Simon 'Ghost' Riley ~ 09:30 pm
Her jaw drops as I stand there, facing her. The weight of my discarded mask rests on top of the clothes in my arms, but I can't bring myself to make eye contact. My gaze wanders aimlessly, searching for something to focus on other than her eyes.
"Simon," she mumbles, her voice breaking the silence. I feel my breath catch in my chest, as if the confident persona I usually wear has abandoned me. "-Don't mention it," I mumble back, my usually loud voice barely audible.
She stumbles over her words, trying to find the right thing to say. "You're beautiful..." she manages to stutter out, her voice filled with a mix of awe and panic. She doesn't even blink as she looks at me. Panic ensues in my own mind as well, causing me to look away once again.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, feeling the sudden need to apologize.
"Don't do that," she says softly, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through me. "There's nothing to be sorry for."
I try to break eye contact, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. But she persists, her finger brushing gently against my cheek, urging me to look at her again. Reluctantly, I meet her gaze, my eyes darting back and forth, unable to hold her steady gaze without the shield of my mask. A small smile plays at the corner of her lips and it somehow manages to calm me down at least a little bit.
"I'm serious... Thank you for trusting me," she whispers, her hands still caressing my face.
I offer a barely perceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of her words. The furrows in my brow ease slightly, and I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. She takes the pile of clothes from my hands, her touch soothing and comforting.
"Here," she says, breaking the tension in the air. "Give me these. I'll wash your mask by hand. Just to be safe." Her smile radiates warmth and understanding.
"Thank you," I manage to say, my forced smile not matching the genuine gratitude I feel in my chest.
"Why don't you go give Bagel a cuddle? I'll be right out," she suggests, her concern for me evident in her voice.
I nod in response and leave the bathroom, grateful for the small reprieve. As I sit down on the couch again, the tension holding up in all my muscles slowly eases out. Especially when her cat jumps up on my lap again.
The sound of Bagel's purring fills the air, a soothing melody that reassures me of her presence. I find solace in the comforting weight of the cat nestled on my chest, her fur providing a sense of security that I usually find in my mask.
Meanwhile, she lingers in the bathroom, her eyes meeting her own reflection in the mirror, hidden behind the half-closed door that still offers me a tiny glimpse of what's inside.
I can tell she tries not to make a big deal out of it. I can also tell it is a big deal for her. But she understands the weight of the moment from my side too. She respects my wishes, as expressed earlier.
"Simon," she says as if to warn me, her voice carrying through the partially open door. "I did a pretty good job... Don't you think?"
With the mask dangling from her hands, she steps into the living room, where she finds me settled on the couch. Bagel still rests peacefully on my chest, her purring a constant lullaby, my hand losing itself in the depths of her fur.
"Looks good," I say, my voice softer than usual. "Thank you."
"It's no problem at all," she murmurs, placing my mask in a safe spot to dry. "Can I make you some food?"
"I'm not very hungry," I confess, my voice barely audible.
"You haven't eaten since this morning?" she says as she opens the fridge. "You should eat something, Simon."
"I don't want to be a burden."
She pauses, concern etching her features as she hears the unintended sad tone of my words. Her smile falters momentarily before she responds, determination lacing her voice. "You're never a burden. That's one thing I can promise you. I'll make us some food."
Something stings. Somewhere inside of me something is hurt. But not in the way I'm used to. It's somewhat of a realization. A realization that she means it.
In no time, she prepares a simple yet satisfying dinner of chicken, rice, and vegetables. She ensures there's an ample portion on my plate, knowing I haven't eaten since morning. The sight of her consideration does something weird to me.
"Here," she says, returning to the couch with two plates. I lift my gaze to meet hers before accepting the plate.
"Do you wanna watch something?" She asks.
"Sure. But..." I begin, glancing at her plate. "Do you have enough? You should take some of mine."
"No, Simon. It's fine. I've got enough. There's even more in the pan, still. Don't worry about me," she reassures me with a smile.
"Okay," I reply, finally feeling a semblance of satisfaction. "Thank you, Ace."
"No worries," she mumbles before taking a bite, her presence easing the tension in my body even more.
We spend the evening watching random YouTube videos, her laughter occasionally punctuating the air. Eventually, we settle on watching "Venom." My attention is divided between the screen and the restlessness of my hands. Nonetheless, I manage to finish my meal, a small victory in itself.
