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Rain hit the apartment windows in a steady rhythm, soft enough to blend into the low static of the television playing somewhere in the background. Leon barely looked at it. The screen cast dull blue light across the room, catching the mess scattered around the coffee table. Half-empty whiskey bottle, loose papers from a report he still hadn't finished, ashtray overflowing even though he's promised himself he would quit weeks ago. Maybe months ago. Time had stopped feeling very clear lately. Sitting heavily on the couch, Leon rolled the glass between his fingers before taking another slow sip. The whiskey burned less than it used to. At this point, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. His tie hung loose around his neck, sleeves pushed up carelessly to his elbows. There was dried blood near one of his knuckles from a mission earlier that week. He hadn't even bothered cleaning it properly.
The apartment was too quiet. That was the problem. Silence always gave his thoughts too much room to breathe. Leon leaned forward with a tired sigh, grabbing the remote just to lower the television even more before dropping it back onto the couch beside him. His eyes drifted across the room without really focusing on anything until they landed on the small cardboard box sitting near the kitchen counter. He stared at it for a moment. Then looked away. Bad idea. He poured himself another drink, already spiraling over things he thought he buried for good. The whiskey settled warm and heavy in his chest as he tipped his head back against the couch cushions, eyes falling shut for a second longer than intended. God, he was tired. Not the kind of tired sleep fixed, though.
Outside, thunder rumbled somewhere far off. Leon reached blindly for the cigarette pack on the table, only to realize it was empty. A quiet curse slipped under his breath. “Perfect.“ His voice sounded rough from disuse. Pushing himself up with a groan, he crossed the apartment towards the kitchen, grabbing another pack from the counter. That was when he saw it again. That box. Still half open, still full of your things. A hoodie, a book you forgot, a hair tie around the handle of one of his old mugs. Leon went still. For a long moment, he just stared at it with an unreadable expression, a cigarette hanging, forgotten, between his fingers. He should've thrown it out months ago. Instead, he found himself stepping closer before he could stop himself. His hand moved almost automatically, fingers brushing lightly over the hoodie sleeve. Soft fabric, way more familiar than he expected. It still smelled faintly like you and, to be honest, that nearly fucking killed him.
Leon let out a shaky breath through his nose and laughed once under it, bitter and exhausted. “Fuck…” He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter and took another long drink straight from it this time. The apartment felt even quieter now, heavy, almost suffocating. Without really thinking, Leon reached for his phone resting beside the sink. His thumb hovered over your contact. Still pinned at the top, still there. He stared at your name for a long moment. He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew it even now, half-drunk and exhausted enough that his thoughts felt slow. You probably wouldn't answer anyway, and he would have preferred that. Because if you answered, he wasn't sure what he'd even say. Another distant rumble of thunder shook lightly through the apartment. Leon swallowed hard before taking one last drink straight from the bottle, grimacing slightly as the burn settled deep in his chest. Then, before he could talk himself out of the idea, he pressed call. The rigntone filled the apartment immediately. Too loud, too late to hang up now. He dragged a hand down his face as it rang once. Twice. Three times. Each second made the knot in his chest tighter. By the fourth ring, he had almost ended the call. But then he heard you. “…Hello?“ Leon froze. Your voice came through rough with sleep, quiet and confused, and suddenly every bit of alcohol in his system stopped feeling warm.
