Chamber of Reflection - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC

Chapter Five: Nicotine

Simon's eyes snapped open like two flashlight beams. His hand clutched at his chest, grasping at his heart. It was frantically beating against its cage of ribs, a roaring rhythm of blood rushing through his system. He could still feel it, the viscous sweep of a knife, like a piece of ice slicing across his skin. Newly melted snow crystals settled upon his skin; a cold sweat

Nightmares. They had plagued his mind for as long as he could remember. Memories of situations long passed, haunting him at his most vulnerable. A frigid air had consumed his bedroom, a type of freeze that reached into his bones and aged them by years. His eyes flickered over to the window.

"Of fuckin' course." He grumbled.

It was wide open. The wind whistled in, accompanied by shadows dancing in the glow of the night sky. Wands of rising branches twisted and turned, contorting into hazy black shapes cast upon his walls. It made him feel claustrophobic, as though one of the blurred lines was going to jut out and slice at his throat.

His hand searched his bedside table in the bleak darkness until he found that familiar, rectangular shape. His packet of cigarettes. The only thing that kept him sane half the time. He wrangled himself free of his bedsheets and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Sat upon his bedside table was his balaclava, the simple skeletal design almost fluorescent in the dark.

With a deep sigh, Simon slipped it on and became Ghost. The cotton fabric was perfectly tight, choking him ever so slightly. It made him feel claustrophobic. Some children had plush animals, others had matted blankets— he had his mask. It was a safety net for him. What had started as a survival tactic, a way to mask the rising fear in his wide eyes from his father's prying gaze, had become so much more than that. Now, it was more comforting than an embrace from his own mother.

Ghost stepped into a pair of casual, black running shoes before leaving his room. He made his way to the rooftop, his private smoking corner. Not many soldiers went up there and those who did never came back after seeing his hardened glare. Once he reached the top, he stopped dead in his tracks. The door was cracked open, just enough for the bitter breeze to flow through. He peered through the opening and that's when he saw it.

Her.

Smoke was there, sitting on top of the railing, her feet dangling in the air. Her eyes were distant, a million miles away, as she took a lazy drag from her cigarette. The harsh cold embraced her pale face, the wind swaying her hair back and forth. In the rich tapestry of blue that blanketed the sky, the moon shone as bright as a flaming torch. She glowed like a lighthouse amidst the sea.

Ghost froze like a deer caught in headlights. Should he stay? Should he go? Jump off the railing and bellyflop onto the running track? As though she sensed his presence, Smoke glanced over. They locked eyes and her lips curved into a small smile, the stars twinkling in her eyes.

"Lieutenant, good morning." She breathed out.

He shuffled closer, hesitant in his stride. "You don't need t'call me that."

"That is your rank, no?"

"Everyone just calls me Ghost. You don't need to be formal like that, with me."

Her eyebrows scrunched together in a brief look of confusion, yet she nodded nonetheless. Ghost stood at her side and leaned on the railing, his elbow brushing against her hip. The scent of cherry and vanilla wafted into his nostrils. It was sugary sweet and made his nose crinkle. It smelt of that fancy body wash women rant and rave about.

With one hand, he pulled out his cigarettes. With his other, he tugged up at his mask, resting it on the bridge of his nose. It felt like a breach of privacy to see him like this, yet Smoke couldn't tear her eyes away. Ghost's lips were bitten red, inviting, with a pale scar gracing one side. A glint of pearly-white teeth peered behind them, clasped around the cigarette lolling between his plush lips. His jaw, sharp and strong, was scattered with a whisper of blonde stubble.