Chapter 29: Apathy, Interrupted

They barely spoke after the battle.

Leon had disappeared to tend to what little wounds he had in solitude, while Erica found herself sitting with Sydney and Sid, letting their exhaustion fill the silence. The adrenaline had worn off, and now all that was left was the uncomfortable quiet that followed near-death experiences.

Sydney, as expected, filled the void first.

"I don't know about you guys," she groaned, stretching her arms above her head, "but I think we deserve a break. Maybe a vacation. Somewhere with food and no psychopaths trying to kill us."

Sid hummed in agreement, his body finally relaxing. Erica, however, barely registered their words. Her thoughts kept drifting—to the fight, to Leon, to the way he had thrown himself into danger without hesitation. Again.

She had spent so much time avoiding him, dodging his gaze, pretending his words meant nothing to her. But in that moment—when he pulled the trigger without hesitation, when he fought beside them without a single joke or grin—she saw him in a way she never had before.

And she couldn't ignore it anymore.

After resting for a while, Erica finally stood, brushing the dust off her clothes. "I'll be back."

Sydney raised a brow. "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer, already walking away.

She found Leon by the edge of the area they were resting in, staring at the horizon like he was waiting for something. When he noticed her approach, he straightened slightly, an unreadable look crossing his face.

Neither of them spoke at first. The weight of the past few days sat between them, thick and unspoken.

Then, finally, Erica sighed. "Are you just gonna keep running off every time things get hard?"

Leon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Isn't it ironic for you of all people to say that to me?"

She gave him a pointed look.

"…Okay, maybe I was running off."

A pause.

Then, softer, he added, "I thought you needed space."

Erica hesitated, crossing her arms. "I did."

Leon nodded slowly, as if bracing himself for something. "And now?"

She opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat. She had spent so long denying it—burying the feeling before it could fully form. Even now, standing in front of him, she wasn't sure she could say it out loud.

Leon seemed to notice, because he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "You know, for someone as blunt as you, you're really bad at this."

She scowled. "At what?"

He looked at her like she was missing something obvious.

"I like you."

Her stomach dropped.

He continued, expression unreadable but voice steady. "I want you to like me too. What is that going to take?"

Erica's eyes widened. The realization hit her all at once, so suddenly it felt like the ground had been ripped from under her. That was why she felt this way. That was why his sadness got under her skin. That was why she had been so awkward around him since his confession.

She liked him.

She liked him.

"I don't know…" she said, voice quieter than she meant for it to be. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I think I might already like you."

Leon blinked, visibly thrown off. No dramatics, no smirk. Just… shock. "Are you sure?"

"I'm… 80% sure."

A small silence followed. Then, he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm surprised I managed to get it to 80%." Leon gave one of those rare genuine smiles that Erica had not seen enough of. 

"I guess I'll have to try harder if I want to make it 100%" He said with a shrug.

Before she could react, he reached for her, pulling her into a hug. It was warm, it was firm, it was overwhelming.

She shoved him off almost immediately, face burning. "Too soon."

Leon just laughed again, hands raised in surrender. The sound of Sydney and Sid calling for them broke the moment, and they turned to see the twins waving from the distance.

"We can see the car from here!" Sydney shouted. "Come on!"

As she followed Leon back toward the others, Erica found herself slowing, her mind drifting elsewhere—backward.

She had spent years keeping herself at a safe distance from anything that could shake her. It wasn't just about avoiding pain; it was about control. She had learned young that expectations only lead to disappointment, that warmth was conditional, that love was a thing people dangled like bait before yanking it away.

Her mother had loved her, in a way. Enough to call her "strong" when she didn't cry, enough to leave her alone when she didn't ask for more. Her father had been a quiet shadow, present but not really there, like a piece of furniture no one bothered to move. There had been no outbursts, no explosions—just a slow, dull erosion of warmth until she learned to stop expecting it.

Then came her aunt. Then came Sydney and Sid. They had made her feel something close to safe, and that should've been enough. But the thing about safety is that it comes with a price—because once you have it, you realize how easily it can be taken away.

So she had built walls. Smirked when people expected sincerity, rolled her eyes at sentimentality, kept her affections quiet and distant, like a secret only she was allowed to know. It was easier that way.

And then there was Leon.

A walking contradiction. A puzzle she never wanted to solve but somehow did anyway. He was reckless, irritating, and entirely too comfortable pushing at the edges of her walls. And worse—he wasn't afraid of what he found there.

Maybe that was what scared her the most.

Maybe that was why she had spent so much time keeping him at arm's length.

And maybe that was why, standing before him now, she had no idea what came next.

Sydney and Sid were already ahead, arguing about something ridiculous, their laughter cutting through the fading adrenaline. Leon fell into step beside her, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes still carrying something unreadable.

They walked in silence for a few beats before he glanced at her. "Only 80%?"

Erica groaned. "You're not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. 85%."

Leon grinned. "Progress."

The car came into view, and with it, the heavy, inevitable return to reality. Whatever this was—whatever they were—it wasn't going to be solved in a single conversation. Maybe not even in a single trip.

But for now, she could live with 85%.

She could live with the fact that, for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel the need to run.

And maybe that was enough.