For a second, he couldn't talk, he just stood there in the middle of the kitchen, fingers tightening slightly around the phone while rain tapped softly against the windows behind him. “…Shit.“ He muttered under his breath. A small pause followed. “Leon?“ Hearing you say his name nearly hurt. He closed his eyes briefly before leaning back against the counter. “Yeah.“ He answered quietly. Your side of the line stayed silent for a moment too long. Not awkward, but careful. “Are you okay?“ You asked. The question caught him off guard enough to make him laugh softly. Not because it was funny, but more because he didn't really know how to answer it anymore. “Yeah…” He said automatically. Another pause. “No, not really…” He admitted then, quieter this time. You sat up a little in your bed at that. The digital clock beside you glowed 2:17AM in the darkness of your apartment while Leon's uneven breathing crackled softly through the speaker. And then you noticed it. The slight slowness in his words, the roughness in his voice. “…Have you been drinking?“ Leon tilted his head back against the cabinet behind him. “Maybe.“ He said quietly. “Leon.“ A tired sigh escaped him. “Okay,” he admitted. “Yeah.“ You rubbed your face, trying to wake yourself up enough to process this properly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. It had been months since the breakup, months since you'd heard his voice like this. And somehow it still felt familiar enough to make your chest ache immediately. “You shouldn't be calling me this late.“ You finally murmured. “I know.“ Yet he made no move to hang up. You could hear him shifting slightly on the other end before the faint sound of a lighter clicked through the speaker. Still smoking. Of course he was. Leon inhaled quietly before speaking again. “I didn't think you'd answer…” He admitted. “You called me four times in a row…” You explained. “…Oh.“ You heard him pull the phone away slightly, probably checking the call log. “Right…” Despite yourself, you almost smiled. Almost. A heavy silence settled again after that. It was surprisingly not empty, just full of things neither of you knew how to say anymore. Then Leon spoke again, voice lower this time. “I just wanted to hear you for a minute.“ The words settled heavily between you, painfully honest. On the other end of the line, you could hear the faint crackle of his cigarette and the distant sound of rain somewhere outside his apartment. You tightened your grip slightly on the phone. “Leon…” “Sorry.“ He murmured, immediately cutting you off, like instinct. “I know I shouldn't have called.“ His voice came out sincere. “But you did.“ A quiet exhale left him. “Yeah.“
You shifted against the pillows behind you, trying to ignore how familiar this felt already. Late-night calls, his tired voice, the long silences that somehow said more than actual conversations ever did. Only now there was a distance sitting between every sentence. “You sound tired.“ You said softly. “That obvious?“ He laughed under his breath. “You always get quieter when you're exhausted.“ The comment slipped out naturally before you could even think about it. You heard the way his breathing caught slightly on the other end. Like he noticed it too, like some part of you still knew him too well. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke again. Then Leon broke the silence. “How've you been?“ The question sounded careful and hesitant, like he wasn't sure he still had the right to ask. “I've been okay.“ You answered softly. “Just okay?“ You glanced down at the blanket gathered loosely in your lap. “I mean… work's been busy.“ He hummed in response. “And I've been sleeping more.“ You added. “That's good.“ His answer came too fast, too automatic. You could practically picture him nodding absently while staring at the floor. “What about you?“ You asked quietly. The silence that followed told you enough before he even answered. “…Same old stuff.“ He avoided giving many details. “Leon.“ You sounded completely unconvinced. He let out another scoff. “Missions, paperwork, government bullshit.“ He paused for a second too long. “You know, the usual.“ And underneath it all, exhaustion.
You leaned your head lightly against the wall behind your bed. “You still in that apartment?“ You asked. “Yeah…” He admitted as if he was hiding something. “You still hate it?“ A faint laugh escaped him this time. Low and rough. “Every single day.“ That finally pulled a small smile from you. “I told you the lighting in that place was depressing.“ You said, smiling a little bit wider at the memory. “Yeah, well,” you heard him take another drag from his cigarette. “You were the only thing making it tolerable.“ The moment the words left his mouth, silence crashed down again. Leon cursed quietly. “Sorry, forget I said that.“ But you couldn't. Not when his voice had sounded so genuine saying it. You swallowed slowly, eyes fixed somewhere distant in the dark room. “Have you eaten anything tonight?“ The question came out before you could stop it. And suddenly Leon went completely quiet. No sarcastic response, no deflection, just silence. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded smaller somehow. “…No.“ Your chest tightened painfully. Of course, he hadn't.
Leon had always been terrible at taking care of himself, but after the breakup, it had gotten worse. You could hear it in him now, in the exhaustion dragging down every word, in the way his voice sounded hollow beneath the alcohol. “When was the last time you slept properly?“ You asked quietly. A dry laugh escaped him. “Define properly.“ He joked. “Leon.“ You sounded serious. “What? A couple of hours here and there counts.“ He muttered, softer this time. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Some things really never change. Through the phone, you heard him moving around the apartment before the dull sound of a cabinet opening echoed faintly. Probably looking for anything edible. The thought made your chest ache more than it should have. “You still keep soup in that cabinet above the stove?“ You asked. He paused for a second. “…Yeah.“ He finally said. “Heat some up.“ He huffed quietly, almost amused. “You bossing me around now?“ He joked softly. “You called me drunk at 2AM,” you replied. “I think I earned the right.“ Another silence settled between both of you. But this time it was different, softer. You listened to the quiet sounds of him moving through the kitchen. The microwave door opened. Closed. A timer beeped. It sounded too domestic, too normal. It honestly hurt.
