Unseen | Ghost x Soap

Chapter 16: Quite the Opposite

Soap's POV:

The camp was quiet under the blanket of night, the stars twinkling above like silent sentinels. The fire burned low, its embers casting a soft, warm glow. Most of the team had retired for the night, but Ghost and I lingered, the need for sleep outweighed by the desire for companionship.

We sat close to the fire, the warmth a welcome contrast to the cool night air. The silence between us was comfortable, a shared moment of peace amidst the chaos of our lives. I glanced at Ghost, his face partially illuminated by the firelight, the rest hidden in shadow. The mask he always wore seemed to make him more mysterious, an enigma I longed to understand.

After a long stretch of silence, I gathered the courage to ask the question that had been on my mind for weeks. "Ghost... have you ever thought about taking off the mask?"

He looked at me, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "What do you mean?"

I hesitated, then pushed forward. "I mean, will you ever show your face? To me?"

His gaze held mine, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he sighed, the sound soft and weary. "One day, maybe. When the time is right."

The answer was vague, but it was more than I had expected. I leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of me. "Why not now?"

He shook his head slightly. "There are things about me, things in my past... It's not that simple."

I nodded, understanding the unspoken weight of his words. But the desire to know more, to see the man behind the mask, was strong. "Are you... ugly or something?"

Ghost chuckled, the sound low and surprisingly warm. "Quite the opposite, actually."

The response caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Is that so?"

He shrugged, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "You'll have to wait and see."

The playful banter eased the tension between us, and for a moment, the heavy weight of our unspoken feelings seemed lighter. The fire crackled, and the night stretched on, a serene backdrop to our conversation.

I looked at him, feeling a surge of affection that I struggled to keep in check. "You know, Ghost, you're more than just a teammate to me."

His gaze softened, and he nodded. "I know, Johnny. And you're more than just a friend to me."

The admission hung in the air, a fragile truth that we both understood but couldn't fully embrace. The firelight danced between us, casting shadows and light in equal measure, mirroring the complexities of our relationship.

As the night wore on, we talked about everything and nothing, the easy flow of conversation a balm to my soul. The unspoken tension was still there, but it was tempered by the bond we shared, a connection that went beyond words.

Eventually, the fire died down, and the chill of the night began to seep in. We stood, the moment of intimacy slipping away like the last embers of the fire. Ghost looked at me, his eyes reflecting the stars above.

"Goodnight, Johnny," he said softly.

"Goodnight, Simon," I replied, my heart heavy with the weight of unspoken desires.

As I walked back to my tent, I couldn't shake the image of Ghost's eyes, the promise of something more hidden behind them. One day, I told myself. One day, the mask would come off.