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He noticed it first in the little things the man would do. When their hands would brush, he’d flinch away as though he’d been burned. Their lips met, even when he would never try to kiss back. Even when they’d fall asleep, limbs tangled in knots together but wake to cold sheets beside him. Johnny knew that Simon was slipping away from him, but he never said anything. He had worked so hard to ensure the lieutenant knew he cared for him, to feel safe around him. Though, he couldn’t help the squeezing of his heart whenever Ghost would pull away from him more. He tried to pretend like he didn’t notice, that everything in their relationship was fine. He could learn to adapt to these small gestures of the other as long as he still loved him.
But… he never would say it.
Simon had never spoken those three words he craved so profoundly to him. He’d tried to ignore it, just like he had before, but it ripped at his mind and craved a hole in his lungs. Soap couldn’t help himself anymore; he needed confirmation. He needed anything to prove that what he was feeling wasn’t one-sided. That Simon wasn’t slipping through his fingertips and off into the darkness of isolation—something to prove that he was worth something to the lieutenant, even a little bit.
He sat on the bed, eyes distant, waiting for the man to return from his duties. He’d been sitting anxiously for hours, leg vibrating in its place with nervous fury. His mind snapped into focus when the door opened, a dull squeak resounding from its old hinges. He immediately stood up, placing on his best smile. He needed him to say it.
Ghost looked surprised by his sudden enthusiasm, barely having time to place his things down before his arms were filled with his sergeant. Johnny carefully slid up the mask, pressing warm lips against cracked ones. He still never kissed back, shoving the thought away further into his mind. “Someone’s eager tonight.” Ghost mumbled, his face still deadpan despite the humorous raise in his brows. “Missed you, that’s all.” He placed another quick peck to his lips before slipping out of the man’s arms to allow him space to get ready for bed.
“What’s the schedule like tomorrow?” He questioned, watching as Ghost retreated off into the restroom to change. “Meeting with Price at 0800. Rookie training after on the shooting grounds, they’ve gotten lazy with their shots.” Soap hummed in affirmation, waiting patiently for the lieutenant to exit the restroom. “Got us busting our arses, that’s what I hear. This new patch of rookies cannae tell their left foot from their right.”
“I’ll say.” Ghost mutters, exiting the restroom and moving to shut off the light. “Wait, leave it on for a second.” The Brit raised a brow, regarding the sergeant with muted confusion but doing as asked. He was still wearing his balaclava, face hidden behind the thick cloth. Soap hadn’t gotten another chance to see his features since the first time in Las Almas. He couldn’t deny he craved to map out his face, memorize the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brows. Still, he respected the man’s wishes of never removing the mask.
“Simon, can we talk?” He noticed how the man stiffened at the words, cringing inwardly at the phrase. “Er… it’s not… bad.” Ghost turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “What is it, Johnny?” Soap took a deep breath, gathering his courage. He’d waited so long to have this discussion, yet all the words he wished to say eluded him. “I just… I need to know where we stand. I need to know if…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. His heart was racing, unsure now that it was happening if he genuinely wanted to know the answer.
“If what?” Ghost prompted softly, his body moving to sit beside him on the bed. He never reached out for him, keeping a comfortable distance away so they wouldn’t touch. Simon never initiated the first touch. “If you love me,” Soap blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper. His voice trembled as he spoke, anxious energy seeping into the tone. There was a long pause before Ghost finally spoke, his voice even and calm. “I care for you, Johnny. You know that.” The diversion caused his heart to sink, his blood congealing in his veins.
“But do you love me?” Soap pressed, his heart pounding in his chest.
Ghost didn’t say anything, simply looking at the sergeant with a blank look in his eyes. There was no warmth, no love, nothing in the stone gaze of his lieutenant. His throat dried, leaving him nearly gasping for air as he tried to school his expression. Johnny's world seemed to crumble around him as Ghost's lack of response confirmed his worst fear. Tears stung at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had to be strong and hold it together, even if it meant breaking on the inside.
