Warnings: no beta, OOCness, English is not my first language, inconsistent tenses, i am very bad at prepositions, sexual situations
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: i wrote this after writing that post-ID fic. i wanted to return my brain to its favourite state: RE6 aeon
Sometimes, Leon wished that Ada didn't return. At least he could spare himself some heartbreak each time he watched her put on her clothes and walk out of his apartment door, not having a clue of when he would see her next. Her constant coming and going was like closing and reopening an old wound, resulting in its never-ending festering. Sometimes, she stayed, and they would get breakfast together like the couple that they weren't. But more often than not, she left, and each time he asked her to stay, she never did.
Was there a problem with him? Was he the reason why Ada always left? Was he someone she never considered in her long-term plans? Was he unlovable?
He had always thought about asking her these questions, but what would happen then? Would their issues be solved? Would it bring forth more issues? Or would it begin a catastrophic fight that would result in the complete severance of the ties that bound them?
And Leon realised, as much as he sometimes wished that Ada didn't return, for it to actually happen would kill him.
But he couldn't let himself be hung up on someone whose feelings for him were uncertain, so he went out with other women. He went out on dates with them, took them out to dinner, took them to bed, and when he realised that none of them could ever him feel a fraction of what he felt for Ada, he broke up with them.
But sometimes, it would be the women he was dating who would break up with him, saying how he was never present, how he was always busy with work, or how when he looked at them, they always felt like he was looking for someone else—or at someone else.
Leon had never made the embarrassing mistake of saying Ada's name while he was in bed with another woman, because how could he, when he was staring at the wrong eye shape and colour, running his hands through the wrong hair length and shade, hearing the wrong voice, or kissing the wrong mouth.
Maybe it wasn't the smartest choice to date around. Given that these relationships with women who weren't Ada lasted from two to six months, he thought that maybe he didn't give them enough time to develop into what could ultimately be a fulfilling relationship. Maybe he didn't give them enough time to make him forget Ada.
But he had known Ada since 1998. They had reunited in 2004, and since then, fell into bed many, many more times, and in all those years, he had never once forgotten her. She was always in his mind and his heart, and as much as he said that she was a part of him that he couldn't let go, Leon had realised that over the years, she became the part of him that he refused to let go.
The same couldn't be said for Ada. Who knew what she was thinking. Sometimes Leon couldn't read her at all.
Sometimes, he would find her in his flat, making him dinner. Sometimes, she would welcome him home while dressed in a sheer negligee, making the blood in his head rush southwards. Sometimes, she would surprise him by breaking in to his place through his windows, despite the key that he had given her. And she could do that without worrying about stumbling into Leon and his current girlfriend, because Leon never brought a girlfriend home. His place, as empty and cold as it was, was his inviolable sanctuary, and the only people he had allowed in there were his family and friends.
Like Claire. Sherry. Chris. Ashley. Patrick. Helena. Hunnigan.
And Ada, especially Ada, who had her traces strewn all over his flat—from her space in his wardrobe, to her skincare paraphernalia in the bathroom (which was a favourite conversation starter among his friends), to the various knickknacks and souvenirs in his living room that she had given him. Leon felt like his flat was drab place coloured only in the spaces where her ghost lived. And in a way, it was. His entire place was in various shades of black, white, grey, and blue, but suddenly, there would be explosions of red.
Sometimes, Leon wished that Ada didn't return, but there were reminders of her everywhere in his sanctuary, tiny fragments that took up the most space, and he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. He was a mess of a man who couldn't hold down a girlfriend, and he couldn't blame Ada for that. That was all on him and his inability to forget her and move on, no matter how much he tried.
One particular night a week after another woman broke up with him, he came home to find Ada not trying to seduce him with a sinful pair of lingerie, but rather, asleep on his bed wearing a pair of her shorts that she kept in his wardrobe, and one of his shirts. She slept on his side of the bed—because yes, they had their own sides—his duvet tucked up to her chest. He knelt by her side, brushing the hair away from her face, and just like that, the exhaustion he had from work instantly vanished.
