#and then the damn fly infestation in MY room because something must have died in the locked boiler room connected to mine that just

[cerbreus]

Starting to feel like I have been beset by a white woman etsy curse based on how this year has been for me.

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Distrail

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

For a price, anyone could check into a seedy motel, even three people covered in blood, guts, and grime, no questions asked, especially with the ashes of Raccoon City still cooling 100 miles away. So the horizon still held a faint glow of destruction when Leon and Claire stumbled, barely conscious, through the front door of the Tadpole motel at 2 PM October 1st, using each other as support and Sherry clinging to Leon’s back like a koala if a koala drooled and snored.

Two other motels along the highway turned the odd couple away, rumours already flying about Raccoon City, zombies, and a nuclear cover-up. But at the right price, triple the going rate, Claire managed to convince the manager to let them bunk down, courtesy of Leon’s stressed credit card.

The fact Leon’s credit card worked, or that he even still had his credit card, was a miracle. His wallet hadn’t exactly been a priority, and honestly, they could sleep in a cockroach-infested basement, and Leon would be happy because they were dead on their feet after hiking on foot what Leon estimated to be a good 30 miles of rough terrain to get to the nearest town. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sky behind them exploded.

Raccoon City was gone. The people Leon had sworn to defend were gone. Sherry and Claire were all he managed to protect, and he’d be damned if he failed now.

The motel room wasn’t terrible; two double beds, a small tube TV, and a leaky faucet. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t something out of a horrible nightmare. They’d left that behind them.

“I’m glad we don’t have a blacklight,” Claire joked, but her tone fell flat.

Leon nudged the bed farthest from the door suspiciously with his boot, dragged back the yellow duvet, and inspected the mattress before he lay Sherry down and tucked her in. He even let Claire shower first, insisted, while he watched Sherry sleep, tossing and turning and whimpering from reliving the horrors in her dreams until Claire emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, and crawled into bed beside Sherry.

By the time Leon scrubbed his skin raw, the water was cold, and Claire had passed out cold with Sherry cuddled up beside her, little hand tangled in the front of Claire’s dirty tank top like a lifeline. Leon passed out face first on the other bed. He couldn’t even muster the energy to get under the covers.

Movement woke Leon. He jolted awake, reaching for his gun on the bedside table, only to find Claire, fully dressed, perched on the end of his bed and tugging one of her boots. She smiled sadly at the gun levelled at her head.

Leon lowered Matilda, gasping for air. His arm fell limply to his side. “Claire?”

“Hey.” Claire pulled on her second boot. “Sorry.”

Leon blinked at the sleep crusting his eyes. “What... what are you doing?”

Claire sighed and set her foot back down solidly on the ground, hands grasping her thighs. “I need to find Chris. I need... I need to know he’s okay.”

“Now?” Leon glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers read 7:46. The setting sun outside glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“If you ever need me...”

“Forget me. What about Sherry?” Leon snapped, somewhat mollified when Claire winced.

“I know you’ll take good care of her.” Claire’s attention briefly snapped to the sleeping 12-year-old that had survived literal hell. “Leon... if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Leon scoffed, then rolled over. His heart thundered in his chest. He heard Claire briefly wake up Sherry to say goodbye, promising they’d be in touch, that if Sherry ever needed her, all she needed to do was call.

The door creaked open. Leon clenched his eyes shut, willing down the panic swelling in his chest until it ached. This was it. He was all Sherry had left. They were on their own.

“Take care of our girl for me.” Claire’s voice was barely a whisper.

Leon’s hands trembled, buried in the sheets and pillows, he struggled to suck down air, and his hearing fuzzed. Claire was gone.

For hours, Leon faded in and out of consciousness, barely able to keep the crush of dread at bay. Finally, at some point around 3 AM, he gave up all pretense to sleep and kept a vigilant guard. He jumped at a car alarm, tensed at the slam of a door, and clenched Matilda tightly when soft footfalls passed their door. Eventually, Sherry climbed into his bed to watch early morning cartoons with him.

“Is Claire going to be okay?” Sherry asked softly. She hugged Leon’s arm, cuddling into his side like he used to with his grandma.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about her,” Leon said. He slumped to the side, gently resting his head on top of Sherry’s. “She’ll be fine, kiddo.”

