#my therapist calls it holding onto things that don't belong to me

[porcelainseashore]

The Lost Tapes (1)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, ...)

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

General Note: One-shots for my series Where We’ve Left Our Love. Encapsulated moments within the past and future lives of Leon x Reader in no particular order. Follows the Resident Evil Remake timeline.

Chapter Summary: It’s about time that you got over the loss of Leon for your own good. You’ve settled in Berlin, your dance career is on the rise and you’re looking forward to a nice dinner date, but something keeps pulling you back.

Content Warnings: Mild smut or suggestive themes, grief and mourning, suicidal thoughts, drinking, referenced drug use, and depending on how you see things, hurt/comfort or hurt no comfort.

Shoutout to RainyKennedy for suggesting the topic of Reader's grief for this one-shot!

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: All That Remains

“So, who’ve you been messaging with?” One of your co-dancers teased, as she suddenly appeared behind your back, tapping your shoulders playfully, startling you.

“Jeez!” You exclaimed, holding your mobile phone close to your chest in surprise. “Don't scare me like that!”

“Sorry,” she laughed, while shrugging indifferently. “But seriously though, who…?” She pressed on further, while circling to your front and plopping down onto a chair in front of you.

Blushing, you turned away from her prying gaze and shook your head.

“It’s that guy, isn’t it?” She squealed. “The one Silje introduced us to.”

You sighed, knowing you weren’t particularly good at keeping a poker face when it came to such matters. Nonetheless, you felt a pang of guilt rising from your stomach and blooming in your chest. It had been ages since you’d been on a date. The first few times you tried, it ended disastrously, with you excusing yourself to leave before it was even over. Despite it being years after the Raccoon City incident, things were somehow still too raw and no one you had dated so far could hold a candle to him.

Leon. He was all you could think about in times like these. What would he say to this? What would he have wanted you to do? To go on, you supposed. Live your own life. Yet, nothing could shake off the unbearable feeling that what you were doing was like an immense betrayal.

Everything reminded you of him. A flash of dirty blonde tresses when you crossed the street, but when the figure turned around, it was foreign. A waft of his favorite cologne in a crowded market, but it belonged to someone else. Blue - the only color you could describe in a thousand words. Deep blue, lightning blue, everything washed in shades of blue. Like when you were on holiday and stood at the edge of the ocean, feeling the warm breeze against your skin and tasting the salt in the air. You remember getting lost in those cerulean eyes of his, reflecting the surface between sea and sky. But now, the colors of the world you inhabited just appeared muted to you.

You couldn’t even bear to listen to music both of you loved anymore. Little things set you off. Silly phrases he had once said, endearing terms of affection he had called you. You probably should’ve seen a therapist at this rate, but you just kept plodding along. Like you always did. You’d go through a period of intense grief, coming out of it safe and sound, floating in the lull of a wave, and waiting for the next cycle to start again like a rollercoaster.

During the bad times, you’d try to drown out the memories in hedonistic parties with your new lot of friends and a cocktail of drugs. You were afraid of being alone, sitting in the dark in your empty apartment, consumed by your thoughts. On the outside, you were able to keep up your façade. Your career was on the rise and Silje had helped you to settle in. However, inside, you were breaking bit by bit. It was exhausting to keep feeling things, but some part of you didn’t want to forget. You couldn’t. 

Perhaps you were cursed. You wondered if it would always be like this. Being condemned to repeat the same course of events again and again, like Groundhog Day. Time heals all wounds, they said. You wanted to believe in that shabby scrap of reassurance. That was all you had to go on these days, so you latched onto it desperately, reciting it like a mantra in your head.

“Hello?” Your co-dancer called out with mild irritation. “Are you even listening?”

“Hm, what?” You replied apathetically, reluctant to drag yourself out of your ruminations and return to the conversation.

“Ugh, never mind!” She snapped, though she fell back to her spirited, carefree self once again. “When’s the date anyway?”

“Tonight.”

