Chapter Text
John glances at his watch. It was a quarter past eight now, and his date was 40 minutes late. He sighs as his waitress appears from the kitchen and begins a path right to his empty table once more. When she stops in front of the perpetually empty chair and asks him for the third time if he would like to order, he simply shakes his head no, too embarrassed to voice the word again.
He keeps his eyes glued to the empty white plate in front of him, not even bothering to watch the entrance for his date’s arrival. If he would even arrive at this point. John’s phone suddenly buzzes with a message from the man explaining how he’s going to be late, as if it wasn’t already obvious enough. John rolls his eyes to the ceiling. He can’t believe his luck, or rather, lack thereof.
After ending a two year relationship with a man he truly believed was it for him, he’s been in a depressive slump. John had isolated himself. He became a shut in and a recluse, too heartbroken to face the world. He stayed that way for nearly a year, slowly putting himself back together after an awful betrayal. With help from his friends, he began an effort to finally move on.
His date, who is now an hour late, is the third date he’s been on in two months, and it seems to John that this too will end terribly. The first date was introduced to him through a coworker and hadn’t bothered to show up at all. All was well though. John pocketed the extra cinema ticket and watched the film alone, trying his best not to cringe at the love drunk couples surrounding him.
The second date had gone relatively well. He met the man for coffee and took him to his favorite book and music stores afterwards. John liked his date well enough after their day together that when he’d asked him to come with him back to his flat, he’d said yes. That turned out to be the wrong decision. John wasn’t in the doorway for five seconds when the man was grabbing at his clothes and pushing him against a wall. John hadn’t minded, but he preferred to take things slower. When he said as much, his date became bitter and irritated, but backed away from him. John was left standing by the door, unsure of himself and what to do. They spent the evening on his date's couch in awkward silence. John hadn’t heard from the man since and was honestly relieved.
And now, he sits at his empty table, watching the water in his glass warm while listening to the seconds tick by on his watch as his date still doesn’t show. A repeat of number one , John thinks morbidly. He audibly sighs, feeling sorry for himself. He picks his head up and gazes around the room. An older couple is seated in a booth nearby. They smile at each other while they talk quietly. The woman rests her hand atop her partner's on the table. John’s heart gives a mournful throb at the sight.
He’s lonely. Soul crushingly lonely. He’s half-heartedly contemplating getting a pet fish when the restaurant doors open. He cranes his neck in the direction. When a younger couple with their toddler enters, he sits back in his seat dejectedly. He continues his gaze around the dining room until his eyes settle on a pair of brown ones. The man is seated to his left, and he too is alone with nothing but empty white plates to keep him company. John realizes he’s been there since he first sat down and smiles at him out of pity for their matching situations.
The man returns his sad smile and nods his head at the empty chair at John’s table in question. John rolls his shoulders to say “I don’t know.” The man nods in understanding, and when John gestures to the empty chair at his own table, he shakes his head no. John gives him another sad smile. His eyes are still locked on the man when a figure appears out of the corner of his eye.
“John?” The man speaks, finally pulling him out of his thoughts.
John looks up at him and recognizes his date, Xander. “Yer here,” he says awkwardly. He isn’t relieved in the slightest to see him. In fact, he was praying he wouldn’t show after nearly an hour and a half of waiting. Just as John stands to greet his date, Xander walks around the table and seats himself, leaving John half-standing foolishly. He sits back down. “Was beginnin’ to think ye wouldn’t show.” He says sheepishly, smiling to take the bite out of it.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up is all.”
John doesn’t ask what “something” is. He lets his gaze flicker to the brown-eyed man to his left, catching him facing away like he hadn’t just watched the entire interaction between John and his date. John turns back to said date, noticing how his phone buzzes with a message as he flags down a server.
The waitress from before comes to their attention, smiling happily at John now that his date had finally arrived. She takes their order and leaves them. They sit in silence for a moment as Xander checks his messages and John thinks of something, anything to say to break the ice.
“So, how was work for ye today?” Is what he comes up with.
“Good.” Xander replies, still looking at his phone. The toddler with the young couple from before begins to cry.
“Have ye been to this place before? I forgot to ask when I chose it.” John attempts to get Xander’s attention.
“No, I haven’t,” is all John gets as Xander still keeps his focus directed at his phone.
John clenches his jaw in annoyance. Maybe he was just busy. Busy with Something, his brain unhelpfully supplies.