When the sun rose, Leon and Sherry trekked down to the front office to extend their stay another night, then hiked into town searching for clothes and sustenance. Being out in public, surrounded by people, set both Leon and Sherry on edge. They jumped at the slightest sound, and Sherry refused to release Leon’s hand for anything less than going to the bathroom, and even then, he had to stand guard outside the stall. Thank god he had pissed before they left the motel because Sherry was clinging to the back of his jacket while he tried seemed ridiculous.

Their shopping trip was quick. They grabbed what they could, Sherry setting a brisk pace through the little thrift store they found, dragging Leon from rack to rack. They scrounged up a few changes of clothes, socks, underwear, which Leon was a little uncertain of, a jacket that fits over his side holster since he had a license to carry, and a backpack that they filled with snacks and a deck of cards from a little corner store. It turns out Leon’s palette was similar to a twelve-year-old.

The tenuous credit limit finally crapped out on Leon when he tried to buy a six-pack at a shady liquor store on the way back to the motel.

“No job. No money. Just great,” Leon sighed.

For the rest of the day, they holed up in their room munching on junk food, watching terrible daytime TV, and playing Go Fish until Leon made the brilliant decision to teach Sherry how to play poker, and she fleeced him for all the Cheetos.

Leon had no plan beyond survive, and he hadn’t even planned for that. His body ached from being tossed by mutated monsters and shot. His wrapped shoulder twinged.

“Shit,” Leon cursed and clutched his wound. They needed help. He needed help. Taking care of a kid without any resources would be impossible; never mind, he’d never taken care of a person in his life. He had no siblings, no parents. His grandma died when he was nine.

Leon smiled at Sherry in reassurance when she questioned him. This little girl couldn’t be another statistic of the system. He could fix that. He would fix that.

Covered in orange Cheeto dust, Sherry crashed around 8 in the evening. The glow of the sun behind the curtain reminded Leon of the mushroom cloud that had enveloped the sky 36 hours ago. Leon’s stomach twisted in knots. Every creak, every thump, every squeaky break, Leon tensed, waiting for something to crash through the door and disrupt the precarious peace.

Leon hunkered down on his bed, the one closest to the door and any potential threat that came for them, and prepared for another sleepless night on edge.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Around one in the morning, his eyes beginning to droop, Leon nearly fell off the bed in his mad scramble for his gun when someone knocked heavily on the door. Checking his clip, Leon cautiously crept to the door, motioning for now very awake Sherry to stay out of sight.

“Who is it,” Leon called.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Chris Redfield. I’m looking for my sister Claire.”

Leon blinked and glanced back at Sherry, whose head had popped out of the blanket at the sound of Claire’s name. Then, double-checking he had bolted the chain, Leon opened the door a crack to peek out.

A man a little taller than Leon stood under the flickering light outside the door, his hair cut short and a 5 o’clock shadow. Chris Redfield, decorated member of the Racoon City Stars Division. Leon recognized him from the old photo Claire had shown him, but also the records he’d run across during his frantic hunt through the Police Department.

“Chris?” Leon said, astonished it was actually him. He slammed the door, unbolted the chain, and flung the door open again. “What the- Claire’s looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Chris, who eyed the gun uncertainly, brightened at the mention of his sister. “Is she here? The manager at the front recognized her. Said she was here with some guy and a kid.” Chris glanced past Leon into the room to Sherry curled up in the other bed peering out with curious fear from under the blankets.

Leon shook his head, eyes scanning the parking lot. “She’s not here. She left this morning to find you.”

“Fuck.” Chris winced and glanced at Sherry again. “Shit, sorry.”

Sherry giggled into her hands, and Leon rolled his eyes. “I think she’s dealt with worse.” Like the apocalypse.

“But she’s okay. She’s alive?” Chris asked.

“Who? Claire? Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. Saved my ass more than a few times.” Leon smiled wistfully and then frowned. So Claire had left, and now, here, her brother was trying to track her down. It must be nice to have someone that gave a damn about you.

