TW: mentions of self harm, mention of suicide idealization
Ghost turned his head sharply to the man by his side, noting how his eyes immediately darkened and his beautiful browns almost touched his hairline.
He was so beautiful, so wild, even with de grime, the blood, the earth, all of it, he wore it like he would wear a piece of fine jewelry: delicately and purposefully.
“Ghost…” Soap started, his middle inclining in Ghost’s direction, but the point of his shoes still faced the other men, quietly sat on the couch, looking between both masked men in front of him very skeptically.
“Do not ‘Ghost’ me!” He barked. His chest was getting heavy full of the reasons he knew they couldn’t take the child across Seattle, he could use reason, he knew, but Soap was never a man of reason, he was a man of heart, used it at his sleeve, an honest and loving man that, after everything, after his mom died at his feat being devoured by his own sister, after Price pointed a gun at his head, after Ghost shooting him across the field, he still had hope.
And hope was a dangerous thing for men like them.
“It’s an easy job.” The man sitting on the couch finally said. He used a simple, deep blue Jeans shirt, his face was battered, and a single cut across his lips was still bleeding, but he was holding himself, even though his hands were shaking a little where he folded them across his chest. He was nervous, he was enjoying this whole conversation as much as Ghost was. Fucking zero. “She can handle herself, I just need extra protection, ease my mind a little.”
“Why don’t you fucking take her?” Ghost asked.
“I can’t.” He answered, slowly pulling his jeans up and showing the bullet wound on his abdomen. “Won’t survive a day across Seattle. Not with Fireflies hunting us down like dogs.”
“We can take her.” Soap said but wouldn’t meet Ghost’s eyes. “She’s just a child, we took Veronica farther.”
“Veronica wasn’t fucking being followed by Fireflies.” Ghost scoffed. The warm feeling on the back of his neck indicated his patience limit was getting closer and closer to the end. He couldn’t lose control, the 141 could not afford a fight with the Jacksons. “And don’t even get me started on the missing piece of information here.” He towed over the man, gripping his gun tighter. “You two are not just being followed by Fireflies, there are guys in Boston that swear on their life there are Fedra dogs after you two.” Ghost felt Soap tense by his side.
They left Fedra together, hand in hand, backpacks packed full of canned beans and water bottles to last 2 days. They didn’t have a plan, they didn’t have where to go, and they only had each other. At the time it was enough. It still is enough to Ghost. But Soap had all that fucking hope.
“We are taking her.” Soap said with finality, with the red mask covering half his face, Ghost couldn’t determine why he was doing it. They could lose their status, they could put the whole operation at risk. “But we are not leaving her alone in Seattle.”
“What?” Ghost exclaimed at the same time the man said…
“Soap…” He started, his knuckles turning white under the leather gloves, sweat pulling under his mask, suffocating and drowning him at the same time. Soap was crazy, this job was bullshit and they didn’t escape Fedra to end up dead over a teenager that wanted to find her mom’s luggage. “Soap, please.”
At that, the man finally met his eyes, and Ghost could cry at the sight. His bright eyes were sad, unshed tears making them angry-red. “I need to take this girl to her mum.”
He took one last look at the bruised man sitting on their couch, his grey hair could use water and his sad eyes got even sadder at Soap's words. They all knew, Soap included, that the girl wouldn’t find her mother, but she got half an information about where she used to live for a bit, Ghost figured that she would be happy about anything she found, a photo, a necklace, a scribbled piece of paper, anything, only for the sake of having something the woman had touched. And Soap, in all his grief, wouldn’t leave that girl alone when she eventually figures out it was not enough.
When the man left, thanking Soap and nodding to Ghost, Soap exhaled and took his mask off.
“I can’t lose you.” Ghost said, still holding his gun, he was afraid his hands would shake if he dropped the weapon.
“You won’t.” Soap turned, the dimmed lights making the marks on his face even angrier. His lips were bitten, a bad habit he couldn’t let go and Ghost knew he would shave that five o’clock in the morning. He was so beautiful, Ghost wanted to kiss his face.
