𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

Amsterdam was a beautiful city.

Full of character, culture, romance...

It only broke your heart more.

You'd barely said a word to anyone in the two weeks you'd been here, holed up in the new safe house hostel. Ghost was the same, and the two of you had made unsubtle attempts to avoid each other like the plague.

If you entered a room, he would leave. If you heard his footsteps approaching, you'd make yourself scarce. 

And it was driving the rest of the 141 absolutely insane.

They were beyond worried for you. You would barely eat, barely sleep. The dark circles under your eyes were telling. Sometimes, Price had to threaten to call Laswell just to get you to shower and change into some other clothes.

But he didn't dare ask what was going on - none of them did.

You'd all been living completely off the grid. No phones, except for a burner that Laswell used to contact (which Price guarded with his life), no internet. The only things you had for entertainment were each other and a television, that only played local channels.

Soap had come to your room one night after things ended, hearing you crying, screaming as you awoke from a nightmare. You told him everything, then.

Everything about your dreams, everything about your feelings for Ghost, everything that had ever been said between the two of you.

He comforted you, and even stayed with you for the rest of the night, holding you close as you sobbed over his comrade. Soap wanted to storm into Ghost's room, giving him a piece of his mind for letting you down, if only he hadn't been in with Ghost the night before, doing exactly the same.

Soap had gotten up to use the loo, only to find Ghost completely shitfaced, stumbling over his feet as he dragged an almost-empty bottle of whiskey to his room.

"What the hell are ya playin' at, L.T.? You don't drink like this." Soap groaned, helping him back to his room.

"I fucked it, Johnny, well and truly let 'er down this time."

"And ya think drowning yerself in the drink will make things better?"

"Makes me not feel it so much."

"Fuckin' steaming hell, Ghost. Ya unbelievable."

Tossing Ghost onto his bed, Soap snatched the bottle, tossing it into the bin next to him. Ghost whined, his mask pulled up to his nose so Soap could see his slack jaw.

"What ya do that for?"

"Just fuckin' shut it, L.T. Ya need to sort yourself out. We're all sick of whatever the fuck is going on with you and (Y/N). Fuckin' fix it."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"You have no fuckin' idea what I've been through, Johnny. You don't know what it's like- I can't take a risk like that."

Soap rolled his eyes, "I get it. Ya close yourself off to avoid making meanin'ful attachments so it doesn't hurt if you lose them. But you love her. And don't even try denyin' it. It's painfully, excruciatingly obvious. We all saw the way you looked at her, the way you kissed her back on the day we took Alejandro's base."

Ghost said nothing, not ready to admit it to himself.

"Y'know, my ma always used to tell me somethin' - sometimes, takin' a risk is the only good thing you can do...it's the only thing worth doing."