Parallel - Ghost x Female Y/N

[4]

I walked my way over to the bench and took a seat, pressing my teeth together and hissing at the cramping of my legs. Ghost then approached the punching bag but before he did anything, he faced me.

"You alright?"

I nod, a small chuckle leaving my mouth before he nods, getting ready to resume his training. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, his fists collide with the punching bag. Every hit is a fatal one; if it were a person they would be black and blue all over.

My eyes widen as I watch in fascination. This man is strong, precise and coordinated with his punches, it felt like an honour to watch him. An elegant dance of death between the bag and him, not even rolling up his sleeves nor showing any sign of sweat on his covered body.

Resting my elbow on my knee and my chin on my palm, I spectate the massacre of the sponge cylinder, it wheezing for mercy of the brute's knuckles colliding with the plastic coating. Then it stopped and he turned to me, completely zoned out from watching him.

My attention wakes up and I look at him, lips still parted in shock before I speak up.

"You're very skilled, Ghost."

He places his hands in his pockets of his hoodie and shrugs slightly.

"Could be an improvement here or there." he replies, causing me to raise my eyebrows.

"So that's not the best you can do?"

"No."

A hum of astonishment vibrates from my mouth as I grin and nod my head, leaning back against the wall, completely impressed. Ghost then walks over and takes a seat next to me, airing his hoodie slightly by pinching it and pulling it then letting it go.

"Why not take that off if it's a bother?" I ask simply, to which his head turns to face mine.

"I only do that when I'm alone."

"Ah. Okay. I'll take my leave if you want." I suggest meekly, not wanting him to overheat because of me. He shakes his head.

"It's fine." he sighs then unzips his hoodie, walks over to the punching bag once more and throws it near his bag. A tank top which seemed too small for him - which in fact was simply his size - covered his body. He had a sleeve of tattoos running down one arm and a segment of his back, with some scars and marks blending into his back muscles.

His skills were incredible but his body? It was...attractive. But what else were I to expect from a man in the military except a chiseled form?

I felt a slight glow of heat reach my cheeks as my eyes widened, knowing I had been staring too long. His body turned toward the punching bag, letting me see his front.

His front muscles were practically out from the tank top barely covering them, his abs printed through the material. More tattoos laid across his chest along with more marks and scars. I feel so awkward for looking at the scars but they're so unique that my eyes aren't drawn away. I look up at his eyes and we make eye contact immediately - he must've noticed my staring.

A soft, embarrassed smile falls on my lips as he looks back at the punching bag with little emotion to show before attacking it once more. The cycle seemed to resume over and over again, punching then a small break.

I checked my watch only to find it had come around to three in the morning. My eyes widened and I gasped, standing up.

"It's three, I'm going to head to bed." I say before gathering my bag and rushing to the door.

I felt Ghost's eyes on the back of my head, but no reply to my leaving. Huh, strange.

I walked through the base halls, it seemed quite ominous in the night which is why I never chose to. Heading to my room with a paced walk wasn't something I usually did but tonight would have to do just that. I sigh, feeling slightly awkward with the desire to get in my room.

Just then, I felt a pair of eyes lay on me from somewhere in the hall so I look behind my shoulder after stopping. A man was walking up to me, but I couldn't tell who he was.

"Ah, excuse me lass!" he called out, then did a light jog over. I could now see who he was; the man the task force called Soap.

"Hello sir, everything alright?" I ask curiously. Why is he up this late at night?

"Good evenin'...or morning, whatever fits ya best."he lightly chuckles and so do I. "Have ya seen that big skull man around 'ere?"

"He's in the gym, I was just there."

"Ah. Did he speak to ya?"

I nod and shrug, quite skeptical on why he asked.

"Lucky. He never says a word to me." he concludes, and, with a smile gives a gentle pat on the back and a simple goodbye and thanking, takes off toward the gym.

He seemed nice enough, clearly Scottish through his accent which did make me laugh slightly although I wouldn't show it.

But what did he mean by he never says a word to him? Why did Ghost speak to me and not him? I thought it's best not to ponder so late, so I continued my journeys back to my room with a little less pace, knowing that the men aren't as scary as seemed.