Lieutenant Ghost

8

Lost in my thoughts, I found myself at the edge of the base, overlooking the vast expanse of the night sky. The silence of the night was broken only by the distant sounds of the military base, a reminder of the life we had chosen.

With each passing moment, my obsession with him deepened, the thought of him consumed every waking moment, and I realized that I was prepared to face the consequences.

As I stood near the balcony, gazing out at the distant city lights that flickered like stars on the horizon, I heard footsteps approaching. The quiet night seemed to amplify every sound, and when Ghost's familiar presence appeared beside me, I couldn't help but smile.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked softly, his voice breaking the stillness of the night.

I turned to face him, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of his masked face. "No," I admitted, "my thoughts are still racing."

Ghost's gaze shifted from the sky to me, and he said, "I've never had issues with losing sleep before."

I felt a pang of guilt, thinking that my presence had disrupted his usual routine. "I'm sorry," I began, "I didn't mean to—"

He interrupted me with a gentle touch, his gloved hand resting on my shoulder. "No," he said, his voice tender, "don't be sorry. Even if I could sleep, I would probably end up dreaming of you."

His words sent a rush of warmth through me, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion. Ghost had always been a man of few words, and his confession felt like a precious gift, a glimpse into the depth of his feelings.

I turned to him, our eyes locking in an unspoken understanding.

"You dream of me?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

Ghost hesitated for a moment, his masked face betraying the turmoil within. "My thoughts have been getting the best of me," he admitted, his voice soft but filled with a haunting honesty. "My conscience feels guilty."

I took a step closer to him, my fingers brushing against his gloved hand. "So, I am the source of your spiritual damnation?" I teased, attempting to bring a hint of levity to the moment..

He chuckled, a sound that held a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Perhaps," he said, his tone serious again. He took a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and then he reached his hand out to stroke my cheek, his gloved fingers gently caressing me.

 "But... in my lifetime of nightmares," he began, his voice low and intimate, "you are my first dream."

His words hung in the air, carrying the weight of his confession. I felt a lump form in my throat, moved by the depth of his emotions. At that moment, I realized that Ghost was not just a soldier burdened by his past; he was a man. A man who.. wanted me.

I reached up, my fingers tracing the outline of his masked face, feeling the rough texture beneath my touch.

I stared into Ghost's eyes, the intensity of our connection pulling me in like a gravitational force. His gloved fingers traced the contours of my face, his touch both gentle and hesitant. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, a troubled depth that he tried to conceal.

He sighed, his gaze briefly flickering away from mine. Something was bothering him, something he was struggling to articulate. I mustered the courage to ask, "What are you thinking about?"

He turned his attention back to me, his thumb still caressing my cheek as he spoke, his voice tinged with regret. "We can't go further than what we did today," he said, his words heavy with the weight of a difficult decision.