A Collection of Short Stories | Simon Riley "Ghost" x Reader

hair holds memories: chapter 1

Your hair had always been your pride, cascading down your back like a river of solace, offering a comforting veil amidst a world of chaos. The delicate trims you permitted were mere whispers against the steady growth of time, each strand a silent companion in the solitude of your thoughts.

However, of late, life's turbulent storms had been relentless, and one restless night saw the whisper of impulsivity cut through the silence, guiding your hand as you severed the flowing tendrils that had for so long been your silent companions. The act was cathartic yet horrifying, the silence that followed was a mirror to the chaos within.

Now, with the morning sun casting a gentle glow, you find yourself in the shared kitchen at the base, the aroma of fresh brew promising a slow ease into reality. As you stand there, the soft hum of the coffee maker a subtle tune to the morning's calm, Ghost steps in. His presence, as always, quiet yet impossible to ignore.

"You cut your hair?" His voice, steady and monotone as ever, sliced through the morning's tranquility, but for a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of concern dance across his usually stoic eyes.

The words caused a small jolt, pulling you from the slow embrace of the morning. With your stance stiffened, you felt his gaze upon you as you leaned over the coffee maker nestled in the corner of the room. It was naive to think the change would go unnoticed, especially among a team known for their sharp observance.

Your once long auburn locks, a spectacle as they caught the sun, now lay discarded, replaced by a messy bob that ended abruptly at the middle of your neck. The uneven lengths were somewhat masked by the soft waves that attempted to bring order to the chaotic chop.

You hummed in acknowledgment, your focus seemingly tethered to the rhythmic drip of the coffee.

Ghost inched closer, his stance casual as he leaned against the countertop beside you, his eyes lingering on your new look. His silence was a familiar companion before he ventured beyond the comfort of reticence.

"Looks nice," he said, his words floating across the small space between you, landing softly amidst the clinking of the coffee mug you now held. His compliment, brief and perhaps awkward, was a venture into the unfamiliar, for both him and the soft curve of a smile it beckoned on your lips.

The smile, fleeting as it was, made way for a familiar frown as you dropped two sugar cubes into the liquid abyss swirling within your mug. This new reflection in the mirror wasn't meant to be charming; in truth, it wasn't favorable at all. It was a stark reminder of vulnerability, of a recent mission where the enemy had turned your pride against you, each tug at your roots a sting that transcended the physical realm.

The memory fueled the tremble of your hands as you stirred the coffee, the circular motion a meek attempt at swirling away the lingering unease. Ghost's unexpected compliment, although warming, was a reminder of the cold truth.

You let out a soft "Thanks," your voice a mere ripple against the walls that held stories of courage, loss, and everything in between.

Ghost's gaze lingers on your new appearance a moment longer before shifting to the steaming cup cradled in your hands. The simplicity of his next question carries a heaviness that settles amidst the silence enveloping the room.

"Have you slept lately?" The words tiptoe across the space between you, wrapping around the delicate veneer of composed solitude you've nurtured. You sense an unspoken understanding veiled within his query, a silent acknowledgment of the tumult churning within you.

You sigh inwardly, the exhale a faint whisper against the curtain of silence that had descended. Taking a long sip of coffee, your gaze remains anchored to the rhythmic drip of the coffee maker, evading the piercing honesty in Ghost's gaze.