The Masks in Your Life (Ghost x Reader)

s e v e n t e e n

Your heart stopped beating in your chest when the door suddenly opened, your wide eyes staring at the woman in front of you, still wearing the apron you made for her in home ed when you were thirteen as if you had never been gone.

She hadn't aged a day either, only her hair appeared a little greyer. You looked at her in awe, your gaze flickering over her features, her lips parted in shock, not daring to blink.

"Mum– ", you started, and you really didn't want to cry, but there was no use.

Your voice broke and the rest of the sentence was swallowed by a heart wrenching, wet sob, and it seemed like hearing your voice snapped her back to reality. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering a despairing whimper, and she dropped the metal bowl she was holding.

It landed on the tiled floor with a loud clutter, and while you and your mother just looked at each other, crying and stifling sobs, the noise alerted your father. He didn't seem to fully realise what was happening when he appeared in the hallway, his eyes falling on you standing on the doorstep.

"Dad", you pressed out, his frame a little blurry through your tears.

It was him who broke the spell you all seemed to be under, taking small steps towards you, eyes widened in disbelief.

"My daughter", he whispered, his voice hushed as he stretched his hand out, carefully as if you would vanish if he touched you.

You finally managed to move when his fingertips brushed your cheeks, your warm skin being real, just like the tears trailing down your face.

"I'm so sorry", you wailed before leaping forward, being caught by both of them at the same time.

Three years after falling out with them over something that turned out to be in vain, you finally hugged both of your parents, their warm embrace feeling exactly like it should.

Home.

Your face was pressed into your dad's chest, the soft fabric of his jumper drying your tears as your body racked with sobs, your mum crying into your shoulder in return, one hand buried in your hair.

"My daughter", he repeated shakily, as if he had to remind himself that you were in fact right there in front of him, you and your mum unable to speak.

The three of you just stood on the doorstep for what felt like ages, in a long, comforting hug that you had craved for so long. After some time, the sobbing died down, and your parents looked at you with adoration in their eyes.

"I don't– ", your mother whispered while holding your hand, clutching it to make sure you stayed, "we took all your stuff with us, we couldn't– God, I don't understand."

Five minutes later, you sat next to them at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee, warming your hands on the porcelain.

You didn't really know where to start, but once you found your pace you kept talking and talking, and you told them everything. Every little detail, except the fact that you had sex in front of your then husband with another man.

Although you did tell them about the other man, especially what kind of a positive influence he had on you. They had always been wary of Mike, eventually leading to your fallout after all, but they were utterly shocked and angry when you told them what he did.

The whole talk was an emotional rollercoaster, but it felt good, freeing.

Just like the other talks that followed over the course of the next six months. Catching up on life events, seeing other relatives (your uncle unable to refrain himself from making zombie jokes), reconnecting with friends, revisiting your favourite places... Anything you weren't able to do the last two years.

From time to time, you even facetimed with Ghost, casually. You missed him incredibly, but you didn't mention it to him. He seemed busy with work, and you didn't want to bother him.

One Saturday night, while you helped your mum and dad cooking, they sent each other furtive glances and smirks, and you quickly caught up on them.

"What?", you chuckled, before turning back to the parmesan you were grating for the risotto.

"Your dad and I were thinking...", she started, smiling widely, "you've been telling us so much about this Simon guy."

"Yes?", you asked, unable to hide the big smile creeping up your face.

Before your mum could enlighten you, she was interrupted by the doorbell.

"Oh, (y/n) honey, could you get that quickly? My hands are dirty, and your dad is busy laying the table. Probably just a parcel."

"Sure", you nodded and made your way to the door.

The man standing on the doorstep was far from being a delivery person. He was dressed in a soft, grey jumper, jeans, and combat boots, and you nearly didn't recognise him because a key feature was missing.

You took in the sight of him without his black skull balaclava hiding his face. The sharp jaw and his full lips with the small scar were familiar, only the light stubble was new, so you concentrated on his sculpted nose and soft, dark blond hair, your brain piecing all the visible features together.

Beautiful.

Then your heart jumped in excitement, and so did you, right into his arms. He picked you up and pressed his bare face against the crook of your neck, not regretting that he had shoved his mask into his back pocket before ringing.

"I missed you Simon", you mumbled into his shoulder, legs wrapping around his torso for support.

His grip on your body tightened, and his stubble tickled your jaw. With a content sigh, you smelled his familiar cologne, memories flooding back like small waves on a sun-tinted beach.

"Please never change your cologne, yeah?", you whispered, and his chest vibrated with a low chuckle.

"You like it?"

"It's very you", you cooed.

"Fuck, I missed you too", he finally said, the words going past his lips surprisingly easy.

"Mh, do you want to come in?", you asked, suddenly too aware that you stood outside and that all the neighbours could see you clinging to Simon like a spider monkey.

"Wanna leave me outside? I'm invited for dinner", he started, "bloody starvin'."

He gently lowered you down until your feet touched the floor, and you looked at him with raised brows, countless questions practically dancing around your head.

Your mum was about to answer them when she appeared behind you in the hallway.

It was simple. Leaving your phone unattended for too long gave her the opportunity to unlock it, your passcode still being the day you got your hamster, finding the name Simon in your contacts and saving his number on her own phone.

The longing in your eyes when you spoke about him hadn't gone unnoticed by her, 'a mother just knows' she said at least three times during her explanation, so she had called him and casually invited him for dinner.