Call of Duty Oneshots by zoa!

2 | Avenge - Ghost [N]

a/n: YOU GUYS WANTED A PART 2 SO BAD SO HERE YOU GO

Your eyes lingered at the handprint on your door, furrowing your eyebrows as you swallow. What... happened? Your breathing increases and gets rapid, fearful for what Ghost had done. But you can't confront him, can you? He helped you, you can't complain. So, you went to your bathroom, got some toilet roll and cleaned the blood off of your door, seeing the toilet roll stain red made your stomach churn. A lump forms in your throat; not from wanting to cry but from the thoughts that roamed in your head. Of what Ghost could've done... or had done.

You throw the tissue away, heading back to bed. You just want to curl up and hide away, not sure how to handle this situation at all. Did Ghost do anything horrible? Why was there blood marked on his knuckles, on his fingers and his hands? It wasn't unusual to have blooded hands within the force, but not inside. Not when going to comfort someone who had just been crying, especially when their mind is so hectic. You cuddle the pillow you hugged before, snuggling yourself under the duvet again and falling asleep, knowing that you had no early six am training tomorrow.

---

Your eyes adjust to the beams of light flooding in your room, sunshine coating your bed. It had been a long time since you had woken to sunlight, waking up early at the crack of dawn every single day. It took your eyes a lot of adjusting to barely open, the sun blindfolding you. You sit up in your bed and check your phone, it being seven o' clock. You stretch your arms and softly groan as you fully wake up, slipping yourself out of bed and closing the blinds to let you to see again, turning on the light. You walk over to your bathroom and shower, doing basic skincare afterwards and a light coat of makeup to cover your eyebags from last night.

Oh no, last night. Ghost's bloody handprints, the tears you sobbed. You had forgotten all about it until now. The gut feeling settled and weighed my heart down, making you sigh softly as you recall everything that happened once more. You gripped your sink and looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself a long, hard rundown, thinking hard on how to tackle this situation before finally settling down your thoughts and deciding to ignore Ghost. Yes, he was your Lieutenant and you had to follow orders and commands, however in the general sense platonically, you would ignore him. You nodded at yourself in the mirror to confirm your decision and walked over to your wardrobe to get ready for the midday training.

As you slip out your door, having your hair behind you in a casual style, you walk through the halls with your boots echoing through the corridor, heading to your midday training. You felt a presence behind you, but you ignored it. If they wanted to see you, they would have to come up and speak to you. You hummed as you walked, having a slight hop in your step to try your best and distract yourself from last night. You then felt the presence get closer, and closer, and closer until you heard a voice from your left side.

"Hey y/n. How are you feeling?" a deep, gravelly voice asks, slightly caringly but not looking towards you. You look up at him from a side eye and see it's Ghost, the one person you didn't want to be the first one you saw this morning. An unsettling feeling starts in your stomach and you don't reply, looking forward. You see out of your peripheral vision that his head turned to you and perked to the side slightly, wondering why you didn't answer him.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" he repeats his question with a bit more of a stern yet worried tone. You felt his words run through my ears, in and out like a cartoon as you continued to ignore him. You knew that it was hurting you inside, how he cared for you that night and how he listened intently, rubbing your back gently and keeping the eye contact never pulling away, hell, even getting closer to practically hug you. But, as you had decided on what to do, you proceeded to block him from your life apart from work. Nothing platonic, just a work relationship.