Unseen | Ghost x Soap

Chapter 53: A Day In The Life

Ghost's POV:

The skating had been a chaotic mix of laughter and teasing, Soap clinging to the walls and nearly falling every other minute. But we had survived it, and now we were walking through the snowy streets, our breath visible in the cold air. The day was bright, the sun reflecting off the snow and making everything look almost magical.

As we walked, Soap and I kept up our banter. It was a distraction from the mission looming over us, a way to pretend everything was normal, even if just for a few hours.

We turned a corner and spotted a cozy café, the warm light spilling out of its windows inviting us in. "What do you say, Johnny? Feel like a warm drink?" I asked.

Soap grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Inside, the café was warm and filled with the comforting smells of coffee and baked goods. We joined the short line at the counter, and I scanned the menu. When it was my turn, I ordered a cup of tea and a sandwich. Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Tea and a sandwich, huh? How very British of you, Simon," he said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. "Would you like some scones and clotted cream with that, old chap?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile. "Shut up, Johnny."

He chuckled and ordered a coffee and a sandwich. We found a small table by the window and sat down, the warm light creating a bubble of coziness around us.

As we ate, Soap continued to tease me about my tea. "Do you always drink tea, or is it just when you're trying to be extra British?"

"I drink tea because it's good, you uncultured swine," I retorted, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

"Right, because coffee is so barbaric," he shot back, laughing.

I shook my head, amused. "Just enjoy your drink, Johnny."

The teasing and laughter made everything else fade away for a while. We talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. But as the moments passed, I felt a familiar wave of anxiety creeping in. The mission was just days away, and the thought of something happening to Soap gnawed at my insides.

"I'll be right back," I said suddenly, standing up. Soap looked up, concern flickering in his eyes.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah, just need to hit the head," I lied, forcing a smile.

I made my way to the bathroom, the noise of the café fading behind me. Once inside, I leaned over the sink, gripping the sides so hard my knuckles turned white. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in my head.

"Get a grip, Simon," I whispered to myself. "You can't lose it now."

The fear of the mission, the fear of losing Soap—it was all too much. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would help. "I will protect him," I promised my reflection. "No matter what, I won't let him get hurt."

But even as I made the promise, I hated myself for ruining our time together with my worries. I felt pathetic, stupid, letting anxiety overshadow what should have been a good day. I took several deep breaths, trying to steady myself. Finally, I pushed the anxiety down, deep enough to manage, and headed back to the table.

Soap looked up as I approached, a frown creasing his brow. "You sure you're alright? You look a bit... off."

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a casual tone. "Just needed a moment."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. We finished our food, the earlier lightness of our conversation dampened by my return. I hated that I was ruining it, hated that my worry was so transparent.

"Let's take a walk," I suggested. "Clear our heads a bit."

Soap nodded, and we left the café, stepping back into the cold. The park was nearby, its paths winding through snow-covered trees and playgrounds. As we walked, Soap placed his hand on my arm, his touch steady and warm. I felt a surge of emotions—gratitude, affection, fear. His presence was a comfort I couldn't put into words.

We passed a playground, the laughter of children filling the air. It was a stark contrast to our usual environment, and I found myself smiling at the sight. A little girl, no more than six, ran up to us, her face bright with curiosity.

"Hi!" she said, looking up at us with wide eyes.

"Hello there," Soap replied, crouching down to her level. "What's your name?"

"Emily," she said proudly. "Are you guys boyfriends?"

We stared at her, stunned. The question hung in the air, and I could see Soap trying to suppress a grin. Before we could respond, Emily's mother called her, and she scampered off, leaving us in stunned silence.

Soap burst out laughing, and I joined in, the absurdity of the situation breaking through the tension. "Well, that was unexpected," he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"No kidding," I replied, shaking my head. "Do we really look that scary?"

"Apparently not," Soap said, still chuckling. "We must have softened up in our old age."

As the laughter died down, I saw a hint of exhaustion in Soap's eyes. The day had been long, and though it had been filled with joy, the weight of our reality was never far behind.

"Ready to head back to base?" I asked, noting his fatigue.

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, I think so."

We started back, the park behind us fading into the background. The walk was quiet but comfortable, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I couldn't shake the promise I'd made to myself in the bathroom. I would do everything in my power to keep Soap safe. This day off had been a rare gift, a reminder of what we were fighting for. As we neared the base, I felt a renewed sense of purpose, the weight of my fears balanced by the strength of my resolve.