He had to find out what was wrong. The young woman's words over the phone a few hours ago kept on nagging at his brain, even though he was in a middle of a conversation with his wife over ramen. He'd imagine having an exact same conversation with her. He did in fact, just before he failed to stop her from foolhardily going against Umbrella Paris all on her own.
"You know, in Japan? If you eat the ramen as quickly and as noisily as possible, then that means something like, respect." Rachel started as she took a sip of iced tea.
"Really? Too bad your parents aren't Japanese then."
"Shush you."
"I'm still reeling over the mess I made the last time we had dinner with your mom and dad."
"Trust me, that went well."
"I messed up with the ferret."
"She bit you, it wasn't your fault."
"I threw it halfway across the room."
"At least you didn't blow it up with a magnum."
"…Oh. Congratulations to me then."
"There, there, I promise that next time will be different."
"You'll let me-"
"The magnum stays at home, sweetie."
"Blast it."
"Exactly. Now eat. You vex the noodles."
Leon covered his mouth and took up the noodles on his chopsticks. "Help me!" he cried with a muffled voice, shaking the noodles as if they were begging for mercy. "No!" he replied to himself playfully, making Rachel giggle. Rachel had a carefree spirit to her, but she couldn't help but ponder on what was troubling her fiancée. She knew that he would be stubborn to admit whatever it was until she made him very sleepy and drunk, and that his child-like antics couldn't really conceal anything when something's up.
They sat on a two-chair table that was just by the windows, and Leon's eyes always seemed to travel outside each time he arched back after taking a bite. Countless people of all ages, shapes and sizes were walking to their destinations, some hiding emotions, others flaunting them. It was the worst thing in the world to him to hide something, since it always made him feel like he was digging himself into something deeper, something harder to let out, and in reality, it's true. That's how it always was.
Claire left the bank with a heavy heart, more of an angry one, as she was yet again disapproved of a loan. "It's stupid! They need me to have a proper job before the loan, but I can't have a job if there isn't a loan!" she madly screamed to herself as she passed two nuns promoting a 'Habitat' program. She wore the same clothes that she did earlier on, no make-up or perfume. It was already three in the afternoon, and there was always that one place she went each time the hands of time struck that certain hour.
The Eiles River was a narrow stretch of water, curving gracefully in the far stretches of Stoneville. Golden rays of light illuminated the tall, green grass that sandwiched the crystal river. In the distance, the town's riverside shops and stalls could be seen, where the river pushed into a larger space. For a while, Claire felt at peace as she simply watched nature dance effortlessly around her. She pushed a bang to the back of her ear, and sat down the steep end of a slope that gave her a perfect view of the river. The blades of grass at times, gently pricked her skin, but she had dealt with worse in her time.
"I miss Raccoon city." She thought, as she closed her eyes to rest onto the gusts of wind. "I miss…no, don't think of him. Okay, not thinking of him makes me think more of him. Shit."
Leon held Rachel's hand as they walked down the park, but his unsettled thoughts brewed over stronger and stronger with each step they took. He wanted to know how to help Claire, but at the same time, he felt angry with her, for shutting him out of her life so long ago. "I'm not worth telling." Came the familiar voice that hounded his mind. "Get out of my head." Silently ordered Leon as he took a deep breath. Some things were still worse than the undead.
"You know…you're a bad liar." Started Rachel.
"What?"
"It's obvious, something's up, and you just won't tell me."
"I'm just pretty tired."
"Really."
"…"
"You're a really bad liar."
"…"
"It's about Claire, isn't it?"
"What? No. No."
"Come on Leon, you never look like that unless you go on some anecdote about her."
"…"
"Do you still like her?"
"I told you, all I see in the world now, is just you." Leon protested, staring into her eyes.
"Then why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"
"It's not important, it…shouldn't concern you." He said, involuntarily raising his voice.
"…"
"I'm sorry, that, that didn't come out right."
"…"
"Rachel…let's just, not talk about this."