"I think your mask is dry, if you want it?" she offers, giving me the choice to reclaim my protective disguise.
"Oh, no, it's okay," I decline, my eyes returning to the screen once more.
"You know... Venom actually reminds me of you a little," she chuckles after a while.
I turn to face her, confusion etched on my brow which she clearly seems to pick up on.
"Hey," she chuckles again, her laughter infectious. "That's a compliment. I'm attracted to Venom."
A twitch at the corner of my mouth forms into a smile. "Who would've guessed," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Do you have work tomorrow?" she asks, her gaze lingering on the remnants of eye black.
I catch a glimpse of her concern and care, which only deepens my appreciation for her. It's weird, honestly. Feeling this way even though I haven't known her for very long. I know it's stupid, and I shouldn't be feeling like this. It's dangerous. A distraction. But I can't bear to stay away.
"No," I mumble, not exactly knowing where she's going with this.
"You should probably take that off. I don't believe that's very good for your skin," she says with a smile.
As she pointed to my eyes, suggesting I should take off the eye-black, I find myself momentarily caught off guard.
"Can I please take it off for you..?" she asks, her voice pleading.
Her concern is unexpected, and her plea to be the one to remove it even more so. I hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of how to respond, but eventually relented with a simple "fine."
She darts off to her bathroom, returning with a bottle of some unknown liquid and wipes. As she jumps onto my lap, straddling me, I can't help but raise an eyebrow at her boldness. My hands gently rest on her hips, and I can feel the warmth of her body seeping through my skin.
"Okay, tilt your head back," she instructs, her voice soft and caring. As I follow her lead, tilting my head against the backrest, I feel a sense of ease wash over me.
It hadn't been as bad as I thought it would be. Showing my face to her, that is. Not that I had expected her to react in a certain way, but still. I can tell she's trying everything in her power to make me feel at ease.
And it's working, somehow.
"Why do I feel like you're enjoying this?" I tease, closing my eyes as she soaks a wipe.
"Because I am," she replies with a smile, and I could hear the genuine affection in her voice.
I keep my eyes shut as she begins wiping off the eye-black with utmost care. Her other hand rests on my jaw, her thumb gently caressing my torn-up skin, which strangely comforts me. I realize that this moment, with my eyes closed and her so close to me, was allowing me to lower my guard, something I rarely did.
She was allowing me to lower my guard.
Her touch is soft, careful, and the more she wipes, the darker the wipe becomes. "Jesus... How much of this stuff do you use?" she chuckles, her face still close to mine.
"I don't know. I just stick my finger in there and rub it on until it looks half decent," I reply, trying to lighten the mood.
"I can tell," she laughs, the sound of it repeating itself in my memory. "You have nice lashes, though."
I can't help but chuckle at her comment about my eye-black application technique. It was true; I never paid much attention to it, always focused on the mission and never considering how it might affect my skin. I couldn't care less. I never showed it to someone anyways.
"Thanks, I guess?"
As she finishes cleaning my eyes, her finger grazes one of the scars near my jaw, and she leaned in to kiss it softly. It catches me off guard, and for a moment, I tense up but quickly relax as I sense her sincerity.
Her lips find other places on my face, each kiss planting a soft, delicate sensation on my skin. Her breath on my face sends shivers down my spine, and I find myself entranced by her touch. I don't want this moment to end, not yet.
When she asks if she should stop, her voice barely above a whisper, I can't help but cut her off, not wanting her to stop. Not even for a second. "No," I reply, my voice equally soft, hoping she could sense how much I crave her closeness.
She continues quickly as if she's craving it just as much as I am.
I smile against her, relishing the feeling of her fingers running through my hair, the softness of her lips on my skin. She places another tender kiss, this time on the corner of my mouth, and her lips linger there. I can sense her hesitation, her uncertainty, as she speaks, her voice trailing off.
"Can I-"
I want to hear what she has to say, but before she can finish, I interrupt her, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes," I breathe, my eyes still shut, hoping to give her the answer she seeks.
Without further delay, she closes the distance between us, her lips meeting mine in a soft, gentle kiss. I can't resist responding, the taste of her lips sending shivers down my spine even though I try to suppress every emotion that's surfacing. One of my hands finds its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer to me, my desire for her slightly overcoming my fear.
