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Summary
The scars there were just as he remembered, waxy, pale scar tissue raised up in a couple of slashes across his skin. Roach wanted to run his fingers along the line of them but clenched his hand in a fist instead.
“That’s a pretty good story.” He half-mindedly replied before tearing his eyes away, glancing up to find Ghost’s on him already.
They were warm and mirthful like they had been but there was a heavy edge to the way Ghost maintained eye contact with him and made Roach’s breath catch in his throat.
He was frozen there where Ghost held him captive for a few, seemingly forever, moments before he spoke again.
“Guess I was feelin’ nice enough today.” His voice was quieter, like it was reserved just for Roach to hear.
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5+1 of roach trying to figure out if he has a thing for hands or a thing for ghost