Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Bored out of his mind. That was the state in which Johnny found himself drifting into on that Monday afternoon: it was the second time he volunteered at the library for the afternoon shift, and it was the calm after the storm.

On his first afternoon shift ever, the day before, the place had been crowded like he'd never seen it before and he had interacted with all sorts of people coming by: teenagers, college students more or less the same age as him, elder people calmly strolling through the aisles and gazing at the shelves packed with books to borrow - some with their friends, some arm in arm with their lifetime sweetheart. Johnny had also greeted a group of local boyscouts who had asked if they could help by volunteering in some future events - well, they should ask some supervisor for that, he had explained to the kids, Johnny is but a volunteer here.

But today, as the new week began, it was a much less busy day: most of the cleaning and tidying of returned books had already been taken care of by the morning staff, so Johnny was left with nothing to do within the first hour in.

Until that Monday, Johnny had always taken morning shifts at the library - there was nothing quite like spending the early hours of the day in the quiet of those aisles filled with hundreds of books, all neatly lined up waiting for a friendly hand to come and pull them down to savour whatever exciting story they had to tell; morning shifts at the library meant working a lot with books and little with people, as most people had school or work in the morning: Johnny usually spent those hours taking care of returned books, he would make sure they were in good shape and proceed to drop them back to their place. He really liked that: Johnny was a natural at taking care of stuff in general.

Mindlessly fidgeting with a worn out rubber eraser, Johnny was sitting at the help desk, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and looking around the vast room: the sun had already travelled all the way up in the sky and back down, and was now almost completely gone below the horizon - he sighed at the thought that it was barely past 5 p.m., the daytime was rapidly shortening as winter approached. Sure, he found the dark of the night somewhat cozy, especially if he could get tucked under a blanket or bake cakes with questionable store-bought batter, but he still preferred those mild late summer afternoons to that.

There were some people browsing through the shelves now, plus two young students in the reading area, camped with their textbooks and study equipment (and also takeaway coffee cups that Johnny pretended not to notice, drinking in the reading room was as forbidden as he believed it was to deny a student their precious fuel, so he gladly took the risk of allowing it).

As he kept looking around, he turned his blue eyes to the aisles again and saw a child with his parents headed towards him: the kid must have been no more than 4 years old, and he was trotting happily between his mother and father, holding one of each parents' hands in his.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Librarian!”, the father greeted, gently pulling his son's arm in encouragement, “come on, say hi to Mr. ...Johnny”, he whispered after quickly looking at Johnny's name tag pinned to his sweater.

At that request, the child instantly hid behind his dad's legs, shyly.

“...Not this time, I guess,” said the man eventually, shrugging with a sweet smile.

Johnny began to think of something he could say to encourage the kid a bit, but no matter what he came up with, it all felt wrong or out of place.

After a brief moment of intense ponderation, he settled for: “oh it's alright, saying hello can be very difficult sometimes... but, I will be here when you will feel brave enough”, all wearing the most reassuring smile he could conceive.

God, was that inappropriate? Should he have kept to himself? He cursed himself mentally for not minding his business and keeping quiet, which was probably the best course of action; at any rate, the family didn't seem to be upset by it, maybe the damage wasn't as critical as he thought - but what could he know, right?

The man placed an old book on the desk, an illustrated copy of 'The Little Prince', saying: “we would like to borrow this book, for reading!”

Johnny smiled again as he picked up the book from the desk and worked swiftly on the loan form on the computer, a procedure he was very familiar with by now: after asking for the membership card, he printed the form receipt and gave it to the customers along with the book and their card, mechanically reciting the "return within 30 days from today" thing for maybe the thousandth time.

Before dismissing the family, Johnny fetched a bookmark from the pile standing by the computer screen and he handed it to the man: it was a simple but cute hard paper bookmark in the shape of a cartoonesque giraffe, made so that its head would peek out of the closed book once inserted between the pages. “I almost forgot, very very important reading gear for you!”, he added in a cheerful tone.

The couple gathered all their things, kindly thanked him again and headed towards the exit. As he walked away, the kid examined his new bookmark - reading gear!! - which he held between his hands; he turned back to look at Johnny and he slowly, timidly, waved his little hand at him, mouthing “by-bye”.

Caught by a heart-warming feeling of joy, Johnny waved back, and allowed his gaze to follow the trio as they left.

Thoughts of his own parents began making their way into his mind now; he mentally promised to himself that he would have called today, or at least he would have texted his mom back.

As he got lost in his thoughts again, a voice let out a soft, but nonetheless annoyed, grunt of impatience.

“Oi, new kid, back on Earth”, said the voice, snapping Johnny back to reality. He turned around to face whoever was being that overeager, and he felt his heart skip a beat: on the other side of the desk stood the most impossibly handsome (and absolutely pissed off) man he had ever seen, waiting with a stack of three books in his hands.

Perhaps Johnny wasn't fully aware of all that was gonna come from that day on, from that one encounter on - but Johnny could sure smell trouble when it came his way.

Chapter Text

Johnny couldn't tell for how long he stood there, staring like a moron. He was like enraptured by that stranger on the other side of the desk. Aside from being in equal parts good-looking and annoyed, the guy appeared to be in his early thirties - a tall, broad and muscular figure with reddish hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a very casual plain blue sweatshirt that looked like polar fleece, with a very familiar symbol roughly at heart height (was that some medical symbol, like a pharmacy's?) and a pair of camo-ish pants; a sports bag hung lazily on his shoulder (most likely for a gym or something).

The man let out another sigh of frustration, reminding Johnny that time was still running while he was busy freezing.
“Oh, I-... I'm... uh-...” God, had Johnny just gotten caught staring? Get a grip, pronto!
“C'mon, lad, fuckssake. Return this, borrow these. Chop chop.” the man said, still in a rather impatient tone.
“I- yes, I'm sorry” stuttered Johnny, leaning in towards the books on the counter.
However, partly because of the embarrassment and partly by the pressure of the sudden rush and hostility he was faced with, Johnny's hands refused to cooperate, causing him to fail not one, but two consecutive attempts at grabbing those books.
“Ah... Sorry mate...”
“Fucking hell...” the guy said to himself as he witnessed all that. He ran one hand through his hair, causing some wild strands to fall back inertly on his face (God, what a sight to see), and he looked around him - probably checking if there was anyone, ANYONE else of the staff to ask for assistance since this guy here was clearly malfunctioning.

Meanwhile, Johnny was feeling lowkey mortified.
What even was that? Why was this guy so rude to him and why was that affecting him so heavily?
It was pathetic, really, how much of a nothing it took to tear his confidence down, he thought. Absolutely pathetic.
Later that evening, Johnny would mentally promise two things to himself: one, never again allow a stranger to have such a strong effect on him (especially a merely butthurt one); two, never again judge a book by its handsome cover - because this guy was all but pleasant.

Johnny kept his eyes glued to the monitor as he worked through the various procedures, trying his best to avoid looking at the man in front of him, intimidated for multiple reasons.

“Oookay, I am going to need a membership card, sir, please. Or some identifier.”
He was pleased to notice how his own voice sounded more confident this time: was it the result of avoiding eye contact? Probably, but still he took the win.
“Riley”, said the man, barely allowing Johnny to finish the sentence.
Riley? what the hell was he supposed to do with such generic information? As if there weren't four dozens Rileys in the local database only.
Johnny was starting to grow a little spiteful towards this guy: there he stood, with that annoyed and gorgeous face, looking like he was doing the world a favour by showing up here today.
If anything, this feeling of spite served as a confidence boost for himself.
And so, to that vague and half-assed answer, Johnny blinked slowly and looked up to face that guy directly. Ugh, how awfully magnetic was that stare of his.
As Johnny raised his head to look at him, he almost got the impression that the frown on this Riley's face had softened, betraying a subtle hint of... surprise?
“Riley...?” began Johnny, as a way of encouraging Riley to finish a sentence - with a name, perhaps.
“Yes, Ri-ley. Do you want me to spell it for you, Johnny?”
Johnny felt mocked by the way Riley said his name: for the first time, he felt regret for wearing his name tag on his sweater - the thing wasn't even mandatory, why'd he go through with that anyway? God, let's get this over with quickly, please.
“No, I mean, I need a name. Or your card-” replied Johnny, trying his best to sound calm and confident as he had been moments ago, sadly in vain.
Once again, the guy interrupted him mid-sentence and said, more quietly, “Ghost.”
Ghost. Riley Mr Ghost. That was his name. You gotta be shitting me.

Johnny couldn't help but give “Ghost” a puzzled look. There was plenty of time to regret it later on, he figured.
Ghost didn't bother to say anything to that audacious gesture, he just raised an eyebrow as if to ask ‘wanna tell me about the problem you have with that?’

Alright, thought Johnny with a shrug, Ghost it is.
He entered ‘Ghost’ in the field of the first name and refreshed the result page: much to his surprise, there was indeed a ‘Riley, Ghost’ in the database, regularly registered. He proceeded to select that user and quietly said, “Okay...”
Whatever you say, man.

Johnny printed the form as always and handed it to Ghost, shrinking the whole return monologue down to a laconic “Return in 30 days. Good day.”

Ghost gathered the freshly borrowed goods and leaned forward for what resembled a bow, but with mocking intent. “Thank you, for your valorous service”, he proclaimed as he turned around and headed out.
“ ...Have a pleasant evening you too, man...” said Johnny, to nobody but himself.
Then he finally allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief.

Johnny was battling between feelings of spite and feelings of guilt.
That guy had been such an asshole towards him, for no apparent reason.
Or was there a reason for him to get so upset? Was Johnny unadvertently rude to the guy, unprofessional or anything like that?
As far as he knew, he was only guilty of spacing out once or twice. Was it that bad? Should he apologize to Ghost, were they to meet again?

He was torn between these feelings, unsure which one to endorse.
To make things even more confusing, of course, there was the unusual and incredibly strong attraction that he immediately felt towards him: attraction for what, he didn't even know, it wasn't like Ghost was a pleasant company for sure.
Was he just a hot guy, and that was it? That was the entire reason why Johnny froze so badly? Apart from the man's complete lack of manners, that is.

It had been a while since the last time Johnny's life had been shaken by something unexpected and hurtful, he couldn't even remember it, frankly - sure as hell it had never happened at the library.
Things had always been linearly positive - simple, wholesome and good - until then.

“Oh, dear, I see you have met the Ghost, at last. He is in a wee bit of a bad mood, today, it would seem...”, quietly commented Mrs Cath as she approached Johnny.

He chuckled lightly. “Hm... No way. I thought he was feeling extra nice.”

Cath, an old lady and a colleague of Johnny's, gave him a sweet smile. There is something in those special smiles that old ladies wear, that has the power of soothing the harshest souls and reassuring the most discomforted.

Johnny smiled back, genuinely.

“Be patient with him, Johnny, dear, he is not angry at you. He is always like that. But.. I am sure he means well” she went on, slowly, taking Johnny's hand and squeezing it in hers, as to make sure he understood the importance of the message.

“That I can do, Cath”. He meant it. He was naturally a kind person, no matter if people deserved it or not.

The two stood in silence for a while, until Johnny broke it with a question that stemmed from curiosity.

“Cath... Is that his real name? Ghost?”

Cath shrugged and remained silent for a moment more, pondering.

“I don't believe it is, dear, it is a very odd name to give a child. Perhaps he just wants to play around, nobody would protest here, truthfully. You could write 'TEDDY BEAR' on your badge and everyone would just call you that” She laughed.

“Yeah...” Johnny acknowledged, absent-minded.

Ghost didn't look like the kind of person who would mess around just for the sake of it, so he settled for the much more likely hypothesis that Ghost was just one of those guys who are obsessed with privacy, like those who subscribe to services using randomly generated email addresses.

“Yes. Patience, Johnny. People like him could use some of our kindness!” added the old lady as she shot him a wink, and she left Johnny alone with his thoughts again.

Johnny decided he had done enough thinking and speculating about this whole Ghost thing, thus he kept his mind as busy as he could with all sorts of chores - even cleaning the computer keyboard and tidying up the drawers of the desk.

Eventually, he decided he might as well check the book that had just been returned by Ghost an hour earlier.
It was a relatively new edition of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”, finely bound in hardcover and beautifully illustrated.
Johnny couldn't help but find it curious, that this guy would borrow a kids book, one that talks about witches and talking scarecrows and houses that get carried away in a whirlwind to land in a fantastic world.