“I understand.” Soap croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper. He stood up, moving towards the door with heavy footsteps, his limbs feeling as though they were moving through mud. “I’m going to turn in for the night. Early morning, you know.” Ghost didn’t say anything as Johnny left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Soap always slept in his room, the sergeant’s own bedroom being untouched for months.
The Brit sat on the bed, the weight of the conversation heavy on his shoulders. He knew that he cared for the sergeant, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words Soap craved. It wasn’t that he didn’t love him; it was just that he didn’t know how to. Ghost had been hurt before and didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. As the lieutenant sat in silence, the realization of what he had done finally hit him. He had hurt the one person he cared about most and didn’t know how to fix it. He had no idea what to do in this situation, so instead, he turned off the light and attempted to sleep.
When he saw the sergeant the next morning, he knew the man hadn’t slept. Though, he wasn’t much better off. There was a tense silence between them everywhere they went, Price and Gaz awkwardly looking between them as the meeting progressed. Once it wrapped up, the captain pulled him aside, a stern look in his eyes. “I don’t know what happened between last night and now, but you both must fix it. I don’t want whatever this is getting in the way of our work.” Simon stared blankly at him before nodding, the same feeling of crushing guilt enveloping his bones.
Even the rookies knew not to act up today, immediately taking note of the hostile environment shared between their superiors. Soap looked down miserable, barking orders in a short tone and not taking any sympathy for the recruits. Once they had wrapped up, Soap rushed away without so much as sparing a glance at the lieutenant. Ghost tried desperately to seek out the man but found no sight of him, the Scot basically vanishing from existence.
It wasn’t until late that night, when the stress of everything finally got to him, that he found the sergeant. His body craved nicotine, starved for a cigarette to cool the edge, and he walked out into the chilly night air. With his back leaned against the way and eyes on the stars, Soap sat hunched in on himself in misery. His eyes were red and puff, as though he’d been crying for hours. He made no acknowledgment that he knew the lieutenant was there, pointedly still staring up toward the heavens. Simon heaved a small sigh and moved over to sit beside him, still never touching.
The pair were silent for a few minutes, neither making any sign they would start the conversation left hanging above their heads. Finally, Ghost couldn’t deal with it anymore, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He inhaled the rich smoke and felt it curl up into his lungs, with minor relief from his stress. He glanced over before wordlessly holding the cigarette out to the sergeant, unsure if the man would take the silent offer or not. Their fingers brushed when Soap reached out, Ghost unable to hold back the sharp flinch. Ash from the butt of the cigarette fell out and onto the ground, mixing with the dirt.
He finally spoke, his voice clipped and raspy, “I’m sorry; I never meant to hurt you.” Soap didn’t say anything, inhaling the cigarette and watching the smoke fade into the air. “It’s not your fault you don’t love me.” He mumbled, eyes still staring off into the sky. He sensed how Simon tensed beside him, hearing his breath hitch ever so slightly. “No, I-” He abruptly cut himself off, neither speaking. The sergeant allowed him time to gather his thoughts, despite the man's apparent desperate need to run away. “I do love you… As much as I’m able to love anyone. It’s… never enough, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s enough for me, Simon.”
Soap's eyes slowly shifted from the sky to Ghost, studying him for a long moment before the other began speaking. "I don't know if I can give you what you need, Johnny. I'm not sure I can love you how you deserve to be loved." His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with pain and uncertainty. Ghost turned to face him; his expression filled with terror and guilt.
"I don't expect you to love me in the same way that I love you. Love me in your own way, Simon. That's all I want for you." He reached out, hesitantly taking the lieutenant’s pinkie finger in his own. "We can figure out the rest as we go along. I don't want to lose you." Simon's hand trembled slightly in Johnny’s grip but didn't pull away. He looked at Ghost, his eyes filled with emotion, and Ghost could see the love and affection that the sergeant held for him. "I'm not going anywhere, Ghost. I’ll love you, always."
With those words, Ghost leaned in and gently kissed Soap's lips, their first real kiss since they had been together. It was soft and tender, filled with all the emotion they had held back for so long. As they pulled away, both men knew that they had much work to do, but they were willing to do it together.