Xander huffs a laugh as he types out another reply. The toddler’s crying grows louder. John gives a silent thanks when their waitress reappears from the kitchen with their order. Xander finally pockets his phone when his plate is placed in front of him.
They eat in more charged silence. And John’s feeling increasingly forlorn at how things are going. Maybe it’s just him. Maybe he simply isn’t putting in enough effort to get Xander’s interest.
“Is it good?” He asks, smiling cheerfully like he isn’t on the verge of tearing his hair out.
“Huh?” Xander looks up confused, eyes roaming up and down John’s face like he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, yeah it’s alright.”
John’s smile falters. He looks down at his own barely touched plate. He’d been starving before Xander got there, but he’s seemingly lost his appetite since.
The toddler, who had quieted momentarily, resumes his crying. His mother holds him close and gently shushes him. Ah feel a bit like crying myself, lad . John glances back at the brown-eyed man to his left and catches his gaze. He looks from Xander to John and raises his eyebrows in question. John shakes his head, feeling low in spirit. He watches the stranger’s brow crease with a frown. John shakes his head again and brings his attention back to Xander, who is now properly looking at him for the first time since he sat.
“So what are we doin’ after this?”
“Erm, after?” John questions. Xander has only just arrived and their date is already over? “I don’t know, it’s a bit late now. Not much we could do at this hour.”
Xander sets his fork down. “Let’s go to yours.”
“My place?” John doesn’t like where this is going. After showing up late and barely feigning interest in him, John is more than happy to never see Xander again. But he doesn’t know how to voice his hesitation. “I don’t think we should.”
“Fine, we’ll go to my place.” Xander’s already pulling his wallet out and raising an arm to get their waitress’ attention. The toddler is screaming his little head off at this point.
“I don’t really-” John’s cut off when Xander rounds on the young mother as she stands and carries her child out of the dining room.
“Oi, could you shut the damn kid up already?” He barks at her.
“Sorry, sir.” She hurries past their table, face red and distressed from the baby wailing in her arms and the man yelling at her. John feels a pang of sympathy for her and resentment towards the man in front of him.
“That wasn’t very nice.” He speaks up. Xander’s annoyed eyes turn on him, and John wishes he’d just kept quiet.
“The kid is screaming his fuckin’ head off. She should’ve taken him outta here ten minutes ago.” He whips his hand in the air at their waitress across the dining room, who hurries in their direction.
“I don’t want ta’ go back with ye. Think I’ll go home by myself tonight.” John says quietly, almost too soft to hear over the chatter of the other patrons.
“The fuck is your problem then?” Xander snarls at him.
“Nothing, I just-”
“If there’s not a problem, then stop sputtering bullshit and let’s go.” Xander cuts him off again.
John opens and closes his mouth before resigning to sit quietly and not complicate things.
“He said he doesn’t want to go with you.” A rough voice to John’s left speaks neutral and indifferent. Brown eyes meet his, finding the stranger alone at his table. He blinks owlishly back at John before shifting his gaze to the back of Xander’s head.
Xander turns, resting an arm on the back of his chair. He looks the stranger up and down skeptically before speaking. “What the fuck did ya just say?”
“He doesn’t want to go with you.” The man steadfastly holds Xander’s gaze, not intimidated by him in the slightest.
Xander scoffs. “Stay the fuck out of this, mate.” Xander waves him off and faces forward in his chair as their waitress arrives.
“I’ll stay out of it if he wants me to stay out of it.” The stranger continues.
Xander shoots a quick glare at him before looking at John, who sits frozen in his seat as two pairs of eyes now bore into him. Xander flicks his hand out to their waitress for her to take his card.
“I don’t want ta’ go back with ye.” John repeats quietly, looking down at his uneaten food and trying not to draw further attention. His hands form tight fists under the table.
“What?” Xander’s voice is laced with disbelief.
John can feel his scowl burning on his skin like a physical touch. He looks back up to face him, before crumbling under his harsh gaze. “Said, I don’t want to go back with ye.” He repeats, voice steadier this time.
You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. The older couple in the booth nearby is very obviously listening in. The waitress stands there with her mouth open for a moment before reaching for the card in Xander’s outstretched palm. He snatches it away quickly, rounding on John once more.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He hisses through clenched teeth, as if the entire dining room that was now watching the scene they were causing couldn’t guess what he was saying.