Then again, maybe he had kids.
Naaah. I sure hope not. (for the kids, of course, imagine having that guy as family)
Or.. nephews. Perhaps. Some siblings' kids who loved Uncle Ghost.
Speculations, speculations.
He was inspecting the inside of the book and the cover to check for possible damage, when something (an envelope?) slipped out of the pages and fell to the ground.

Johnny put down the book and crouched on the floor to retrieve the thing: he found an old paper, twice folded and pretty worn out.

A letter? A note? Was it any of Johnny's business whatsoever?
He contemplated the option of leaving it untouched on the desk and waiting for someone to come and take it back (or, alternatively, throwing it away after a while).

Then again, fuck it, right? If it was made for nobody but the owner to read, then it shouldn't be left between the pages of a book - in a public library. He wasn't the one at fault for reading it. Besides, it might've contained useful information like a name or a number to track the owner down.

And so he looked.

The paper was written by hand in clumsy, almost childish handwriting, and it appeared to be a list, like a bucket list with boxes to tick on the side of each element - a thick one, with over 50 elements or so.
Johnny examined the names on the list and he quickly realized that it was a reading list with all sorts of books - mostly kids and teenagers reading material, classics.

Robinson Crusoe, Treasure Island, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, Jim Button and Luke the Engine Driver...
Some of them had their little boxes crossed off with a delicate pencil trait, including The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
As he examined further, towards the upper edge of the paper, Johnny noticed that there was also some sort of title on it: “Riley's Reading List”.

Oh hell. This belonged to Ghost.

Chapter Text

Johnny stared at his newfound relic for what felt like a lifetime.
What to do now?

Needless to say, he was intimidated by the idea of reaching out to Ghost, since it meant potentially exposing himself to the fancy treatment again. Hell to the naw.
But, then again, this thing might have been important to him, thus a part of Johnny was also prompting him to take initiative, and at least try to get in contact with the guy.

After all, giving it a try could do no harm, right?

Johnny pulled out his phone and opened his Instagram, feeling a bit like an idiot as he typed "ghost riley" in the search engine (also, what was that feeling of heat rushing to his ears now? He couldn't be blushing, right? God this was embarrassing)

He only found a couple of users with similar names like "George Riley" but, sure as hell, there was no Ghost Riley, and no user who looked even vaguely like him. I mean, it's not like I was expecting a different result...

Ghost also did not provide any phone number or email address (obviously) in his membership form, and the street address he gave led to a vet clinic, therefore Johnny assumed it to be entirely made up, or intentionally misleading.

Out of options, Johnny decided to just keep the note somewhere safe and wait, hoping that Riley would show up again.
Well, he kind of had to show up eventually, since he had books to return anyway; what Johnny was hoping for, more specifically, was perhaps that he showed up again at a time when Johnny could be there and meet him.
To this thought, he once again felt a little silly: why was that? Why would he wish to see him again? The rational explanation that he gave himself, a rather selfless one, was that he felt like he had to right some wrongs, to make up for something to him - something he didn't quite understand exactly, but that must have upset Ghost.
Then, there was also the less rational and less selfless one: that one, distant, thought that just screamed "I want to see him again" and refused to explain any further. Johnny decided it was for the best to ignore that thought entirely.

He carefully completed the inspection of the book where he had found the note a moment earlier, and placed it back on the shelf where it belonged. It was now almost 8 p.m.: there was just about enough time to rush to the supermarket around the corner, grab some dinner and return home.

Gathered his things, he headed out in the tingling cold of a mid-October night.

The next few days went by in the most usual, almost boring, way.
Johnny would go to the library, spend a good part of the afternoon shift doing almost nothing, occasionally interacting with the public and cleaning up here and there. One night, he had to politely kick out a student who had remained buried under a pile of books until 9 p.m.: he looked so stressed and on the verge of a meltdown, and Johnny felt especially sorry for him.

There was a part of him that missed the thrill of student life, the relief of passing exams with a good grade, all the afternoons spent organizing notes, preparing summaries, cross-checking textbooks and attending lectures.
But then he also remembered the dread, the impossible levels of stress and anxiety he had pushed himself to, the feeling of carrying a burden much heavier than his shoulders could bear; that he didn't miss, and it was scary for him to realize how intensely he related to that boy, how vivid the sensation still was.
He wanted to comfort him, tell him that he didn't have to try so hard, or feel the pressure of the world on his back. But the truth was that, were the boy to ask him how, how can I feel better - Johnny would have had no answer for him. As a matter of fact, he didn't have one for himself just yet.

He had almost entirely forgotten about the paper note, which had been sitting patiently on the desk for days now.
His eyes would fall on it every now and then, reminding him of its presence, and that was about it.
He had almost entirely forgotten about Ghost, too. He did remember him and the quest to return the paper, of course, but it didn't feel as intimidating and as intense as the first couple of days after they met.

Then, eventually, Ghost showed up.
And alas, due to a minor incident, that evening would have been oh, so far from the merciful scenario that Johnny had pictured in his head, the one in which he would right the wrongs or whatever stupid and unrealistic mission he was hoping to accomplish.
Everything changed the moment he realized the paper was gone.

Ghost skipped all the pleasantries such as good evening or excuse me: he approached the desk where Johnny was, carrying the book he had come to return on that other day, the Wizard of Oz, and straight up asked: “I left something in here. It had to be here, but it's not. Did you find anything in here?”
Johnny was, indeed, a bit taken aback, if not by the sight of Handsome the Handsome: Handsome Edition (this time in full sportswear and wet hair tips, likely from a freshly taken shower), then surely by the pace at which his words arrived; it was like all of it came at once, resulting in utter information mayhem for a moment.
Unable to elaborate a more clever reply, Johnny gave in to a: “...What?”. Very Pulp Fiction style, minus the terror of a gun pointed at his face, God bless.
There was a brief silence between the two, and Ghost remained as still as a marble statue for a second, an expression between surprised and confused on his face.
Then, he sighed and buried his face in the palm of his hand, whispering “Ah, fucking hell...”
Johnny could feel the frustration taking over again, and the heat beginning to rise to his face.
Except he didn't have to feel that way, he reminded himself, for he did find something in the book, indeed, and he only had to hand it over and save the day, as he had planned.
Regaining lucidity, Johnny faced Ghost and replied, as calmly as he could: “Ah, yes, yes I did find it. Some piece of handwritten paper, is it?”
Ghost nodded, his harsh expression giving in to a glimpse of genuine relief, which he immediately sent back by frowning and adding: “...not that it was any of your business.”
This guy was truly impossible, goddamnit.
“Yeah, sure, I got it right here-” said Johnny as he went in to grab the paper, only to find it missing.
Fuck.
It was not there. How was it possible? It had always been there, he could swear he had seen it right there the day before. How did he manage not to notice it was gone?
“I-...”
Never before had Johnny wished to vanish into thin air like in that moment. It was not supposed to go like that, not like that at all.
“...What? Can I have it back already?” said Ghost breaking the silence, expecting maybe an explanation.
“I... it... it was here a moment ago...” stuttered Johnny as he looked around and under everything frantically, “just a second, I'm sure it's... somewhere...”
Surprisingly enough, Ghost chuckled at that.
Was he... laughing?
Johnny was surprised by that, and partly relieved. Perhaps the situation wasn't as catastrophic as it seemed.
And so he chuckled back, a little embarrassed. He soon realized it was a mistake, for Ghost was anything but amused.
“You've got to be shitting me. You think this is funny, don't you? You had no better thing to do than to fuck around.”
“No sir, I swear I had it with me”. Johnny felt as guilty as a 5-year-old that was being scolded for ruining the grownups' lawn with his football.
“Alright. Suppose that I believe you. Can you do us all a favor and and give it back?” Ghost asked him, with a mix of incredulity and spite.
“I-..” Johnny hated not having the faintest damn clue where it could have gone, it was simply nowhere, and he felt more and more cornered with each passing second. And finally, something came out: just one, warm, tear running down Johnny's face.
He hadn't felt that mortified in forever. “...I-I cannot find it”, was all he managed to say.
“You lost the bloody thing. You found it, and then you lost it.”
Johnny felt a second pair of tears forming in each of his eyes.
He was left speechless. Out of all the clever comebacks he could have served, he could not come up with any at that moment (for starters, let us mention the fact that, technically, Ghost was the one who lost the note in the first place and thus had no right to go after Johnny for not saving his ass).

It wasn't really for the missing item per se. It was that hostility he had been treated with all along: gratuitous, restless, sheer bitterness that Ghost seemed to nurture especially towards him, caused by apparently nothing and yet so merciless, like he was worth nothing and had no sensibility whatsoever.

It was then, that Ghost hit him with the death blow, going full ape in front of all the nearby volunteers and people.
“Wow. This, now. You have the nerve of telling me you lost an item of mine? It was - important, you... pathetic, worthless-! I mean-... Do you actually enjoy yourself, fucking around like that? If you can't even take a hold of your fucking surroundings then leave the damn thing in there, where I can find it and take it the fuck back! I mean it can't be that bloody difficult this job of yours, can it? If it is, which frankly, wow, then... Just go mop the floor, or something like that, for fuck's sake, I don't know!”
He sounded as hysterical as though someone had just run over his puppy for fun.

Most of the people in the library were staring, appalled, shocked by the scene they had just witnessed, which had escalated all of a sudden.

Someone had enough guts to intervene from somewhere with an annoyed: “Ooye, 'tis a fucking library, dickhead, shut up!”

At that point, Ghost just turned away, muttering something that sounded like an “oh piss off” or something even less delicate, and by the time Johnny had the stomach to look up again, he was long gone.

Everything and everyone around him was wrapped in a blur.
Profoundly shaken, Johnny slowly walked away and headed to the restrooms, calling upon all the strength he had left to hold back the tears that threatened to stream down any second.
He closed the door of the bathroom stall behind him and leaned his back against the wood panel, sliding all the way until he was sitting on the floor. And he cried. He cried in silence for what felt like an eternity. He cried until he almost forgot what for. He cried away all the fear, the confusion, the angst, the frustration, the humiliation.

When he finally got up and out, the sun had set and the neon lights peacefully lit up the room, where the people were just doing their thing, unbothered. How long had he been in there? He couldn't tell.

“Johnny... you look miserable, dear. Are you feeling unwell?”
He turned around to see Mrs. Cath sitting placidly at the help desk, knitting an impossibly tiny sweater. He remembered her telling him it was for her cat Napoleon. Or was it named Caesar, who knows - he couldn't think very clearly now.
Johnny sincerely hoped that she didn't witness what happened earlier. She was such a kind precious lady, he couldn't bear to think back about what she had said about Ghost on that day. All that bullshit about being patient and whatnot.
It wasn't Cath's fault for saying that, she meant well and he was honestly glad that she did. He just wished... Never mind, he was too exhausted to even think about it any further.

“Yeah... Might have caught something”, he told her, wearing a slight smile.
Exhausted.

“Go home, then, stay warm and get some rest” she prompted, gesturing with her hand for him to leave.

“Thanks, ma'am..” he whispered nodding, and he slowly reached for his coat.

It was at that instant that his eyes accidentally fell on the trash bin.
“Oh god damn it..” he told to himself: indeed, after a quick search through the pile of crumpled paper, there laid the infamous relic. That wasn't even an improbable place to find it. Without thinking, without talking, he slid the note into the pocket of his coat, and just left.

Once he got home, he didn't eat. He didn't watch anything, he didn't work out, he didn't read, hell, he didn't even wash.
He just crawled into his bed, mentally and physically torn to pieces, and drifted into sleep, without thinking a single thought more.

Chapter Text

When Johnny woke up the next day, the upset stomach and throbbing headache greeted him like a hangover, as well as sore dry eyes. He obviously had a clue where those all came from.

He had slept a full 11 hours, and if anything, he didn't feel so drained anymore.

He groaned at the sharp pain when it hit his temples, and he hid his face in the inside of his elbows. The morning light blasted through his bedroom window. Still face-buried, he remembered with extreme gratitude that he didn't have to work today, and had pretty much called in sick at the library the night before.
Right, the night before.
He was still feeling shaken after what had happened, and now fragments of that terrible conversation were replaying in his head.
The worse part was not how badly he had been yelled at, or what Ghost had said of him: it was rather the fact that, no matter how he looked at it, Johnny couldn't manage to disagree with him. Ghost had basically called him pathetic, and was he really anything else? His life was going nowhere, and he did lose the only thing he vowed himself to guard these past few days, after all. Why would Ghost be wrong about calling him pathetic? This was the thing that really stuck with him now, together with the shame that haunted him profoundly.