“You don’t sound so enthused,” she remarked, raising an eyebrow. Leaning forward, she whispered in your ear, “I heard he comes from old money.”

Your face twisted in disgust. “I couldn’t care less about that.”

She held her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just saying that he checks all the right boxes earlier, when you weren’t paying attention. This is just a bonus!”

“Some bonus indeed,” you scoffed.

Ignoring you, she continued, “I mean, he’s obviously quite the poet with those long, flowery messages he keeps sending you.” She motioned to your phone, as you rolled your eyes. “He’s also very handsome, polite, charming-”

“Alright, enough,” you interrupted, shifting in your seat uncomfortably. “You don’t have to keep convincing me.”

Grabbing your shoulders to catch your attention, she looked you dead in the eye with a knowing smile. “I’m just looking out for a friend here.” She rubbed the back of them supportively. “You said there was a guy back home you couldn’t let go of. But this is your life now - a new place, a new chapter. Don’t you think you deserve to move on?”

Did you? You weren’t sure how to answer that question.

“Maybe,” you mumbled, so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear yourself.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A lone, black satin dress hung in the corner of your wardrobe, which was as bare as your apartment. People might have mistaken you for a minimalist, but truth be told, you had been in a rush when you left your home country a few years ago, paired with a grubby rucksack which carried only the bare essentials and some memories you couldn’t let go of.

You never bothered to fill your flat up, preferring to live frugally in this respect instead. The few pieces of furniture you had were what you found in second-hand shops or from random strangers who had left their stuff on the streets ‘zu verschenken’ (to give away).

As you slipped the dress over your head, smoothening it out across your body, and applied the first touches of makeup to your face, you daydreamed about how you had even landed in this position in the first place. When Silje introduced her patron, Mikkel, to you and the rest of your co-dancers hanging around outside in the foyer after a show, he had gravitated towards you. Maybe because you were shy, or you were holding back, unlike the others, who had greeted him excitedly. Perhaps he found the sense of mysteriousness you gave off alluring. 

You remember him being well-mannered and kind, not too pushy, and you talked at length about the performance piece, its symbolism, art in relation to politics and capitalism, and the like. He was engaging, and you couldn’t find any fault with him, except he just wasn’t the boy you had fallen in love with. However, you figured it was stupid to keep putting Leon on a pedestal, where other men that came after had to be judged according to such an impossible standard. So after a few drinks, you accepted Mikkel’s request and gave him your number willingly. It wasn’t long before he asked you out for dinner.

The phone on your table vibrated. You were almost done with getting ready. You smudged the rouge tint along the edges of your lips to create a softer look, before glancing at the screen of your mobile.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?’

You smiled and shook your head. He was trying to be a gentleman as usual.

‘I’m all good, thanks for the offer though.’

‘Alright, I can’t wait to see you.’

Tucking your phone into your evening purse, you draped a light shawl over your shoulders and eased your battered feet into a pair of heels. A dancer’s feet are always ugly, you remarked, laughing ruefully to yourself.

Then, you heard a tiny voice from the back of your mind pipe up, No, they’re not. 

You could feel it again, that lingering pressure on the soles of your feet, as Leon’s hands worked through the knots skillfully each time you’d been so beat from rehearsals. You tipped your head back against the wall and relaxed, trying to stifle a moan.

Let it out, baby.

It was as if he were in the room with you. You shivered, running a hand over your mouth to your neck as you tried to get a hang of yourself. Shaking it off, you leaned against the cool, metallic door frame for a moment before shutting down the lights in your apartment and venturing out into the city night.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Taking a huge gulp of the white wine that Mikkel had ordered to start with, you fidgeted in your seat awkwardly. Like a fish out of water, this world was unfamiliar to you. Of course, he had chosen one of the most expensive restaurants in town, detailed with pristine white tablecloths, a mind-numbing set of cutlery you had to figure out how to use, and a menu adorned with mostly French words you didn’t quite understand. People were dressed to the nines, the service was impeccable and there was even a live pianist for entertainment. 

