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Though the frost-nipped windowpanes, the pub bustled with life. The Christmas lights that decorated the exterior slowly pulsed like a heartbeat, and red garland wrapped the two potted shrubs that flanked the door. Inside, the warm light bathed everyone in its comforting glow. Muffled laughter and chatter emanated through its walls.
From the other side of the street, Ghost plunged his hands into his jacket pockets. His hood was pulled over his head, and the black face mask he wore prevented his breath from being seen in the chill.
He sat on a wooden bench and watched the lively patrons.
Especially one in particular.
From behind the bar, Soap flashed countless charming smiles. His boisterous laugh seeped down the street. He joked, and charmed, and talked as he skillfully served everyone their drinks.
Several voices rose up, and Soap waved in the direction of the door. A second later, two people exited the pub with a chuckle, zipping up their winter clothes and walking into the cold night.
Fifteen months ago, Soap had been shot in the tunnels underneath London.
The memory of it still haunted Ghost to this day. He had cradled Soap and begged him to stay with him. He whispered. He prayed. Soap’s blood spilled all over Ghost’s hands. Tears streamed down his face as he uselessly rocked Soap’s body.
The sight of Soap’s face like that was imprinted in Ghost’s mind every time he closed his eyes.
He thought he’d lost the one thing he cared most about in his life.
When they’d made it to the hospital after their evacuation, Ghost wasn’t in his right mind. His memory was spotty, but he vaguely remembered Price having to wrestle him away from the operating room. He somehow calmed Ghost down enough for them to stay in the waiting room.
Soap was always one stubborn son of a bitch.
He survived, but not without consequence.
Ghost was there every day with him, helping his unsteady feet learn to walk again, strengthening his grip, reminding him of certain words or memories, offering him a shoulder to cry on when it all became too much.
He survived, but with his injuries being so severe, he wasn’t fit to be a soldier anymore. With a chest full of medals, dozens celebrating his achievements, more than enough flowing beer, and a raunchy cake to top it off, Soap was given a hearty farewell.
He retired.
But Ghost… didn’t.
Ghost stayed with the 141. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He couldn’t be any other person than the one he had become. There was nothing for him but service. He was meant to follow orders and command his own soldiers. He was made for the sharp discipline, the barking orders, the rigid routine.
He was the sum of all the lives he’d taken.
If he couldn’t pick up a weapon, then what was he good for?
So, he stayed.
But it never felt right again with Soap missing. Everything was too quiet. Every room was too big. No longer was there a barking laugh, or a stifled smirk, or an annoying jab, or a raucous celebration.
Or a soft pair of eyes.
At all times, Ghost was acutely aware of the empty space next to him. Soap’s knees didn’t bump up against him in transport. Their trays didn’t press up against one another’s in the dining hall. There wasn’t a confident presence behind him watching his six on the field.
The raging fire had smoldered to embers leaving Ghost cold.
When nothing felt right, he found himself withdrawing. He started getting distracted. Let one too many close calls happen.
Price took him out of the field for Ghost’s safety, putting him on desk duty for the past three months. It was easy, monotonous, mind-numbing work. But every day, that feeling of something not feeling right continued to weigh down on him.
Until he couldn’t do it anymore.
And now a year after Soap was forced to retire, Ghost watched him happily serve the guests of the pub he owned in Scotland.
As the night wound down, the lively energy from the patrons began to lessen. Singles, couples, and groups of friends began to peter out, calling a car, walking, or waiting at a bus stop. A few people lingered with one final smoke before making their journey back home.
Ghost slipped in just after the last person left.
The chimes above the door jingled melodically. With his back to the door, Soap was focused on rearranging the bottles of alcohol on the shelf so their labels all faced outward.
“Sorry, mate,” Soap called out. “We’re closed for the night.”
Ghost took another step inside.
“I’m hoping you can make an exception…” he replied quietly.
Soap froze and then instantly whipped around. His gaze landed on Ghost. His mouth dropped open a sliver. Disbelief lingered on his face. Something danced across his eyes, a barrage of emotions all at once. A small breath fell from his lips.
Ghost stared back, finally laying his eyes upon Soap for the first time in a year.
He looked stunning, just as Ghost remembered, but now his hair was evenly grown out throughout his entire head.