John keeps his head down. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor draws his attention, and a large figure suddenly looms over their table.
“That’s enough.” The stranger from before hovers above their table. His voice is stern but calm, just loud enough for Xander to hear.
Xander stands from his seat abruptly, forcing his chair to topple over. The whole dining room most certainly is watching them now. “Fuck this. I don’t need this.” He gestures to John, who sits with his head down, quietly willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Xander gives the man one last disgusted look before stalking off towards the exit.
John reckons if he stays still and quiet enough, everyone will eventually forget he’s there.
“This seat taken?” The same gravelly voice pipes up again, softer this time. When John looks up, brown eyes are staring back at him, just as tenderly.
“S’pose not.” He snorts, as the stranger picks up the toppled chair and sits.
“I’ll just… give you a minute then.” The waitress hurries off.
John will have to tip the poor girl. For now, he’s more occupied with the man sitting in front of him. They simply watch each other for a few lingering moments, words passing in their silent gazes. Without warning, John bursts into hysterical laughter.
“That was quite the cock up wasn’t it.” He smiles sadly for the second time tonight.
“Yeah, it was.” The stranger shares the same smile.
“Ah opened my mouth and fucked everything up the second he got here.” John continues. The man in front of him seems taken aback by that. His lips turn down in a frown.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He puts it plainly, like it’s obvious. Though, it doesn’t appear that clearly to John, and it feels even worse.
John swirls the water around in his glass and avoids the stranger’s gaze. He feels as if he’s been put under a microscope with every thought and feeling under close observation. “Aye, but I did.”
“No. That guy was an arsehole. He fucked up by bein’ late, and then again by lookin’ at his phone when he shoulda been lookin’ at you.” He’s so confident as he speaks. Not a hint of doubt behind the words. “All around, just a massive prick.” The man shakes his head and twists his face like he has a bad taste in his mouth.
John laughs at his dramatics and ignores how embarrassed he feels that this kind stranger had indeed witnessed the entire disaster of a date.
“If ye say so.” John smiles at him, appreciating his compassion.
“I do say so.” The stranger states, with that same confidence. He picks up Xander’s fork and begins finishing his meal, balling his face up again after only one bite. “What the fuck is this?” He spits.
“Hell if I know.” John laughs a real laugh this time. He watches the man continue to fork food into his mouth. “Why are ye still eatin’ it, then?”
“I’m fuckin’ starving.” He speaks around his mouthful.
Not one for manners, aye , John chuckles. “Why don’t ye order somethin’? Ye’ve been sitting in front of an empty plate all night.”
“If I order then I’ll ‘aft to go back to my own table.” He locks eyes with John. “Unless you want me to fuck off.” There’s a question at the end of that sentence. An opening for John to tell the man to leave him alone. He’s never wanted anything less than he wants this stranger to go back to his empty table and sit alone.
“And deprive ye of the meal yer enjoyin’ so much? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He quips, hoping that sounded casual enough, but knowing his face is desperately saying “please don’t leave.” The stranger grins around the food in his mouth. John watches him messily clear the plate.
“Why aren’t you eating?” He pins John with a concerned look, eyes roaming from John’s full plate to his solemn face.
“Lost my appetite.” John replies. And he feels his throat begin to close, words choked and strangled on their way out.
“Understandable. What was that fuckhead’s name anyway?” The stranger asks, voice purposefully casual and lighthearted.
“Xander.”
“Xander…” The man rolls the name around on his tongue, pulling that same sour face from before. “What kind of name is that?”
“I believe it’s short for Alexander.” John laughs as the man’s face contorts further.
“Why wouldn’t he just call ‘imself Alex?” The man continues, mouth disgustingly full. It’s just vile enough to have John laughing again.
“That’s a good question.”
“Hmmph.” Is the man’s reply as he continues to finish Xander’s meal.
“And what’s yer name, then?” John’s eager to put a name to the face he’s been stealing glances at all evening. The man across from him smiles, something sly and playful in his eyes.
“You gotta earn that.” He speaks in his gruff voice. John’s gut does leaps as he realizes he’s being flirted with.
“Earn it?” The stranger nods his head once. “Earn it how?”
“You tell me something first.” He scrapes the fork against the plate before bringing it to his lips.
“Well why have I got to answer something first?” John questions, putting on like he wasn’t agreeable to the rules of the little game they’re playing.
