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You and Simon were never one for normality.
You should’ve stopped yourself from approaching him at that shitty bar. You should’ve stopped yourself from flirting with this random freak with a mask on during July. There's a lot of things that you should’ve stopped yourself from doing really, but as you seemed to notice (considering said freak was outside your door), you weren’t the smartest with your decisions.
What he was doing outside your door in the first place, only God would know considering you’ve supposedly cut ties a few weeks ago. That was a fat stinking lie since the two of you had continued to play this shit little game of ring-around-a-rosie, going from him messaging you to ask for this and that from your flat, to asking to meet up for a chat or even asking to come over for lunch. Realistically, cutting ties was a fat lie. You and Simon weren’t meant to split, whether you had a say in it or not. The last part was for him to know more than you.
“Simon, I said fuck off!” You had hissed at him for the seventh time, keeping your back to your bedroom door in attempts to keep it shut. (Like your lightweight shoving could ever actually keep him out, but he’d let you live in that fantasy for now.) He wasn’t even meant to be in your flat, you had a girl’s night to get to since your friends had enough of you being so twisted over your ‘ex’ boyfriend, always putting the air quotes around the word ‘ex’ with an eye roll.
They knew all too well you two would be back together sooner or later, just like last time. And the time before that. And before that.
You get the point.
In attempts to ‘get you back on the market’ your little circle had planned for a little night out, maybe go from bar to bar to scope out the people and see if anyone was worth a quick fuck. You hadn’t joined in their little nights out since you and Simon became a ‘thing’, so this just meant another fun shopping trip to find an outfit. A skimpy little black dress that left little for the imagination curled around your frame, with little accessories glittering the whole thing up, you could’ve been mistaken for a Christmas tree with all the shiny things littered on you. It was cute, it was fun. Don’t get it wrong, Simon had never been the type to restrict your style and how you dressed up, never rejecting the idea of you in these little tight outfits because, as he said it, “They can stare all they want, love, but I’m the one who gets to see it off.” And with a tight grip on where your waist curved, he’d embedded that in your brain from the start. Although, getting dressed up for the purpose of having random guys ogle at you throughout the night was fun after so long of not thinking about anyone else with the fear that Simon might punch the lights out of some poor guy again.
“Sweetheart,
c’mon now,
let me in.” The deep rasp seemed to rumble through the cheap wood door (the same one he had paid to replace about two weeks ago after he’d kicked a hole through it). “Simon, get the fuck out my flat! I thought I told you to leave the fuckin’ key when you left!” Ghost was a patient man, after all the missions and deployments, Ghost was created to be a patient, rational being, not a person, but a being. Simon’s patience on the other hand, was running thin. Knowing that you were all dolled up for some scum to grope at in a random club would have sent the door off the hinges if he hadn’t just replaced it, and if it wouldn’t have scared you even more than already. You could never be scared of Simon, sure he was intimidating, but he wasn’t
scary
, but with his voice behind the door echoing around in the hallway of your flat, you started to question that.
A scoff could be heard from the other side, “Oh darlin’, you think a lock is gonna stop me?” as if he was trying to prove a point, the door seemed to easily budge your body forward with the heeled boots you adorned doing nothing to help the amount you skid forward on the wooden flooring. “You fuckin’ freak! I’ll call the police, you know I will!” It was an empty threat of course. You could never bring yourself to do that to Simon, even if he were to bash your skull in within moments, plus he had the whole ‘lieutenant’ title in his favour, the police would easily take one side over the other; Simon knew you would never betray him, not for something like this. The wood seemed to splinter between the pressure between the two of you, as you weakly tried to push the door back into the frame to no avail. Simon’s lack of reply only irritated you more. You knew this little power trip was getting to his head, he was made for strength, built in body to easily snap a man in half, nevermind a measly door.
Your boots seemed to skid more than before, with his heavy boot now wedged between the door and the wall- where it was supposed to be, stupid strong prick . You could feel your body being pushed further into the room, with the wooden panelling of the floor not helping you in the slightest. It was irritable how much control Ghost had left you to believe. With his slight shoves and pleading behind the door, he let you think for a moment that you were in control, if for only a moment. You needed a reminder.