The seconds stretched out between them. Eyes desperately searched one another. Memories and feelings threatened to erupt.
And then Soap tilted his head ever so slightly. He closed his mouth and dragged his eyes up and down Ghost. Then, the corners of his lips started to curl into a warm smile.
Fucking stunning.
Soap gestured for him to have a seat at the bar, and relief instantly washing over Ghost. He took his first step forward. Then another. And another.
As he sat down on one of the cushioned bar stools across from Soap, he shrugged off his coat and hung it over the table. He removed his mask and slipped it into his pocket.
Soap’s eyes softened, almost imperceptibly.
He pulled out two pint glasses and shoved one under the beer tap. He flipped down the nozzle, and the honey gold liquid began to fill the glass.
Ghost bounced his foot on the stool. His fingers fidgeted and danced restlessly. He naturally turned his attention towards a small, acrylic sign that stood on the bar. His fingers brushed the base as he read the printed wording.
The house recommended drinks. Amongst a few specialty cocktails, bottles of wine, and branded bottles of Scotch, Ghost couldn’t help but notice two suggestions.
A cup of Yorkshire Gold.
And Kentucky Bourbon.
“Thought you hated bourbon…” Ghost commented quietly.
Soap didn’t answer right away. He finished filling his glass and expertly tilted it away from the tap, placing it in front of Ghost. When he picked up the second one, Ghost caught the slight tremble in his hand.
“Aye…” Soap replied. He dipped his head, unable to meet Ghost’s eye. “But uhh… it’s all business now, isn’t it?”
“Right…”
A quiet radio hummed with some old rock tunes, decorating the air in their silence.
Soap finished filling the second glass and held it out towards Ghost. A sweet, sentimental smile graced his features.
“Cheers,” Soap announced.
Ghost picked up his drink and clinked their glasses together. Their eyes didn’t leave one another as they took their first sip. When Soap pulled his glass away, his tongue briefly slipped out of his mouth, lapping up the drop on his lips.
Soap put his drink down and leaned into the bar.
“So…” he started excitedly. “What have you been up to? Has there been any progress in Morocco? Or the arms depot on the Caspian Sea? Price told me about the bombing in Sierra Leone, but I never heard what became of it. Tell me.”
Ghost hesitated for a second.
“I uhh…” The plastic burned a hole in his pocket. He took a breath and slowly let it out. “I don’t know how much I can say anymore. I’ve been out of the loop on active missions for a few months. But especially now because…” Ghost reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He slid one of the cards out of its slot. “I officially put my request in.”
Ghost laid down the card on the bar. It was a gaudy design with pink words printed diagonally across the plastic, misaligned text, and faded lettering. His photo was on the left and an armed forced insignia on the right. Along the top it read, HM ARMED FORCES VETERAN.
Soap’s face fell as he stared at it in in disbelief. He flicked his eyes up to Ghost, then back down at the card. After a second, he reached into his pocket and took out his own wallet. He placed his own identical card next to Ghost’s.
Soap then chuckled, and his expression warmed again.
“You ever thought we’d be here, you and I?” Soap joked lightly.
“I certainly didn’t think I’d live long enough to get one of these cards.”
“Well… I’m glad you did.”
“Probably only because you were watching my six.”
Soap smiled and shook his head. He grabbed his card again, but this time, Ghost did a double take. Something small caught his eye that made his stomach drop. A shiny band was wrapped around Soap’s ring finger.
A pervasive sickness instantly washed over Ghost. He lost his breath. His world started to tilt.
“Congratulations…” Ghost muttered.
Soap furrowed his brows and pursed his lips. He froze for a second before looking down. When his eyes landed on the ring, realization shimmered across his face. But then unexpectedly, he chuckled.
“Oh, this thing,” Soap said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not real. I use it to try and keep the flirting at bay. I mean… it’s not going to stop everyone who wants to get in my pants, but it works well enough most days. I do still have a business to run here.”
Another wave of relief washed over Ghost. He could feel his embarrassment start to creep up in his throat. He was too happy to learn the truth.
“Oh, okay…”
Soap wriggled the ring off his finger. “It’s just cheap metal anyway. Though not like anyone can tell the difference.” He placed it down on the bar. He then glanced up at Ghost with a smirk. “You really think I’d get married without telling you?”
