. Silence filled the room, even the rain seemed to quiet its incessant beating against the roof.
Leon leaned into Luis even more with a long exhale. His eyelids felt heavier now.
“Oxycodone working?” He heard Luis ask. He could only nod and hum sluggishly in response. Luis huffed a laugh against him.
“Okay. Let it work. You deserve it.”
Leon let his eyelids close as the soft noise of the room faded away. For a moment, the world shrank down to just the two of them on the couch, wrapped around each other, dinner forgotten, and soft light from the TV menu screen beaming onto them.