The Masks in Your Life (Ghost x Reader)

s i x

Ghost would have said you're being psychologically abused, but you weren't ready to admit that to yourself. Still, did you deserve better?

His question rang in your ears, uncomfortable like a blaring fire alarm.

"Yes", you said softly, not daring to look away from his eyes.

With a deep breath, he straightened his back and faced you again, but closer than before. His eyes wandered over your features in flickering movements, his expression so soft that he looked almost delirious.

Your lips parted in an attempt to say something, anything, and his gaze immediately landed on them.

This is wrong, your brain practically screamed at you, but your heartbeat was so loud that you didn't hear it.

While you were strong enough to not make the first move, you didn't know if you would be able to withstand him if he did. At least then you had an excuse, you could say that he started it, paint it out as a mistake.

But there was no use denying that deep down, you wanted him to push you to make a huge, fucking mistake, one that would make it easier for you to come to a much needed realisation.

Suddenly, ripping both of you from your trance like state, the stove started beeping loudly to alert you that the potatoes were boiling over. Unlike you, Ghost didn't even flinch, but he still pulled back.

"Shit", you said, turning around and concentrating on saving the potatoes.

Meanwhile Ghost sat back down and thanked the interruption, because otherwise he would have acted too rash. The only thing remaining was his intense gaze boring into your back.

"It seems you like cooking, by the way", he just said, acting as if nothing happened a minute ago, "do you cook for your friends sometimes?"

You cleared your throat to make it easier to pretend that nothing happened a minute ago.

"I did a lot, back home. Here not so much."

Come on angel, tell me, I know you don't have friends here, Ghost thought.

"But you still talk to them, don't you?", he asked instead.

You sighed quietly, "rarely, they're busy most of the time and don't really text me back."

Ghost asked you a few more innocent questions, and you were so caught up in cooking that you could hear yourself giving him too much information, but you didn't care enough to not do it.

You told him how your friends seemed to ignore you even and hinted at being in no contact with your parents, how you had no car and no way to really leave the neighbourhood.

Although you knew by now how much more attention Ghost paid to you than Mike, you were still surprised to find him intently listening to you when you looked away from the counter in front of you, even after your endless rambling.

He nodded from time to time, showing his understanding for your situation. Pleased with himself, he realised that he had a lot more information now that helped him assessing any further action.

To you on the other hand, talking to him felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. Having mentioned your parents brought back memories, good ones as well as not so good ones.

In fairness to them, they never cared that much about Mike being ten years older than you. Sure, your mother had been reasonably concerned, and your father had gone into some kind of protective dad mode, but they still had been up to get to know him.

It was after meeting him a few times that they had first expressed their concerns. It had been mostly your mother who didn't like him, but the only reason she gave you was that she had a bad gut feeling about him.