Call of Duty Oneshots by zoa!

Ringing - Ghost [N]

Your ears rang loudly, blocking out the noise that came from around the room. Your hands covered your ears and you crouched down, grimacing in pain as your head drops to your knees, the muffled yelling surrounding your head like a strong fog, blocking your train of thought.

A frustrated sigh before a couple more words then an aggressive slam of a door followed before you rolled onto your side and curled into a small ball onto the floor, tears flowing down your puffy eyes and red cheeks onto the cold wooden floor. Your neck gave way and your head thumped onto the floor, resting for what feels like the first time.

Ghost and you had yet another argument about the previous mission; you made an accidental fuckup and almost managed to snipe a recruit rather than the enemy - mere inches away from being a fatal error. You had apologised times and times again, but Ghost never got enough. He wanted to belittle you until you were in your current state, having a breakdown inside your room on the floor.

It was all he could ever want.

Your sniffles are all that could be heard accompanied with deep sobs, trying your best to be quiet but your emotions already had blossomed into the delicate flower, only waiting to be plucked apart once more.

Ghost leaned his body against your door, his ear pressed against it with your sobs only repeating in his mind like a broken cassette tape, jammed and unfixable. He went too far, he knew that. But he had to do what had to be done, even if it hurt him the most. Hell, he wanted to barge in there, cradle you in his arms and brush your hair away from your face, rock you and tell you that everything is okay and that you are safe. But he couldn't.

His fist banged against your door followed by a groan of frustration and he walked to his room, guilt pooling within his sorrowful body only repelling it with anger, taken out on you. A never ending cycle.

Your eyes slowly began to close, your limbs tired of trying to even fight to scramble into the uncomfortable bed that won't make you any better, your throat sore from the constant intake of deep breaths which never helped, your eyes glossy and bloodshot just needing a break. The sniffles got quieter and quieter as you fell into a soft slumber.

———

The sound of your captain was static to your ears as you clutched the side of your stomach, pushing as much as the little energy you had into keeping it from bleeding out. Your jaw clutched hard, gnawing at your cheek which only cut it open, just like your wound. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you shuffled yourself into a corner of an abandoned building of the area you fought at.

You heard the gunfire, the sound of heavy helicopter blades whirring in the sky and the explosions slowly edging closer to your demise, your final fall. The shouting of a foreign language combined with such of English was muffled, like a cloth was taped to everybody's lips. Your vision got choppy, eyes half droopy. The sounds got quieter, nothing seemed to be real anymore.

Your eyes clench shut, trying to regain anything. You wanted to fight, you needed to live. But it was hard, everything ached and throbbed and stung. Nothing felt normal, nothing felt alright. A tear trickles down your cheek, wetting some of the dirt that plastered your face. You knew the door kicked open, you felt the boots stomp on the ground. But you refused to open your eyes, afraid of what you would see. You would rather die seeing nothing at all rather than the end of your battles.

Your chest wanted to keep rising, to keep falling. To keep breathing is all you wanted. You got picked up, bridal form, being held and cradled. Your eyes squint open, barely enough to make out who it is. But you know immediately who. Ghost. He stood still, looking down at you. Your eyes opened more and you saw his bloodshot eyes and his warpaint slowly getting smudged from tears, the eye rims of his balaclava soaked generously enough to see it through his mask. He crouched down and supported you with his knees, using one hand to brush your hair out of your eyes and letting another tear shed.

You gripped onto your stomach tightly. You wanted to say something, you wanted to ask why, to ask what he is doing. Why he is caring only now, why never before. Why out of all people to save me, it was him. You wanted to plead him for answers, for answers to his cruelty on you like you were stray. To why he always looked at you as if you were always wounded, always sick and ill. To why he belittled you and ridiculed you to the point of complete self destruction. But you couldn't. You laid in his arms as he looked down, cradling you.

You heard a deep shudder, he wanted to speak. But he couldn't. Just like you. He was self reflecting too, in that very moment. What seemed to be a few seconds passed by like years, us two frozen in time eternally to reflect on what we had done, what our past experiences with one another had caused us to feel like with each other. What we could've been and what we should've been. What we could've done and would've done, to prevent any of this.

His head dropped and another tear fell from his eyes. A deep breath in and he stands, gripping you tightly. He rubbed your knee with his thumb as he held you as if you were his bride, his one and only. Because that's how he felt about you.

The yelling of a foreign language made him jolt, his head turning and body along with it, mine still in his grasp. A bullet fired, the sound rippling from the gun to my ears like rough waves.

A sharp pain engulfed you. Another muffled gunshot as you yelled in agony, the spike of the gunshot hitting you like a brick to the face - except much, much worse. Your back hit the floor and your eyes wanted to close, you wanted to give up. No, no. You couldn't. Not now, not ever. A pair of gloves cradled your cheeks, red and dirty, gently rubbing their thumbs across your swollen eyes. Soft whispers, murmurs then yells of agony were heard. Explosions echoed nearby, getting closer and closer.

Your body felt weak, you couldn't move. Your heart was barely beating anymore, with a weight pushing on it in a rhythmic pattern, desperately trying to feel a pulse. Your eyes closed, your eyelids giving up.

Your ears rang loudly, but for the final time.