du·al·i·ty
/do͞oˈalədē/
noun
an instance of opposition or contrast between two concepts or two aspects of something; a dualism.=======================================================
Content Warning: Scars, Hallucinations
=======================================================
A sudden chill ran down Ghost's spine, waking him from a dreamless sleep. John had found his way to be cuddled up between his companion's arms, his head resting on the Brit's chest.
Soap remained asleep as he inhaled sharply and clutched the Lieutenant when he tried to move away.
"I'm not leaving, John," Ghost whispered. Soap slowly released him, whining in his sleep when the Brit slid off the bed and stood. "I'll be right back." The man meandered to the bathroom, pulling his mask off and yawning. He flicked on the bathroom light, leaning on the sink. He turned on the tap, cupping his hands and greedily sipping the water. Once satisfied, he stood, wiping the stray drops off his face.
Ghost looked into the mirror, and Simon gazed back.
Do you feel guilty?
A voice reverberated through him. It originated in the back of his head, echoing through his skull. Simon stared into him.
"What?" Ghost muttered, starting at his reflection in disbelief.
You shot him.
The lieutenant blinked. "Are you... speaking to me? No, no, no." He leaned down and splashed water on his face. "Not real, not real..."
You fucking shot Johnny.
"I didn't... I didn't mean to." he clenched his jaw. "I didn't have a clean shot."
You could have killed him.
"But I didn't. I saved him." Ghost murmured. "If I didn't take the shot, he would have died. He signalled for me to take the shot."
Do you think you deserve him?
"What?"
Do you think you deserve to lay beside him? To feel his love? Since when did we want a domestic life?
Simon's eyes drilled into him.
"I don't... I don't understand."
Sergeant John MacTavish deserves so much better than a disfigured, traumatised, PTSD-riddled mercenary.
Ghost stared at his reflection in shock. It glared back at him, bubbling with rage.
"I'm going insane."
Oh? You've just now figured that out, have you?
"You're not real. I'm sleep-deprived and stressed, I'm seeing things. You're not real." His mind raced.
I'm as real as your love for the Sergeant.
"Lt.?" John mumbled from the bedroom, looking up. "Who are you talking to?"
Ghost looked away from the mirror.
"No- no one." He stammered, flicking off the light and climbing back into bed beside John.
Soap hummed, cuddling into his companion. "I missed you."
"Did you, now?" Simon remarked. "I was only gone for a moment."
YOU ARE READING
Call of Desire
أدب الهواةFAIR WARNING: I am in the process of editing and rewriting chapters to flow more smoothly. This is a homosexual Call of Duty Modern Warfare fanfiction/romance between the characters Simon "Ghost" Riley and John "Soap" MacTavish. There may be some in...