As our kiss deepens, I notice how different it feels. I can sense her vulnerability, her longing for something more meaningful between us. Her hands cup my face, searching for an assurance that I'm not ready to give. I want to hold her tight, to never let her go, but my internal turmoil holds me back, and the sudden intensity of it overwhelms me.
The second I look her in the eyes again, I notice something different in her gaze. Something inside of her has just turned around, and an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach erupts because of it.
It's like I could sense this coming, somehow. I knew this would happen, and I knew I wouldn't have the power to back out of it sooner. Panic surges through me. I've let it go too far, and now I'm terrified of what it all means.
What have I done..?
I shouldn't be feeling like this.
I've let myself care for her too much, and the weight of that revelation is paralyzing. The fear of vulnerability, of the potential for heartbreak grips me.. I struggle to maintain composure, to hide the overwhelming surge of negative emotions bubbling beneath the surface.
Her touch makes me feel secure, but as I inevitably pull away abruptly, a sudden rush of coldness washes over me, and a realization hits me like a ton of bricks. We've crossed a line, and there's no going back.
I sense the pain of separation, the ache of not having her close. But I know I shouldn't continue with this.
"I don't-" I begin, but the words stumble out, jumbled and incomplete. I struggle to gather my thoughts, my gaze fixed downward as a pained expression etches across my face.
Gently, she reaches up, her thumb brushing against my jaw, offering a silent reassurance to share my burden. I sigh heavily, searching for the right words to express the chaos swirling within me, the confusion that threatens to consume all of me.
"I don't know how to do this," I finally confess, raising my eyes to meet hers once more. The weight of my uncertainty bears heavily upon me.
She regards me with a mixture of concern and curiosity, her finger still resting on my jaw. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice cautious, as if she sees it coming.
"This," I repeat, my voice filled with frustration as I drop my gaze again. "I shouldn't."
Confusion etches across her face, and she whispers softly, "Why?"
"It's so fucking confusing," I mutter, a hint of anger creeping into my tone. "I don't want to feel like this." I attempt to move away, but she holds me in place, her hands resting on my shoulders.
"What are you feeling?" she inquires, her voice gentle, urging me to open up. "What's going on?"
"You," I reply, finally locking eyes with her once more. "It's always about you. Everything is... I can't seem to fucking function anymore. Not at work, not at home. It's like you're constantly in my head, driving me mad."
Panic surges through me. I've let it go too far, and now I'm terrified of what it all means.
She looks at me, her brows furrowing, uncertain of how to respond. My frustration mounts, and my mouth hangs open slightly, searching for the right words that seem to elude me.
"We've gone too far, Ace," I lament, regret seeping into my voice. I can't meet her gaze any longer. "I told you this before."
"Wait," she interjects, stopping me as I make another attempt to retreat. "Doesn't it feel... good to you?" Her words strike a nerve, sending a sharp pang through my entire being.
I hold her gaze, unflinching, my chest rising and falling with each breath. "You know that's not what I meant."
"What are you saying?" she whispers, her voice filled with confusion and pain.
"I told you before," I begin, mustering the strength to say her name, causing her to flinch. "You know I'm not a good person."
"Don't call me that," she murmurs, her eyes closed, her mind clearly racing.
"This isn't good for us. Not for you. Not for me."
The confusion deepens within her, her brows furrowing even more. "And you've just realized that now?"
"No," I hum, my voice strained. "You know I haven't."
"Then why do you keep coming back?" she asks. Her words strike a chord within me, and I momentarily look at her, my brows furrowing, my lips sealed.
"Why are you doing this?" she continues, her voice trembling.
"I wasn't planning on it, Ace," I assert, my voice growing louder in hopes of pushing her away a little further. "Please... If I could turn back time and change things, I would." A sharp pain shoots through me when those words leave my mouth.
I would do everything if it meant I could give her what she needs.
But I can't.
"What?" she whispers, her bottom lip trembling, tears threatening to spill over. She clenches her jaw, determined to hold back whatever she's holding in.
"Our job is on the line, Ace," I state, invoking the captain's name. It's a feeble attempt to distance myself, to rationalize the situation. But I can immediately tell she sees through it, her brows furrowing even deeper, her confusion mounting.