Ghost had you wrapped around his finger, regardless of whether you liked it or not.
As he pushed against the door in a quick motion, you ended up falling forward, landing your front, skidding slightly under the polishing of the floor. A small whimper escaped at the pain of the impact of the fall, your knees and perhaps your elbow would be sore, a bruise already beginning to develop on your right knee. Tears burned your eyes as the pain coursed through your limbs.
“I haven’t even said anything and you’re already on your knees for me?”
God, his arrogance was one thing that continued to piss you off, it was only warranted when he had you on the bed, repeating his name like prayers.
You scoffed at him, glaring at the stupid mask that covered everything besides his eyes. The same eyes you’d stare into for hours if you’d been asked to a few days prior. That was another thing you hated about the man; his gorgeous eyes that shined so perfectly in the afternoon light that ran through your flat so perfectly during golden hour. “Fuckin’ prick.” You spat out, venom laced your words. The same eyes that looked at you during those golden hours with so much adoration now contained something different, something twisted.
You’d never convince yourself that you’d ever be the main priority in Ghost’s life, his work always coming first. He’d made that obvious after going MIA on you a few weeks into your meeting. Despite message after message, pleading for at least a response he was okay, he only got back to you when it was on his terms. Same as when he’d abruptly left you at a restaurant, alone , an hour away from your flat without your card on you,saying something about an urgent matter. He’d make you wait and ‘sit pretty’ for him, leaving his card with you in case you wanted more drinks, as he rang your phone an hour after leaving you. It was all futile considering you’d be halfway to your home, your heels had long been taken off and were now in ur free hand as you angrily walked with streaks of makeup printing your skin at the addition of tears.
The sound of a car slowed down beside you as you walked, deciding to ignore it. If you got kidnapped now, so be it.
“Get in.” the familiar gruff of Ghost’s voice rang out in the silence of the street, making you pause in your steps. You so desperately wanted to waltz right back into his arms and let him comfort you before rinsing the whole process again. But with a few too many whiskeys in you and a few cocktails mixed in, you decided against your routine and scowled at him before continuing to walk barefoot, swaying slightly as you walked.
“C’mon angel, stop bein’ stubborn. ’m sorry, ‘kay?” his normal methods of pet names and apologies didn’t seem to work on you as you continued as if he hadn’t said anything in the first place. At the dismissal of his words, you could hear him sigh, as the distinct sounds of the car coming to a stop and the slam of a door being all the warning you had before arms wrapped around you, lifting you from the waist and tossing you over his shoulder. You had given up the possibility of fighting back as your vision swam from the quick movement, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the passenger seat with Ghost’s arms securing a seatbelt across your chest.
The drive to your flat- never his- was silent for the first parts. One thing led to another and you were just as angry as you were before. Whilst it seemed more one sided than anything, you had cursed him, cried at him, practically asking for him to crash the car with the way you were in his face, hot tears smearing what little of the makeup that still stuck to your eyelashes. Ghost had quipped here and there with his own words, but none that made it apparent that he was even in a supposed screaming match. His seemingly lack of care for the whole situation pissed you off to no end, and perhaps it was the alcohol that thrumbed under your skin, you had decided that this would be the last.
You slammed the door of that God forsaken car and angrily marched off, into your building, Ghost hot on your tail. The small distance you had made was quickly closed with his several steps, still nonchalant as ever. You had closed the front door of your flat in his face, making a quick mental note that you’d have to apologise to the old woman who lived the door down for all the noise you were making at this time of night. Yes, you had said some distasteful things in the car to him, but he deserved all the anger that you had. Perhaps you were feeling irrational, with the alcohol still thumping under your veins, you had decided that this was the end of it. You had written up a paragraph to Ghost and sent it off without rereading the entire thing before throwing your phone into the black hole that was your floor and crashed on the sofa before you had any time for second guessing yourself. The message had detailed how you wanted the relationship to end, every other curse and petty thing you could point out about the man and more. Whilst most of it became incoherent due to your drunken fog, it got the message across loud and clear.
