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A blurry photo of a figure in a red scarf was shining on the file. The figure is covered, face hidden under large glasses, mingled among ordinary people.
No one could make out its features. But Leon recognised the uneven Bob, the red lips and high cheekbones.
4 years later, here she is. Existing only in a blurry, haphazard photograph inside his mission file.
He traced the silhouette of the ghost on his phone. The only proof that she is still alive. Somewhere.
-
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Leon took a photo of the naked sleeping figure next to him. Her bare back is barely visible under the dim moonlight. Her raven hair scattered on the pillow. The hollow dimple on her lower back is casting a shadow connecting to her spine. Her lower half is hidden under the light blanket.
Leon observes the photograph really carefully. Soon, she will disappear. Leave as if no one came through the window. As if no one kissed him like he was the only oasis in a dry desert. As if their body didn't share the heat and desperation. As if it was another night of Summer 2007.
Leon puts the phone down and lays down with his back to her.
At least he has something he could remember her by. In some desperate nights, he will hold onto the dark photograph and remember the figure wasn't a fleeting dream.
-
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“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Focus on your smoking.”
She chuckles and returns her attention to the sprout growing on the next building. On the other hand, Leon shakes the polaroid to find her visible features on the sheet. Leon smiled. This is the only picture he has where he didn't need to imagine her face.
Wearing his T-shirt, her snowy thighs showing through the hole of the shirt. She is leaning against the railing with absolute serene. Light reflected on her Amber eyes while the smoke burned on her hand. Her rosy lips slightly pouted while she was lost in thought.
Leon realises. The morning sun suits her.
“You know, we could get in trouble for this” She said while snuffing the cigarette on the ashtray.
“Don't care.” His eyes never leave the photograph.
Ada chuckles again and extends her hand. “Let me see what is more interesting than the person in front of you.”
Leon snatches the photo and puts it in his pants pocket with utmost care. “Nothing is more interesting than you, beautiful.” He approaches and brushes the hair on her face behind her ear. “I was just appreciating the morning sun.”
She shows a knowing smile and slips past his grasp and heads inside. He gently pats the photo through the fabric of his trousers and follows her.
This photograph is proof that she can exist outside the darkness of the night. He will adore it because it is a part of her no one but him got to see.
-
Click
She looks up to find an old polaroid pointing at her. Behind it, a grinning man is hiding.
“Leon!”
He pulls out the photo and holds it up high so that she can not reach it. She lunges forward and tries to reach for the photo by tiptoeing.
“You are NOT taking my photo like this.”
Taking this opportunity, he bent down to captures her lips with his. She groans in protest before melting in the kiss. She tastes like chocolate that she secretly ate while baking the cookies.
Soon, both the cookies and the photograph were forgotten on the counter while the owner wrapped her legs around the man and was carried to the bedroom.
The photograph on the counter showed a woman in her lounge wear and an apron. Her cheek was covered in flour. She was extremely focused on the clumpy batter in front of her. Her brows furrowed in deep thought, eyes sharp as if she was assessing a dangerous weapon.
Later that evening, Leon grabs the photograph and puts it in his secret growing stash of photographs. After thinking, he holds the polaroid again and takes a picture of the uneven cookies. The photo eventually met the same fate as the other photographs.
-
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“We are outside, Leon.”
“I can't help it. You look so gorgeous.”
She stares at him in disbelief.
“I just crawled back from a mission. I am covered in blood and dirt, Leon.”
“Doesn't matter. You are always beautiful.”
She scoffed. “You're ridiculous.” Before starting to walk forward. Leon looked at the photo on the screen.
The person was covered black clothing. The hoodie of the thick coat partially hid her face. Yet, the faint smile line and the raven hair were caught on the camera. Her cheek had a hint of pink because of the cold. Her face had some dirt specs and dried blood. The tiredness was evident. So was the warmness that was only reserved for him.
He put the phone and followed after her.
“Ada.”
“Hmm?”
“Ada.”
A hint of amusement flashed in her eyes when she turned her head. “What?”
“Ada.”
She laughed. “Now you are pissing me off now, Kennedy.”
“Ada~” Leon was now full on grinning.
She said nothing, just quickened her pace. Leon gave chase after her while repeating her name.
He loves how her name rolls on his tongue. He loves how her melodic laugh feels in his heart. He will happily chase her till the end of time if it means to be drunk in this blissful feeling.
-
Click
“Leon…?” he hears a groggy voice calling out.
“Sleep some more, sweetheart.” Leon places a chaste kiss on her forehead. She mumbles something and goes back to sleep. He places the camera on the bedside table and pulls her closer until her head is resting on his chest. She nuzzles against his chest and sighs contently. He chuckles softly, brings her left hand to his face and kisses the back of the ring glimmering on her finger.
The photo on the bedside table no longer shows a silhouette in the darkness, but a woman resting in the arms of the man she trusts the most in the early morning.
-
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“Leon.”
“Hmm?”
“What did I tell you about taking pictures of me in secret?”
“Why? I can't even take pictures of my wife now?” Leon says in mock protest.
She sighs and shakes her head. There is no point in arguing with a 50 year old child. She sets her laptop on the coffee table and straightens up.
“What are you even going to do with this many photos anyways?”
Leon looks up to see her sitting with her leg crossed on the couch. In their home.
“I just need proof you are here.”
A knowing smile adorns on her face. She lays back languidly.
“I have a better idea on proving I am here.” With that she opens the top button of her crimson blouse.
“Oh?” Leon raises the camera again and takes another picture. She undo another button and leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Her deep cleavage is visible to Leon who is sitting on the floor with the camera.
Leon keeps capturing her seductive poses while prying on her behind the lens.
Soon the camera was forgotten on the floor along with some pictures of the lady in red.
Almost 30 years ago, she was nothing but a blurry silhouette in a picture. But now she is no longer a dream Leon had.
He doesn't need photographs to prove she is real anymore. Because every night, she will be here. In their home. And that's enough for Leon S. Kennedy.