“You’re the one who wants to know my name.” The man’s eyes bore into him once more. The intensity of his eyes doesn’t match the lazy lilt to his voice at all.
John leans back in his chair and sets his palms on the table, growing restless under those eyes. “Awright. Ask away.” He says smugly, feeling bold in the presence of his new company. The man’s smile grows wider at his compliance.
“Let’s see.” The stranger pushes back from the table as well, finally setting down his borrowed fork. He tilts his head slightly as he thinks. “Here’s one. Why the hell did you agree to a date with a twat like that?”
John laughs at the blunt question, but finds he doesn’t have a solid answer. He settles for, “Well, I didn’t know he would turn out to be a twat, now did I?”
“Fair enough. Where’d you meet him then?”
“Coworker introduced us. This was gonnae be our first date, now it’s the last one.” John answers, the sadness slowly returning to his voice and bubbling up in his throat. Three failed dates in just two months. He’s sure there’s something wrong with him.
“Well what’d you like about him anyway?” The man responds quickly, folding his arms in front of him as he leans in closer and awaits John’s answer.
“Ahh, that’s three questions. I believe it’s my turn.” John mirrors his position, folding his arms in front of him. “If you want anything else out of me, ye’ll have to tell me yer name first, mister…” John raises an eyebrow at him, awaiting his response. The man finally relents.
“You can call me Ghost.” He says it casually like it isn’t the most intriguing thing he could have responded with.
“Ghost….” John tests his name. He leans in closer and speaks barely above a whisper, “Are we talkin’ about our fursonas now, Ghost?” He earns a scandalized laugh from the man in front of him.
“Negative.” He says simply, looking down at his plate to hide his amusement at John’s shitty joke.
“Really?” John smiles in return, “Well mine’s a honey badger by the way.” He replies, aiming to get another laugh from his new companion.
“I didn’t ask.” Ghost smiles again.
It’s a lovely smile, John notes. Ghost’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim, intimate lighting of their table.
“Ye didn’t?” John feigns surprise, his own smile ruining the facade.
Ghost exasperatedly shakes his head at him, his shoulders trembling with unbridled laughter before he speaks again. “And what’s your name, then?”
“Well, I guess since we’re using our superhero names,” John checks Ghost’s face for a reaction, and sure enough he’s smiling again all while dramatically rolling his eyes, “You can call me Soap.”
Ghost gives a full chuckle at that. It’s deep and hearty, and John wants to wrap it around his shoulders like a blanket. “I’m not callin’ you that.”
“Aye, but I’m supposed to call ye Ghost?” John laughs along with him. He’s laughed more tonight than he has in three long years.
“I earned that name. You tell me your real name.” He points a finger. “I’m not callin’ you Detergent.” Ghost smirks at his own awful quip. John wants to hate him for it.
“It’s Soap .” He corrects, rolling his eyes and determinedly not smiling.
“Whatever, Antiseptic.” Ghost is quick with another snarky remark. John can’t help but smile. It’s such a lame joke. “Go on, tell me your real name, Disinfectant.”
God, he’s terrible, John snorts. “Awright.” Better tell him before he keeps this up. “It’s John.”
“John,” Ghost repeats his name, a garbled sounding mess on his heavily accented tongue. He seems to like doing that. “Bit boring innit? Like Sanitizer better.” And he smiles again, the bastard.
“Awa’ an bile yer heid.” John retorts, still laughing at Ghost’s awful jokes. He’s quite the charmer, aye. Effortlessly entertaining.
“Fuck’s sake… speak English, Shampoo.” Ghost deadpans.
“Oi! Yer havin’ too much fun with tha’!” John points a stern finger at Ghost, still laughing. They’re drawing the attention of the other patrons yet again. When he puts his hand down, John finally notices the time on his watch. “Christ… It’s damned near ten o’clock already.” John’s immediately saddened by the realization. He’ll be going home alone after an unsuccessful attempt at dating once again.
“Is it now?” Ghost speaks somberly, also seemingly oblivious to how quickly time was passing.
John looks over at the empty table Ghost had abandoned, realizing the person he was waiting on never came.“What happened to yer date?” John nods in the direction of the table.
“She couldn’t make it. Had a work related emergency.” Ghost easily explains his own date’s absence and doesn’t seem too bothered that she didn’t show. But John internally blunders at “she.”
Guess he’s probably straight then , John concludes. And taken.