You gazed up at the grand, dazzling chandelier hanging in the middle of the room that blinded your vision. To be honest, you would have preferred a rustic, family-owned Italian restaurant. Something down-to-earth and homey, not lofty and pretentious where everyone was performing a part in this spectacle you were witnessing in front of you. Pretending to laugh at each other’s comments, clinking their glasses together, ordering wines which cost an eye-watering amount.

Leon wouldn’t have-, you stopped yourself. This wasn’t the time to bring the topic up again.

“Would you like some recommendations?” Mikkel asked, almost apologetically, as if he detected your discomfort.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, ducking your head behind the tall menu to avoid his eye contact.

Was he embarrassed by you? You were an outsider in every sense of the word. Your parents would have been pleased for you to get to know him. They would have considered him a real catch. But you weren’t them. And this wasn’t their life. You thumbed the end of the napkin resting in your lap nervously.

He stretched out his hand, placing it over yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Wh- What for?” You sputtered. “No, it’s fine. It’s beautiful here,” you tried to gush. “I mean, thank you for taking me to this place. Really.”

He gave you a side smile, appreciating your attempts at salvaging the situation, though he was well aware of the blunder on his part. “We could go somewhere else, if you want.”

The next thing you knew, you had been whisked off to a more modest restaurant nearby, where you instantly felt at ease. Mikkel mentioned it was no trouble at his expense, he just wanted you to enjoy yourself. It was all that mattered to him. You found him sweet and especially attractive, when he loosened up a little and the strands of his sleek black hair fell across his face.

Maybe this time you’d move on, you mused hopefully, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut that told you otherwise.

Throughout the meal, your witty exchanges with Mikkel flowed. One drink led to another. You laughed at his jokes, rosy-cheeked and eyes glittering with amusement. The warm glow of the mood light cast shadows across the room, giving it a sultry vibe. Both of you ordered another round of drinks, and chatted merrily until it was closing time. It felt premature to end the night there and so, you allowed him to accompany you back to your place.

If you had an award for the most confusing point in time of your life so far, this would’ve taken the cake. As he kissed you against the door of your apartment, all at once you had the foreboding feeling of dread of what was to come, and yet pleasure, like you had been craving for someone’s touch for so long.

“Do you want to-”

“Mm hm.” You cut him off just like you disregarded the conflicting feelings and tepid apprehension bubbling to the surface. You weren’t going to risk giving yourself another chance to question your decision. 

You wanted this. You deserved it.

Scrambling for your keys, you slotted them into the lock and stumbled through the entrance, as he shut the door behind him. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, while you made your way to the bed, falling backwards onto it, as he continued planting kisses all over your body. You shuddered, as the memories came flooding back-

The times Leon had allayed your self-doubt and comforted you with soft words and kisses…

His calloused hands, worn from police academy training, absentmindedly stroking your bare skin…

The searing heat of the sun against your face as he sucked and nibbled at the sensitive spot on the base of your neck…

Every cry and gasp you ever uttered as you felt him inside you…

“So beautiful…” Who was saying that now? The waters had been muddied and it felt like you were caught between time and space, unable to separate fiction from reality.

When you came to, you found tears streaming down your face as you grasped onto Mikkel’s shoulders in a tight embrace, stark naked, with him on top of you, groaning your name as he came in you. You turned away from him as he pulled out, lying on your side, trying to conceal your crying, along with the absolute disgust and shame you felt welling up within you.

“Are you ok?” He asked gently, trailing his index finger along the curve of your spine. 

Your skin crawled, but you gritted your teeth in an effort to suppress the urge to rush to the bathroom to throw up, angry at yourself for what you had done. “Yes,” you lied. “It was amazing.” 

And this time, he believed you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It took a while for you to doze off, but when you did, you were ushered into the throes of sleep. 