“Oh, thank god.” Then, finally, all the tension and stiffness in Chris’ posture melted. “I got her message, and...”

Leon scanned the dark parking lot again for any sign of life, then gestured into the motel room. “You should come in.”

“No.” Chris waved off the invitation. “No, I need to find her.” But the fatigue in his voice threatened to topple him, and that would definitely fell Leon if he tried to catch him.

“Dude, you’re dead on your feet,” Leon said. “It’s the middle of the night. Crash for a few hours.”

“Yeah!” Sherry chimed in, bouncing on her bed. “Stay!”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t know you, man. But I do know that if you pass out behind the wheel and wrap yourself around a pole, you’re pretty damn useless to her.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, and Leon sighed, tilting his head to the side, ready to give up when Chris snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. He studied Leon closely, scrutinizing him like he would a suspect, but Chris must have been satisfied with what he found - weakness, terror, immaturity - because he finally said, “just a few hours.” And the anxiety squeezing the life out of Leon eased, just a tiny bit. Enough that he could breathe.

Chris excused himself to run and grab his go-bag, and Leon cursed his stupidity because nothing was stopping Chris from running. That tightness immediately returned, but a few minutes later, another sharp knock sounded at the door.

Leon smiled tiredly and welcomed Chris into the room, relieved to have the company, someone who knew what they were doing; an adult. Leon grew up fast, but he’d never been an adult in his life. Racoon City was supposed to be a fresh start, and now, he was back to square one. Not even. He was in the basement of square one—the root cellar.

Leon finally caught a good look at Sherry with the lights on, still covered in orange dust, her fingers and cheeks stained. “Jesus. Did you eat the Cheetos or roll in them?”

Sherry laughed. “Leon taught me to play poker, and then I won all the cheezies,” she said to Chris, who grinned.

“Nice job.” Chris offered her a high-five, which she eagerly accepted. The hero worship was already forming.

“He gets a little wrinkle right here when he lies,” Sherry said, pointing a small finger between her eyebrows.

“Okay,” Leon said, scooping Sherry off the bed and carrying her off under one arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed, munchkin.”

Cheeto dust proved a formidable adversary, but they managed. When they walked back into the room, Chris was standing exactly where they had left him, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his boots laced.

Getting Sherry tucked back into bed became a struggle now that the brand new company hyped her up; no hesitation whatsoever. She liked Chris. She even made Chris put her to bed, Leon faking offence at being disregarded for the new guy, but there was something about seeing a six-foot boulder of a man coax a tiny twelve-year-old back to sleep that made Leon’s chest ache. Especially when Chris told the story of how Claire was convinced that if she left fake teeth under her pillow, she could trick the tooth fairy into giving her more money. It never worked. The tooth fairy left chocolate coins instead. Fake money for a fake tooth.

Leon watched perched on the edge of the other bed, a little envious of Chris’ skill with kids. He double-checked the safety on his handgun, then the clip. Chris eyed Leon as he set his weapon back down on the bedside table, and Leon couldn’t muster the energy to be self-conscious about his paranoia.

Chris may be Claire’s sister and a fellow survivor of Raccoon City, but Leon didn’t actually know him. For all he knew, he was a traitor like Irons or Wesker. Maybe he wasn’t the man Claire believed him to be. What the hell had he been thinking? Inviting a stranger to stay with them?

With Sherry asleep again, Leon and Chris were left to settle in for the remainder of the night. For Chris, that meant shedding his bulky jacket and combat boots.

“It’s Leon, right?” Chris said. He stood awkwardly beside the bed, watching Leon click off the light and climb under the blankets, tucking himself up against the edge of the mattress as close as he possibly could without toppling off. “Claire mentioned you in one of her messages.”

Leon almost facepalmed. He hadn’t introduced himself. He really was doing everything backwards. “Yeah. That’s me. Leon S. Kennedy.” He curled up into a small ball.

“Jesus Christ.” Chris swiped his palm across his mouth. “You’re the new rookie.”

Leon chuckled humourlessly, his hands tightening into fists around the sheets pulled up to his neck. “Was a hell of a first day.”

