never learned how to love (but i still try)
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Ghost stares up at Johnny, heart racing in his chest like he’s just run twenty klicks through enemy territory. His ears are ringing, Johnny’s words echoing in his mind. His sergeant is so close to the truth. Ghost is nothing but a beast, a dog on a tight leash. Price points, and Ghost attacks. It’s been that way since he was reborn in the ashes of his old life. He snaps and snarls at anyone who gets too close, wears his mask like a muzzle to keep everyone at bay. But Johnny has never feared him. Not like he should.
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Soap narrows his eyes, juts out his chin, and Ghost almost thinks he’s going to disobey a direct order. He waits, gloved fists clenching at his sides, ready to meet Johnny’s anger with his own if he has to. Looks forward to it, even. It’s only over these past few weeks that Ghost has realized how addicted to the other man’s attention he’s become. That he’ll greedily take any scrap of it, hoard it all like a dragon hoards gold.
The irony isn't lost on him.
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Ghost dodges, grabbing his wrist, and in that moment, Johnny thinks he could kill him. He grabs one of the wickedly sharp knives on Ghost’s belt and shoves it up under his chin, the point cutting through the fabric of his balaclava easily to just barely nick his throat. Ghost goes perfectly still, and Johnny watches a little patch of something wet and dark bloom on the fabric. His gaze flickers up to Ghost’s. He’s staring at him steadily, the brown of his eyes so dark they’re almost black, no anger nor fear to be found. Just… acceptance. Resignation. Like he’d expected this. Like he welcomes it.
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