He glanced at the alarm clock on his night table: the display blinked "8:11 AM". He stayed there for a while longer, laying in bed and facing nothing but the ceiling. He was careful not to close his eyes for too long, despite the terrible burning, for every time he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, he would go back to the same one thing: those brown eyes, the eyes of the Ghost.

Just as he was about to doze off, the doorbell rang. It rang furiously, once, twice, a long, and longer ring.
Fuck, they really had no intention of leaving him be.
Grimacing for the headache that raged as he got up, Johnny reached for the door and pulled it open.
"Yes?"
"John MacTavish, you better have brought home the hottest stallion of the herd and played cowboys with him all night, or I am fucking killing you."
"...Hi, Farah."
"Hi my balls, where have you vanished, you plonker? I was worried out of my mind!!"
Farah stormed inside Johnny's apartment and straight into his bedroom.
"No stallion here, none in the bathroom either. What's your excuse? Just felt like causing Farah a heart attack, yes?"
Johnny wasn't sure if he believed in the concept of best friends or not, but if he did, then his had to be Farah: they had met in college, and he was instantly drawn to her sassy and smart personality, not to mention that she was an extremely brilliant and pragmatical student with whom working in group was a pleasure, as she was always up to speed, unlike most of their colleagues. She always told it as it was, and she gave a rat's ass about the consequences. She valued her principles more than saving her face when it came to arguing, and no one could take that from her: not her peers, not her professors, not her family.

Farah looked fearless and equipped with unrelenting energy to Johnny's eyes, and he admired her very much for that.
He had wondered more than once in the past, what could a person like her possibly find in someone like him, why was she even sticking around with him; he felt like he wasn't even half worthy of such a friendship. He had even told her about this doubt of his once, to which she had simply replied that it was the most stupid thing she had ever heard.
Ultimately, Johnny had given up asking himself that and focused on just being grateful for her presence in his life, counting his blessing instead of wondering too much.

And there she was now, leaning on the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed, glaring at him with a massive frown on her face. Expecting an explanation.

"There was no stallion here, Farah.." Johnny told her with a sigh, gathering the words and the courage to tell her what happened the day before.

"Uh-huh, that I can bloody tell! You look like absolute dogshit, did you catch up with 4 years of college hangovers in one night?"

"No."

Johnny reached for his cell phone, which he hadn't looked at since lunchtime the day before, and he felt his heart sink as he realized how many calls from Farah he hadn't answered.
She really was worried, huh. He gave her an apologetic look and inhaled sharply. "Let me get some aspirin first, alright?"

"Forget it, change of plans", she quickly replied, gesturing dismissively, "get your thang, wash that sorrow off of you and get changed. We heading out."

Farah took Johnny out for breakfast, at a café that was just a walk away from his place.
It was nice to walk in the breeze of a sunny October morning, it helped Johnny clear his thoughts and regain some sort of emotional balance after all the turmoil.
He wasn't exactly in the best mood, understandably so, but he was getting better step after step, and as the storm quieted, he began to realize how tremendously hungry he was: he had skipped dinner after all, and he couldn't recall eating anything during the last afternoon.

He could feel the paper resting in his pocket where he had shoved his hand to shield it from the cold. During the walk from his place to the coffee shop, the two of them must have encountered at least 5 trash cans, and at each trash can, the thought of throwing the damn thing away had tempted him so badly, and yet, he couldn't push himself to do it.
The excuse he gave to himself was that he didn't have any good reason to get rid of it - although, there would have been a few good darn reasons, if only he had bothered thinking of those.

The place had everything: fried and glazed doughnuts, all sorts of croissants, sweet and salty bagels, pies, cakes, and tarts. Hearty, fragrant, freshly baked pastry for all tastes.

After contemplating the assortment for a neverending while, Farah settled for a chocolate-filled raspberry-glazed XL doughnut (with baby marshmallows sprinkled all over!) and a giant strawberry frappe with whipped cream towering on top; Johnny ordered a plain cappuccino and some toasts.

"Oh goodness, what is even that?" asked Farah with a pinch of disgust as the waitress laid an oval-shaped plate with three slices of toast bread on the little round table.

Johnny pointed at the first slice to the right: "This, is fried egg and avocado, annnnd.." he went on as he shifted his finger towards the other two, "this is cream cheese and smoked salmon, and this is salted peanut butter and pecans."

Farah groaned in disgust again and shook her head in a sign of disapproval.

"What?! Salted breakfast is underrated" objected Johnny with a shrug.
"I took you to the Holy Temple of comfort food, man, that's not comfort food!", and then she gestured at her breakfast, "this is comfort food! God, you're disappointing."
"Hey, speak for yourself!", Johnny took a generous crunchy bite out of the salmon toast, "besides -...", he paused for a moment, chewing in blissful enjoyment and swallowing, "dairy products make my tummy hurt."

"Uh-huh, right... What about that then?", cleverly observed Farah, pointing at the giant-ass cappuccino sitting on the little plate next to his food.

Johnny laughed sheepishly and gave her a sorry-not-sorry smirk.
"That... does make my tummy hurt, but I will be very brave about it."

"You are impossible".

Johnny didn't mind renouncing dairy products, or living lactose-free, he just couldn't give up a foamy, giant cappuccino with extra lactose in it. He would just live with the consequences of his actions.

The atmosphere was as peaceful as it gets: the two were enjoying the heavenly treat, sitting at that little round table for two just outside the café, surrounded by other customers who were enjoying their own treats and chatting happily at their tables. The air was chilly, but the sunlight hit them directly, warming them just enough, just the perfect amount.

After a generous sip of cappuccino, Johnny began to explain to his friend what had happened, offering a narration full of "I don't know why"s and "for some reason"s.
Farah listened carefully, in silence, until the end.

"...So yeah. This is pretty much it. It-it's ridiculous, I know, I cannot explain it to myself either."
She remained silent for a while, staring at him with concern on her face.
Then, another expression took over: this one resembled incredulity.

"Some people, I swear to God. Everyone's got their issues, I understand, but seriously..." she paused, and Johnny took another sip when she added, "...fuck this guy!"

Johnny immediately choked on his drink and began coughing wildly, causing half of the people in the dehors to turn to look at them.
He coughed and coughed and coughed, until he was finally able to calm down, tears forming in his eyes from the intense coughing.
What the FUCK did she just say?!
"What?! Are you nuts? What do you mean fuck him?"
"...I mean screw him!"
Johnny's face turned bright red. He couldn't even begin to formulate the faintest thought of THAT happening, he was aghast that she would even suggest that.
When Farah noticed his reaction and understood, she gasped and burst out laughing.
"I meant: to hell with him! Nasty!"
Johnny buried his (still vivid red) face in his hand and cried "Uugggh, please, can we forget this ever happened?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said back in reassurance, although she was barely able to contain her laughter still.

What an idiot. How could he misunderstand something with such an obvious meaning?
You know what, never mind. At least, it was okay to misunderstand, here, with her. She wouldn't have yelled at him for that. She was just amused. He felt lucky he had her and laughed along.

"No, seriously though. Don't let just any presumptuous piece of garbage treat you like this. Stand up for yourself. You don't have to yell back or be rude in return, just... Don't bend, stand rock solid. He doesn't deserve to have such power over you. Alright?" She smiled kindly, "I mean I could just go punch him in the face if you were okay with me ruining the piece of art..."
"Oh quit that, you" he laughed. Relieved. For the billionth time, he felt so lucky to have her.

Johnny had spent a very nice day with his friend: they went shopping for snacks, this time proper comfort food, brought the loot to Johnny's place and ate most of it sitting on the couch under a soft starry blanket, watching questionable TV shows.
It was super effective to improve his morale, and he went to sleep feeling a lot better than the night before.

Still, he didn't feel like staying at the help desk the next day at the library. Just not yet.
Or the day after that.
On the third day, too, he preferred to stay away from the public, doing whatever other task needed to be done - cleaning, dusting, dealing with the paperwork, checking the inventory. He wasn't running away from anyone, he promised himself, he just needed a break. Soon enough, he would have gone back to serving everyone with a smile; for today, however, he assigned himself to the dusting of the higher shelves in the elder tomes room - the room dedicated to old, stained encyclopedias and books of such kind.

Johnny was a little past halfway through the job now: the books on the shelves emanated a stench of dust and mould, which caused him to sneeze a few times, but he didn't mind. The room was quiet and faintly lit by low lights, the window blinds carefully closed to prevent the sunlight from ruining the books any further.

He was lost in his thoughts when someone quietly called for him.
"Johnny, someone's asking for you. At the desk."

Johnny was not expecting anyone, and he contemplated all possible options with every step he took down the ladder: as much as Farah cared about him, she was still very busy with classes and laboratories at university, and she usually didn't come without announcing herself first.
Shit, it better not be mom or dad.
He was already out of options when he approached the main room where the help desk awaited: Mrs Cath stood behind it, with a smug smile on her face.

In front of the desk, looking somewhat worried, stood Ghost.

Shit. What could he want from him now?
Was he not satisfied with how he left things the other day? Did he feel like adding a post-scriptum?
Johnny was not ready for that. He was anything but ready for that.

The first thing he thought of doing, instinctively, was to turn back and leave.
He wasn't going to go through the treatment today. If only both Ghost and Cath hadn't already seen him. Then again, Johnny figured, Cath was there as a witness: Ghost wouldn't scream at him or punch him in front of Cath, right? Even someone like him must have had limits.

Stand rock solid, the words of Farah echoed inside his head.
Johnny wanted to make his friend proud, just as strongly as he wished to get out of that situation - and avoid them man entirely, that is.
It was too late to run away now, anyway.

He walked towards the desk and stopped in front of Ghost, who hadn't taken his eyes away from him for a split second, staring intensely as he approached.

"Well, I will leave you guys to it" whispered Cath as she took leave, still wearing a mischievous smile.
Johnny felt his heart jump inside his chest - why was she leaving him alone with Ghost? He felt a lot less safe now, as if he had just failed plan A, and also plan B and C and D, and all that was left now was unconditional surrender. Fuck. His hands were shaking slightly, and a knot was forming inside his throat. Stand rock solid, stand rock solid. It was a lot easier said than done, goddamnit.

He turned around to face Ghost, bracing for the worst. The two stared into each other's eyes, neither of them saying a word, for a long moment.
Johnny noticed how Ghost looked somewhat different, this time: his stare was as intense as the last time, but it didn't betray any sign of arrogance or impatience as it did before; this time, he looked worried, tired, and even a bit scared himself.

There was something behind those brown eyes, and Johnny couldn't help but think that it was sadness - that kind of sadness that does not wash away with tears, it just sticks there, carefully hidden, chained tight.

It didn't make this any less scary for Johnny though; he took a big breath in, which was as shaky as his hands.
"Hi", said Ghost, in a tone of voice deeper than ever.

Johnny felt a shiver run down his spine, at the sound of that voice.
This emotional rollercoaster would have killed him, someday.

"Look-", began Johnny, trying to measure his words carefully, "can we just take this someplace else, please?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," echoed Ghost.

The last thing Johnny wanted was for the whole room to witness a scene again, so he led the way to the break room, Ghost following him quietly.

This felt too oddly different from the last time.

The break room was faintly lit by a mix of sconces and floor lamps, and furnished with velvety emerald armchairs and wooden coffee tables, on top of which were placed either desk lamps or potted plants. A big vending machine buzzed lazily against the wall, and in this room, too, there were a few bookcases filled with more books, potted succulents and potpourris. It was comfortable, even somewhat intimate in here.
And deserted, for some reason.

Alright, here goes nothing.

Johnny stopped and slowly turned around, trying to postpone the pain for a few additional milliseconds.
"Look," he began again, "I'm not sure what I have said or done wrong. I can see that you are upset with me but I honestly don't know what for and, well, if you told me now I will pay more attention in the future so that it won't happen again, or I'll just get off the help desk entirely if that sounded better for you...", and then he paused because he realized he said the whole thing in one breath and was now almost out of air.

Maybe, the more Johnny had talked, the less time was left for Ghost to go ape on him.

Ghost didn't say anything, nor he frowned at Johnny. Instead, after a brief pause, he chuckled, looking genuinely amused.
Johnny was tempted to chuckle along, had he not learned the hard way not to do that around the man.

In fact, predictably enough, Ghost became serious again. "I came to apologize."

Johnny's mouth dropped open a bit, in shock. What? Apologize?

"Huh?", was all he managed to say.

"I was an arse to you the other day. It was inappropriate, it was bad, and I was an arse. You are not at fault for anything, I just had a rough couple days and I let it out on you. I owe you an apology."