“I’m sorry about your date though, Johnny.” His words are spoken with complete sincerity.
John can’t imagine why he feels the need to apologize on behalf of Xander. My own fault for not realizing he was dick sooner. “It’s fine.” He waves a hand and dismisses Ghost’s apology. “Besides, now I know it’s definitely me that’s the problem.” He laughs.
“What do you mean by that?” The smile disappears from Ghost’s face completely, none of the jovialness from before present in his tone now.
“Well this is the third date I’ve been on that’s gone to shite. The only thing all three have in common is me.” John gestures to himself as he explains. And he finds himself sinking back into that hopeless feeling he had been temporarily distracted from.
“So you assumed that you’re the problem?” Ghost asks, intent on understanding. But it’s all very clear to John.
“Aye. It wouldn’t be the first time.” John’s feeling downright miserable now. Ghost tilts his head, encouraging him to continue. “I just got out of a two year relationship. Ah, well… it didn’t just end. It’s been over for more than a year now.” John rubs a hand at the back of his neck, embarrassed by the slip up. Ghost nods in understanding. “I loved him. He was everything to me, and I thought he felt the same. But it’s over now.”
Even after all the time that’s passed, it’s still difficult to utter the words. Time hasn’t healed much at all, and the old wounds still sting. “I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I couldn’t give him what he needed from me.” John hangs his head. He feels ashamed at the admission and the old hurts from his prior relationship that he’d dredged up.
“I don’t believe that.” Ghost shrugs.
John balks at him in surprise. “And why not?”
“I’m quite perceptive, Johnny.” He drawls and narrows that keen gaze on him, seemingly looking right through him. “You don’t seem like a bad person to me.” Ghost’s eyes seem to shine in the dim lighting. His sincerity is deeply gratifying. It twists John’s heart just right.
“How would ye know? Ye’ve known me all of five minutes.” But John can’t help but to be somewhat skeptical.
“Well,” Ghost reaches into his pocket for his wallet. “I guess I’ll just have to get to know you better so I can be sure, Johnny.” He sets a card on the table as their waitress conveniently appears.
John’s so taken aback by Ghost’s sudden display of faith in his character, that he doesn’t notice the man paying for his tragedy of a date until the waitress is walking back to the register with his credit card.
“Ghost, I can’t let you pay for this.” John insists, feeling even worse.
“I ate that twat’s food, didn’t I?” Ghost replies, leaning back in his chair, spreading out with one arm hanging off the back of his seat. So damned pleased with himself.
“Ghost…”
“Johnny, it’s fine. Let me pay for your shit date.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Ghost pauses as he thinks about his answer. He looks at John with that shine in his eyes. “I had a nice time.”
John didn’t think the man could be more sincere, and he’s more than a little stunned by Ghost's kindness.
Ghost smiles contently as John sits there speechless, mouth hanging open. “You’re not completely off the hook either, mate. Tip the woman.” Ghost nods in the direction of their returning waitress.
“Hope you enjoyed your evening, gentlemen.”
“We had a grand ol’ time,” Ghost supplies as John digs around in his wallet.
The two walk side by side through the dining room and out of the exit. John hesitates, realizing belatedly that the night is over and they will now go their separate ways. Ghost turns around to face him when he notices that John is no longer at his side.
“Johnny?”
John smiles, finding it difficult to sulk in this stranger’s warm presence. Ghost has quickly taken to using the nickname, not bothering to ask John if it was alright. It doesn’t matter. John likes it entirely too much.
“I just wanted to, erm…” John feels at a loss for words. Ghost stands and patiently waits for him to find them. He takes a deep breath, “I just wanted ta’ thank ye fer tonight. Yer very kind,” he says it all in one rushed breath.
“I should be thankin’ you.” Ghost’s replies. Even under the cover of night, his eyes still shine, creased slightly by his smile.
“What in the world for?” John smiles in return, unsure of what he’s contributed to Ghost’s night besides a charge to his credit card and a few bad jokes.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
A street lamp flickers overhead, and John catches the faint curve of a scar on Ghost’s upper lip and trailing upwards into his cheek. “Awright then.” He feels dazed and drunk even though he hasn’t had a sip of alcohol tonight. John’s lost in thought, pondering what could create a scar like that when a hand waves back and forth in front of his face.
“Johnny?”
