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When Leon arrived at the door, he stopped, staring at it. Apartment 98 always felt like a safe space when he needed some time alone from the world, but now? Now he was scared to open that door.
He had a bad feeling since Claire called him, asking to check on his brother whom she couldn’t get in contact with for the past two weeks, and he felt bad for lying to her– kind of.
He didn’t know where Chris was, but he also didn’t tell Claire that the apartment 98 was originally Chris’ private hideout, which he offered to share with Leon in case he needed it.
It happened after they returned from China– after Chris lost Piers, and Leon had to fight to save his own life and reputation…
They met one evening, and, somehow, saw something in each other eyes– a need for peace, even if just for a moment.
Chris invited him for a beer, and so Leon discovered the apartment no one else knew about. They spent most of that night talking until no words were left to say and they just sat there, on the roof, watching the sky changing color while dawn approached.
Leon always wanted to get to know the man better, to get closer to him, and he thought that night helped in that regard– sadly, when he woke up, collecting all his courage to ask Chris to meet there again the next day, Chris was already gone, and they never shared another moment like that ever again– and that was eating Leon alive, still.
He knew they both needed it. He could tell Chris needed to talk, to be able to breathe as much as he did, but he didn’t give Leon a chance to give that to him.
So now, after years, Leon walked back to the apartment 98-- after knowing what happened to Ethan Winters and his family.
The past repeat itself. Leon sighed, unable to stop his own cynicism.
He pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door, stepping inside the apartment: the place was quiet and dark, except for a candle lit up in the kitchen.
Frowning, Leon shut the door and, scanning the small living room and the closed window facing the river outside, he walked towards the light, finding the little candle halfway consumed into its glass.
It’s been on for at least a few hours, Leon considered, looking around, but it didn’t seem like the kitchen had been used recently.
Then, he noticed a blocknote and a pen left next to the sink, and his bad feeling worsened.
Refusing to even check it, Leon turned around and quickly climbed the tight staircase to the roof, finding the door ajar.
He slammed it open, heart thumping in his chest, and then suddenly stopped.
Chris turned his head to look at him, sitting at the edge of an old chair, a cigarette in one hand. He looked perplexed, “What are you doing here?”
Leon took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, despite probably knowing the answer to that question. “Claire has been trying to contact you for weeks,” he added, walking forward until he was standing next to him.
Chris looked down at the cigarette again. “So she sent you after me?”
“Well, she doesn’t know about this place, so I thought I would give it a shot.”
The smile on Chris’ lips was quick and barely noticeable. “I think you know me a bit too well.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Chris took a long, deep breath, “I don't know.”
Leon didn’t like that blank, low tone. He hated how Chris’ expression was almost the same he saw during their first and only night on that same roof. On those exact chairs. “Chris, are you ok?” His heart started to sink as the other didn’t answer for a long moment.
“I will be.” Chris took one last breath of smoke and threw the rest down the roof, staring at the river shining under the moonlight. He then stood up, watching him– actually seeing him for the first time since Leon got there. “Sorry about this… You can go. I’ll call Claire tomorrow.”
Leon didn’t move, staring into his eyes.
Chris sighed, “I promise, I–”
“I thought I was going to lose you.” Leon could stop those words from sounding more sad than he thought they could be. He didn’t even know if he was referring to that damn village in Europe, or the roof they were standing on right now– but he couldn’t deny that the fear he felt opening the door downstairs had been real… Too real.
Chris’s expression changed, that mask of fake calm and numbness slipping briefly to show how hurt he was feeling beneath it– and then it was back on. “You almost did.”
It was how he said that, as if fucking stating a fact, that pushed Leon to get angry and step forward to kiss him, moving both hands to drag Chris’ face closer.
Chris let out a surprised but muffled sound, quickly grabbing Leon’s wrist to keep both away from each other.
Leon was expecting anger and screams, but all he saw was confusion on the soldier’s face– pure, genuine confusion. Chris didn’t say a word, and didn’t let him go. “I don’t want that to happen, alright?” Leon managed to say, his mind coming down from the high of their first kiss- and probably their last, but he didn’t care. “Don’t talk like that ever again.”
Chris held his gaze, still quietly holding him.
“It’s not your fault, Chris,” Leon continued, and his mind suddenly went back to Spain– to Luis. “It’s not your fault.” How many times did he hear those same word? Did he even believe them?
He saw Chris’ eyes shining under the moonlight, but it was only for a second before Chris lowered his arms and pulled him into a slow hug.
Leon returned the gesture and let out a deep sigh, feeling his own sadness painfully resurfacing. He lost track of time as they stood there in silence, finding comfort in each other arms.