“I uhh…” Ghost hesitated. He dropped his eyes and shifted in his seat. “I don’t know.”
Soap’s smile lingered for a few seconds. “I would have at least forced you to be at my stag party. Get you proper drunk.”
Ghost let out his own chuckle and felt himself slowly start to relax again.
“Yeah? If I’m drunk, then you’re plastered. I guess you needed me there to make sure you got home. Don’t want a missing groom-to-be.”
Soap smiled in amusement and turned around. He crouched down and picked up a crate that was on the ground. But once it got to his chest, the contents inside started to rattle against one another. Soap struggled with the crate, and he let out a huff. He pinched up his face as his shaky hands tried to get a better hold on it.
“Take it easy,” Ghost said worriedly. He quickly slipped off the stool and made his way around to the other side of the bar. “Here. Let me help.” Ghost wrapped his arms around the crate, his hands brushing over top of Soap’s as he took it from him. “Where do you need it?”
Soap pointed to one of the empty spaces on the shelf.
Ghost easily lifted it in place and turned back to Soap. The frustration was evident in his face. He crossed his arms and averted his eyes.
Ghost sympathetically looked Soap up and down.
“How are the injuries?” Ghost asked softly.
Soap clenched his jaw and let out a breath. “It comes and goes. Most days it’s fine, but I have my bad days.”
“Is today a bad day?”
Soap paused. He dragged his eyes up to Ghost. Now being this close again, Ghost was overwhelmed by the beauty of such blues. It almost took his breath away.
Soap’s eyes flicked across Ghost’s face.
“Not anymore…” he answered earnestly.
All of a sudden, Soap’s resolve broke and his face fell. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ghost, pulling him into a hug.
A shuddering breath fell from Ghost’s lips as Soap pressed into him. He instantly wrapped his own arms around Soap, pulling him close. Their bodies pressed together for miles, chest, arms, legs. Soap bunched Ghost’s shirt in his fists. One of Ghost’s hands rested in the divot of Soap’s hip, the fabric slipping up ever so slightly so one of his fingers brushed against that soft skin. With Ghost’s other hand, he cupped the back of Soap’s head, sifting his fingers through his hair. Soap tucked his head into Ghost’s neck, and Ghost curled his own head towards Soap, lips just above his ear.
They both melted into the hug, two bodies merging into one as time seemed to stop. Thunderous emotions rumbled through him, longing, and relief, and elation. He could have collapsed in happiness.
Like a puzzle piece clicking back into place, everything that had felt off the past year suddenly disappeared. The emptiness inside Ghost mended shut with every beat of Soap’s heart. Seconds had purpose again.
“Johnny…” Ghost whispered breathlessly.
Soap sucked in a shallow breath. He shifted his head, his nose and lips burying deeper into the crook of Ghost’s neck.
They stayed in each other’s arms, desperate for comfort, soaking in the feel of bodies pressed up against one another, shallow breaths across skin, hearts pounding as one.
“I missed you…” Soap mumbled into Ghost’s neck.
“Me too.”
But Soap started to shift, Ghost’s heart immediately yearning to have Soap’s body once again protected by his embrace. He pulled back just enough to slip out of Ghost’s arms. He was still so close, just a reach away. He looked up at Ghost, melancholy dampening his vibrant eyes.
“Then why didn’t you visit…?”
A heavy pit of shame immediately dropped in Ghost’s stomach. Regret clambered up his throat, gnawing at him, tearing him apart. A darkness swirled in his head, and vicious whispers taunted him with the phantom words of his own voice.
Every chance he was given slipped from his hands. Every decision he’d made the wrong one. Every part of himself splayed open to reveal everything that was wrong with him.
Ghost dropped his eyes.
“Price and Gaz visited a few times,” Soap continued weakly. “And every time I expected you to be just behind them. I hoped you’d walk through that door. But you never did.”
Ghost let out a shameful, shuddering breath and tried to gather his courage.
“I…” Ghost swallowed down a knot in his throat. “I thought… the two of us just happened to meet by circumstance. We had to learn to get along because we were forced to be around each other. We didn’t have a say who we worked with. We didn’t have a say who was on our team. We didn’t have a say who watched our backs. At the end of the day, we were soldiers.
