Chapter Text
Leon leaned against his balcony, a cigarette loosely nestled between his index and middle finger. He gazed across the horizon of skyscrapers and illuminated office buildings while a gentle breeze tousled his hair. He placed his cigarette on the railing before retreating into his bedroom‒back to his cellphone, which he had irresponsibly tossed onto his bed. He crawled back into his thin sheets with a grunt, subtly signifying that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He picked up his phone and gently placed it in his hands. For once, it wasn’t a piece of junk the government issued to him.
Pressing the small power button his large fingers could never quite press accurately, his screen illuminated to a blinding white screen before slowly fading into his lock screen‒a picture of him, Claire Redfield, and Sherry Birkin after the events of Raccoon. It was an unplanned picture taken by Sherry, who held the bulky, black camera backward and screamed their names to get their attention. His eyes drifted over to Claire.
Involuntarily, he smiled a little, seeing the nineteen-year-old redhead beaming for the picture. Despite her smile, her forehead glistened with sweat. From what he remembered, she was meticulously and gently mending his wounds, trying her best not to cause him any pain. He remembered braiding her auburn hair as a way to relax her, while she scolded him for moving his injured arm before thanking him shyly with reddening cheeks. His eyes wandered over to himself, who also smiled. But instead of looking at the camera, he was staring straight at Claire.
After unlocking his phone, he thanked his past self for getting the picture developed, even though he strictly remembered regretting it as the woman at the print shop snarkily commenting about his relationship with the redhead in the picture.
Unbeknownst to him, his thumb opened his contacts and scrolled down to a specific contact. Unconsciously, he clicked on the contact “Red”. Before he could fully process it, a familiar voice croaked at him.
“Rookie?”
His mind zoomed into the present and uttered a small curse under his breath. “Claire, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you,” he said.
“Oh, that’s alright,” Claire said, and for a while, all Leon could hear was shuffling.
“Claire?‒”
Her voice replied, but it echoed as if she spoke from a distance. “Hey, you don’t have anyone at your place right now, correct?”
“No. But why‒”
“And you don’t have anyone planning to visit anytime soon?”
“Not that I know of but‒”
Soft beeps of a disconnected call responded to his confusion.
After an hour, soft yet urgent knocks echoed throughout his apartment. Leon hoisted himself up from his bed and trudged up to his door. Without a thought, he swung the door open.
There stood Claire Redfield, wearing a fluffy coat with bags of groceries in her arms and littered at her feet.