Summary: you love to take pictures of everything, but Leon only loves taking pictures of you.
Since the very first moment you got a camera in your hands, you knew that had become your thing.
Everyone had something that made them special, something that quietly defined the way they moved through the world. Some people were good with words. Others were good at music, sports, painting, cooking, or any number of talents that made people turn their heads in admiration.
It had started when you were young, with a small second-hand device that barely worked properly. The lens had scratches, the battery barely lasted an hour, and sometimes the pictures came out slightly crooked because the focus wheel refused to behave.
But none of that mattered.
Because the moment you looked through that lens for the first time, something clicked in your mind in the most natural way possible.
Small ones. Quiet ones. The kind people usually forgot five minutes later.
And you liked the idea that a picture could make those moments last a little longer.
So you spent years taking photographs. Friends laughing during lunch breaks, sunlight filtering through trees during late afternoons, the expression people made when they thought nobody was looking. You learned to notice details others ignored, little gestures that meant happiness, comfort, affection.
People smiled for you when they saw the camera.
And you captured their happiness like a tiny collector of memories.
That was one of the first things Leon noticed about you.
At first he thought it was just a hobby. Something you carried around for fun, the same way some people carried notebooks or sketchpads.
But it did not take long for him to realize the camera was almost an extension of you.
You always had it nearby.
Hanging from your neck during walks. Resting on the table beside your coffee cup during quiet afternoons. Sometimes tucked carefully inside your bag but ready to appear the moment you spotted something interesting.
He absolutely adored watching you enjoy that small part of life.
Before meeting you, he had never cared much about photographs. He had one or two pictures from his college days stored somewhere, old memories with friends who now lived completely different lives.
They were the kind of photos people took simply to remember that a moment had happened.
But Leon had never been the type to pull out his phone and take selfies or document everything around him.
So watching you at first was a little shocking.
You could stop in the middle of a conversation because the light looked beautiful through a window. You could interrupt a walk because someoneโs dog was doing something funny in the park.
Your old camera made that soft mechanical sound every time you pressed the button.
At first Leon noticed it constantly.
But after months of hearing that familiar click echo through everyday moments, he got used to it.
There was something peaceful about the way you looked when you focused on a photo. Your brows slightly furrowed in concentration, your lips forming that small pout when you tried to adjust the angle just right.
You looked completely absorbed in the moment.
Leon often watched quietly while you moved around searching for the perfect frame.
But there was one small detail about all this that you never noticed.
You were the one taking pictures all the time.
Birthdays, casual hangouts with friends, quiet movie nights, little picnics in the park, spontaneous road trips. You were always there with the camera ready to freeze the memory before it disappeared.
But because you were the one behind the lens, you were almost never in the frame.
At first Leon did not think much about it.
Then one evening he scrolled through the pictures you had taken over the past few months.
There were hundreds of them.
Food on restaurant tables.
Street lights glowing in rainy evenings.
And occasionally Leon himself, caught mid conversation or smiling at something you had said.
Maybe once or twice when someone else borrowed the camera.
Leon stared at the screen longer than necessary.
Then he made a quiet decision.
If you were always the one taking pictures, then someone else had to take pictures of you.
And apparently that someone was going to be him.
Leon did not say anything about it.
He simply started paying more attention.
The first picture he took was completely spontaneous.
You were sitting on the couch, adjusting the settings on your camera while complaining softly that the lighting in the room was terrible. Your lips were slightly pursed in concentration and one eye was half closed while you tried to focus the lens.
Leon lifted his phone quietly.
The photo was not perfect.
Actually, it was a little blurry.
But the expression on your face made him smile.
Then he took another one a few days later.
You were standing near the kitchen window early in the morning, sunlight falling across your hair while you examined a picture you had taken outside.
Then another during a walk in the park when you crouched down to photograph a tiny flower growing through a crack in the pavement.
Leon was not a photographer.
He did not know anything about angles or lighting or composition. Half the time he did not even realize his finger was partially covering the lens.
But that did not stop him.
And without noticing, Leon built an entire collection.
Photos of you laughing. Photos of you concentrating on your camera. Photos of you drinking coffee while staring outside a window.
Some had his finger accidentally visible in the corner.
But every single one of them captured something real.
You eventually discovered them by accident.
It happened one evening while you were sitting beside him on the couch.
Leon had left his phone unlocked on the table while he went to grab something from the kitchen. You reached for it absentmindedly when a notification popped up.
And that was when you saw it.
Holding your camera, lips forming that familiar little pout while you tried to adjust the focus.
Your eyes widened slightly.
When Leon returned a moment later, you were still staring at the screen.
โLeon?โ you asked softly.
He glanced at the phone in your hands.
โYou took that?โ you asked.
Your heart did something strange in your chest.
You tapped the screen again, opening the gallery.
There were so many pictures.
Photos of you everywhere.
Someone might have thought it was actually your phone instead of his.
None of them looked professional like the ones you took. Some were blurry, some crooked, some accidentally zoomed too far in or taken from awkward angles.
Moments you had never realized someone was watching.
Moments where you were simply existing without thinking about how you looked or whether the lighting was right.
When you finally looked up at Leon again, your chest felt warm in a way you had not expected.
โYou took all of these?โ
He scratched the back of his neck.
โYeah. I figured someone should.โ
Leon seemed to think about the question for a second.
Then he shrugged again, a little embarrassed this time.
โYou're always the one taking pictures,โ he said simply. โSo I thoughtโฆ maybe someone should take some of you too.โ
Your throat tightened slightly.
Because that was exactly it.
Photography had always been your way of showing love. Capturing people you cared about, freezing their smiles and laughter so those moments could last forever.
And somehow Leon had understood that.
Even though he knew nothing about cameras.
Even though his photos were messy and imperfect.
He had done the same thing for you without hesitation.
You closed the phone slowly.
Then you leaned closer and wrapped your arms around him.
Leon blinked in surprise.
You only smiled softly against his shoulder.
Because for someone who claimed he knew nothing about photography, Leon Kennedy had captured something very important.
Baby Leon picture for all of you, thanks for reading ๐ซ
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