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Leon used to be a simple man. A small apartment with minimal decoration—not that he bothered to enrich it. He found peace with the unadorned space that he called home. It was more manageable, he told himself. It was easier to clean, despite the place always looking like a bomb had gone off at any moment. His closet was as simple as the rest of the apartment. A few shirts, most of them in dark shades of blue or black, and a couple of the contradictory white to get out of the rut. He owned a numbered pair of jeans that sat folded at the bottom, and the shelf above was dedicated to his more formal wardrobe. His good black suits had multiplied over the years; attending event after government event was a root cause, even if he had to swallow the lump in his throat every time he had to attend one. He kept his favorite for special occasions. It was the one that lay flat against his shoulder, with its tailored pants that draped down smoothly and left the fabric free of wrinkles and folds. He kept that one hanging on its own, separate corner.
Leon S. Kennedy used to be a simple man. He still is, but now, he has Ada in his life to make it a little less simple. He has to make space in his humble closet for her elegant garments, her long, well-fitted trench coats, her refined dresses, which enrich his monotonous palette. She always favored lovelier shades of red—sometimes lighter, sometimes leaning toward burgundy—but always remaining distinctive. Red was her colour. In every form, every shape, and she wore it beautifully. He found himself staring at her, often without meaning to, and every time she would catch him with a faint, warm smile on her lips. If she dared to look closely, she might even catch her reflection in his glassy, dilated eyes. To him, Ada was the most stunning sight in the world, no matter what she wore.
All the expensive clothes and jewelry she loved to adorn herself with only highlighted her raw, unfiltered beauty in the most mesmerizing way. Her very presence exuded something captivating, mysterious. It was as if Ada were an invisible magnet, and he was her counterpart. It was impossible to resist the pull, as the positive pole inevitably drew the negative one until the space between them vanished. The more she lingered in his apartment, the more her presence saturated the space, and wherever she lingered the longest, she transformed everything around through her subtle adjustments. Ada's touches to the apartment were always welcome. Everything was changing with a terrible naturalness that made Leon uneasy every time he realized that Ada was still there, and so close that he could stretch out his hand and touch her. Regardless of how mellow the changes were, both in his surroundings and also in their relationship, his heart longed for further proof that this was real and, indeed, permanent. The silver bands on their fingers reflected the pledge they made, and yet, he ached for more time to embrace the new reality.
Leon thought that he had buried deeper the parts of his youthful self that filled his essence with agony and bitter memories and had been tormenting him ever since that ill-fated day. Now, as he looks down at the uniform of the rookie police officer he left behind nearly two and a half decades ago, he regrets not throwing it away—or, better still, burning it. Ashes do not retain memories. The breeze would sweep the gray particles away, along with the weight on his chest. But would burning it mean losing a core part of himself? He had forgotten he had tucked it under the expensive suits. He feels more pathetic when he realizes that he can't get rid of it. Maybe he does not wish to rid himself of it. Although the guilt it carries is intolerable, it is so profoundly ingrained in his decaying heart that it is agonizingly withering it away. It was and still is a part of him that he has long accepted.
He hadn't changed. He thought he had.
He runs his hand over the soft, well-worn blue fabric, and for a brief moment, he is 21 again, in a city that's eager to swallow him up. He takes a deep breath and withdraws his hand. He doesn’t allow himself to lapse into the trap of reminiscing. Time has done its work. He has finally tamed the thoughts that used to drag him down into that dark, fathomless pit where he had only a bottle of whiskey for company. It's the cocktail of hard work and emotional exhaustion that keeps him grounded, though the latter prevails. Leon resolves to bury that uniform under tons of layers of a new life.
Never in his life had he felt the need to make room for Ada, until now, when he forced himself to sort out the closet they would be sharing from then on. All it took was a single glance at her sharp brown eyes—and perhaps the fact that she had saved him twice, because Ada was counting—and perhaps waking up with her coat draped over him, for her to slip into his heart. It was that easy.
Leon spent the next hour tossing clothes in and out. The bed may have been overflowing with clothes, but the closet, which he looked at with great pride, was almost a testament to his sincere effort to organize the wreckage. Leon was not a boastful man, nor would he ever admit to being so. In fact, he took pride in his modest nature. More often than not, he went about his business with his head down. He would do his job, and do it exceptionally well, and be comforted by the thought that his lack of vanity saved someone’s life. In this moment, however, he allows himself to savor his accomplishment. Deep down, he is eager to show Ada the exceptional work he did.
Ada was very generous with the time she spared him, and when Leon pleaded with her to let him tidy up the apartment, she cocked an eyebrow and nodded skeptically. By the time she got back, Leon had cleaned the bedroom. Two tall stacks of old clothes sat proudly at the foot of the bed. Leon had never been one for keeping things organized, as was evident from the initial state of his apartment. If Ada hadn’t stepped in, his desk chair probably would have taken over as his permanent wardrobe. The point was that he was trying, and Ada seemed to appreciate it. He contributed however he could. It was his way of coping with the sudden, permanent shift of her being there every single day.
Taking a last look around, he figured that the apartment looked neat and welcoming. It resembled a home perfectly suited for a normal couple just starting their life together. Except that Leon and Ada weren’t a normal couple, nor did they have their whole lives ahead of them.
It was a sad, melancholic thought. His second of the day, and he felt immense relief when Ada walked into the bedroom to distract him from dwelling on his thoughts yet again.
"You should add cleaning services to your resume." The melodic sound of her voice carried her humorous remark, and Leon’s face broke into a smile.
“Do you like it?” he asked, approaching her. Her face mirrored his satisfaction, and beneath it all, her characteristic timid amusement was peeking through.
"I'm definitely impressed." She gave an appreciative hum and nodded.
