Necromancy → Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

4. Haunted

He chuckles, and I catch the slight peppering of his cheeks as he casts his gaze away from mine and shakes his head:

"You don't need to say stuff like th-"

"I can say whatever I want," I interrupt him, as I watch his head turn where his eyes immediately meet mine, "Because you saved me from them. It was worth it to take the bullet. I would do it again and again if I could..."

Focus.

The false determination, passion and pain encompassed on my tongue, I must lace it within each syllable of my words. To make him feel good. Feel appreciated.

Thinking of the ocean, the last memory I had as a child, helped me whenever I needed to pretend to cry. The waves crashing, the tides rising with the setting sun- I let my eyes water, let them get glazed with the same substance of numbness that resided within my empty hollow shell of a soul. That empty ocean miles long, with nothing but darkness in the night. Nothing but a singular, grotesque purpose to get to the other side.

I feel his hand along my back, and it almost makes me smirk- but I maintain my composure, letting my shoulders shake, as he rubs my upper back soothingly:

"Hey..." His accent rolls off of his tongue, as he inches closer to me to comfort me, a bit awkwardly, "Come on. Don't cry..."

I am about to reply with something pathetic and hopeless to enhance this perfect facade, when suddenly I hear the heavy footsteps return, and I know exactly who they belong to as I look up to see Ghost standing there, in the doorway.

I don't say anything as I suddenly stop crying, my gaze coming into almost immediate contact with his. He was perfectly still, though his eyes, darkly fixed onto me. Almost like a silent threat. Deep down, I knew he wasn't buying even half of what I was putting out. But in all honesty, I didn't know what he was thinking at all. Usually I could read a room, and read the people in it. I could tell from an expression what they were feeling, and from a touch what they were wanting- but he didn't have an expression at all. Only a skeleton of a visage, and a hollow, soulless gaze that somehow sunk its way into mine time and time again. But it only meant one thing to me...

I need to work harder.

-----------------------------

I had sat back on the bed while Ghost and Soap worked on repairing the broken bedroom window from the shootout that had happened. They had also searched the body of the man who had shot at us, but they wouldn't let me near his body. They had buried him somewhere underneath the thick piles of snow outside. Still, I knew that the man was one of ours. A Russian, probably. One sent to keep tabs on me- or maybe just a runt- an alibi sent for me to weave more beneficial lies into my intricate web of a story.

"Storm's not gonna let up anytime soon, but we got the windows boarded." Soap looks at me, snapping me out of my thoughts "Your wound feelin' okay?"

I nod towards him silently, before my eyes fix onto Ghost almost magnetically. I watch as he turns around and faces Soap. He pauses for a moment, staring at the sergeant for a while before speaking:

"Soap," He begins, taking a step towards him "go to the kitchen and see if you can find any sustenance. I'm gonna have a chat with our... addition, here."

My eyes widen and I suddenly feel very awake. I sit up slightly, my eyes meeting Soap's. He wasn't going to leave me here alone with him, was he? I watch him carefully, catching him glance at me once before averting his steady gaze back to fix on his Lieutenant's:

"Yes sir." He says obediently, before walking away and shutting the door behind him.

I bite back the urge to scoff, as I sit up straight on the bed and clear my throat. I avert my gaze away from Ghost's as he begins to take steps towards me:

"Soap's a good man." Ghost begins, as he paces slowly in front of me while my eyes squint and fix onto him carefully "Sometimes a little too good."

"I didn't know there was such a thing as being too good." I say without thinking.

I don't know why, but speaking to him brought out parts of me that I didn't really know existed. Sassy remarks. Condescending comments. These things weren't me at all, but I'm guessing the way he got under my skin inspired them. The urge to kill him had me eager. Impatient.

I watch him stop in his pacing and turn his head sharply to look at me. His eyes narrow through his mask as I try to stay still and look innocent- knowing damn well none of my charms were gonna work on him.

He takes one single step towards me, but I realize too late that he's actually dangerously close:

"Why'd you take the damn bullet?" He says.

Honestly, it was an accident.

"You both saved me..." I respond immediately, making sure to sound sincere while softening my gaze on the skeptic giant in front of me, "I don't know why, but I felt like your lives would have more of a meaning than mine ever did."

I watch him for his reaction, seeing how he will respond to yet another lie that I have constructed. Only, he doesn't react at all. His eyes fixed onto mine instead, lifeless. Dissociating.

Then all of a sudden, I feel both sides of the bed dip down next to me, where he had placed both of his hands on the surface, his body leaning closer to me as I instinctively began to lean back slowly. My heart raced unhealthily in my chest, as I struggled to recall my normal breathing pattern. I couldn't focus on anything other than the skeleton of a face in front of me, haunting me.

He had bent slightly to get to my eye level, his skull mask only inches from my face now as he stared at me blankly, with his dark eyes that somehow glimmered faintly under the dim lighting. My heart almost stops, as I stay completely still while chills run up my spine. My arms get stiff supporting my weight as I try to lean back, but I give up, and watch as he tilts his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing:

"We both know there's plenty more to you than that."