Johnny was astonished by the change of character: Ghost was apologizing to him now. As much as he felt surprised, it still didn't feel safe to let down his guard. He didn't say anything, his blue eyes shifting between Ghost's face and all sorts of other parts of the room in embarrassment. Fuck he was truly speechless.

Then his eyes fell on Ghost's hands, which were holding a little silky blue pouch in front of his chest.
When Ghost noticed, he suddenly got a bit nervous, and said, in a tone that pretended to be careless: "Oh- this, uh, this... It's nothing really, I just, I thought I would offer a silly token of apology, it's...", he shrugged, never finishing that sentence.

Johnny's heart began to truly race now. Ghost had brought him a gift?
It couldn't be true.

"Wait... You brought that, for me?" cautiously asked Johnny in a feeble whisper, wide-eyed.

Ghost simply handed the pouch towards Johnny, turning his eyes away and blushing lightly (was it Johnny's imagination or was the man really blushing?). "It's nothing, really." Shit, he was embarrassed, it was almost cute to witness that.

Johnny took the blue silk between his fingers, looking now at the pouch, now at Ghost.
The package was relatively heavy, roughly as heavy as a book, but it could easily fit in one hand like a desktop mouse.
He looked at Ghost once again and politely asked, "Mind if I... open?"

"Yeah, no, go ahead."

He untied the black rope and opened the pouch: what came out was a beautiful handmade wooden statuette of a fox.
The fox, painted a beautiful bright shade of orange, was in a sitting pose, the tail wrapped around its body, and the head turned to look up.
It was very finely crafted in great detail. Simply gorgeous. Johnny was mesmerized. He admired the little fox in awe for a little longer, turning it in all directions between his hands. "Wow... I don't know what to say, this is beautiful... You didn't have to."

Ghost shrugged again. There was something disarming about that stare - bittersweet, melancholic, tired. It was like diving in a dark molasses of emotions.

"Thank you", murmured Johnny. "And don't worry about what happened. We all have bad days, I understand that. I guess I myself messed up, too."

They stood like that some more time, enjoying that sort of truce in silence.

A group of teenagers came in chatting about how hungry they were and debating about which snack to purchase, Ghost tensed and said "Well, I've gotta go."

Johnny nodded and gestured with the pouch to thank him again. He liked that sort of truce more than he was willing to admit, he possibly even believed in it.

As they reached the crossroads, Ghost said, without facing him, "see ya, mate", and headed towards the exit.

"Yeah, see you", echoed Johnny, hoping that the guy couldn't see the wide grin on his face.

He went back to the help desk, feeling a new kind of warmth spreading through his chest.
Many voices were speaking in his head now: some were half screaming and half fluttering in the air, some were warning to be careful, some were completely sceptical, and some were crying with joy. Johnny decided to ignore each and every single one of them: no overthinking, if possible, just enjoying the warmth.

He chuckled a bit at the absurdity of the whole thing: all of this for a piece of paper.

Aw shit, the paper!!
He still had it in his pocket!

Johnny didn't think about it a moment longer. He shove his hand in the pocket of his coat, which hung on the wall behind him, he fetched the paper and ran after Ghost, hoping to still catch him around.

He ran as fast as he could, sprinting past the corridors and the hallway, and down the entrance stairs. The cold of the evening hit him as he reached the sidewalk outside the building: he looked to the right, then to the left, and there he was, about 200 feet away from him, waiting at the bus stop with a couple other people.

The bus should have been there in minutes, he had no time to lose: he ran towards the bus stop, screaming "RILEY!" to get his attention. Ghost turned around immediately, looking a bit confused.

Johnny stopped a few feet away from the stop, panting for the strain, then he raised his hand over his head with the paper and said "I got it!"

The expression on Ghost's face immediately changed to one of shocking surprise. He swiftly walked towards Johnny, wide-eyed, and gently took the note back. "You... You found it..." he said, and although it was Johnny the one who ran like hell, it was Ghost who sounded breathless now.

"Heh... Yeah... ." Alright, they both sounded breathless.

Ghost stared at his reading list, motionless as if he had just seen an actual ghost.

"....Thank you. Man, thank you so much" he said.

And as Ghost stared at his precious list with that expression of incredulity, Johnny saw the sadness resurface behind those eyes. Indubitably.

Chapter Text

Johnny's bedroom was engulfed by the darkness of the evening, only some parts lit by faint lights from the outside.
Johnny laid in his bed; He held his arms up towards the ceiling, holding the statuette between his hands over his face, examining it again and again.

He couldn't believe it. That was from Ghost.
The conversation of that evening replayed over and over in his head, he played it on repeat as to seal every bit of it into his memory.
That was such a beautiful token, such a thoughtful gesture. He pulled his arms to his chest, holding the fox close to his heart: no matter what would happen next, he would have cherished that one gesture for sure.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, the fox laying by his side until he woke up the next day.

A long time passed before the Ghost appeared again at the library, entire days that felt empty and never-ending for Johnny: why would he come back so soon?, he told to himself, he borrowed two books not long ago, I'm sure he's busy reading those. He has no reason to come here anytime soon.
It made a lot of sense, theoretically speaking; and yet, every time someone walked in the room, Johnny found himself hoping that it was him.

Him, as in someone he didn't know at all; they had barely interacted once or twice, and most of the times it was not exactly on good terms".
In fairness, he should have remembered how he felt in those times he had been yelled at. But it felt like that was a whole other person, like he had known two distinct Ghosts. And he had to admit he was looking forward to seeing the second Ghost again, possibly soon.

As the days passed by, Johnny began to doubt that the conversation they had that other evening had ever happened at all: he would think about it multiple times during the day, and every night he would still find one piece of proof that yes, it did happen - the fox, sitting patiently on his night table.

Eventually, Johnny got distracted by something new and exciting happening at the library: the council had decided that this year the library would observe the National Office Chocolate Day, for which every member of the staff was invited to bring their own chocolate treat to the feast.
Office Chocolate Day, he had never heard of such a specific celebration, the day in which you bring chocolate to the office, but it was an excuse valid enough to treat everyone to something nice.

Now, it was true that, during his college years, Johnny had slowly embraced the abominable eating habits of the overworked student - typically consisting of dehydrated or canned food and, during the more intense weeks of the semester, loads of caffeine assumed through the most unhealthy varieties of drinks; the most genuine thing that wasn't consumed at the school's cafeteria was probably Chinese takeaway, and that was pretty much all. However, he did come from a loving family of humble origins and was well taught on how to provide his friends with a hearty home-cooked meal from time to time, and he also didn't entirely suck at baking. Therefore, he decided he would bake chocolate cupcakes.

It had to be something special, though, not just your plain everyday chocolate cupcakes: it had to have frosting and decorations.
And so he set out on an adventure to the baking supply store, hoping to find everything he needed - especially some decorations fitting for the occasion, since decorations are usually the hardest thing to find in supermarkets; something reading-themed, possibly, like books made with sugar or marzipan, to place on top of his cupcakes.

The baking supply store had all sorts of things, Johnny could have spent his whole life browsing through the countless products they had in there: eventually, he returned home with two bags of ready-to-use frosting mix of peppermint and white chocolate flavour, brown-coloured sprinkles, tiny white chocolate curlies and red paper ramekins with polka dots - adorable, just perfect.
As for the themed decoration, he wasn't as lucky, but he did find something book-ish enough: a box of sugary graduation-themed decorations - scrolls and quills, graduation hats, open books.

It felt a bit ironic, honestly, but Johnny tried his best not to notice the irony.

Office Chocolate Day was in the middle of the week, but nevertheless, all the members of the staff made a big deal out of it: they hung posters outside of the building, laid decorations inside (mostly Valentine's Day decorations since they didn't really have Office Chocolate Day decorations, not that they existed) and spread the word to the public.

On that afternoon, the one before the celebration, all was ready and many of the regular visitors to the library were excited.
The list of staff members and visitors who had agreed on bringing chocolate had grown remarkably, and Johnny felt happy to be a part of that.
It was nice to contribute to the making of a pleasant evening for the community, and it was all he ended up thinking about.

Not a thought for people whom he wanted to see again so badly, not one for self-consciousness about college.
Just. Yummy frosting and soft chocolate batter. It had to be perfect. He couldn't wait to go home and get at it.

He was speaking to one of his colleagues of the staff about the final details for the next day's party (we need paper cups, and obviously plates, and forks at least!), he almost didn't notice Ghost as he walked in.

It was a bolt out of the blue; a bolt that struck Johnny right across his chest, when Ghost glanced at him but did not return his greeting.
Did Ghost not see him wave his hand? Sure, Johnny didn't exactly jump and scream and say 'hi' out loud, but he thought he made a gesture noticeable enough...

Perhaps Ghost was nearsighted or simply distracted. There was no reason to be worried, they had made amends, right? They were cool.

Johnny wasn't sure if he should've chased the man through the aisles of the room, just to say hi. Eventually, he decided to wait by the help desk, since Ghost had to walk by it to get out of the main room.

Ghost came indeed by the desk a while after, a while that felt like aeons in which Johnny had repeatedly looked around hoping to see him: he looked as grumpy as usual, as "I just got out of the gym" as usual, as gorgeous as usual.

He approached the desk and blurted, pointing his thumb behind him:

" 's it always this lively in here? Thought this was a place of silence and all that."

Hi to you too, I am glad to see you too, I sorta kinda slightly missed your face too, but never mind all of this!

"Hi," attempted Johnny, cautiously, "well, it's just that everybody is buzzin' since we are hosting our Office Chocolate Day party tomorrow", he explained, air-quoting at the name of the peculiar celebration.

"I beg you pardon?" replied Ghost raising an eyebrow, looking far from amused, bored even.

"You should come!".
It was only after he had said that, that Johnny realized how bold of a move that was.
Shit fuck shit did he sound too excited? Inappropriate? Or worse, did he sound like he was trying to flirt with someone who would have gladly punched him in the face only a week earlier?
To contain the potential damage, Johnny swiftly added, "Everyone is welcome, we are having cakes and stuff."

Ghost groaned and looked around at the unusual amount of people being unusually chatty.

"You ain't going to make this bloody mess the entire afternoon, are you?!"

"Oh, no. We will be dead silent until 6 o'clock. Sharp. Then, we might... Be making a wee bit of a bloody mess..."

Johnny tried not to be intimidated by Ghost reacting to everything he said with a perpetual resting bitch face.

"Joking. No mess. Just free dopamine."

Ghost made a half scoff, half chuckle sound - better than groaning, Johnny figured.
"Fucking unbelievable..." he muttered as he left. And just like that, he was gone.

And there it was again - the feeling of knotting inside Johnny's stomach, the vivid sensation of having fucked up, for reasons unknown.

The cupcake batter was ready and waiting to be poured into the ramekins.
Johnny was a little concerned about the amount of flour he had used, as well as the proportions when replacing butter with margarine. Nevertheless, the batter looked pretty good, very chocolatey.

He filled all the ramekins halfway and slid the tray into the oven. He had to cook two more of such batches.
He knew there would have been a lot of downtime between batches cooking and cooling, and he was ready for the wait with a sumptuous basket of caramel popcorn he had bought at the supermarket for the cooking night.

He set a timer on his phone and turned on his TV: it wasn't a premium 4K home theatre with a subwoofer or anything, but thanks to his part-time job he was able to afford a few appliances.
The TV turned on to a reality cooking show, a mid-season episode: roughly half of the participants were left in the competition, and this time they were battling against each other by trying to concoct a majestic fish soup. It was intriguing, even though it felt very confusing to watch all that fish cooking while eating sweet popcorn.

After the chef he was rooting for classified 7th out of 8, Johnny switched channels until he found a documentary about birds around the Amazon River.

How did that song go again?

You're the bird, I'm the worm and it's plain to see
That we were meant to be...

It reminded him of his childhood years, back when he used to listen to The Bird and the Worm in the secrecy of his bedroom, thinking about a person he had a massive crush on but to whom he would never tell - first because he couldn't understand those feelings yet, then because he was too shy to confess, then because the boy he liked turned out to have a girlfriend. Or because the crush was on Ryan Gosling, which considerably lowered Johnny's chances.
Still, it felt good to have butterflies in his stomach as a young boy; Johnny had dear memories of those days, well, at least of those peaceful moments.

As he went to load the second batch of cupcakes, Johnny found himself wondering:

How did Ghost Riley look as a kid?

He smiled at himself as he pictured a younger, tinier version of Ghost, with narrow shoulders and skinny arms, retainers and scruffy hair, soccer socks falling down to the ankles and bruised knees. And the same black hoodie he saw Ghost wear earlier, one that's obviously 20 sizes too large for a 7-year-old kid.