Which led to the situation now. You knew that Ghost wasn’t the type to let you frolic around so happily, you knew that he’d be watching regardless of if you wanted him to or not. You just didn’t think that over the two weeks of silence, he’d pull some shit now.
Despite all your venom, or well, attempts at it, you could see the creases of his eyes come together, as if he were teasing you.
“That’s not any way to speak to your boyfriend,is it?” he leaned down to speak to you. You could see that shit eating grin plastered on his face from miles away even if it was under his mask, and it pissed you off to no end. Even when he practically hunched over to talk to you, squatting in front of you, his shadow practically swallowed you. “Simon we broke up two weeks ago, get the fuck out of my flat .” you had tried to hold authority, whilst your nerves were practically running rampant and your voice shook slightly. Ghost simply scoffed in your face, standing up right again. Maybe your words were finally getting through to his dense skull, as you thought he’d turn around and finally leave you alone. You were already late as it was, the girls were practically blowing up your phone with notifications.
Ghost had a habit of manhandling you, whilst it was incredibly attractive that he could throw you around like a damn sack, it was also annoying considering he’d just force you to move if he so pleased for it. So imagine your surprise when instead of leaving your building, he instead decided to pick you up off the floor like a stray animal, under the arms. The movement had you frantically scrambling to find solid flooring, or anything solid for the matter, which meant your arms found solace around his neck, hands gripping onto his back in fear.
“Stop scramblin’, you’re tearing up my back and you’re still in your clothes.” You had slapped him between his shoulder blades in annoyance, pushing the air out of his chest with an ‘oof’ before throwing you down onto the bed whilst trying to pry your hands off him.
“Stay.”
He had spoken to you like a dog, tapping your cheek teasingly before rising and sitting beside your strewn out body. He seemed to care less for the whole situation, his hand digging around in his jean pockets before coming up with a pack of his usual cigarettes, placing one between his lips casually, with eyes glancing over to you in question. You simply groaned and sat up, reaching for the lighter you kept on your bedside along with an ashtray you kept beside it since it became a habit for Simon to smoke in your room now. He simply turned towards you and closed his eyes in waiting. For a moment you could convince yourself that this was just another saturday. Another Saturday that you two spent together. The motions of flicking the flint and ensuring that his cigarette was lit before pulling away could convince you that the two of you still loved each other. Maybe you still did.
“Thanks doll.” he whispered after blowing out the first layer of smoke. You had placed the ashtray in his lap and nodded, leaning into him as his calloused hand came up to brush hair out of the way, pulling you into the safety of his arms. You’d play along with the same charade as always. You sighed, the tension that had built up in your shoulders slowly left.
“Didn’t mean to scare you love,” Ghost murmured, his hand brushing your shoulder with the same soothing motion that he knew you loved, passing the cigarette into your hands, an apology. “S’okay.” you whispered back, taking it into your hand and inhaling.
A moment passed in silence as he took the cigarette back, the rosy lipstick you’d worn stained the butt of it now. The tick of your bedside clock was the only thing that rang out in your room; the two of you taking the time to familiarise yourself with the comfort of the other again, not like it could ever be forgotten.
“Si.”
He only hummed in response, his eyes scanning your face, attempting to memorise your beauty in the warm light of the room.
“We can’t keep doing this Simon.”
The cigarette had long been finished now, being ashed out on the glass tray that sat in his lap, the swirls of the remaining embers still present in your room.
“I know love,” he mumbled, leaning his body towards you more, his arm coming down to wrap around your waist instead. “I'll be better, promise.” he spoke as he leaned down to pepper your exposed shoulders in light kisses, leading to pressing some into the column of your neck. “You said that last time, Si.” You could feel your resolve weakening again, the few embers of hope you had sparking once again at the soft touches he’d leave on your body. “I promise doll, ‘won’t be such a prick to you anymore.”
“M’kay.”
His mask had been pulled to the bridge of his nose as he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were constantly chapped, only being soft whilst the two of you dated since you practically forced a tin of vaseline into his hands whenever he was over. Though, that didn’t bother you. The taste of ash and nicotine traced his tongue lingered within your kiss, with the smell of his usual cologne covering your senses again.
“Love you, my pretty girl.”
“Love you too.”