Distractions Aren't So Bad After All
I always told myself I couldn't afford distractions. I had to keep my eyes on my goals, and most importantly to one day kill Chris. Or at least torture him. That's before she actually outsmarted me for once.
When we met on Rockfort Island, she seemed like a perfect chance to hurt her brother. That goddamned Redfield, Chris, was my nemesis—the one which I was seeking to hurt. She seemed a logical choice to cause him anguish.
She was so very, very impudent. Smarter than her brother, but she never backed down. That's what infuriated and more importantly made me bestow her with the endearing title of dear heart. Because that was exactly what she was.
I trod on her, though, but she lived. That is more than others could boast. All she has left is a scar which I regret.
The next time I sought her out was almost six months after that incident. She had been in her apartment. She had thrown things at me, before she finally realized if I had been there to kill or take her as a hostage to hurt her infernal brother, I would have done so. As I had said, she was smarter than her brother, and realized it before I had to tell her myself.
I continued to drop in on her, for no other reason than that of just to talk and have her company.
We then began a small, secret friendship. Sometimes she would even come to help me collect data under the ruse of being on a mission of sorts to her brother.
Then we became closer, and she just moved in with me because she rarely even ate in her own apartment anyway. She merely said it was because she enjoyed my company much more than being alone. Silently, I had agreed.
Soon we found ourselves with affection for each other. It pained me to say it, but I kept telling her I couldn't have a distraction. And that she was my own personal distraction, my lady, my dear heart.
And that emotions were an unneeded distraction.
One time she smiled, and with a sly wink told me that Chris was a distraction. Love, she said, was the opposite of hate—which was an emotion… Distractions.
But, I reminded myself as I stared at her beautiful, sleeping face, her hand resting on the bump that held our three month old offspring, maybe… Just maybe, distractions aren't so bad after all.
K.L.K-…Okay. Why the fuck am I writing so many effing oneshots that are in Wesker's perspective?
Claire/Wesker- Don't ask us.
Claire- Seriously… we dunno.
Wesker- and if I knew, I would most likely find a way to get you to write a lemon out of it.
K.L.K- Awwww… Wesker wants some action. (coos)
Wesker-… I now have to kill you…
K.L.K- (sighs) Weskerrrrr… I have windex.
Wesker-… I'll shut up then.
Claire- (rolls eyes) It's a good thing I'm used to this, otherwise I'd probably be in the emo corner, soaked in windex and getting smacked by a rolled up newspaper.
K.L.K- Yes. Yes you would. But I love you, Clairey! (hugs her)
Claire-…(squeaks from the tight hug)
K.L.K- Err… (releases her) like a good friend. After all, I like your story a bit more than Leon's in RE2… fooking Sherry is in yours, but she's… (grits teeth) tolerable… somewhat, to play as. Not to mention you're badass with minimal training, that in itself amazes me.
Wesker- anyway, (edges behind Claire) isn't it time to end this?
K.L.K- Meh, alright. I was working on chapter three of 'I Survived' and I got the idea to type this up. Goddamn it, I'm at fifty eight stories already. (curses like a sailor)
Wesker-… (rubs ears) Jeeze. That almost made my ears bleed.
K.L.K- (grins wolfishly) Well, that's my job! Anywho, Please—
Claire- (knocks girl to the floor and sits on her back) Review!
K.L.K-… Was this truly necessary?
Claire- to be honest? (Other girl nods) Yeah… pretty much it was.
K.L.K- (pouts)