"Get lost, Johnny, I'm not playing with you. I play alone and only alone because I'm the coolest kid on the block. I think you're a frog face, Johnny. You don't even have a cool name like mine. And also, playing the piano is for girls. Now if you'll allow me, imma wipe my nose with my 4 feet long sleeve. Oh, and, also also, I am not coming to the lame party tomorrow."

Ghost was obviously not gonna come to the Chocolate party.
Well, he didn't technically say no, but he made it obvious enough.

Whatever, I am picturing him as a kid now, he doesn't intimidate me. He must have been a kid at some point.

What the hell, Johnny, leave Ghost to his grumpy business. Also, he is definitely not coming.

But in case he did, those cupcakes better be sheer perfection.

By the time Johnny had finished with the cupcakes, it was past midnight.

He carefully placed them in a box and stored them inside the refrigerator: he stopped to take one more look at the final product and considered himself satisfied with his work. Now he really had to get some sleep, though - he had to work in the morning, Charlotte would probably make another scene if he were to arrive late. She was exceptionally loud and impatient, most definitely the loudest of Johnny's clients.

"Evening, Johnny. Nice party you're throwing."

"Ghost! I... didn't think you would come."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world. Do I get some cake too or was I not good enough?"

"Sure! Make yourself at home, there's plenty of everything."

"Not just anything, Johnny. You know I want to taste YOUR chocolate."

"Oh. Here, take one."

"Nah. You feed me that."

Johnny took a cupcake off the tray and handed it over to Ghost, who took a generous bite out of it off his hand.

"Hm... Fuck, these are good. Bake some more of these for me sometime."

"Y-you... You have some frosting on your nose..."

"Huh, do I? Would you help me with that, Johnny?"

His face leaned in...

Johnny's eyes barged open as he suddenly woke up.

What the HELL was that?!

Oh, mother of God, had Johnny just had some sort of cursed erotic dream about Ghost?
He turned face-down under the blankets and buried his face in the pillow.
Please, please, please good Gods of the Universe, delete this. Make so that it never happened. The dream never existed, it never crossed his thoughts. Ugh.

Johnny spent 15 minutes in pure embarrassment and agony in the middle of the night, but soon enough he drifted back to sleep.
Fully knowing that he would pass out on the spot if Ghost were to show up the next day.
Well, fortunately for him, Ghost was definitely not going to show up.

6:15 P.M.
A crowd had already begun forming in the break room for the party.
It was as large a crowd as the staff expected it to be, and possibly a bit more: everyone was chatting, making new acquaintances, bringing last-minute additions to the buffet which turned out enormous.
There were all sorts of things, all possible conceivable sorts of things: plain chocolate cake and cookies, brownies, meringues, truffles, pralines - you name it, someone had brought it.

Farah too paid a quick visit to the party, she had a few treats and strongly advised Johnny and his colleagues to do this sort of thing more often.
Amazing idea, do it again. Soon, possibly.

The atmosphere was quieting down, and Johnny felt very satisfied with the outcome of the party.
He had even registered new people to the library service, for a total of twelve new membership cards handed over.
These sorts of events clearly had potential.

Johnny was discussing this very thing with a lady from the staff, when she looked up at something behind him and asked: "Can I help you with something, Sir?"

John instinctively turned around, and his face turned pale as a sheet of paper.

There he stood. Sure as god damn hell, he had come.

Johnny felt the life evaporating out of his lungs.

Here is where I die.

"Umh... Ghost... You... You came..."

"Y'alright mate? You look like you just seen a ghost. No pun intended."

"No I'm- I'm fine, yeah, I just... I really, really didn't expect to see you here."

Ghost shrugged. This guy was completely unfathomable. "Been in the reading room forever, I thought I might as well pay a visit."

"Well... I'm glad you came." Johnny said, trying his best to wear a genuine smile. He meant it, he really was glad to see him, although he didn't sound very convincing when he said that. For ...reasons. That he was not going to say. Ever.
Also, when did the man come in and got to the reading room? He hadn't seen him walk in since he clocked in at 3 P.M.

"Baked anything yourself?" Ghost asked as his eyes scanned through the tables with the goods.

"Actually, yes" said Johnny with a pinch of pride.

Ghost reacted with a smirk, an actual half smile that instantly resulted in Johnny's stomach doing backflips.
It was unfair, how perfect that smile looked.

"Bullshit. Show me."

"I'm offended. Here, this way." he guided Ghost to his glorious cupcakes, of which there was more or less half left.

Ghost stared for a while, his face not betraying any reaction as usual. "And you made these?"

"With me own hands, mate."

"And is it also edible or just fancy Schmancy?"

Johnny kept playful and crossed his arms in a pretend-pout. "I refuse to answer that."

"Well tough luck, I'm just like St. Thomas: I won't believe it until I have seen it for myself."

And, that said, he got himself a cupcake from the tray and gently took a bite.

It took some effort for Johnny not to just stare at him, hypnotized, as he examined the taste of his sample.
Do not stare. Even if he looks so unbelievably gentle despite his towering figure, positively do NOT stare.

"Hm. It ain't bad at all", Ghost finally decreed.

"You know what, you are god damn right", sassed back Johnny, as he grabbed a cupcake himself and took a bite.

The two stood there, eating their treats, in silence - until Ghost gestured at his nose and told Johnny: "You got icing on your nose."

Icing on your nose, icing on your nose. That sentence echoed infinite times in his brain.
This, this is the moment I pass out.
It couldn't be real. He didn't just say that. God, what did Johnny do to deserve this?
If this was another dream, it was getting seriously not funny.
Not cool, brain, very much not cool. Please stop. Please please stop this, wake me up.

Except this felt awfully real to be a dream.

"...Oi?" called Ghost.

"...What? Oh, yeah..."

Ghost stared at him, expressionless, then he turned around like nothing had happened.
"Go get a napkin, you look like an idiot."

Chapter Text

That evening at the library could have gone better.

Johnny had felt so embarrassed, all because of a stupid weird dream he had about Ghost - but aside from that, Ghost had been nice to him; hell, he had been even... playful.

And he had smiled.

Johnny would have never forgotten that smile Riley had worn on that day;
It was like getting a glimpse of a beautiful rainbow in the sky, after hours of tireless pouring rain.
Somehow, it sparked a timid fire of hope in Johnny: even for the perfect storm that was Ghost, it couldn't rain forever - with a hint of presumption, Johnny could make believe that, maybe, this was a bit also thanks to him.
Maybe, perhaps. He hoped so.

That same night, Johnny struggled to fall asleep.
It was a situation he was familiar with from when he had faced his darkest days as a student: many nights he would toss and turn, restless and yet so impossibly tired, constantly worried about all the things that could go wrong; there was no escape from that state of angst, that merciless judge who would never stop telling him that once again he hadn't done well enough, and never would.
Even his dreams were tainted with nightmares whenever he would manage to get some sleep, resulting in the same crap sleep quality and the same exhaustion for days on end.

In that sense, that sleeplessness felt familiar but entirely different at the same time.
He was tossing and turning restlessly as he used to, only this time he was haunted by good thoughts: the picture of a smile, indelible, unwavering, breathtaking. No matter how strongly he tried to take his mind away from that image, it would always reappear. It was invincible.

He snuggled himself with his spare pillow, allowing himself to smile, for his mind had finally begun stating the obvious:
he was possibly, slightly, kind of developing a crush on Ghost.

"You see, ma'am, I've got this... We might call it a crush, on someone. It's like having someone stuck in yer head, see? Can't get rid of the bloody thing. It's like I'm being haunted."

Johnny went on speaking his mind as he ran his morning chores with Charlotte - not that she was listening to any of his rantings.
She no longer seemed as excited as she was a few weeks ago, when Johnny came around, and he felt a little dispirited by that.
At any rate, he tried to talk to her as much as he could, within the limits of not looking like a fool for talking essentially to himself the whole time.

"I mean, it's a kind of haunting that does no harm. It's not gonna kill me or drain me soul oot. It's pretty much like an intrusive thought.
See, the thing is... I feel like I got a faint shot at being friends with this person, I cannae let an intrusive thought get in the way of that.
And I won't. Nuh-uh, it won't have my soul, better yet it will be exorcised before you can say boo!"

Charlotte didn't say boo!, predictably, or anything else. She just kept minding her business.

He chuckled and added to himself, "Aye, I got this."

Johnny wasn't sure what to expect from Ghost in the days that followed the Office Chocolate thing: sure as hell, he didn't expect to find him regularly attending the reading room, nearly every day.

He would find Ghost already sitting there when he clocked in, at the oblong table in the farthest corner of the room, his broad figure wrapped up into baggy hoodies which changed colours but had the same curious print on all of them (a stylized face of a dog, probably a beagle), hardly ever leaving his position until he left in the late afternoon.

Ghost had quickly gained notoriety among the guests of the library. Soon, the habitués got to learn one fundamental thing about him: he was not a sociable guy.

On the very contrary, he detested having anyone disrupting his quiet: one day, he ended up being object of attention of a couple of girls around Johnny's age, who had sat next to him and tried engaging in small talk slash flirting with him, trying to earn his interest. Instead, he just lifted his gaze off the book and pierced them through and through with a glare so deadly he had received no other unwanted visitors ever since.

As the days passed in the same fashion, Johnny grew to appreciate that new situation of steady burn. It allowed him to observe Ghost in tranquillity, from a distance, instead of having to go through sudden and unpredictable interactions, which usually felt like playing Russian roulette with five loaded bullets out of six.

He became familiar with some subtle gestures that went unnoticed at first: for instance, it took Ghost remarkably long to flip through the pages, a longer while when he showed signs of tension, which usually consisted in stroking the edge of the page repeatedly between his index and thumb or fidgeting with things like his leather bracelet or the hoodie laces. Ghost was extremely subtle even in those spontaneous nervous gestures, unlike Johnny who would always pick at his fingers and nails so incessantly that he had a few old ladies explicitly tell him to stop doing that sometimes.

On a sweeter note, he also noticed that Ghost had his own way of grounding himself, although he was pretty sure the man didn't do it consciously: he would run his hand through his hair, moving it slowly and gently, as if he was giving himself pets.
Literally, if his hand had moved a little quicker, it would have totally looked like he was petting a dog.
Like he was telling himself 'good boy' for doing such a good job at reading.

Well, it was all mere speculation of Johnny anyway. He could have misread everything he'd seen.

But there was something that undeniably, objectively happened every now and then: Ghost would take his eyes off the book to stare back at Johnny for a moment, never once smiling or saying a word, then proceed to dive back into his reading.

Surprisingly, even though he had gotten caught staring at the guy multiple times, Johnny did not worry much about coming off as a lurking psycho: it only felt to him like they were looking out for each other, even though they wouldn't say a word, nor spare a gesture. It felt ridiculously reassuring to Johnny, and he hoped that Ghost felt the same way somehow.

Come to think of it, if Ghost had a problem with Johnny's behaviour, he would have already made him regret the staring.

But he didn't.

Johnny hesitated.
He had kept the bloody thing in there for ages, it leered ominously every time he opened the backpack: it was his heavy cross, always on his back, weighing both on his conscience and physically on his shoulders.

Johnny staled in front of his open backpack, gazing at that unnerving memento of something he was supposed to do for a long time now, but haven't yet dared to: getting back to studying.

He sat there, behind the usual desk of the main hall, trying to build up the strength to pull the God-forsaken thing out, feeling his stomach contract and the nausea build up as he tried.
He could do it. He had done it a thousand times in the past, it couldn't be that difficult now.

He turned away to glance at the reading area. He saw Ghost, sitting there as usual, by himself with his book.
The sight of Ghost was somewhat reassuring to Johnny - that is, as long as he didn't snap at him or something of the sort.

Johnny had made the resolution to approach Ghost for a few days now, but there was no way in hell that he'd just go, place a hand on the man's shoulder and say "Hey, how's it going out there?" - that approach would have led to, undoubtedly, beheading.

He needed a valid excuse. And very few excuses were valid for sitting next to some guy in a reading room.
Therefore, Johnny decided that he would kill two birds with one stone. It would only do him good, right?

He reviewed this reasoning once again, it was flawless.

All he had to do was grab the book and head over there.

Johnny stood in front of Ghost, unsure whether he should have asked for permission or just sit wherever he pleased.
It wasn't forbidden to sit wherever he pleased, naturally, but he didn't want to risk upsetting Ghost over such a futility.

After a moment, Ghost rose his head and gave him a confused (and annoyed) look: "Need something?"

Shit, uh...

