𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

𝙰 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

Summary: Ghost was no stranger to nightmares, he had them every single time he closed his eyes. Never did he think that there'd be a day where it was someone else's keeping him awake.

He should have been used to it by now.

It had been years since he'd last slept through the night, yet it never got easier. Ghost's evenings were plagued with the horrors of his past, and most were spent in the dark staring at the ceiling until he got fed up with fighting to sleep.

But lately, things had been different.

It wasn't his nightmares that were keeping him up, it was yours.

And instead of the ceiling, his eyes were locked on the wall that separated him from you.

Ghost lay on his side, one hand holding up his head. He'd switched his usual mask for his balaclava, comfort outweighing his desire for complete anonymity.

You'd been part of the 141 for barely a few weeks, and almost immediately the two of you butted heads, neither backing down to the point where you spent the days scowling at each other from across the room.

He knew it was driving the team crazy, but you were so fucking stubborn, always refusing to follow his orders and do as he asked. Sure, he appreciated the fact that you made his breakfast every morning, making sure the others were fed and well.

But at the end of the day, it was Ghost who was the lieutenant of the 141, not you.

You made him angrier than anyone else he'd ever encountered, and the fact that you still continued to try and engage with him despite his efforts to keep you at arm's length infuriated him all the more.

He hated you.

Didn't he?

Yet, there he was, lying awake at barely 3am, worry crawling over his skin as your sleeping whimpers and cries sounded just loud enough to travel to his ears.

He spent every night like this, listening to you weep as you dreamt, brows furrowed in confusion, because why did he care so much?

When people asked, he told them that his feelings toward you were simple; you weren't good enough to keep his team, his family, safe. And the reason he knew that, was because he spent every night how he was now.

He knew how it was to be sleep deprived, be struggling. And without sleep, there was no way you could be alert enough to be a good soldier. There was no way-

Bang.

Ghost's thoughts stopped, and he was already upright and his hand on the knife at his hip before he could even register what had happened.

Listening intently, he moved silently to his door as he heard you stumble from your bed clumsily, clamouring into the hallway and to the bathroom. Even in the darkness of the night, he didn't miss the way the moon coming through the near window illuminated the tear stains on your cheeks.

It made his heart lurch painfully.

What ever had you hurting this much was no small thing.

That much was clear to him, and it almost made him feel some sort of guilt about the way he'd been treating you – almost.

He peered through the small gap he'd left in the door, watching as you re-emerged into the hallway and disappeared downstairs with impressively silent footsteps.

Seems fine. Ghost shrugged carelessly, turning back to his bed.

Yet, he left the door ajar. He swung the blade through his fingers, and he sat on the edge of his bed and counted the minutes.