No Smut (Scömìche One Shots)

Ghost

A/N: No, this is not part 3 of "We Both Can't Have Mitch" sorryyy

I decided to write this based off the song "Ghost" by Halsey bc I am OBSESSED with her rn

Enjoyyy! ^^

If I could order a man like you could order a meal at a restaurant, I would order the dirtiest one possible, a leather jacket weighed on their shoulders and a pleading tongue.

And boy, oh, boy did Scott Hoying satisfy me.

I knew when he came up to me slobbering drunk one night that he would be what I like to call a "hit and run."

I could tell he was swallowing his sorrows with the vodka; it was hidden in plain sight in his clear blue irises.

I could tell he wasn't planning to stay long either, and I liked that. I hated the clingy ones.

Well, let's say the tables turned that night.

I became the clingy one, and Scott Hoying didn't like the clingy ones either.

When we woke up, we exchanged numbers, which I rarely did.

I didn't think he would willingly give me his number, maybe give me a phony one, but he accepted with a groggy, smitten smile.

We spent the beginning of our morning together in the motel next door to the bar, the Pink Motel.

Room 93 ended up having a fantastic view of the city, and the perfect lighting to illuminate Scott Hoying's beauty.

As the sun peeked through, it lit up half his body in a golden light, slits of orange flicking across the built form as he walked past the shaded windows.

I watched him with hungry eyes, realizing that I had unintentionally fallen in love tonight.

But now the question remained... Did Scott Hoying fall in love tonight?

I have a reputation for my charm, making people fall in love.

Heck, I've done it plenty of times, and Scott sure did look like he fell in love.

But he just went around our room casually, dancing around in tube socks and giving me glances and smirks.

He's such a tease and I love it.

As I sat on the counter and swung my legs back and forth like a swingset while he made coffee, I started getting clingy.

A smirk grew onto my face and I hopped off the counter, wrapping my arms around his waist.

Scott was startled for a moment, then he relaxed, shaking his head.

I didn't hear what he was saying; I just watched this thin, pink lips smile as they flapped with every word he spoke.

I just hummed in response, unwrapping my arms and hugging them around myself.

A few minutes later, Scott and I were sitting on the balcony that came with our room, sipping our morning coffee.

As the morning waxed on, I kept returning Scott's subtle teases; winking at him, speaking in low voices, dancing in my own tube socks.

I was being clingy.

Looking back, I can see Scott was getting tired of me, but at the time I was so madly in love it never crossed my mind I was a manifestation of one of my biggest pet peeves in men.

It was just before 10 o'clock when Scott said he needed to leave.

I asked him why, pouting and hovering awfully close to him.

I always said I was being clingy, but he put it in a much more poetic way.

He said I was tugging at his sleeve, like a ghost.

But Scott was my ghost, too. He teased just as much as I did him, if not a little more.

Except I liked it when he tugged at my sleeve.

I loved the pull of the fabric, the way it yanked my arm up and down with each persistent pull.

It never occurred to me the tug-of-war was so hard on Scott.

Scott then went on and explained how I wasn't the only one, just like he wasn't.

Somehow I knew that. He seemed like that type; the Rolling Stone boy, never sleep alone boy, "has a million numbers and they're filling up your phone" boy.

And so, he left me with the creating sun to shine down on me, just like it did him.

Ever since that night with Scott Hoying, nothing ever felt the same.

Like I said before, Scott was my ghost.

I had spent the night with many other men, but none of them were like Scott.

I couldn't find the ghost-like qualities Scott had in those bodies sleeping next to me.

But, I guess, after I met Scott, I was searching for something that I can't reach.

_______________

THIS WAS SO BAD BYE