"No, I..." Johnny chuckled nervously, "umh, mind if I join you?" he added as he gestured at the giant book he had in his arms.

Ghost didn't blink. "Go ahead. Place is public for a reason."

Johnny had learnt that things were considerably easier with Ghost, once he started to interpret his "not no" as a "yes".

So he sat down, wearing an imperceptible smile, and placed his book on the table.

He had chosen to sit right in front of Ghost, on that far corner, despite the table had something like 20 spare seats he could have sat more comfortably at: Ghost could have easily told him to move elsewhere, it would have made perfect sense, and his mission would have failed.

But Ghost remained silent, and Johnny was extremely grateful for that.

He took a good look around, his arms crossed on top of the closed book: he couldn't remember the last time he had sat there to read, it made him feel nostalgic.

"...Ad-vanced... Organic Chemistry." Ghost was leaning in, trying to read Johnny's book title. "Ugh, glad I don't have to read that."

Johnny let out a sharp exhale. "....Yeah."

Perhaps this was the green light for Johnny to say something?
You really could never know, when it came to Ghost.

Nothing would ever change if he didn't try, though, so he took a breath in and asked Ghost: "What's that you're reading?"

Ghost seemed embarrassed by that question, as if though he had been caught red-handed, but he didn't snap at Johnny.
He closed the book halfway and checked the title, perhaps to make sure he hadn't forgotten: "Uh it's... Around the World in Eighty Days. Been on this fucking chapter the whole day."

Another round at the Russian roulette; Johnny decided to pull the trigger again.

"You got trouble reading?"

Johnny was on thin ice and was trying to figure-skate without falling in freezing water.

Ghost shrugged, no emotion showing on his face except caution. "Sort of. I graduated fairly easily with those bloody books like yours, but I'd be damned if I could finish reading Jules Verne by the end of the year."

Now he looked frustrated. Johnny felt empathetic towards him, it's a true pain in the ass to be unable to read a book you have to read.
But that was a fiction book, which kinda perplexed Johnny: did Ghost have to read that, perhaps as a form of therapy? Or was it just inherent stubborness?

"Shit, man, believe me, I understand." he said, trying to be of comfort.

Ghost didn't say anything. This time he served Johnny the deadly glare, meaning:

No, Johnny. You do not understand. In fact you have no fucking idea what I went through.

Johnny felt hurt by that reaction. He was just trying to help, as always. Truthfully, though, he had it coming; perhaps he really did not have a fucking clue. Which potentially made him an insensitive piece of shit.

Perhaps this was a bad idea. He should have kept to himself.

Johnny pushed the thought away, determined not to make a fool of himself again: he opened the book instead, and began reading some words and looking at some pictures - and sure as hell, the distress was swift to kick in.

It first came as a sensation of cold sweat on his palms: then, he could feel his breath getting shorter and shorter, his mind getting dizzy, the words printed on the page turning into an unintelligible blurry mess, as if they were written in symbols he had never seen before, and couldn't make out.

He was safe in his library, no exams in sight, but that didn't matter much to the voice that screamed repeatedly in his head: I will never be able to learn all this, I will never be able to learn all this, I will never be able to learn all this.

How's that for a way not to make a fool of himself? Having a panic attack in front of Ghost?

Johnny began trying to deviate his thoughts into something else: what was he going to cook for dinner? Perhaps he could roast some pumpkin, or cook a ratatouille and invite Farah over. He mentally went through all the steps needed to prepare the dishes, from the washing of the vegetable to the balancing of the spice - just as the school therapist advised him to do, back in the day.

He had mentally prepared a delicious tray of ratatouille, and grounded himself back fairly well.

He could feel his breath becoming more regular, his ribcage expanding, coming loose from the clench slowly.

When he looked back up, he saw Ghost glancing at him, his eyes wider than before, looking concerned.

"You alright, man?"

What to say?
Even if he wanted to, Johnny couldn't tell. No, obviously, he wasn't alright, but how was he supposed to say what was wrong?
Words got stuck in a lump in his throat, there was no way he would just tell Ghost what just happened.

He hesitated for a long while, tears threatening to stream uncontrollably down his cheeks. Took a few breaths to keep his cool.

Then, he looked down, embarrassed, tired, afraid that on top of this shit he would have also pissed off Ghost once again.

"How... How do I read this thing?" He whispered, in a cracking voice.

Ghost stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly as he thought of which words to choose.

Ultimately, he looked back at his book and said: "How would you read this book?"

Johnny stared at Around the World in Eighty Days: what did he mean? Was that a trick question?
He bit his lip as he wondered, his mind still a bit phased out.

"From.... Page One?"

Duh? Unless it was a trick?

Ghost glanced back up into Johnny's eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth, in a knowing smile.

God, shit, the warmth that spread in Johnny's chest as he smiled like that.

He was right: it was an obvious question with an obvious answer - just begin from Page One

However, Johnny wasn't entirely at ease with that result and sighed.

"I know, but... Then what-.."

Ghost gestured at his own book again.

"Then, when you're done reading Page One, you flip the page and you go to Page Two."

And as he said that, he smiled again.

By the end of that evening, much to his incredulity, Johnny had successfully read an entire chapter. And the fact that there were at least ten more Chapters to go wasn't so scary anymore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 07

Chapter Text

Chapter 08

[Johnny]

Johnny was still thinking about his little friend and his bookmarks when Ghost dropped that nuke on him.

He didn't see the man coming, and couldn't say for how long he had been there, leaning against the wall, looking absorbed in his thoughts.
He also didn't look quite alright, as if he had a headache or something. Perhaps he was looking for some aspirin, Johnny thought.

"Everything okay?" Johnny asked him, and Ghost seemed to snap back to the present moment.

They stared at each other for a second, before Ghost suddenly asked:

"Do you wanna go grab a coffee with me?"

Johnny's mind went completely blank.

He could hear a very distant thought, which was suggesting something extremely stupid:
had Ghost Riley just asked Johnny MacTavish out right now? Like on a coffee date?

As the distant thought articulated the D-word inside Johnny's head, all his other reasonable thoughts started a brawl, fighting tooth and claw against the unspeakable idiocy that was Ghost asking him out on a date. It was sheer mayhem of swinging fists, he never thought that his mind could get so messy so fast.

Johnny tried to stutter something in reply, but right as he inhaled to speak, he choked on his own saliva and began coughing consequently.

Well, if anything, it bought him time.

There was no way in hell Ghost had asked him out.
Guy was a dick to him most of the time, and Johnny could imagine him as anything but the romantic type.
And even if he was the type, Johnny would've been the very last person he would've asked out.

It was just so stupid, such a ridiculous idea, Johnny felt like an idiot for even thinking about the option for a brief moment.

Ghost just needed a coffee, chrissake, he obviously wasn't asking him out.

Meanwhile, Ghost had patiently waited for him to say something, studying Johnny's reaction looking a little amused until, most likely exasperated by the time it took him to get his shit together, Ghost spoke up again:

"Can you like, take a ten-minute leave from here? Is that okay?"

"Ah- uh- you mean now? Yea no, sure, someone'll cover."

"Great. My blood is begging for coffee." said Ghost, more to himself than to Johnny. "Any tips on where to get some?"

I mean, he obviously just needed a coffee.

"Umh, sure, come with me. My treat." Johnny said back, trying not to notice that this little misuderstanding had his hands shaking a little.

What a silly little idiot he was.

[Ghost]

Fuck, he had screwed up big time.

He had just asked Johnny out, and now he fully regretted his actions.
How could he allow such a major slip?
You don't ask someone whom you've tried ever so desperately to push away on a date. This was quite the opposite of what Riley had planned, which was essentially to keep Johnny away from him, at a safe distance.

He also strongly disliked the idea of just trying to slip inside Johnny's pants.
Hell, Johnny was not cannon fodder: Riley had no problem taking some fresh meat home, every now and then, but Johnny...
There was something ice-cold and merciless about one-night stands, he felt like he should have protected Johnny from that. That guy deserved better than that.

This was a huge mistake, anyway. Should have never happened.
It was but a result of a brief moment of weakness.

And now he stood there like an imbecile, in front of the damage he'd just done.
Johnny was probably picking the nicest words to reject him now.

Riley was torn between opposite feelings: he was desperately hoping to be rejected, and at the same time he feared rejection.
The idea of being rejected by Johnny hurt him. Well, he would deserve the hurt, since it was his mistake in the first place.

Perhaps there was a way to fix this mistake, or contain the damage at least.
Riley had tried to make it look like a necessity, instead of a leisure activity. Made it seem less of a date and more of a chore.
Johnny seemed to have taken the bait, but still they were going out for a coffee. At least the damage was contained.

Johnny had guided them into the break room of the library. Where the hell was he going? Was he going to grab a jacket? The exit was completely elsewhere.

The two stopped in front of the vending machines: Johnny pulled something out of the pocket of his varsity jacket - looked like a USB drive - and plugged it into the coffee machine.
It wasn't a USB drive, but a cashless electronic key for vending machines: so that was the coffee they were gonna get.
Riley chuckled under his breath: either Johnny had completely misunderstood his intentions, or had truly shitty standards for coffee (and for dates).
Both options were kind of hilarious.

Less hilarious was the fact (yes, not a possibility, an undeniable fact) that this was a rejection. A polite one at that, delivered in the less painful way possible, but still a rejection.

Riley felt relieved, albeit a little disappointed.
Why would he feel disappointed? It would have been a mistake to go out with Johnny. Riley would have felt like shit for doing such a thing.
These mixed feelings were so confusing, Riley hated being so confused about this.

"Ah- sorry, I gotta take this. You go ahead! It's my treat as I said," said Johnny after pulling his phone out and checking the name on the dial screen.

He picked up the phone, greeting the person on the other side. They engaged in some small talk regarding what he had been up to today, and then the call took a rather weird and mysterious turn:

"Nope, can't sorry, I'm taking Charlotte out... Then I gotta take out Princess... Yes- yes, I did have Charlotte earlier today, but I gotta do her twice a day and I can't be late, or else she'll get grumpy and lonely and-... No, tomorrow I'm taking out Bernie, I'm doing him at 8 A.M. and then back to Charlotte and I'm staying with her 'til lunch. Oh and there's also Marilyn and Leo. Look- let's reschedule for the weekend, alright? Got unusually busy days ahead. Alright. You too. Bye."

Riley wasn't one for eavesdropping, but he did overhear that bizarre conversation while he waited for his coffee, and couldn't help feeling a bit intrigued.

"Sorry, 't was a friend of mine."

Riley retrieved his espresso and Johnny stepped in, pushing the cappuccino button.
It was probably an atrocious cappuccino, compared to the one served by an actual barista. This guy had no self-respect.

They stood there like a pair of morons, at their vending-machine-date, paper cups in hand.
Riley felt so awkward in that silence, it made him feel itchy all over.

"I feel like I should ask what the hell you were talking about on the phone."

Again, Riley was definitely not the nosy type, but he was dying of curiosity.

Johnny smiled sheepishly and looked down at his coffee cup.
"That was... the weekly schedule at my part-time job.

"...You take people out as a part-time job? Or...?"

Johnny looked at him confused, and then he burst out in hearty laughter.
The sight of Johnny laughing sent a shockwave of warmth through Riley's very core. All the glaciers he thought to be perennial inside of him were shaking now.
Their eyes met, Johnny's still beaming with amusement.
Was Riley ever going to get used to those eyes?

"No, mate. I'm a dog sitter."

"Oh." He hadn't thought of that. Of course.
"So, Charlotte's a dog." He observed, feeling his face flushing red.
What an idiot. What a nosy idiot. He should have paid a lot more attention in the future.

Johnny ran a hand down his mohawk and composed himself.
"She is! The most talkative and prickly Spaniel I've ever seen."

Riley allowed himself to tilt up the corners of his mouth in a slight smile.
Picturing Johnny as he ran after a pack of four gigantic mastiffs who dragged him everywhere.
Hilarious.

"Dogs, huh." He said to himself.
"I'm more of a cat person myself."

He didn't expect Johnny to give a damn about that, which was pointless information.

Johnny chuckled. They both stared at the ground, neither of them aware that the other was chuckling to himself.

" 'Course you're a cat person," sassed Johnny with a cheeky smile, as if it was the most obvious conclusion ever.

"Tsk... Fuck off." said Riley, trying to sound harsh and offended.
He didn't sound convincing, not even to himself.

Now the thought of Johnny rejecting him weighed like a stone boulder on his chest.
He was never going to get used to those eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 09

A Wounded Lone Wolf
Part 1

After the awkward coffee date-not-date, Ghost seemingly disappeared.
Just as Johnny began to get used to their afternoon reading club, his pal vanished without leaving any trace.