Chris picked up real quick that Leon didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, he climbed into his side of the bed, the one closest to the door. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Leon tensed. Where else would Chris have slept? The floor? The last person Leon shared a bed with was his ex, who had seemingly saved his life. If she hadn’t broken up with him, if he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t slept in hungover as hell, he would have arrived right in the middle of the initial panic, and who knows if he would have survived that. No one else in the department had.

What would it have been like? The screams, the moans, the pleas for help- the sounds still played on repeat in Leon’s head. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, mouth agape, stumbling towards him with his hands out. Leon had put two bullets between his eyes.

The first indications of a panic attack slammed into Leon. Abruptly, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe, his vision slid out of focus, and his chest compressed. Like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice. His entire body shook.

Suddenly, a warm voice murmured in his ear, the soothing tone talking him down, calming him. Leon wasn’t alone. He wasn’t trapped in the police station battling endless waves of the undead, the people of Raccoon City he’d taken an oath to serve and protect.

“Leon, kid, you need to breathe,” Chris said. His presence was a solid wall behind Leon. “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Leon focused on Chris’ voice. His vision began to swim back into focus, his hearing rushed back in a sudden wall of familiar night noises like the drip of the faucet in the bathroom or the lonely car that passed on the highway. He nodded, not fully understanding what Chris was saying. An arm slid around his waist and pulled him back into a firm chest. Leon flailed, seconds from panic again when Chris’ voice rumbled in his ear.

“You’re going to be okay. I got you.”

Leon grasped Chris’ arm, his grip probably tight enough to leave bruises, and he choked on a shuddering sob.

“It’s okay, Leon. You’re going to be okay.”

Gasping for air, Leon rolled over and buried his face in Chris’ chest, and Chris let him. Leon’s sobs were muffled in Chris’ arms, not wanting to disturb Sherry in the next bed. He felt every subtle muscle flex when Chris tightened his grip or shifted them into a more comfortable position. That’s how Leon passed out, wrapped in the reassuring embrace of a complete stranger, one who understood the hell he’d lived through and the fear and uncertainty he felt in his soul.

Morning came quickly. Leon woke up still curled into Chris’ chest with a death grip on the other man’s faded t-shirt. Chris’ nose was buried in Leon’s hair, each soft snore ruffling his hair, but his embrace hadn’t lessened overnight.

The warmth of embarrassment burning, Leon snuck out of bed, anxiously loosening Chris’ hold and dashing for the safety and solitude of the bathroom, horrified at his complete lack of control the night before. No one had held him like that before, at least not since he was a child and his grandma would sit up with him after a nightmare. But, sadly, this was another type of nightmare, a waking one.

When Leon finally mustered the courage to wander back into the room, Chris was up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees.

“You okay?” Chris asked the same time Leon burst out, “I’m sorry!”

Chris sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. When I showed up on your doorstep last night, I saw right away that you were barely holding it together.”

Leon’s fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t meet Chris’ gentle gaze.

Chris crossed the room in two enormous strides and considerately grasped Leon by the shoulders. “It was the shock finally hitting you. It happened to me too, but I was alone,” Chris admitted. “Hey. Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Leon bit his lower lip, but he slowly looked up, eyes stinging. “I don’t know what to do.”

Telegraphing his movements, Chris gently pulled Leon into a tight hug. “You’re not alone. We’re going to do this together. I want to take Umbrella down, but first, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Leon jerked back so fast Chris stumbled. “I want to help. I want to make those sons of bitches pay.”

Chris smiled. “Good. But first, I have a safe house.”

Together, they set the plans. Leon and Sherry would meet Chris in two days, hopefully with Claire in tow, at Chris’ new safehouse three states over. Sherry and Leon could catch a bus a couple miles down the highway to get them most of the way. The trick would be getting up the mountain to the cabin. But they were in this together. Hope simmered once again.

Armed with a freshly drawn map on motel stationery, Leon watched Chris pack. Umbrella wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Here. Take it.”Chris handed Leon two rumpled twenties, a five, and a few ones he dug out of his wallet. “It’s all the cash I have on me, but it should be enough to get you there. I’ll drop you off-”

“No.” Leon took the cash, but waved off Chris’ offer to give him and Sherry a lift to the bus station. “It’s in the opposite direction. We’ll be fine.”