What would he give to come home to his flat and find her there every day, waiting for him.
She stirred, her nose scrunching in that way that made Leon melt into a puddle of goo. She slowly opened her bleary eyes and smiled when she saw Leon, leaning in to the touch of his hand on her cheek.
"Hey," she said, voice soft from sleep. Leon rarely heard that tone. He only heard it when she stayed, and she didn't stay a lot.
"Hey yourself," he replied, smiling. There was an ache in his heart, because oh we're doing this again, she's here again, and she'll be gone again. "What brought you here?"
"I just finished a job nearby." Her voice was still heavy with sleep. "And I heard you broke up with your girlfriend."
He sat on the floor. He retracted his hand but she just grabbed it back, hugging his arm like a…like a teddy bear. It made for an awkward position, but what the lady wanted, he obliged.
"Can't be helped." He sighed then shook his head. "I can never make them stay." Not even you.
"You just gotta keep trying."
He scoffed. "What do you think I'm trying to do? You always leave." He didn't raise his voice and he wasn't angry, but he was speaking softly, aggrievedly, in the tone of someone who had just resigned to his fate. "And you know what they say—you gotta make your own happiness yourself. So I try. I try to find my happiness somewhere else, when I know too damn well that I won't find it anywhere but with you. But I must try. I must try creating my own happiness—with or without you. I'd rather be with you, but if you don't want to be with me, then who am I to prevent you from leaving?"
She sat up, dislodging his arm. She was sitting on the bed and he was sitting on the floor; he was staring at her from a lower position. He looked like a devotee supplicating a deity, and considering their situation, it wasn't very far off from the truth.
"Just tell me to fuck off and I will," she said. "Just say it, and I will never come to you again."
Ah, there it was, the goddess passing divine judgement.
"I never said that," he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about it. It was, deep inside, what he felt and wanted. Despite all his heartaches because of her eventual departures, not seeing her again would mean the end of his world.
And so he said in a voice choked with emotions, "I just want you to stay."
She never came to him while he was dating someone else, but as soon as he was out of a relationship, she was there again. It made him think that Ada truly did care for his happiness, because she never interrupted his attempts to find it, even if it was an attempt to find happiness with someone who wasn't her.
"But I've already stayed." She cupped his face with one hand, and then used the other to point a finger to his temple. "I'm always here, aren't I?"
He took the hand holding a finger to his temple and placed it over his heart, near the bullet wound that would always remind him of where they began. "And here. You're always here."
The hand on his chest slowly crept upwards to his neck, and then to his cheek, each drag redeeming and damning him. "So long as I remain in those places, I'll always come back."
"Swear it. Swear it on something you hold sacred."
He was the one on the floor. She was the one on the bed. Based on their positions, he should be the one swearing—like a believer swearing his devotion to his goddess, a knight swearing fealty to his queen—but he had already sworn to her a long, long time ago. He had already sworn to her under the cloudless skies illuminated by the moon and stars, when they were pressed against each other skin to skin on a blanket atop the grassy earth, and their tent, which overlooked a lake, lay a few feet away.
It's always, you Ada. There was a gasp, a moan, a swallow, a plea. It's always going to be you.
"I swear it," she said. "I swear it on my undying affection for you, Leon. So long as I live within those spaces, I'll always come back to your side."
She leaned down to seal her vow with a kiss. She was a goddess promising something to a mere mortal, and Leon stood up to gently push her onto his bed that he made into an altar for the sole purpose of worshipping and desecrating her.
And it all fell into place as he stared at the right eye shape and colour, ran his hands through the right hair length and shade, heard the right voice, and kissed the right mouth, and for a moment, his monochrome sanctuary was suffused in red.
Sometimes, Leon wished that Ada didn't return, because it became harder and harder for him to let go of her each time they parted.