Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

chapter 12

The sky was grey.

Dusk enveloped the heavens with a hunger, the indigo darkness rising fiercely upon the horizon like a sly, yet famished animal. The hues were mesmerizing, and the glow from the moon was muffled by the impenetrable overcast; the moon itself was silent, hidden — as if waiting to strike, cunningly carrying the secrets of past occurrences it's witnessed.

For instance, the reasons why the fuck all of this is happening.

You buried your past a long time ago, and it wasn't very hard to shove it all back down again. It's not that you wanted to, but emotions were not a concept you were accustomed to feeling. Whatever happened in that room back there, you want it to stay there.

You rubbed under your eye with one hand, feeling your eye bags slightly protruding from your skin. Your countenance was plain, monotone, as if it didn't feel as if your life had been flipped upside down in just thirty minutes.

You bought your hand back down, blowing out cool air from your lungs. You tapped your foot against the ground and fidgeted your body aimlessly, watching the smoke from your cigarette swirl into the atmosphere. It curled and danced all in silence, and the unexpected beauty of it made you miss when you moved your body in such a weirdly comparable manner; needless to say, you missed being a ballet dancer.

You sensed a presence.

"Was zum Teufel willst du." You said harshly. You felt your mouth move before you could think, the phrase coming out more as a statement than a question.

"You're acting as if I did something to you," a gruff, English accent replied.

"I thought you were Kilgore," you huffed, forcing your gaze away to not look at him. You don't need any more confusing, unwanted emotions right now.

He sat down beside you in the cool, dry grass. You both sat in silence together, yet you snuck fleeting glances at him when you saw an opportunity. Ghost was pulling at the grass mindlessly — it seemed like it was the most vulnerable moment you've ever seen him; he was like a child.

You almost felt bad. He's spent so many years in the military, never having a wife, kids, a life. It's never really bothered you, because you've always had a goal. But has he? What was his aim? What was Ghost working towards? Was there any reason for all the blood he's shed at all?

You began questioning yourself too much internally shortly after that, and shut your mind up by speaking aloud.

"Shouldn't you be preparing? We're going to Austria whenever Price gives the order."

He answered your question with a question. "Are you leaving after that?"

"The way my commander has made it seem, he wants me to stay," you answered. You threw a quick glare. "Not that I'm telling you my plans. I don't always follow orders, you know."

"You've seemed pretty loyal so far," Ghost observed in a voice so inaudible you could barely make out what he was saying.

"Don't take me being kind as me being weak." You smirked.

He deadpanned. "If you simply working towards a good cause is you being 'kind,' I'd hope to never see you when you're not."

You beamed with pride. It was a small phrase of affirmation that escaped his lips, but unexplainably enough it made your ego swell.

"Seems like your going soft on me, Lieutenant Ghost."

"Never."

"Want some?" You waved the cigarette at him with skinny hands.

"I don't smoke on the job," he said.

You scoffed. "Oh, please. You're acting like a fucking cigarette will get you drunk." You raised your brows and gestured it towards him. "C'mon."

The smoke swirled up into his face, and you could somehow make out a small nose scrunch from behind his mask, as if he was disgusted by the scent. You held it there for a moment, waving it around in small circles, and his face dropped, he scoffed, and carefully took it from your grasp.

He lifted up his mask to reveal the bottom half of his face, and flashback flooded your mind. Your face heating up and you scowled at your behavior, trying to avoid any more eye contact with him.

"Got a thing against substances?" you mused, trying to distract yourself as much as possible — even if that meant talking to someone you convinced yourself was your enemy.

"My brother, Tommy, was a drug addict. I try not to fuck with any of that stuff—" ironically, he took a drag of the cigarette, "—sometimes I slip."

This small piece of his life he shared made your heart do a flip. You aren't sure what it was, but you places your elbows on your knees and leaned forward, expecting to hear more. But you were surely disappointed, as you and Ghost were plunged into an even longer silence than before.

The next few hours were spent passing the cigarette back and forth, quietly watching the sky change from dusk to midnight. Civilians were usually asleep at this time, but you were wide awake. At this point in your life, you spent most your time sleeping in the day and being awake at night — you weren't sure if that was healthy, but then again, was anything you did necessarily good?

Am I bad person?

You smiled devilishly, took the cigarette from Ghost, and felt the smoke pierce your lungs. Definitely.