“Two days,” Chris promised. Sherry had climbed out of bed and now clung to Chris’ arm as if he couldn’t leave as long as she was attached. He ruffled her hair. “With or without Claire, I’ll be there and we’ll go from there.” Chris grabbed Leon by the back of the neck and dragged him into a gruff hug, their foreheads lightly pressed together. “It’s gonna be okay, kid.”

And Leon believed him. That is, until two hours later when an unmarked vehicle pulled up on Leon and Sherry hiking down the side of the road, hand in hand. They never made it to the rendezvous.

[reactingcompsnionsfo4]

47 for the Drabble challenge!!!!!! I thought it would be hilarious for any of the companions lol or even Maxson or desdemona

Thank you Cakenpiewhyohmy for this prompt, I decided to go with Elder Maxson, and it was so fun to write so I hope you enjoy!

“I thought it was a one-night-stand…and now we’re married…”

“So, let me get this straight, you had a ‘one-night stand’ and now you’re married?” It was always late at night around the campfire in Sanctuary that questions started to fly, and tonight Cait led the interrogation about my most recent heat of the moment marriage.

I knew it would be quite a shock for everyone to find out that I got married considering I was single last time they saw me, but if I’m honest I was still in quite a bit of shock myself. So, when I finally broke it to them over a ‘lovely’ home cooked Yao guai stew there were many different reactions. Nick just facepalmed, Cait started laughing wildly, Danes was going on about how it was very unsoldierlike, Curie was blushing madly, and of course Hancock patted me on the back smiled and laughed, he looked almost proud. I don’t really know what I was expecting reaction wise, but damn was this embarrassing. But if I thought that all the friendly teasing, prodding, and poking was bad enough then boy was I wrong, I knew they were just playing and I couldn’t really judge them with the bombshell I just dropped on them ‘pun intended’ but then they finally got to the question that I thought they would have realised to ask a lot earlier. “Wait...who did you actually marry?”

Silence. They all slowly turned to me with the weirdest looks I have ever seen, if I wasn’t super uncomfortable, I probably would have laughed. “Arthur Maxson” It came out a bit quieter and shakier than I would’ve liked, but they all still heard it. The silence continued, but the atmosphere had changed. I could feel their confused stares burning into my soul and I wished that they would say something anything just to stop this awkward stillness. “So you’re fucking Elder Maxson, damn girl!” Never mind I take it back the silence was better. Then chaos erupted, there was shouting, screaming, laughing, and way too many questions to process. I could understand their confusion Maxson and I had never really been on the best of terms, while I was still a member of the Brotherhood, I was a little too rouge for his liking, but I was the best at what I did and got shit done so he decided to put up with it.

I could tell that they wanted answers or maybe blood, sometimes they were hard to read. But nevertheless, I wanted to respond to all their questions, but I just couldn’t over all their noise. “SHUT UP!” and thankfully they did and once again they all turned to me expectedly. “Thank you” it was then that I decided the best way to calm everyone down was to just tell them the full story since even I didn’t know the answers to all their questions and some I just didn’t want to think about, especially the ones from Cait and Hancock.

Where to begin. It started after I just got back onboard the Prydwen from a mission saving some Scribes from a hoard of gunners they ran into. A generous dead if I do say so myself as I wasn’t ordered to go, and I put my life in danger to save them but for some reason Elder Maxson didn’t seem to see it this way. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! I specifically ordered you not to go!” I was pretty sure everybody in the Commonwealth could hear his booming voice as he scolded me for my ‘reckless’ actions, I could see people around me cower and look at me with pity as they feared the Elder as much as they admired him at times like this. But this is me we’re talking about and I’m not exactly like the others.

I simply gave him a deadpan look as I knew that I was right “I did what I thought was right and I saved their lives, so I believe what you’re trying to say is thank you.” If looks could kill. I honestly thought for a second either two things would happen he would have a heart attack from as he would put it the ‘utter disrespect and disobedience’ or he would pick me up and throw me off the Prydwen. Thankfully for me, neither of these things happened but maybe something worse did. “In my office now” his voice was low but laced with malice trying not to attract too much attention, but it was already too late for that.