The cyclical nature of your breath synchronized with the rise and fall of your chest, enveloping you in a blanket of peace and tranquility despite the earlier events. Vague moving images weaved through the fabric of your consciousness, out of focus and delayed, like a grainy film.

Eventually, it settled on a still figure in bed beside you. You squinted, wondering if this was another dream or if you were wide awake in bed with Mikkel again. The flicker of a set of pale blue eyes reflecting iridescently in the moonlight suggested otherwise.

“Leon…” you whispered.

He shifted closer to you, acknowledging your presence, even though he didn’t say a word.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, realizing that you lay before him completely stripped and exposed. You couldn’t hide anything from him in this state, and definitely not what had recently transpired.

“Do you hate me now?” You asked, even though you were afraid of the answer.

Brushing your cheek with the tips of his fingers, he replied without hesitation, “I could never hate you.”

“God, I fucked up,” you choked. “I just- I just miss you so much.”

Your body jerked uncontrollably as you buried your face in your hands, letting out heart-wrenching sobs. How could you? The words spun round on repeat like a broken record in your head.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and his chin resting above your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured you.

“Do you still think of me?”

“Always,” you admitted openly, as you clung to the back of his neck, inhaling sharply and savoring his unmistakable scent.

He pressed his lips upon the crown of your head, kissing you tenderly. “You can leave this behind, you know?”

“I don’t want to,” you insisted.

Even if all that remained was a figment of your imagination, or an apparition that haunted you, you were stubborn. Nothing could make you give this up. So much so that you blurted out the following statement determinedly into his chest, “Take me with you.”

His breathing stilled all of a sudden, as he understood the implication behind that sentence. You were tempted to join him, wherever he was.

Pulling you up to face him on eye level, he reproached you sternly, “Baby, no.”

He gripped your chin firmly to reiterate his point. “I mean it.”

“Nothing’s helping,” you responded listlessly, as if you were begging him to reconsider.

“Time,” he offered, peering at you sympathetically, the shape of his pupils widening as he combed through your hair soothingly.

Closing your eyes, you sighed, allowing yourself to melt in his touch, despite your disbelief. “That’s what everyone says.”

“Remember when we were at Huntington Beach?”

You blinked, gazing at him curiously. “How could I forget it?” 

It was one of the most blissful days you had with Leon. A quick weekend getaway, before both you headed in separate directions to your respective colleges again. You could smell the crisp, briny sea so distinctly, as if it were only yesterday. 

He flashed that wide, boyish smile you adored. “We had so much fun, didn’t we?”

You couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the memory. “We did.”

Caressing your cheek and then your lips, he promised, “That feeling… it’ll come back again. It just takes time.”

It just takes time. The very same words you had used to comfort him back in high school, telling him to let his eyes adjust to the pitch black darkness.

Although it seemed entirely out of reach for the moment, you knew that the world would open up to you at some point. You just had a ton of shit days lined up in front of you, like an endless maze, and you were growing tired of mustering the strength to confront them.

An unwanted thought crossed your mind. How long would he stay? You started to panic.

“Leon,” you pleaded. “Please don’t go.” Your eyes glistened, as fat droplets spilled down onto the sheets.

He bit his lip, and you saw that his face too, mirrored yours, streaked and wet with tears.

“I’ll be right here.” He cupped his hand over your heart, as you felt his phantom touch for the final time, before he was gone.

━━━━━━━━━━━

When you awoke, it was the brightest time of the day, with the noon light streaming into the bedroom through the gaps in your curtains. The bed was empty, but Mikkel had left you a note. In it, he apologized for leaving early as he had an appointment to attend to which he couldn’t back out of. As you had slept like an angel, he didn’t want to wake you.

Upon checking your phone, you saw another message from him.

‘Last night was special. I would love to take you out again. How about next Friday?’

You paused, re-reading the text over and over until the words started to jump and blur. Your thumb hovered over the buttons of your mobile, as you pondered your next steps. You exhaled deeply, and with a swift tap, you pressed delete.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #porcelainscribbles