Leon leaned back against the counter while he waited, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. “I forgot you remembered stuff like that,” he admitted suddenly. “Remembered what?“ You frowned faintly. “Everything.“ His voice had gone quieter again. “The soup, the cigarettes, the way I can't sleep unless the TV's on.“ A pause. “You always noticed small things.“ Your throat tightened. Then Leon laughed softly under his breath, though there wasn't any real humor in it. “I think that was part of the problem.“ He added suddenly. “What do you mean?“ You asked, confused. Another long pause stretched between you before he answered. “You knew me too well.“ The words hit harder than expected. You sat there silently while thunder rumbled somewhere outside. Leon rubbed tiredly at his jaw, eyes fixed on nothing. “I used to think if anyone saw every ugly part of me…” he said slowly, voice rough, “they'd leave eventually.“ Your heart ached immediately. “Leon-.“ “And you did.“ The sentence wasn't angry, and that was the worst part. No bitterness, no accusation, just tired acceptance. You swallowed hard. “That's not why I left.“ You said, barely above a whisper. “I know.“ But he sounded like he still blamed himself anyway.
The microwave beeped softly in the background, ignored completely. Leon stared down at the counter, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of it. “I tried really hard after you left,” he admitted quietly. “To stop thinking about you.“ You stopped breathing for a second. “I kept telling myself it'd pass eventually.“ He let out another tired laugh. “Turns out alcohol's not exactly a miracle cure.“ He sounded like he was regretting all the life choices that took him to this exact point in life. “Leon…” You tried to say, but he couldn't let you finish. Because if he did, he knew he would miss his chance. “I still look for you sometimes.“ The confession came so suddenly that it made your heart stutter. His voice dropped lower after that. “Every time I get home…” He paused as if he was trying to find the right words. “I still expect the lights to be on.“ You pressed your lips together hard enough to hurt. Because you knew exactly what he meant. And judging by the silence on his end, Leon knew you did too. “I know we ended things for a reason,” he murmured. “I know I screwed it up.“ Another pause followed. “But God…” His voice cracked slightly for the first time that night. “You were the only thing that ever felt safe to come home to…” The words left him raw, like they'd been dragged out of somewhere deep in his chest instead of spoken willingly.
After that, neither of you said anything for a long time. You could still hear the rain outside his apartment, the faint hum of the microwave he'd forgotten about, his breathing, uneven now, quieter than before. Your throat felt painfully tight, because this wasn't the Leon you were used to. Not the sarcastic agent who brushed everything off with tired jokes. Not the man who avoided every serious conversation until it was too late. This was just… Leon. Exhausted, lonely, hurting. And somehow that hurt even more to hear. On the other end of the line, Leon dragged a shaky hand down his face before finally speaking again. “I shouldn't be telling you this…” He said quietly. “Then why are you?“ A small silence followed. And when he answered, his voice sounded almost embarrassed. “Because I think if I don't say it now…” He swallowed thickly. “I never will.“ Your chest tightened hard enough to ache. The television in the background filled the quiet for a moment before Leon muted it completely. Suddenly, all you could hear was him breathing softly into the phone. “I spent months trying to convince myself that breaking up with you was the right thing,” he admitted. “Thought maybe if you got far enough away from me, you'd finally get to be happy.“ You squeezed your eyes shut. “Leon…” You felt a tear streaming down your cheek. “No, listen.“ His voice stayed soft. “I know I wasn't easy to love.“ His voice dropped to something more miserable. “That's not true.“ A weak laugh escaped him. “It kinda is.“ You heard him shift slightly before continuing. “I kept disappearing, I stopped talking, I made you carry all the heavy stuff by yourself.“ Each sentence sounded heavier than the last. “And you still stayed.“ The crack in his voice that time nearly destroyed you.
