Ghost sat at his table, his fingers intertwined nervously with one another as he looked across the room - across the table.
A light blue vase filled with whittling flowers that once bore a blush pink color, now turned brown and crisp due to the decay and passing time.
Johnny was the only one who swapped the flowers, something Ghost always made fun of him for. Yet, now that he's gone - he took the color with him.
The house they shared, once full of color and light - the bright paintings on each wall, photographs of him and Johnny together littered across countertops now all turned face down.
He stared at the flowers, his hand shakily moving to linger under one of the rotting petals. He hadn't dared swap the flowers, they were the last thing Johnny had left. The last thing that Johnny had graced Ghost with, the only reminder of what once was.
Ghost slowly gets up from his seat, rubbing his eyes groggily as he walks into his kitchen at a gentle pace.
"I hate these flowers, Johnny." Ghost chuckled in his deep, husky voice with a slight smirk and amused look on his face - he was sat at the chair at the dining table as Johnny was busy perfecting each flower in the vase.
"Well when the day I die comes around, you're gonna realize how much you miss them, L.T."
Johnny snickered, his hands fluffing out each and every pink rose with the smile plastered on his face. Ghost looked at him, and he felt at peace. That's what he loved so dearly about Johnny, how he could take his mind off of the military work they both did together so simply - just the small smile on his face, the way his grin reaches his eyes and creates wrinkled at the corner of each eye. The way he gets up so painfully early in the morning to do his stupid mohawk.
The wooden floor, covered in rubbish and items and bottles. The paintings on the walls now dropped to the floor and face down; everything was a painful reminder to him. He couldn't bare it, the feeling of regret - the feeling of hatred for himself.
Flashbacks to the days prior of Johnny's death; they had an argument, Ghost blowing up and throwing things out of porpotion and now the feeling that lingered with him that Johnny had died thinking Ghost hadn't loved him. The constant flashbacks where a hell itself he had to live with.
Ghost laid weakly against the cold pavement, looking over at Johnny's body. His cerulean eyes barely open, the lids falling so heavily as Ghost begun to panic.
"Johnny," he shouted as he scrambled around the floor, his hands shaking and each movement felt like his heart was pounding as he dragged himself by his palms before feeling a combat boot stomping back down onto his back.
The gap between the two of them was so close, yet so far. He was out of arms touch; Ghost couldn't reach him.
"Simon," Johnny muttered out, the blood spilling slightly as he spoke and tbe crimson staining across his blue shirt as he weakly curled his fingers - his arm shaking as he attempted to move closer into reach of Ghost.
Ghost's eyes fixated on Johnny's hand - his body was beginning to grow more and more lifeless, yet his hand reached out in the slightest movement - his bloodied fingers stretched as he groaned. Johnny was trying to reach for Ghost, even in his last moments - even when he was in pain, when everything hurt and every breath closened to the end.
Ghost shuddered as he blinked the thought out of his brain and looked around the kitchen,
The food Johnny had left the morning before he died still remained in the same state - half eaten, the fork dug into the plate and now rotting.
And god, Ghost needed to restock his kitchen. It was a barren wasteland with nothing filling it's containers other than shitty beer and half empty cigarette packets. Gaz and Price had offered to help him a few times, wether it was just for company or things like cleaning the house up.
So, Ghost took them up on the offer. After all, Johnny was the one who usually went grocery shopping. Ghost used to despise it; that guy was always buying the most bizzare food items. There was one thing Johnny never missed however, and that was the large quantities of goldfish crackers he bought every single Friday on pay day.
It was a little joke revolving around the four of us, at any moment Johnny would pull out a bag of goldfish - you'd never see him without it. He absolutely loved those damn crackers.
"How do you not like these?" Johnny sneered playfully through a mouthful of his crackers. Ghost absolutely despised those crackers, he couldn't bare them. He thought the cheese flavor was too overwhelming and they got stuck in your teeth to quickly.
"They're bloody disgusting Johnny." Ghost replied in his grim tone, scoffing slightly as he shook his head. The two sat on their dark maroon couch, Johnny's feet resting against their coffee table.
"And the next time you buy those, I'm throwing them out."
Johnny made an exaggerated gasp, a look of mocking disappointment as the two of them snickered, his laughter was a contagious disease to Ghost.
"Bloody goldfish,"
"You doing alright?"
Gaz's voice sounded over Ghost's sound cancelling thoughts - he had to blink for a bit to reel himself back into the presence as his breath hitched against the black balaclavas fabric that felt suffocating at times.
"Yeah, the usual."
A blank and cold reply - something always expected from Ghost. However, it was different now. They all knew it, just never said anything out of courtesy.
They had been shopping for hours; Ghost mindlessly mumbling as he was clueless when it came to these things. Shrugging at every item he came along before Gaz finally took it into his own hands and began picking things out for him.
"How about spaghetti, you like that?" Gaz coughed as he spoke, his brows knitted together slightly as he pointed at the packets of spaghetti on the isle.
"Sure."
Gaz looked over his shoulder to Ghost, sighing. His dark eyes softened in that moment before he turned away and tossed it into the court as the two began strolling through isles again. Ghosts head tilted down, hands in his pockets as he followed Gaz like some sort of lost puppy.
It wasn't until Ghost saw the goldfish crackers that he had grabbed something himself and thrown it into the cart.
Gaz and Price stared for a moment, yet no one said anything and instead exchanged saddened looks as they continued on afterwards.
"You need to let him go." Price muttered, patting Ghost's back gently.
The sharp line of silence followed after was nearly unbearable, Ghost stiffening under Price's touch as he looked over at him for a brief moment before away.
His lips parted slightly as he inhaled the cold air surrounding him, blinking slowly as if he was about to say something - yet, closing his mouth and remained with the silence.
It had been weeks after that incident, and now Ghost had an insane habit of buying goldfish crackers.
50 packets now, stacked in the cupboard that was designated for Johnny since he was shorter than him and couldn't reach the ones Ghost himself used.
And while most people thought it was an absolute waste - that it was him clinging onto something that once was, something that is gone, this never stopped him.
As he sat down by the tombstone that bared the familiar name, John McTavish. The cold air and harsh rain wasn't unusual to Ghost; the flowers lining Johnny's tombstone from colors differing from white to the same blue of the vase back at home.
"You where right, Johnny. I do miss those damn flowers." Ghost muttered under his breath - creating a fog of gray as he spoke while he held the packet of goldfish in his free hand.
