Dim street lights falls against your skin, goosebumps trailing the light wet streaks that coat your skin from the casual dress you had picked for the night out with the team. You always did tell Ghost you'd never get used to the weather in Manchester, but he insisted that he'd make it worth it.
That he did, every single time a chill wracked your body, a coat ten sizes too big for your body engulfed your frame, a large arm wrapped around your shoulder pulling you close to combat the cold he long got used to.
It was the same song and dance, a situation-ship where no one truly understood where you two stood but knew it was comfortable in the daylight when alcohol didn't fog your vision and didn't drive the voices in his head to be louder than his own.
Glancing up you could make out the small stubble lining his jaw, overgrown from the time you too had spent on base rather than your shared apartment. It was easier that way, knowing when the inevitable wrath of two forces collided you both had somewhere calm to disappear to. There's a subtle click, the flexing muscle letting you know his mind is already going faster than his thoughts.
"Are we going home tonight?" You asked softly careful not to push too fast, learning how to handle the moments when the demons of his past came creeping in. Gently trying to ease into a conversation even though the dim pouch lights gave you the answer you needed.
"Where else would we go?" It was a harsh bite of words, even he knew that but he didn't know how to change. His arm tightened around your shoulder, drawing in a deep breath to ease the tension lining his shoulders with the smell of rain mingling with your perfume.
The same stress that curled in his muscles seemed to have a mind of their own radiating into your body making it mirror his posture. What should've been giggling cascading up stairs from stumbling steps and lips refusing to part carried an uncomfortable silence stretching longer than than space between you two.
Clearing your throat you took the initiative pulling the keys from his coat pocket, careful not to show the tremble in your hands as you opened the door that housed too many mixed emotions.
"I had fun." The small tilt in the corner of your mouth didn't portray your words enough. It's not that you didn't have fun but the moment one shot of whiskey turned into another you knew how the night would end.
You have done the research you know now that unresolved childhood trauma can lead to self sabotage in relationships. It's a push in pull behavior where one doesn't know if they deserve any form of care and the other cant understand why their love isn't enough. It's easier to manage when your both not riding a buzz with all ambitions tossed out the window.
His hand runs through the mess on-top of his head, a breath harsh enough to make his nostrils flare follow your soft steps into the living room.
"Are we really doing this again? You wanted to go out so we did." The door slams behind his body making the straight picture frames lining the wall tilt, just like your world does anytime everything becomes too much.
How long can the human body suppress the need for comfort, validation, maybe even just a little reassurance? It's not that he's a bad guy, he'd give you the world if it wasn't always needing saving, its the fact he cant regulate a proper relationship without contradicting himself. Typically you'd find some soft apology but sometimes the vodka curled your tongue in ways that you couldn't prevent.
Most of the argument becomes a blur unwilling to let every hurtful retaliation burn its way into your skin until your knuckles push into the smooth wood table he carved himself, pressing hard enough to try and calm the heaving of your chest while he stands motionless on the other side, unwilling to show the emotions you wear on your sleeve.
"Go ahead and leave, you do it every time. You're no different than anyone else." Even if his tone is calm you know well enough by now that those deep brown eyes are carrying a storm he refuses to let you see. Why cant he just let you in? Why is it any time your foot steps halfway through that door he slams it back in your face.
"I wish you were someone I never met." You whisper the words under your breath to yourself, fighting back the way your chest threatens to close through stuttered breaths.
Ghost hears them though, replaying how each syllable rolled off your tongue similar to the tears that stream down your cheeks. If only he could understand like you do why he throws a barrier so thick between you it takes weeks to break back down. Finally a flicker of emotion crosses, a subtle shift of his feet and a downwards glance to his worn boots as your footsteps retreat down the hall.
You've put up with the outburst since the very first time he showed the conflict he holds inside, every moment the weight he wore on his shoulders became too much it was your gentle caress of nimble fingers against scared skin that soothed the pressure. It's a foreign feeling, gripping at his lungs throwing him into a panic when he catches a glimpse of bags wrapped tightly in your hands.
Was he right? We're you like everyone else? Or were you becoming just as broken as him trying to take the pieces he chipped off your soul forcing them to fit into the cracks of his so he could finally feel how deep your love went. There's no way this would be the last time you fought tooth and nail for him. It couldn't be.
Each thump of his boots grew from a steady rhythm to a rapid pace the further the distance grew between you two. What started as a steady shower turned into a raging storm blinding his already blurred vision, barely able to make out the small silhouette hailing a cab.
Its the same song and dance, with one fighting for a stable spot and the other fighting against their self. Only this time it feels different like the thin line you two managed to stay balanced on was finally swaying threatening to send your bodies plummeting.
All it took was a large calloused hand curling around your bicep making your body collide into one that always stood strong now feeling like the slightest brush of wind could make it crumble to the ground at your feet.
The same palm that spent mornings trying to wipe away pain of any words he spewed like venom cupped your cheek forcing bloodshot eyes to take in soaked features making his hair stick to his forehead creating a steady drip that soaked into his clothes.
"There's no way this is our last night, don't tell me this is over yet."
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