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Soap, who has an Instagram account where he shares his thoughts, pictures of things that caught his eye; graffiti, clouds, everything he feels the need to share with someone, but he just doesn’t want to be a bother.
All of it is irrelevant, really, nothing interesting enough to justify inconveniencing the rest of the squad.
After years of the pictures just collecting metaphorical dust in his camera roll, he decides 'fuck it' and creates an entirely new account, not following anyone he knows, not following anyone at all.
It’s just for him to post on, just wants to get them out of his system.
Share his thoughts - without the fear of being annoying. He doesn’t even expect anyone to see the pictures.
Or, god forbid, like them.
A few months later, the account had actually gained a bit of a following, people seemingly enjoyed his way of capturing the world around him.
Taken in different countries, all around the world; Skyscrapers in the U.S. Abandoned factories in Russia, Sheep sleeping on the highlands in Scotland.
Taken during different seasons; snow covered roads, two pairs of boots having crunched and stained the snow; mid-December and sun rays filtering through broken church windows a few days into July.
Taken at night and during the day, Clouds painting the sky in various colours, dozens of pictures of the moon, clearly visible stars and even the northern lights - reflecting in some glass shards on the floor - two figures darkening the space right next to it. John was actually, really proud of his work, positive comments itching something in his brain that he knew needed the validation.
Ghost who saw Johnny take the pictures, even before he had created the account, he always wanted to ask about them. Wanted to be able to see what Johnny saw, hear what he wanted to say.
But whenever their eyes met after Soap put his phone away, something unsure was in his gaze - and Simon dropped it.
After the account was created, that look changed, something lighter, happier would creep into Johnny’s features after taking a picture. He’d smile at his phone and type something.
Ghost had to admit, at first he was jealous, thinking that maybe Johnny had…met someone. Someone he loved, someone that - wasn’t Simon. Though it made his blood run cold, he was happy for Johnny, glad for every smile that graced his lips in their, shitty lives.
Still, he may have crept a bit closer to Johnny the next time he took a picture. Wanting to maybe get a name, get to know who he had to kill if Johnny ever stopped smiling.
But what he saw wasn’t a chat, instead it was an Instagram page, more specifically, the Upload tab. What?
He was following Johnny on all of his social media, though rarely using it himself, he knew that he had never seen any of the pictures Soap had taken, on there.
He saw as Soap hit the 'Post' button, saw the old cottage they were stood in front of, more specifically a small - doll sized - door right next to its actual door frame. Simon hadn’t even noticed it. When he looked back up at Johnny, a timid smile spread on his lips. Cute.
A few days later, back 'home' Ghost wrecked his brain, should he ask Johnny about it? Try and look for the account? Johnny hadn’t told them about his new hobby, didn’t want them to know, judging by how hard he tried to hide it.
At first Simon didn’t understand, felt a bit hurt even. He was trying to forget about it, since it would be a bit hypocritical of him to dig around and be mad at Johnny for not telling him everything.
But, he knew his sergeant well enough to connect the dots. The next time he saw Johnny take a picture, he stepped close, looming over his shoulder.
"Found something interesting, Johnny?" He spoke softly, smile conveniently visible as he was 'sipping his tea' a moment prior.
"Hm? Nae, s’nothing." Johnny jumped only slightly, turning to face Simon, eyes honing in on his lips for a split second.
"Show me anyway?" He turned Johnny back around, keeping his hands on the other's broad shoulders. "Ah found a rock…" Simon hummed affirmatively. "…looked like a skull."
"Yeah? Where is it?" Johnny didn’t squat down to grab something from the ground, instead he pulled a small white rock - that did indeed look like a skull - from his pocket. "…made me think of you."
The smile on Simon’s lips brightened - "Think I can find one that looks like a bar of soap?" - he knelt down in front of Johnny, smiling up at him; before returning his focus to the pebbles beneath him.
He would definitely continue to ask Johnny about the Pictures, if the smile he could see in the corner of his eyes, as Johnny sat down beside him, was his reward.