“She is being hunted by the Fireflies, Fedra and Shadows.” Ghost tried to move but he was stuck in place, leaving the proximity to Soap. The man crossed the distance with five large steps, that Ghost counted to keep his head grounded. The warm feeling is now a fire. He was shaking.
“We don’t know if she is being hunted by the Shadows.” Soap raised his hands to touch Ghost, but dropped at the last minute. Ghost wanted to scream, wanted to rip his skin off and wrap Soap in it. Wanted to say ‘touch me please touch me make me feel your warm make me feel your hope make me feel alive and worthy of being in love with you’.
But they didn’t touch, the last time they did was crouching through gates leaving Fedra’s quarantine zone, two teenagers scared and miserable.
“You think it’s worth paying to see?” Ghost asked, his voice small and sad, he felt like a child again, holding his mother's hand and begging her to not let Fedra’s soldiers take him to the training grounds. He wanted to beg Soap to not go, to keep inside their walls, their home.
“I think our lives are more than smuggling drugs and killing shadows.” Soap sat on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and his face on his fist. “I think we need this.” He confessed.
“I can’t lose you.” He repeated, holding Soap’s gaze. ‘If I lose you I will end myself’ he didn’t say ‘if I lose you I will kill that girl’.
“You won’t lose me.” Soap closed his eyes and the tears fell down his face. “But if we don’t find purpose, we will lose ourselves. And I can’t lose Simon.”
Ghost was on his knees before he even thought about it, gun discarded at their feet, he ripped the mask off, his balaclava following suit, he tossed both items over his shoulder and grabbed Soap's hands.
The last time they hadn’t touched, Ghost had shot Soap in the shoulder, crying his eyes out when the man tried to run into a building full of clickers to end his own life. He screamed at his lungs, called Ghost selfish touched the barrel of his gun in his temple and begged Ghost to kill him. Ghost never felt so afraid in his life, and he lived in a fucking zombie apocalypse.
“You won’t lose Simon.” He started, feeling the tears stain his face and stop at his scars. “You can’t lose Simon, Simon is already a part of you, he is already embedded in your being, you are his lifeline, shackles that ground him in this world.” He took a deep breath and scooted closer, touching Soap's forehead with his. In this position, the blue of Soap’s eyes looked like an endless ocean.
Soap hugged Ghost’s body with his legs, his shaking hands gripping his face with care.
“I love you, Simon.” He said like it was simple.
“I love you, Johnny.” Ghost said like it was complicated. “I can’t lose you for if I lose you I will lose myself.” He quoted taking the risk of being sappy and cringing. But Soap laughed that small laugh that was indulged only while crying. He smiled at Ghost. “I will kill for you, I have before and I will continue to do it until you put a bullet in my head. I would also die for you, I would die and rot in hell if it means you are alive to remember me.” Soap’s eyes sparkled with mischief and desire.
“Okay.” Soap whispered, knowing there was nothing left to say.
Ghost closed his eyes, letting his body enjoy the warmth of Soap’s embrace, if he concentrated enough he could listen to his friend's heartbeat, his breath lulling him to deep satisfaction.
The last time they didn't touch like this, Soap was painting against his mouth, not kissing him, but his hands were gripping his hair and he was moaning his name like a prayer. Ghost hands were inside his own trousers, and they came looking each other in the eyes. They pretended that never happened, even though they now shared a bed, even though Ghost caressed his face at night and combed his hair with his fingers, even though Ghost said over and over how he would put the world on fire if Soap died. They pretended it wasn’t real, in the end, if they figured out the extension of their love, they would have to face the realization that the only purpose they needed was to live.
“Did Joel tell her name?” Ghost asked when they were under the blankets, Soap drawing something in his sketchbook and Ghost observing Bill and Frank dancing in the kitchen inside the house across theirs from the opened window, a soft song escaping through the cracks in the wood.
“Yeah…” Soap said, using his fingers to blur the charcoal a little bit, adding light to the way Bill’s hair shone. “He did.”
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