“And now suddenly we lived such different lives – a soldier and a civilian. I thought that once you got your mind right, once you left the fucked up world we had dived into, that you’d realize just how different we were.
“You were someone who could have a successful life after retirement. A happy one. I wanted you to be happy. Friends, family, a community. Hell… maybe even kids. All that stupid domestic stuff we hadn’t thought about for years. And I thought that shoving myself into a world – into a life – that didn’t belong to me would ruin your chance to move on. I thought you’d be better off building a life without me in it.
“I wasn’t going to hold you back from a life you’d been given a second chance to live.”
Soap ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes shimmering sadly as he listened to Ghost. He was silent for several seconds as he thought.
“You know…” Soap said softly. “I never thought I’d retire this early. I never thought I’d be fucked in the head and forced to stay home because I was a liability. I never wanted to be a burden. But even before that day in the tunnel, I still thought about what it would be like to retire. And for years now, I just always expected you to be a part of it.
“And I know this sounds fucking crazy because we never talked about it, and I never asked, but I had these thoughts of what it would be like. I started imagining these stupid things like us watching a football game on the telly, or taking you home for Christmas because I knew you didn’t have anywhere else to go, or us sharing an overly expensive flat, or just…” He vaguely gestured around himself. “Having a drink at a pub on a Friday night.
“You and me.
“But I get why you stayed, and I’m not mad. I didn’t want you to have to give up your life either. I’d never ask that of you. My injury shouldn’t destroy two lives. But every time that door opened and it wasn’t you… it still fucking hurt…”
Despair washed over Ghost, and he pressed his forehead against Soap’s.
“I’m so sorry,” Ghost pathetically begged. “Please forgive me. I just wanted you to be happy. But I was wrong. Without you… everything felt… empty…”
Soap pulled back slightly, looking up at Ghost. He pressed a hand against Ghost’s chest.
“Simon… I…” His eyes flicked down to Ghost’s lips then back up to his eyes, making Ghost’s heart skip a beat. “I can’t do this if you’re just going to run away again, if you’re going to go cold on me. I can’t take it. I can’t take that pain again.”
“It’ll never happen again, Johnny,” Ghost vowed, every beat of his heart reaffirming his words. He felt his soul reaching out, hopelessly waiting for a hand to reach back. “I’m not going anywhere because I know exactly where I want to be.” He gently dragged his hand across Soap’s face, cupping his cheek. Soap leaned into the touch, and his eyes softened. “And I know exactly what I want.” His eyes flicked down to Soap’s willing lips. “If you want it too…?”
The air cracked with electricity between them.
Soap was quiet for several breaths, eyes exploring Ghost’s face like he was beautiful land meant to be explored. He wanted to drown in those blues and never resurface.
Soap nodded.
“Aye…” he whispered.
Ghost’s heart surged him forward as he pressed his lips against Soap’s. Fireworks of elation ignited, and Ghost felt dizzy with pleasure. It was everything he’d fantasized about and more, the feel of Soap’s lips perfect against his own, the two of them moving in sync, the yearning released without words.
Soap pressed into it just as needily, taking everything that Ghost was and everything that he’d be. And Ghost was glad to give it.
Every part of his body swelled with longing. He wanted to be closer. To hold Soap in his arms for the rest of his life. To take those lips as his own.
After a few moments, their excited desperation seemed to calm. They naturally slowed and broke apart, barely an inch.
Soap chuckled, no, giggled into Ghost’s lips before taking them again quickly.
“Johnny…” Ghost murmured with a smile. “Can I ask a favour of you?” Soap curiously met his gaze. “I uhh… I came here so quickly and wasn’t thinking about anything else, so I… hadn’t made any plans. Can I… can I stay with you tonight? I kind of don’t have anywhere to sleep…”
Soap let out a breathy chuckle again.
“Of course.” Soap excitedly kissed him one last time. “Come on,” he said with a tender smile. “It’s late. I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you are too.”
Soap finished tidying up while Ghost collected his winter clothes again. When they were done, Soap flicked off the lights, one by one. The chimes above the door jingled. Soap zipped up his coat.
After the first few steps, they both reached out towards one another, slotting their fingers together as they held hands.
They walked into the cold night together.
Towards home.