On that last afternoon, once their coffee break had ended, the two had gone back to their reading station: Ghost hadn't said a word, barely lifted his eyes off his book, and in the end, he had left the library dismissing Johnny with a low "See ya".

He hadn't shown up in days now.
Johnny didn't frown upon it at first: perhaps Ghost was really sick with flu or had a family emergency, or simply decided to take a break from reading. As the absence prolonged, however, Johnny began replaying the memories of that last afternoon in his head - and the more he replayed those memories, the more the feelings of self-doubt were instilled inside of him.
It became increasingly obvious, now, that Ghost was through with Johnny.

And boy, did that hurt.
He felt like he was finally placing his feet on solid floor, but then Ghost pulled the rug, and John fell again.
And while he did blame Ghost at first, soon enough he decreed that nobody was to blame but himself: for Johnny had built up expectations all by himself, Ghost had never, not once, encouraged him to do so.

He knew nothing about Ghost.
Nothing except for his freckles, his reading list, an old scar on his left eyebrow.
He was a cat person and he struggled to read fiction. He had some job, and a name that he was never going to reveal to Johnny.
Johnny knew absolutely nothing about him.

And Ghost knew nothing about Johnny, too, since Ghost had never even bothered to ask.

It was hard to accept the truth, mainly because Johnny really liked what they had going on.
At the reading club they were there for each other, one's presence easing the other's struggles.

But now he had realized that he was wrong. This feeling was probably unrequited, and selfish: he was the one benefitting from Ghost's company, he had only assumed that it was the same way around.

This one fact had hit Johnny the night before, when he had seconded a very stupid idea: going out in hopes to find Ghost outside the library.
He was desperate for an explanation, or at least, he wanted to make sure that Ghost was doing fine;
Therefore, he had taken the bus to the only address Ghost had left of himself: the vet clinic.

Johnny had thought about what to tell Ghost once they would be face to face.

Hi, Ghost.
Sorry I invaded your personal space again, crossing your boundaries by coming here.
The thing is, I am so confused. I thought I was doing good, that we were good, but then you left and I started questioning everything.
Hell, I'm getting a little self-conscious about my mohawk, even. I'm afraid you got sick of it.
I'm afraid you got sick of me.
Of all of my stupid questions, my stupid Chemistry, my stupid insistence on wanting to know you at all costs.
And the idea that you got sick of me makes me so afraid, 'cause I am so very not sick of you.
If you can give me yet another chance, I promise there will be no more unwanted questions.

His heart pounded wildly inside his chest as he got off the bus.
After a brief walk, he reached the small clinic - but it was closed.
Hanging by the door, a laminated sheet informed that the clinic was now closed, but prompted the customers to call in case of emergency.
Below was a phone number, which belonged to a certain "Dr. Price, J.".

Calling the doctor was out of the question: this wasn't a medical emergency, Ghost's last name was not Price, and most importantly, it was becoming increasingly plausible that this address he found in the membership info was entirely made up, it had nothing to do with Ghost.

It was then, that Johnny finally felt stupid.
The stupidity of his plan had finally hit him.
He had made peace with the fact that he had to let go of this delusion.
He was literally chasing a ghost.

So he turned around and patiently walked all the way to his apartment in the freezing night, where he took a hot shower and then crawled into his bed.
"I don't know what to do", he had whispered to the fox statue, which still sat by his nightstand.

"Don't look at me, I don't know either", it seemed to say in return.

After that impromptu mission had spectacularly failed the night before, Johnny finally allowed himself to shift focus to something else:
He was so absorbed by the yearning for a glimpse of Ghost, he hadn't noticed that today was actually Halloween at last: the library was gonna host a projection of 1991's classic Addams Family, for the nostalgics and for kids to watch after school - there would also be candies for everyone.
Johnny usually enjoyed a good Halloween film, although he wasn't a big fan of excessive bloodshed and gruesome murders.

Ghost stories were his usual kick, bonus points if they didn't have a terrible ending soaked with death and despair.

All over the library were decorations of bats, cobwebs, witch hats and fake candles lit by LED lights.
The place looked nice after that spooky makeover.

The young man stood by the help desk; Mrs Cath sat by his side, eating biscuits from a freezer bag with a cup of tea that Johnny had kindly prepared for her.
She was wearing a funny Halloween headband, with two antlers on which were attached two grinning pumpkins made with felt, they kept bobbing back and forth every time she moved her head.
She was having a blast, with those bobbing pumpkins.

She could tell that Johnny was bummed, but she was considerate enough not to ask questions about Ghost, not just yet.

Johnny's mind travelled through the horror classics he had read: he had vivid memories of the Phantom of the Opera, although it had dawned on him only recently how sad of a story it was. The same thing went for Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, or Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle, which now felt dripping with angst.
He recalled reading bits and pieces of Jackson's Haunting of Hill House, but the actual unfolding of events escaped him now, let alone the ending of the novel. He probably hadn't finished it.

And so he set out on an adventure among the aisles of the library, to check if by any chance they had a copy of that book.
It was still too early for the movie screening, the book rooms were pretty desolated now. It was paradoxically reassuring and bone-chilling.
It wasn't even 4 P.M. yet, but the sun seemed to be already about to set.

As Johnny scanned through the books, his phone buzzed quietly in his pocket.
He took it and read the text:

[3:56 P.M.] Farah: Hey scamp 😛 You coming tonight yes?

He stared at the screen as Farah typed another text:

[3:56 P.M.] Farah: Phil is coming too

[3:57 P.M.] Farah: He comes in peace, really just wants to see you J

Johnny had agreed on going with Farah to a Halloween costume party at some pub in the city.
He wasn't feeling much hectic about partying or dressing up funny, but to have to see Phillip again was on another level of discomfort.

Phil and Johnny used to get along in class for most of their college years: they shared the same determination, the same insane standards for grades and performance. Two workaholics on a mission. Then Johnny had a falloff, and while Farah had been the most supportive friend through that episode, Phil reacted in an oddly different way: he would pick at him, tease him by saying that he was sobbing over nothing - that he should have gotten back in the saddle instead of whining and wasting his time.
As much as Johnny wanted to believe that Phil meant well and that he was only trying to provoke the uprising of Johnny's fighting spirit, it was not what Johnny needed, and it only made him feel more scared, anxious, and guilty for his condition; it was also the arrogance that Phil had, the insolence with which he tried to walk in Johnny's shoes and humiliate him.
That did not feel like support - it rather felt as if Phillip enjoyed watching his friend fall to pieces.

Eventually, they lost contact, much to Johnny's relief.
Being bullied all over again was the last thing he needed now.

But tonight it seemed inevitable that the two would have to meet again.

Johnny sighed and began to type an answer.

[3:59 P.M.] You: Sure darling
[4:00 P.M.] You: But u know Phils gonna be a dick as usual
[4:00 P.M.] You: I ain't yaldy about that

Farah responded promptly:

[4:00 P.M.] Farah: I won't let him 😌 it's gonna be ok, see you there

Johnny wasn't really sure about that.

The rest of the staff was busy setting up everything for the movie: Johnny had helped with the popcorn and carried the pillows to the break room, told Cath to enjoy the movie and returned to his desk, where Hill House was waiting for him.

He was feeling a little guilty for not reading his usual advanced chemistry, but he told himself that today was a special day and thus needed a special reading.

Miss Eleanor Vance's extreme self-consciousness and insecurity and Theodora's growing hostility towards her, despite an initial glimpse of friendship between the two young ladies, hit uncannily close to home.

Johnny kept reading, absorbed by Jackson's catchy and fanciful writing style.

When the shadow of Ghost walking by got cast on the book, Johnny didn't even notice.

All he knew was that, when he lifted his eyes a while after, Ghost was back in the reading room, with his book just as usual.

Johnny was swarmed with so many different emotions. Shock, for the sudden appearance of the man in the room (he hadn't noticed him entering?!);
Then there was relief, joy, marvel, and this part of Johnny only wanted to go greet Ghost, tell him he missed him, ask if he was okay, what had kept him from returning, was it good news was it bad news - there was just so much he wanted to ask Ghost right now.
But then there was also an unresolved grudge, a sense of spite that had grown inside of him after Ghost had, well, ghosted him without saying a word. The cause of so much longing. The cause of all his second-guessing and insecurity. This one part wanted more of an explanation, not just simple answers.
One last part blended with the others, and it was just made of fear: fear that Johnny's omens would turn out to be true - the moment he would have approached Ghost, he would have obtained a vocal confirmation, by Ghost himself, of the fact that they were through. Hearing it from him would have made it real.
No more reading together, no more deadly stares, no more nosy questions, no more sassy comebacks. No more brown eyes.
No more Ghost. No more Ghost and Johnny.

Johnny hesitated for a long time.
It only made him feel frustrated: there he was, just like Eleanor Vance. An inept. A coward. Afraid of approval and also of rejection.
It was about damn time to rip off that band-aid. What was Ghost even doing there? He didn't even say hello, I mean, what the hell.

Exploiting the momentum, Johnny put down the book and walked swiftly to the reading room.
Ghost gave him a quick look before returning to his book.
So he had noticed him.

He sat next to the man and simply whispered: "Hey."
He did his best to look at Ghost in the eyes, but he was just too afraid, so he settled his gaze on the man's hands instead.
Ghost took a breath in and said, cold as ice: "Johnny."

This was so unfair.
It really seemed like Ghost resented Johnny for something.
This time, though, Johnny would not accept it. Ghost could not get away with making him miserable without an explanation once again.

"I thought we lost ya." He tried to joke around.
"Is everything alright? Something happened?"

"Nothing happened.", whispered back Ghost without taking his eyes off the book.
Johnny finally looked into his eyes, and he was surprised to see that he seemed... Sleepy, as if he was struggling to stay awake. Something was off about his face in general, his cheeks seemed to be blushing a burning shade of red as if he was terribly embarrassed. Which probably wasn't the case.

Well, nothing about this helped Johnny anyhow. Ghost was hiding behind layers over layers of brick walls, and he had no intention of letting Johnny in.
Perhaps this was the time for unconditional surrender.

And so Johnny got up and went back to his desk.
He felt sad, sorry, dispirited.

One last idea popped into his head, as he looked over the piles of paper by the computer screen. It was a stupid idea, but Johnny figured he had nothing left to lose.
And so he went back to Ghost, who was still there, still blushing, still seemingly exhausted.

"I want you to have this," Johnny said to the man, handing him a bookmark.
It was one of those animal-themed bookmarks he had examined with the kid the other day: the lion bookmark.

"I just want you to remember that grumpy lions need best friends too-" Johnny began, after he had placed the bookmark on the table, but then Ghost interrupted him mid-sentence, yelling as he turned his head to face him:

"Christ, I am trying to READ, JOHNNY!"

The blush on Ghost's face was much more evident now, and Johnny was pretty sure that it was due to how furious he was.
Ghost had never looked so upset. His eyes locked into Johnny's, shining as if he'd just cried.

Johnny had foreseen that this conversation would hurt him, but he wasn't prepared for this much hurt.
His eyes suddenly filled with tears and he blinked them back as much as he could.
Fuck this shit, honestly, he was done. Doubts had been perfectly clarified.

When he saw the level of hurt painted on Johnny's face, Ghost's harsh expression softened: he began muttering something unintelligible, something about some stuff that hurt like hell or whatever, but Johnny wasn't really interested in any of that anymore. He was humiliated, hurt, sick of it.

Without saying anything, he got up and walked away.
He was barely one step away when Ghost grabbed him by the wrist, closing his hand around it in a deadly tight grip.
Startled by the sudden gesture, Johnny looked down at his arm, trapped by that hand that was abnormally scorching hot.

Johnny turned around, and their eyes met again: Ghost looked genuinely sorry now.

"Johnny..."

Johnny sighed.
"Riley. Let go, man."

And Ghost let him go.

Johnny spent the rest of his shift in the break room, where he had found shelter among the pillow forts and the popcorn bowls.
The movie, too, was comforting, a memory of simpler times.
He dreaded the thought of having to face Phil later on, after what already happened with Ghost; it was much more tempting, now, to just bail on his friends and spend the evening at home.

He stayed overtime, once the movie ended, helping the staff clean up the room.
Then, he called his mother. He hadn't called her in a while, and she was ecstatic to hear from his son. Fortunately, she was very busy looking after the neighbours' kids, therefore the conversation ended before it could steer towards the topic of school.
Speaking to his mother, hearing the familiar chaos that reigned in the MacTavish residence, especially comforted him.