“Hmm?” Johnny flicks his gaze back to Ghost’s everbright, brown eyes, realizing belatedly that he’d been staring at his mouth.
“I said give me your phone.”
John’s reaching into his pocket for his cell phone before he thinks to ask. “Why?” Ghost takes it from him, tapping away.
“I’m putting my personal number in.”
“What for?”
Ghost’s eyes dance with mirth as he smirks at him. It really is a wonderful smile. “So you can talk to me, fuckface.”
“Ahh. Right.”
Ghost only laughs at his slowness, deeply amused by each and every one of John’s foolish blunders. He’s glad one of them is enjoying it.
Ghost holds his phone out in his grasp for John to take. Their fingers brush when John takes it. “I gotta go.” He smiles but seems reluctant to leave. Almost as reluctant as John feels.
“Right.” John scrambles to find any reason to keep him here. “Well, get home safe then.”
Neither of them makes to leave. John reckons he’s made himself look pathetic enough for one night, and makes the executive decision to walk away first and not look back as he crosses the lot to his car.
He turns the key in the ignition, clicks his seat belt, and turns on the headlights. As he pulls out, he spots a familiar tall figure walking along the sidewalk. His head jerks forwards as he forcefully brakes and rolls down the window. “Ghost!” He calls out.
Ghost turns to him and raises his hand in a wave, grinning.
“What are ye doin’?” John calls out again.
“Walkin’ to the bus stop.” Ghost answers, still grinning like he hadn’t just seen John two minutes ago.
“Ye want a ride to the stop?”
Ghost’s smile spreads further, smug and cocky. “It’s right here, Johnny.” He stretches an arm and points ten feet in front of him where, sure enough, there’s a bench for a bus stop and a small group of people waiting.
Oh.
“Oh, Ah see.” John can hear him laugh at his expanse. “Well, Ah’ll leave ye tae it then.” He throws up a hand in mock salute and speeds down the street. Maybe if he goes fast enough, it will be like the whole ten second interaction never happened and Ghost would forget about it.
The ride home is quiet. John doesn’t even put on the radio. He replays the events of the night over in his head. How he waited pathetically for his date to show up. How Ghost had intervened when John wouldn’t voice his qualms about going home with Xander. How he sat with John and went out of his way to be kind to him.
John feels undeserving of that kindness. He can’t think of one thing he did to make the night worth Ghost’s effort.
It’s late, but John lays awake in his bed. His evening with Ghost made him feel a specific type of heartache. A longing. A throbbing in chest that was soothed by his company, but smarted again now that John was alone once more.
He was so lonely, it hurt deeply. It was Friday night, and John had spoken to all of three people. All three of them were in that restaurant today. He craved human interaction and intimacy, but he always seemed to tarnish a good thing when he had.
The one thing he knew was that he didn’t want to ruin what he had with Ghost. Ghost was different. He could feel the difference after just a few hours of banter with the man.
Ghost had extended an olive branch by giving him his number. To John, it felt like a life vest in deep water. He took hold of it, wrapped it around himself tight, and refused to let go. He reaches a hand across his bedside table, looking blindly in the dark for his phone.
John opens his contacts and searches for the number, stopping when saw the name Ghost . He opens up a new message and types and deletes several times before nervously hitting send.
Thank you again
It meant a lot to me that
Are you in bed now? Don’t mean to wake you
Did you mean for us to become friends?
Did you make it home alright?
He isn’t expecting a quick reply, but the three little dots appear on his screen almost immediately. John holds his phone over his face as he waits with bated breath. And Christ, he feels like a teenaged lad all over again, sneakily checking his email box for a message from a boy that couldn’t care less about him.
Ghost: I did. Did you?
John exhales at the response in short-lived relief, quickly typing out his own reply before he remembers Ghost doesn’t have his number.
John: This is John by the way, and yeah I made it. Thanks.
Ghost: I know it's you Johnny. I don’t give out my number for free.
John laughs at that. Ghost has a way of making him laugh, even when he isn’t around. The three dots reappear, disappear, and reappear again.
Ghost: Did you have a good night Johnny
John smiles, yet again in awe of Ghost’s sincerity and left wondering what’d he done to deserve it.
John: I did thanks to you
Ghost: Good
John falls asleep clutching his phone to his briefly comforted heart, missing how the three dots continue to reappear and disappear. In the morning, he’ll wake with sore cheeks and a rough voice. He won’t ever get used to smiling this much.