Since he didn’t really have an office as such we were in his quarters. He started to pace back and forth, sweat from anger dripping down him, his face was scrunched and hands in fists, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything. “You disobeyed a direct order and put your own life and others at risk!” He was clearly very irritated, and I should’ve just apologised but I knew I couldn’t do that because I made the right call “I only ignored your order because I knew what should’ve been done” surprisingly this didn’t make the situation any better, but I wouldn’t back down. “You suddenly showing up could’ve scared them into pulling the tricker on our scribes, the only reason they’re alive is because of luck, you listen to what you’re are told!” this went on for some time but neither of us was going to budge on our beliefs rank be damned.

We must have been at it for at least half an hour and nothing has changed, until one point he got really close to me, trying to be intimidating I imagine “I should banish you from the Brotherhood all together” his stare never wavering “Do it then.” The kiss was so unexpected that I nearly fell backward but his armed wrapped around me would’ve stopped that. We were both furious with each other and full of rage and it just drove us even more and fuelled our passion. We spent the night together and as Cait put it whilst I was telling my story ‘Hate sex’ but we didn’t really hate each other it was quite the opposite.

However, we knew we had to keep it professional as he was the Elder and I a Paladin. We also couldn’t let our emotions get the better of us as we constantly have to put our life’s at risk and getting caught up in a romantic relationship would be too messy, so we decided to keep it as a one-night stand and that’s all I thought it was. It was for the best, or attest that’s what we kept telling ourselves, but we couldn’t deny the quick glances at each other across the room at lunch or during a briefing, or the electrifying little touches whenever we were near. It was too much to bear and my face was almost permanently red with blushes as everything he seemed to do was somehow much more attractive than before. The way he fought or commanded a room full of soldiers, it all made me weak.

This went on for what felt like eternity but was more likely only a couple of weeks, it was then that it all went downhill, I was on a mission with a large group of Brotherhood soldiers to launch an all-out attack on an infestation of Super Mutants, being as difficult as it was meant that there were already a dozen of risks, but we were able to hold them back enough and start to gain some ground when all hell broke loose! A giant legendary Deathclaw just appeared out of nowhere in the center of our attack and as luck would have it charged right for us. The troops were stunned, and we were unable to react quickly as it crashed through our defenses. My blood ran cold when the beast locked eyes with me I knew running was pointless so I just aimed and fired trying to do as much as I could, but the adrenaline was making it hard and the world around me became a blur, and that was the last thing I could remember. I swear that day I met a demon.

When I finally awoke all, I could see was white, and bright lights. Well, this is it I thought, I have finally made it to the Pearly gates, it could be worse I guess, I could be down there and not up here. “Should be fine, there will be a scar, but everything should heal with a bit of time and rest” Why the hell is Cade here with me, goddamit that doctor always gets on my nerves.

When my vision finally came back I could see that I was in the infirmary and not heaven. I tried to sit up but I all I could feel was sharp shooting pains across my arm. “Hey, lay back down you’re going to hurt yourself” Maxson? What was he doing here? As much as I wanted to I couldn’t find my words as my throat was so dry and everything was still a tad dizzy but having him hear was more comforting than I was willing to admit. It took a while for me to regain my strength as Maxson explained what happened, how I was attacked and only just saved. I laughed it off, I have a weird sense of humour, but the Elder looked gravely serious. “You could have died” I didn’t understand why he was acting so strange, he was looking away from me and it was like he was talking to himself.

“I know but I didn’t so that’s good right?” he didn’t respond he was trapped in his own little bubble and I could see his mind working a mile a minute and he even started to mutter to himself. He wasn’t acting normal. “You could have died…and I would never see you again” he looked in despair and it pained me to see, I thought the same thing too, but I never would have thought he would’ve felt the same. I was going to interrupt his continues mumbling to try and sort him out, but he beat me to it.

“Marry me”

He was looking me in the eye now, and I tried to figure out if he was joking but he wasn’t. So I did.

Thank you so much for reading, I really hoped you enjoyed, and I would really appreciate your feedback. What was your favorite part?