Once again, it sounded like he regretted every moment that led to this call. To losing you. “I thought leaving was the least selfish thing I could do.“ He whispered. Another heavy silence followed until he finally said it. “That didn't make me stop loving you, though…” Your breath caught. Leon let out a quiet exhale, almost shaky now. “I tried really hard to kill that part.“ A humorless laugh slipped out. “But turns out I'm not very good at it.“ You couldn't speak. Actually, you could barely breathe. And somewhere on the other side of the city, standing alone in his dim kitchen with a cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers, Leon finally said the thing he'd probably been holding back for months. Softly, simply, like it physically hurt to admit. “I still love you.“ The room around him went completely silent. No thunder, no television, no movement. Just those four words sitting heavily between both of you. And for the first time all night, Leon sounded scared of the silence that followed them. “…Sorry,” he murmured quietly. “Forget I said that.“
The apology barely left his mouth before the line went dead. “Leon-.“ Too late. You pulled the phone away from your ear in disbelief, staring at the call screen for a few silent seconds before it faded completely. Call ended. Your chest felt unbearably tight. “What the hell…” You whispered under your breath. He had just confessed he still loved you after months of silence, only to disappear before you could even answer. Typical Leon. You leaned back against the headboard, heartbeat still uneven while rain continued softly outside your apartment windows. Sleep was completely impossible now. Because the worst part was that he sounded sincere. Not manipulative, not impulsive. Just… honest. Like the alcohol had finally dragged the truth out of him. Your thumb hovered over your messages for a long moment. You shouldn't text him. You definitely shouldn't text him emotionally at nearly three in the morning after he called drunk out of nowhere. And yet… Before you could stop yourself, you typed:
You don't get to say something like that and disappear before I answer. And for the record… I never stopped loving you either. I was just tired of feeling like you were trying to survive everything alone.
I didn't leave because I stopped loving you, Leon.
I left because I felt like you stopped letting me love you.
You stared at the message for a full minute before finally hitting send. Almost immediately, regret hit. Too much, way too honest. You dropped your phone onto the bed beside you and covered your face with both hands. A minute passed. Then another. Finally, your phone buzzed softly beside you. You grabbed it so fast it was embarrassing. Only one thing waited for you on the screen. A single red heart. Nothing else. No explanation, no words, just a red heart. And somehow it meant more than an entire paragraph could have.
Leon didn't sleep that night. He stayed sitting on the kitchen floor long after the cigarette between his fingers had burned out completely, phone resting loosely in his hands while your message stayed open on the screen. Over and over again, he reread it. I never stopped loving you either. Every single time, his chest tightened painfully. The apartment still smelled like whiskey and smoke. The untouched soup sat cold on the counter, and rain still hit the windows. But for the first time in months, the silence around him didn't feel completely empty. Around four in the morning, Leon finally stood up slowly from the floor. His gaze drifted towards the half-empty bottle sitting on the counter. He stared at it for a long moment. Then quietly unscrewed the cap, walked to the sink, and poured the rest of it down the drain. The cigarette pack was thrown into the trash can a few seconds later.
The next afternoon, a soft knock echoed through your apartment. You frowned slightly, pulling open the door without thinking much of it. And you froze immediately. Leon stood there on the other side, looking exhausted. Dark circles under his blue eyes, jacket wrinkled, hair darker than usual. But sober, completely sober. In one hand sat the old cardboard box full of your stuff, in the other… coffee. Your usual order. For a second, neither of you spoke. Leon looked strangely nervous standing there, shifting the box slightly against his hip before finally letting out a quiet breath. “I figured,” he started roughly, “maybe we should talk when I'm not drunk and emotionally ruining your night.“ Despite everything, a small laugh escaped you. God, you'd missed him. Leon's shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound. Then his eyes met yours properly for the first time since the breakup. And every bit of guarded exhaustion in his expression softened immediately. “I meant what I said yesterday,” he admitted quietly. “All of it.“ Your throat tightened again. The box slipped slightly in his grip as he looked down at it briefly. “I was gonna bring this stuff back months ago… But I'm apparently incapable of letting you go.“ He said with a tired huff. “You kept my hoodie for six months.“ You said, seeing the sleeve peeking out of the box. “It was comfortable.“ You stared at him for a second before shaking your head, smiling a little. And something about that expression on you, soft, familiar, and warm, completely unveiled him. Because Leon suddenly realized this was the first time in months he'd shown up somewhere without smelling like alcohol or smoke. The first time, he actually wanted to try, really try. Not because someone ordered him to or because a mission depended on it. But because he loved you enough to finally understand that surviving wasn't the same thing as living. Slowly, you stepped aside from the doorway, inviting him in. And for the first time in a very long time, Leon followed without feeling alone.