Work Text:
"We're already fighting in a war where we win happiness for others," Roach had told him, "So we might as well let ourselves have a part of that happiness too"
And ghost had let himself love.
He loved Roach, though it made him worry on the battlefield, but it was fine because at the end of the day they came back to each other alive, and indulged in that happiness.
Until the day Roach didn't come back alive, but in a bag, to then be carried off in a casket to his family.
And ghost swore he'd never let it happen again.
Then he met soap. And soap made him feel. There was an attraction there, so similar to the taste of happiness he had before that it almost had him reaching out for it, but he couldn't. wouldn't. He had swore it to himself, and it didn't matter that each day he came a little closer to just letting himself have those fleeting moments of happiness, because it ment it would hurt less when it was gone.
Then Soap had a bad mission, separated from the rest of his squad, and came back with ever so slim odds, and Ghost thought- I really almost missed my chance. And so he let himself be happy with Soap.
And he was happy, truly happy, for the first time since Roach died.
But of course happiness doesn't last. And Soap didn't come home from the mission, ghost having found him lying in a pool of his own blood- and how foolish he was, for thinking the world would let him have his love, this love, when it took away the last one.
And now here Ghost sat, drink in hand as he'd got kicked out of the third pub tonight for being drunk, when he regarded the dog tags in his possession. Two of his own, and one each for Roach and ghost.
He fought a war for people's happiness, but what was there to fight for if he couldn't have his own? So as he swayed down the street to his apartment, he pondered, and decided there was really only one thing to do.
After shakily using the keys to open the door, Ghost went into the apartment, and placed a kiss on the tags before he slid them off his neck. He dangled the chain above him, before letting it fall into his mouth. With a single swallow he choked on it, the metallic taste a reminder of the blood that spilled for his happiness, and he fell to the floor in a heap, no more of his happiness to be dished out, and consumed by the world.