"…" she didn't reply, but simply began to walk forward again, still not letting go of his hand. Rachel loved him, but she always felt at a loss, and at most times jealous, of how much Leon cares about that special girl he left behind. She never battled it out with ten-foot mutations or armies of walking corpses, not like Claire. Rachel could never do all the things Leon did with Claire, and it deeply saddened her.
"God, I just ruin every fucking thing in my life." Leon silently told himself as he frantically thought of a way to make it up to Rachel, to make her smile at the very least. "Uh…what about that dress?" Leon asked weakly. "…I have it for five-o-clock." She replied without any enthusiasm.
"So, where do you want to go before then?"
"I don't know."
"Rachel…"
"I'm just, not in the mood right now, okay?"
"Oh, that's just great." Leon thought to himself as they sat down on a bench. "…Want any ice cream?"
"I'm still full."
Evening rolled by in absolute dreary, as Leon couldn't keep a single serene thought in his mind. "Call it in as a personal favor." He whispered to the phone. "…Yeah, I know we can't do this, but it's important, I think the person's in trouble." He then said after a moment of silence, careful not to raise his voice. "No, I'll handle it, this is a personal thing of mine…no, it's not a freaking vendetta I have against anyone, you know me Matt…okay, thanks man."
Leon took out a small piece of paper and a red marker from one of the drawers and placed them beside the phone. After what seemed like a whole year, the voice came back. "…Room 204, Blue Creek Apartment, Stoneville. Okay, thanks bud, I owe you one."
"So what are you going to tell your wife?" asked the small voice in his head. "I…don't know. God, I'm screwed." He trudged back up to their room, where Rachel was sleeping comfortably in the white bed. She had her back turned to the door, so Leon couldn't see her face as he walked in. "…I'm still in love with Claire." He thought. "What would Rachel do if I told her? She'd probably leave me. What if she does? She's the most beautiful woman in the world and I'm just…me."
The police officer stripped off his long-sleeved shirt and kicked of his shoes, too wasted in every aspect to do anything else. He slipped under the blanket and snuggled up to Rachel, who was already asleep. Leon had his right hand on her waist, while his left was rested under his left ear. His eyes trailed in the view, from Rachel's hair, up to the window that was on the wall, looming over them as they lay. In a way, this was everything he ever wanted. Being able to be with the woman he loved, just to be able to spend time with her, even in absolute silence, to smell her hair, to hold her in his arms. It was all he ever wanted.
Claire looked out the window as she sat alone on the table, and even though she wasn't the type of woman who looked for love, she still couldn't help but wish for a hand over her own. Sherry was already asleep, always the best time for Claire to let down her strong façade, and open up the dam over her eyes. A berretta was sitting on top of the table, a strong voice that beckoned her to end all the pain, all those days of wishing for a mistake to suddenly rectify itself. She had written a short verse of a song she once heard on a piece of paper with a red marker, not accurate, but it was what she had remembered. It read:
"Wishing
you were
somehow here again . . .
wishing you were
somehow near . . .
Sometimes it seemed
if I just dreamed,
somehow you would
be here . . ."
"Wishing I could
hear your voice again . . .
knowing that I
never would . . .
Dreaming of you
won't help me to do
all that you dreamed
I could . . ."
"Passing bells
and sculpted angels,
cold and monumental,
seem, for you,
the wrong companions -
you were warm and gentle . . ."
"Too many years
fighting back tears . . .
Why can't the past
just die . . .?"
"Wishing you were
somehow here again . . .
knowing we must
say goodbye . . .
Try to forgive . . .
teach me to live . . .
give me the strength
to try . . ."
"No more memories,
no more silent tears . . .
No more gazing across
the wasted years . . .
Help me say
goodbye."
Author's note: Not the longest of my chapters, but what the fuck. Hope you readers enjoyed it, now let me get back to my problems. (school, school, being ugly) Oh, and who can be the first one to guess where those verses came from (the net doesn't count as an answer) will...I dunno, get a cameo or something.