Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

chapter 15

It was well after midnight as you polished your rifle, enjoying the beauty of its body as you took it apart and replaced it with new equipment. Your hair was thrown messily into a low pony, its length cascading down your back. You continually had to tuck strands behind your ears as they would slip out playfully, as if intending to get on your nerves.

A lantern was lit serenely to your side on the desk, the light of the weaponry beside you too weak and dim to be much of any use. You breathed deeply as you threw the scope of your rifle to the side; it clattered as it rolled on the desk, eventually falling off. It had been damaged during your last fight.

You sighed, leaned down and pushed your swivel chair backwards, struggling to pick the object up. Your brows furrowed in frustration. There was muffled talking from the room next to you. You didn't bother to listen to what they were planning.

That was until the door opened and shut with a earsplitting screech.

You held your hand over the scope, about to grab it when you slowly looked up. A man was standing before you, reached down to grab it before you could get a chance. You raised up and scrunched your nose.

Instead of saying anything to him, you went back to what you were doing. You struggled to fit the new scope on your precious rifle for a few seconds, before growing annoyed and standing up out of your chair. You sauntered to the weaponry and scavenged for one just as good quality, but better size.

The man remained where he was; you could sense his presence. You internally prayed that the longer you disregarded him, the more motivated he would be to get lost.

You plopped down in the chair, feeling his gaze drilling holes into the side of your head. You tucked another strand behind your ear, a little more aggressively that required. It was as if he was... admiring you.

You tried to work on your rifle in peace, but the longer he stood there the more awkward and furious you felt. Eventually, you had enough.

"Having fun in there?" you spat bitterly.

"You could help us, you know," Kilgore replied just above a whisper.

You snorted. "I have better things to do."

He quirked a brow, scrutinizing your sniper rifle, all of its dents, all of the tools surrounding you on the desk. "Christ, do you sleep with that thing?"

You rolled your eyes.

"You should be in there," he pressed on.

"They have you. I'm not needed here any more." Thank God.

"You know Austria just as well as I do," he said softly.

"Yeah, I know," you acknowledged distantly. "It's almost as if we travelled basically the entire country on our little runaway sessions."

His eyes softened, evidently unsure how to reply. You could tell he was reminiscing for a moment, just from his inability to reply hastily.

"Why are you still angry with me?"

A volcano of emotions welled up inside you. The longer you remained here with Task Force 141, the more you felt your composure starting to dwindle. You're not sure what it was particularly, but not only were the members absolutely insufferable to work alongside, but also enigmatic too. Exhibit A: Ghost.

And everything was a million times worse when German Special Forces arrived.

You've grown soft. You weren't the fire-y, witty girl you were when you first got here, the woman with a calculated, cold demeanor. Maybe it was going through the experience of life-or-death situations with these men, but you almost began to care about them a bit.

It repulsed you.

"Why am I still angry with you..." you scoffed, dragging your hands down the smooth surface of the table and then placing them on your lap. You shook your head in disbelief.

You stood up, looking him dead in his innocent, hurt forest green eyes. He still had that stupid mask on. He didn't even have the balls to show you what he looked like now.

The volcano erupted.

"Maybe because you left me behind with my parents? My parents that couldn't give two shits about me? Left me at school, all alone, all day, everyday," you narrowed your eyes. "You left me depressed, lonely, sad. How could you not have foreseen that happening? How could you have been so careless? I've spent half my life searching for you!"

Your last sentence took him aback. "What?"

"I joined the military for two reasons Kilgore!" you threw your hands up in the air. "One of them was to find you."

"You were looking for me? This entire time?" His eyes glimmered with something you could put your finger on.

You pursed your lips together, glaring at him with a fervent, but false hatred.

"I was looking for you too."

"Liar."

"I was!"

"If you were, why did you find me just now...?" you said, holding back a choked sob. Your rifle was long forgotten on the table.

"Look, I can explain everything, but I need you to let me," he said, attempting to calm you down. He laid a gloves and on your arm, and you shook it off. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks — only he could ever see you like this.

It almost as if his sentence didn't process in your mind, because instead of accepting his offer, you cried out, "Why did you leave me in the first place, Kilgore?"

"I almost killed myself."

Your eyes widened, and you almost stumbled. "What?"

His gaze on you was gentle, and though he towered over you intimidatingly, he was and always has been the most kind, soft man you've ever met.

You couldn't believe he would try to take his own life.

"When we were seniors in high school. I got really depressed, Dad was drinking again and Mom was gone every night," he said calmly. "He had a shotgun." He chuckled, even though nothing about this was remotely humorous. "I'm sure you remember it. That time we ran away when we slept behind that gas station everyday for almost a week? When we came home and came outside, seeing us both on the block, and he cocked it and told me 'if we'd ever pulled a stunt like that again, he'd kill us both'?" Kilgore mocked his own father's dialect, expecting to get a better reaction out of you than just the uncontrollable crying you were doing.

He didn't have to say anything else. You already knew where this was going.

"I almost pulled the trigger. It was my birthday. I was eighteen," he explained. "I decided that only a pussy would kill himself like that, so instead, I joined the military hoping I would at least die a hero."

He joined the military hoping to die?

"I didn't want anyone to know because I didn't want you to try and save me, or think of me as a coward."

"You're not..." But you trailed off.

"I'm sorry all of this happened," Kilgore whispered, staring longingly into your glossy, [E/C] eyes. He tucked a loose stand of hair behind your ear, and brought a gloved hand down your face. The rough material wiped under your eyes, dispersing of the tears that wetted your cheeks. "I tried to find you. I regretted my decision. I looked for years, but you just kept slipping away." He laughed under his breath.

He almost warily reached up to his face with his opposite hand, and carefully slipped of his veil, revealing his features. He was still the same boy you remembered, just older, more mature. He had a stubble on his chin, his dirty blond hair was long and unkempt. His features were relaxed and his puppy-dog eyes gazed at you carefully, as if the slightest touch would make you shatter. You caressed his face to confirm that he was real.

And oddly enough, you regretted what happened next.