Ada crossed the room and stopped in front of the two stacks of blacklisted clothes. Her lips pursed as she picked up a wrinkled gray shirt from the top and allowed the fabric to unfold with thoughtful persistence.
“Thank goodness you decided to throw this away. It was too tight, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” She sighed a little ruefully and placed it back on the heap.
His shoulders drooped, shame overwhelmed him, and suddenly the floor seemed like the most intriguing thing in the room. Of course, he was aware that the shirt had shrunk at least two sizes after years of prolonged use and relentless washing, and ultimately, bodies change; even so, it had paid its dues. Being one of his older ones, he was inexplicably emotionally attached to it.
"I did my best." He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. He recognized that, as hard as the pill was to swallow, it was the unfortunate truth. Leon took the comment as a kind remark. He would always prefer the blunt sincerity to flattery. It just wasn’t her style to sugarcoat things, anyway.
"You're being modest." Mischief danced through Ada's implications, to which Leon responded with an amused huff.
Aside from the bedroom, Leon had tried to extend his cleaning spree to the rest of the apartment, at least as much as he could manage. He wanted to add his own touches as well, which Ada had probably noticed from the way she was scrutinizing his work from the doorway. “I should probably leave you alone more often if it means the place gets a total makeover.”
Leon couldn’t help but laugh. God, how he loved her witty side. Whatever melancholy had been gnawing at him mere minutes ago had abated, but its remnants hindered him from following along with her games. “Solitude does wonders for a man,” he shot back. The rest of the truth boiled down to his hopeless drive to impress her.
“Oh, so I'm distracting you then?” Her lips curved into that sly, crooked smile she reserved for whenever this playful back-and-forth began.
To put it simply. Yes. Leon knew it, and so did Ada. She was quite the distraction on many occasions. Whether she was wandering around wearing only his baggy T-shirt, which hung like a dress on her, and Leon couldn’t help but sneak glances, or when he sat with his laptop open, determined to finish a report. Ada would slowly run her nails along his forearm, sabotaging his momentary productivity. How could he possibly get any work done then?
"You already know the answer, Ada." Leon shot her a knowing look. At this point, it was an open secret. If he hadn't been so drained by the earlier revelations that had left him reeling, he might have indulged her and played along. After all, everything with Ada felt like a game, albeit with a stark, weary familiarity.
It was rather odd. His body tingled as if he could sense the provocation and scrutiny emanating from Ada. All he could do was sigh. He despised it, but he knew this was one of those days when his inner world revolted. Every time he deemed himself ready to take a step forward, he would find himself crumbling under the weight of the world on his shoulders once again.
He was unable to mask his torment from Ada, nor did he even try to. He felt the need to explain his emotional rollercoaster, though he wondered if a gloomier part of him searched for an excuse to wallow in self-pity guilt-free. The view from his balcony was the envy of many, accompanied by his sharp looks and the financial affluence that entire households toiled to achieve. He lived a charmed, archetypal life. By all accounts, Leon had absolutely no right to feel as hollow and frail as he does, especially not when Ada was standing before him. The subtle shift in her posture only exacerbated his unease.
His eyes fluttered closed the moment he felt Ada’s warmth against his side, and he folded. He questioned if his haggard appearance was what had prompted Ada to cling to him without a moment's hesitation. It was impossible not to surrender to the warmth of her body, to the subtle, velvety vanilla scent she exuded, and her appeasing presence.
Physical intimacy was the language Leon spoke more fluently of the two. His body became a conduit of his affection, a surging fluidity, akin to an ocean, where timid waves lapped against rugged rocks, washing away the sand with their dew. Ada had dived into his waters, coaxing him further onto the shore. Leon's surprise didn't linger, and thus he found solace in her quiet attentiveness, needing no further explanations.
“You smell good,” Leon murmured into her hair. Ada sighed as his big, rough palms sought out the bare skin beneath her black cotton button-up.
“It’s a shampoo I bought last week. I thought I’d try the new one in the line,” Ada replied with her mellifluous voice.
“Mmm, it smells good,” he breathed in the alluring scent of vanilla mixed with her natural aroma. He dared to let his numb body sag deeper into her arms.
Ada felt the icy metal of his ring brush against her warm back, and a chill passed through her.
“Sorry.” Leon apologetically withdrew his eager hand from her skin, however comforting it might have been. He was ashamed to admit how much he ached for her touch. The turmoil within him had begun to subside, receding into a gentle ebb that rippled softly. The craggy rocks along the shore, both small and unyielding, offered a warm welcome to this newfound tranquility.
The questions simmered silently inside him, but he dreaded voicing them, lest he spoil the tender moment. So, he resigned himself to the soulful affection she had shown him, tinged with a tentative fascination.
“I picked up some food on my way back. I didn't think either of us would really feel like cooking tonight.” Just as Leon was beginning to get comfortable with her shape pressed against him, Ada drew away as if she had overstepped some inner boundary and accidentally allowed herself to feel more vulnerable than she should have. She, too, was torn by inner conflicts, even as Leon tried to repeatedly remind her of the vow they had made. Ada didn't need to sieve her heart through her fingers anymore, picking and choosing whether and how much of herself would be left unscathed in front of him. It was yet another blue reality that Leon embraced silently. He had long since accepted in his life the enigma named Ada Wong and was more than pleased to see his patience rewarded as Ada gradually laid herself bare, and he would always wait for her.
"Always the considerate one," Leon quipped, and his smile grew wider immediately when Ada attempted to hide her own by pivoting abruptly toward the door. "Come on, let's eat before it gets cold." Ada disappeared down the hallway, wagging her hand encouragingly.
"Yes, ma'am," Leon murmured with the faint smile still lingering on his lips as he trailed behind her.