Chris watched the male quietly, nodding to himself. "You're right." His tone was soft as he returned his gaze to the fireplace. "I don't know where to go from here."
"Doesn't sound like the Chris Redfield I've heard about from all the tales." The other male began playfully, frowning slightly when he saw the lost look in Chris' eyes as he zoned out. His lips pursed as he pushed himself to stand, wincing slightly from the pain in his body. His mind went back to the room, having his arms and legs sliced open by multiple knives. Curved ones. Jagged ones. Fuck, even a dull one was dug deeply into his forearm. Horrified as he was, watching the rest of the wounds disappear into the soft flesh, he pushed himself over to the fireplace. Hands raised so that the heat would lick at his fingertips.
"That Chris died when Jill did." He answered finally.
The male frowned and bit the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, I can tell. You're not the Chris you were, but maybe someday down the road you'll-"
"Don't you get it?" Chris barked calmly. "Jill is dead. Her body is missing and so is Weskers. Which means something happened. It's sketchy."
"Chris..."
"Don't. Just..." The brunette sighed and closed his eyes. "Just drop it, okay? I understand you're trying to help, but please stop for now."
"I understand." Came his quiet reply. "I know what it's like to lose someone extremely close to you. My mother was the kindest woman imaginable. And my father killed her in cold blood one night. Because of that man."
"What man?"
"Wesker."
"Wesker? He did this?"
"Yes. It's an awfully long story. I reckon we don't have-" They heard slamming on the front door and Chris quickly rushed to the other male, hooking his left arm under his stomach and ducking down into the cellar hidden beneath the rug. The front door burst open and the two men could watch from the cracks in the floors how several heavily armed men aimed their guns as they searched through the home.
"Sir they're not here."
"Damnit! Find them!" The male's father screamed, eyes ablaze. The male tightly clenched his eyes and pressed himself into Chris' chest. Once the armed men left the home Chris carefully brought them out of the cellar. The smaller male reached back towards the fire and sighed hopelessly next to the warmth.
"You should get warm. Come over here."
"I'm fine. I need to make a plan." Chris returned, standing up and beginning to secure the home.
"Make a plan while you warm up then."
"What did you mean Wesker did this?" The male sighed, shaking his head.
"Come warm up and I'll tell you the story." Chris approached obediently and sat beside the other male. He looked into the flames as if they would begin the story for him, recalling all of the moments in horror until he got to the part he was questioned about. "When I was a child..."
A young boy sat on a velvet bench, fingers dancing delicately across the keys on a grand piano. His eyes watched the notes while he listened to the people around his gawk and sit in awe of his performance. Though he was in the comfort of his own home, he still felt heavily uneasy. His father's big bosses were here, speaking happily to the guests. Eyes flickering around the room with unease. There stood a decently young man, his hair slicked back and blue eyes piercing into everyone he looked at. Finally their eyes locked, making the younger male gulp slightly and fumble one of the keys. Though a very small mistake, he silently scolded himself as his gaze returned to his hands.
