Chapter Text
It’s close to night now.
The sky has slipped from silver into a deepening blue, the kind that feels almost like ink spreading slowly through water. Thunder hums far away, low and thoughtful.
It rained quietly at first, then in a rhythm on the glass. Celia drew the curtains halfway, letting a strip of wet city light pool on the hardwood, and sat on the arm of her couch, as if it were waiting for her.
Celia's apartment reeked of chamomile and warm bread, the kinds of small pleasures that made evenings feel like hugs. The living room glowed in soft blush and rose tones, as if the walls were wrapped in a warm sunset. Sheer pink curtains softened the light, creating a dreamy and safe atmosphere. Delicate strands of fairy lights hung from the ceiling, shimmering like tiny stars and casting a golden sparkle throughout the room.
A plush velvet sofa sat in the center, piled high with fluffy pillows and an army of plush toys—bears, bunnies, and pastel creatures with stitched smiles. A thick, cloud-like rug spread across the floor, inviting sock-clad feet to sink into its comfort. Against one wall stood a neat shelf filled with colorful video game cases, their spines lined up with a console just below, controllers carefully placed. Celia had always believed that Friday nights were sacred.
"Sacred" denoted fuzzy socks, strawberry pajamas, shortbread cookies, hot cocoa with pink and white marshmallows, and a particular video game on her television. Celia enjoys playing Resident Evil, particularly Resident Evil 4. Spending two hours with the lights off, the sound on, and her undivided attention. It was more about the characters who connected the scenes than the jolts themselves.
After arranging a nice spread on the coffee table, washing her dark hair, and dressing comfortably, Celia relaxes on the couch, the familiar weight of a long day lifted from her shoulders. As a college student studying pediatric care, she frequently reflected on how small hands could hold so much strength and how children possessed a quiet kind of courage. Celia recognizes that children are more than just patients; they are futures. Every bandage applied, fever quelled, and encouraging smile added to a life still unfolding.
Celia sees pediatric care as more than just a profession. It is a promise to protect, comfort, and support children and families in their most vulnerable moments. And in that promise, she discovered her calling.
The soft hum of her pink console fills the room as she curls up on the couch; her border collie, Oreo, sprawls dramatically across her legs as if he paid rent. The cute and mischievous dog waited all day for his owner to return because he missed her and craved more treats. Celia activates the controller and nudges Oreo's head with her palm. "Ready?" She inquired because some games seemed braver when spoken aloud to a dog. Oreo groans and rests his head down.
On-screen, a familiar face appears after a monologue.
Leon S. Kennedy’s face shows on the television. His light brown hair falls in a natural, side-parted sweep, the longer strands brushing just above his focused, piercing blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline give his face a resolute, determined expression, tempered by the faintest hint of weariness from the dangers he faces. However, the man cracks jokes here and there.
He's dressed in a dark brown leather jacket that's slightly worn around the edges, zipped partially over a black long-sleeve shirt, and tactical pants with reinforced knees. His folded hand resting on his cheek, fingerless gloves, and sturdy black combat boots complete the practical and unadorned look.
“Oh my gosh,” Celia whispered, clutching a heart-shaped pillow to her chest. “There he is. There he is.” She squeals happily.
When Leon did something so charming, the young woman would clap in delight and make embarrassed noises. Celia fangirled with the genuine enthusiasm of someone meeting a celebrity crush: cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and hands splayed across her mouth. She also has a Leon keychain on her purse, among other trinkets. Even though he was fictional, Celia considered him to be the most perfect human being ever rendered by pixels.
Following the opening scene, Leon enters a mysterious and eerie forest in rural Spain. Crows flap their wings as he emerges from the wilderness and sees a dilapidated house. He can hear flies buzzing and wet dirt smacking beneath his combat boots, with only oil lamps for light. Leon enters the house with curiosity and caution. He inspects each area to ensure that everything is clear. Despite the fact that he is already uncomfortable in this location.
A former rookie cop turned U.S.A. government special agent opens the door to a room with a lit fireplace. Leon examines the area, and it already appears to be a house of horrors. He discovered a dead man, one of the police officers' badges covered in blood, and what appeared to be bones hanging from the rocky walls.
"Leon, sweetie. Turn around," Celia warned the screen, already aware that a villager was about to attack the character. "You should have inspected the so-called dead man first." She knows the game by heart, indicating that she is an avid fan. Oreo huffs at her antics.
Celia gives a frown. "Do not judge me," she replied solemnly. "You don't understand tactical blonde men." She doesn’t see it, but her dog is unimpressed. But then the villagers attack Leon. She squeals—an embarrassingly high-pitched sound—and mashes buttons frantically.
Despite being ditzy, painfully shy in real life, and the type of person who apologized to chairs after bumping into them, Celia was ferocious when it came to protecting Leon. If anyone so much as breathed wrong near him, she reacted like a bodyguard in strawberry-printed pajamas.
When Leon executes the villager, she collapses backward against the sofa. Celia looks at him dreamily, as if she were mesmerized. "He's so cool," she groaned, kicking her feet into the air. "Why can't real men suplex cultists? Is it too much to ask?" She wonders and gets nothing from Oreo. He rolls on his back, ignoring his owner.
But during the jump scares, the border collie would make a small, indignant noise and paw the couch. Celia laughs, feeling both agitated and relieved. The laugh eased the tension for both of them. Oreo would occasionally bark at the TV, a stout, protective bark that said, "I have your back, human"—and Celia would ruffle his ears and press the controller into a palm heavy with contentment. In quieter moments—a stretch of safe corridor, a pause between scenes—she allowed the comfort to sink in. They're like best friends, looking out for one another.
The My Melody clock blinked 11:30 PM on the TV stand.
Minutes are interwoven into hours. Outside, lightning strikes the obsidian clouds, while inside, the lamp transforms the room into amber. Celia occasionally paused to sip her hot cocoa, jot a note about a puzzle she wanted to revisit, and laugh at an oddly placed scare. After completing a difficult section, she saved her game with deliberate ceremony—no rush, no triumphant fanfare, just the humble satisfaction of a job well done.
"Oreo, are you ready for bed?" Celia inquired, stretching her stiff arms and yawning. The dog responds with a woof. He sits up, ready to jump off the couch and face her. Celia giggles. "Okay. I'll meet you there," she says, watching him dash into her bedroom. She turns off her gaming console and television. Celia begins cleaning up the coffee table. She saves the leftover snacks and places the controller on the stand. Celia felt like the night went by so quick. Well, it’s time to sleep because the new day awaits.
After doing her skincare and brushing her teeth, she dives into bed, and Oreo follows suit. He has his own spot next to the nightstand. Celia reads the unread messages that her family sent. They're all like, "I hope you had a wonderful day." "I love you," and one from her older brother: "Don't play video games too much." That one made her laugh because he used to stay up late and get into trouble. She did pick up his habits.
The city outside was settling: cars thinning, voices fading, and the sky dimming into a velvet stretch dotted with stars. Celia responds to her family and places her phone on the wireless charger on top of the nightstand. She pulls the blanket up to her chest and lies on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her breathing became deeper. The day freed her.
And when sleep finally clouds her eyes, it does so gently, like a tide rising just enough to transport her somewhere quiet and strange.