"You damn well know he knows already," she responds, her voice filled with defiance. "You can't blame it on that, Simon. If you don't want me, then say so." Tears well up in her eyes, and she fights to hold them back again.
I don't think I've ever felt like such an asshole before. But I can't give her anything else, and I know that if I do anything but push her away, she'll just keep trying and trying again. That's not what she needs. I don't want to drag her down when I'm going through shit. I refuse to follow in the footsteps of my father.
She needs someone better.
I don't deserve her.
She gets up, leaving me sitting on the couch, unable to meet her gaze any longer. "That's not what I mean, Ace," I plead, rising to my feet and standing in front of her. "Don't do that."
"No—you don't do that," she declares, pushing a finger against my chest. "Don't make me feel something for you and then pull back because you're afraid."
I feel a surge of emotions, anger mingling with longing, and suddenly I have her pushed against the wall. One of my hands is pressed against the wall beside her head, our faces close again. "Don't say that," I rasp, my voice edged with frustration.
"I am not afraid of you, Simon," she affirms, pushing me away gently. I yield, not resisting her touch. "I won't let you push me aside just because you're not used to this. No."
"That's not it."
"Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn't," she implores, standing in front of me once again.
The anger dissipates, and my facade crumbles. And in that moment, she sees all of me, the battles raging within. Words are no longer necessary; she can read the depths of my thoughts.
"See," she whispers.
My jaw clenches as I look at her standing in front of me. Tears so obviously hold themselves up in her eyes and I have to do everything in my power to not go up to her.
I shouldn't.
It kills me to see her like this, but I'll need to push through this. It's not good for the both of us. My duty should come first. Hers too.
"Figure it out, Simon," she says, her tears now escaping as she loses the battle of holding them in. "I'm not giving up this easily."
I turn on my heels and close the door behind me, it falls shut louder than I wanted it to and the sound of it almost gives me a fucking panic attack on its own.
Standing outside, I can't bring myself to move, as if the weight of her distress has rooted me to the spot. A muffled thud echoes through the door, followed by a cry that tells me enough. I can't linger here any longer.
I stride toward my motorcycle parked outside, its sleek frame gleaming under the dim streetlights. With a flick of my wrist, the engine ignites, filling the air with a powerful growl.
As I mount the motorcycle, the rain that has suddenly appeared pelts against my helmet and jacket, drenching me within seconds. But the downpour is inconsequential compared to everything going on in my mind. The engine's vibrations resonate through my body, a stark reminder of the relentless duty that compels me forward.
With a sharp twist of the throttle, I tear through the rain-soaked streets, my heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the machine. The wind howls in my ears, carrying away fragments of my anguish, if only for a moment.
I know I've made the right choice.
Have I not?
Prioritizing our duty over this. It should be like that. Shouldn't it?
The ache I'm feeling right now is just part of it, right?
It'll pass.
The road stretches out before me as I remain resolute, clinging to the belief that this separation is for the greater good. The weight of responsibility rests heavily upon my shoulders, a constant reminder of the sacrifices we make in service of something larger than ourselves.
I don't listen to music like I usually do and only let the sound of the engine and the weather fill my brain. I hoped it would mute out some of my own thoughts, but unfortunately, that doesn't seem to work. The image of her standing there, tears welling up in her eyes, replays in my head over and over again. I open the throttle even more, the exhaust sputtering in protest but giving in nonetheless.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't know where I'm going.
But I somehow seem to end up at the only doorstep that feels somewhat right. I stand there in the pouring rain, my mask and helmet in one hand, the other reaching up to knock on his door.
The door flies open just a short moment later. Soap stands in the opening, his expression dropping from excited to worried. "Si? What's going on?"
A/N
I just finished plotting the rest of this book and the end ;')
If my chapter layout will work as I want it to, then there are 9 more chapters left + an epilogue (so 10 more updates in total).
I know it's a little while away still, but I'm honestly sad this is coming to an end ahhh. I'm about 5 chapters ahead with writing so for me it's even closer. But I'm excited to tell you more about what I'll be doing after this (because Ghost's and Ace's story might just not be 100% over yet).
I also have a Soap book coming soon hehe (some people might have seen already).
Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one as always. Have the best day my loves <3