Broken Dreams And Bloody Noses | Ghost x Soap

A Ripple In The Routine

Soap fumbled with the keys to his apartment, the keychains he’d accessorized on the ring jingling as they bumped into each other. Heavy grocery bags weighing his dominant arm down most likely weren’t helping his struggle either, as the sound of the crinkling plastic also filled the deserted hallway. He sighed as he finally heard a click, and he momentarily abandoned the keys within the lock, before opening the door wide, softly bumping the wall of his entranceway, as he slipped inside. He took the keys with him, before shutting the door with his foot. His shoes squeaked against the hardwood flooring as he made his way through the small hallway.

He hoisted the bags onto his messy counter, pushing them open and taking out anything that needed to be refrigerated, and slipping them inside the fridge. Everything else he simply left, making a mental note to put them away later. Something which he’d most likely forget to do.

It was a bad habit of his. Something his Ma always tried to break him of.

Soap walked back over to the entranceway, placing his keys onto a small screw he’d drilled into the wall so he could dangle them there. He’d had too many times where he’d misplaced the keys, and finally caved. There were a multitude of holes and stains on the walls already, so his landlord most likely wouldn’t bat an eye. Atleast, hopefully until after Soap moved out.

His apartment was dingy at best, a glorified cardboard box at worst, but it’d been his home for the past few months. He’d moved out of Scotland soon as he’d gotten enough money, he couldn’t burden his Ma like that any longer. His younger siblings already drove the poor woman crazy. Not that he was any help either. Regardless, she’d wept when he’d told her the news, going on about how he was ‘leaving the nest’, and that ‘her baby was all grown up’.

It brought a smile to Soap’s face.

Ringing from his phone brought him out of the memory, and he slipped it out of his pants pocket, taking a quick glance at the caller id. “Speak ‘a the Devil,” he muttered as he swiped the green button.

“Hi Ma,” Soap fondly greeted as her warm voice filled his ears. She called often, wanting to know what he was up to and how he was. He told her the same thing everytime. “Och, aye, Ma. ‘Ahm fine,” he chuckled as he slipped back into his heavy accent with ease.

“Mm, tha gym’s been treatin’ me well,” his voice was cheer-y, a stark contrast to the darkness of his apartment. The only light being one he’d flicked on during his way in. It easily filled the space, showing the clutter on the counter in contrast to the nearly empty floors. He drummed his fingers on the counter before looking over to his front door.

“Aye, ah’ve been eatin’ plenty,” he reassured as he made his way to the entrance of his apartment, swiftling locking the door, and taking a peep out of the keyhole in habit. He wasn’t in the best side of town, but he wouldn’t let his Ma know that, she worried enough for him as it was. She droned on in his ear, lecturing him about the importance of consuming enough.

He loved her lectures, missed them, even. He wouldn't tell her that, though. She most likely already knew.

"Och, naye Ma. Ya don't need t' send me money. Doin' perfectly fine," he quickly stopped her.

He walked back, stopping just at the bar counter. Soap suddenly heard a gasp as his Ma spoke to one of the littluns, before quickly signing off exasperatedly. “Love ye too, Ma,” and with that he hung up. The familiar warmth chittering in his ear, gone. He stared at the expanse of the room, now being left to his lonesome. He hardly had any furniture, a few packing boxes littered the floor being the extent of his belongings. The walls were bare, paint chipping off in some areas, while abandoned hooks sat waiting to be used to hold a frame. The only thing he’d assembled so far was his punching bag.