He waved everyone goodbye, insisting that he would take care of closing up the building.
Which he instantly regretted when he realized that Ghost was still in the reading room, and he would have had to kick him out.

Well, actually, first he would've had to wake him up, for Ghost seemed to be asleep.
The man was motionless, his upper body collapsed on the table and his head turned to one side, resting on the open book.

"Shit, y'all better give me a medal if I survive today", murmured Johnny to himself, cautiously walking towards the sleeping lion.

His hand lingered over Ghost's bulky shoulder, as uncertain as ever.
Can't stay stuck like this forever, come on.
He tenderly touched him, but Ghost didn't move. Johnny pressed his hand slightly more firmly and said "Hey, umh, Ghost, hey... We've gotta go man...", shaking him gently.

At this point, Ghost abruptly rose up and scrolled Johnny's hand away from his shoulder, growling "Do not touch me-"; but then he recognized Johnny and his tone became mellow. Sweet, even. "Oooh, it's Johnny... Johnny from the library came back for me..."

Now it all made sense: Ghost wasn't blushing, nor he had cried, nor he was furious with Johnny.
Ghost was simply delirious with a terrible fever.

His eyes were still glistening and his cheeks red and warm.

"Shit, lad, you're hot as all hell", observed Johnny as if it wasn't obvious.

Ghost smirked. "I get that a lot."

Unbelievable.

"Alright let me call someone to get you."

"That is so very sweet of you, Johnny, but I am perfectly fine." Prompted Ghost, standing up, but he collapsed straight down on the sandy yellow moquette.

He grimaced in pain as he hit the ground, rolling over the other side and pressing his hand on the hip that was now facing up.
"Fuck, this fucking hell of a-..." he cursed between his teeth, clenching his fist around the fabric of his hoodie as if he wanted to rip it apart.

The hoodie slightly lifted up, revealing part of Ghost's lower abdomen.
Johnny noticed some kind of bandage tissue peeking from under Ghost's clothes.

He remembered that Ghost was wounded at work.

"Dude, is it possible that you got an infection going on?" he said, but Ghost had basically passed out.

Johnny called someone, which now could only be the paramedics.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

A Wounded Lone Wolf
Part 2

The ambulance arrived shortly after. Two paramedics came to the rescue, Ghost was still lying on the ground but had somewhat regained a glimpse of consciousness.

Johnny told them about his suspicions, that the man may be suffering from an infection stemming from his wound, of which he didn't know much.

He was worried sick. It was the first time he had dealt with a critical situation and phoned the emergency line, and on top of that, the victim in question was someone he knew. Someone who was dear to him. Many times he thought he would freak out, were this moment to come - while the paramedics swiftly ran through the procedures, however, Johnny realized that he wasn't freaking out at all. Or better, yes, he was freaking out, but it had nothing to do with him doing something wrong or being afraid to act: he was concerned about Ghost and only Ghost, all the while.

Please, please hang in there, he kept thinking.

Ghost had given up protesting physically against the EMTs, even though his stubborn ass kept repeating “I’m fine, get off me” in a slurred speech.

It was hilarious, the way he sounded like a brat who didn’t want to go to school, but the worry inside Johnny remained steadfast.

The group headed out of the building, Johnny following behind and locking up the entrance doors: two of the paramedics loaded the stretcher in the ambo, the third one hopped into the driver seat.

Before closing the doors of the vehicle, the guy asked Johnny: “You coming?”

“What?”, he asked, trying to keep up with everything that was happening around him.

“Are you coming along?”

“Oh- yes, sure,” he prompted and he hopped in, doors closing behind him.

He didn’t care whether Ghost would get upset with him for following along. Guy was out of combat anyway.
He wasn’t going to leave him alone.

“Sir...?”

The paramedic was staring at him, slightly annoyed, while he flipped through some papers on his clipboard.

“I’m sorry, what?”, replied Johnny, snapping back from his worries.

“Are you a relative? A brother? Friend? Boyfriend?”

“Umh…”
Well, he was nothing to Ghost, come to think of it.

Well yes, I am a nuisance to him, he thought, but that probably wasn't a very good answer to give right now.

“Sir, are you with him or not?”

Johnny really wanted to believe that he was with Ghost, whatever that meant; that would probably grant access his room if he were to be hospitalized, Johnny figured. But as much as he wanted to believe it, it was untrue, besides Ghost would most likely not want him around.

Therefore, he answered with what he believed was the truth.

“No-” he said, but Ghost cut him off, lifting his head up a little and giving the paramedic a gratuitous look of disapproval: “Yes. Yes he is with me.”

“Well well well, look who owes me a pint.”

A young man in blue scrubs came through the curtains of the room where Ghost had been placed in the E.R.

“Piss off, Gaz,” Ghost hissed.

“Now, now, don’t chicken out, lad. I knew you couldn’t stay put and that we would’ve met again in no time,” the doctor joked around as he gave a quick look at the clipboard hanging by the bed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, man, I did stay put!” Ghost protested.

It was weird to see that this Gaz was not afraid to scold Ghost and treat him like a harmless kid - it was even weirder to see that Ghost was only moderately pissed at Gaz for doing that.

At any rate, Gaz wasn’t buying the patient's story.

“Man, I have known you since med school. Your story is a load of bullcrap.”

Johnny stood in the corner of the room in silence, observing as the two of them bickered back and forth: Ghost attended med school? So he had to be some... doctor.
If that was the case, Johnny felt sorry for the man's patients; If his own doctor was that short-tempered, teenager Johnny would have fixed his posture in a blink, out of fear more than for the back pain.

“You can’t expect me to lay still for weeks,” muttered Ghost at last.

“So you did strain your body.”

Ghost kept his gaze fixed to the wall on the side, avoiding eye contact with the doctor.

Guilty.

“Boy, am I owed one fine pint of beer...” sentenced the doctor shaking his head with a smug expression.

Ghost snorted with frustration. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

“I just went for a run or two, no need to make a fucking fuss out of it.”

“Riley, man.” The doctor turned serious. “You’ve got a wolf bite on your abdomen. It didn’t pierce any organ by a miracle, you’ve got to take it seriously.”

A fucking what bite?!

“I’m sorry, what?” Johnny asked before he could contain himself, entirely flabbergasted by the information that just flew over his head with such nonchalance.

“Don’t ask…” Ghost replied with another sigh.

It now occurred to John that he was probably eavesdropping a private conversation, which was between Ghost and Gaz only. He felt his stomach clench in a tight grip: what was he even doing there? How stupid had it been to follow Ghost until there?

Anyways, Ghost got bit by a wolf? In the workplace?
What the fuck kind of medical job did he have?!
General practitioner specialized in physiatry for werewolves?

Ghost reluctantly flipped to one side, and Gaz examined the wound.
Johnny stared at any possible other thing in the room except Ghost’s exposed skin, dying inside for the embarrassment: the thought alone of the glimpse he got of Ghost’s bare abdomen earlier in the library was enough for him to blush violently.
He had never, ever seen anything like that before: Ghost had the most toned abdomen he’d ever seen, each and every muscle stood out as they contracted under the skin; he could have starred in a gym commercial, and it would have been a very effective commercial.
Heat rose to his face - count the cotton swabs on the tray, count the glass bottles in the cupboard, read every notice on the wall, but by God, focus on something else.

“Well, it is indeed infected.” Gaz finally sentenced.

“No shit, Sherlock,” muttered Ghost on the other side.

“Oye, quit fucking around. Let me remind you that this is bad news for you.”

Ghost covered himself. Thank goodness. He began to sit back up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gaz urged.

“Home, why?”

“The fuck you are. I am hospitalizing you.”

“What? You can’t do that!” Ghost protested.

“I am handcuffing you to the bed if that’s necessary. You,” Gaz pointed his pen at Johnny now, “You keep an eye on him, will you?”

Johnny was caught by surprise. Ghost was definitely going to hate him if he accepted the task.

“Umh, I-...”

“Great. Now if you don’t mind waiting outside, I’ve got to cleanse and sterilize this idiot’s wound,” said the doctor, politely gesturing for Johnny to get out.

“Hold up-” Ghost stopped him before he could leave.

Johnny was a dead man, he had no doubt of that. He was going to be murdered with the tubing of the IV.

“Johnny, I’m sorry for dragging you here and everything,” he said sincerely, and he glared at Gaz, “but I need one more favour. It’s very important.”

“Sure, tell me.” Johnny accepted without even listening to what it was first: judging by the concerned look on Ghost’s face, he could tell that it was indeed very important, and he wasn’t gonna let him down.

Ghost slid his hand in the pocket of his jeans and took out a set of keys.

“Gaz, hand me some paper and a pen, will you”, he asked Gaz, who kindly complied.

Ghost scribbled down something, and then he handed paper and keys to Johnny, who took and examined them. On the paper, Ghost had scribbled an address together with a phone number, signed ‘Riley’. Johnny lifted his gaze back to Ghost, waiting for further instructions.

“Go to my place. Ensure that the kids are okay. Feed them, make sure they are clean. Call them back up if they’re still outside fucking around.”

Johnny had a shitload of questions. Kids? What kids? Had they been left alone all this time? Was nobody else around to do that, like their mom or some grandparent?

And most of all: Ghost had kids???

“Ok, perfect. May I have your name sir?” Gaz quickly asked before Johnny could even say anything.
“I uh-... M-MacTavish, Sir. John MacTavish.”

“Alright. Just ask for this fucker’s room when you’re back.”

Johnny was more confused than ever.

Before he left, Ghost told him to call or text if he had any questions regarding his mission.
Great, Johnny happened to have many questions indeed.

Johnny was relatively familiar with the neighbourhood where Ghost’s address was: familiar enough to know which urban bus to catch straight away.

He hopped on and took a seat, then he pulled out his phone so that he could enter the address on the navigation app and add the number to his contacts.

He found two texts and one missed call from Farah.

Shit, the party.

He opened the conversation with his friend and told her that something came up, a medical emergency with a client of the library; he texted her that he had to take care of it and he promised he would make it up to her ASAP.

He refreshed his friends list after saving Ghost’s number and the new contact promptly popped up under the letter 'G', by the name he entered in the contact form: ‘Ghost 👻’.

Well, now. Johnny had to make the first move, since he had a thousand questions and Ghost had no way of contacting him otherwise. But it was incredibly difficult to do so.

He typed and erased twenty different texts. Ugh.

He tapped on the man’s profile picture: a photo of a black cat (a kitten, actually), peacefully sleeping on someone’s lap. Or maybe it was someone’s chest, yup, definitely a chest, he could see the neck drop of a T-shirt.

“I am more of a cat person myself.”

Johnny smiled at that memory, and hoped that Ghost was doing okay back at the hospital.

Eventually, he sent out a text, which was promptly read on the other end:

[9:32 P.M.] You: This is Johnny. Oscar Mike. ETA: 12 minutes

Alright, which one was the most urgent question out of the thousand ones he had?

[9:33 P.M.] You: How many targets should I count?

Ghost typed for what felt like a lifetime.

[9:35 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Solid copy, library guy. Count no more and no less than two of them

[9:35 P.M.] Ghost 👻: One boy, one girl (the black one).

[9:35 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Make sure she is eating enough and that Anacleto is not stealing her food. Dudes a deceiving little devil, don’t buy his lies

Wow. Just as he thought that was impossible, Johnny now had even more questions than he had before.

At least he knew there were two of them.

Also what the fuck kind of name was Anacleto for a kid?
Did his parents not know they would condemn the poor thing to years and years of bullying because of that?

Speaking of which, Johnny had another question.

[9:36 P.M.] You: Wait what’s the girl’s name?

[9:38 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Oh, it’s Ophelia. I doubt she’ll care

"Ophelia"? Holy hell, these guys really hated their progeny.

[9:38 P.M.] You: Copy. How are you holding up?

Umh. Was it okay to ask a personal question like that?
Johnny had nearly forgotten about, well, the rest of the day. Ghost yelling at him and all.
He quickly regretted making such a bold move, but Ghost had already opened the message so it was too late to take it back.

[9:39 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Hanging in there. Sorry for earlier, Gaz takes too many liberties. I should get him fired

Whew. Made it in one piece out of the Russian roulette.

[9:39 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Tell the rascals I said hi

Johnny was terrified.

What was he going to say to Ghost’s kids once he’d met them?

“Hi, you don’t know me and your dad’s at the hospital”?

What if one of them had fallen off a tree, or their bike, or something like that?

Johnny felt like he was barely reliable enough to look after a dog, and now he was asked to check out on two unsupervised kids?

He took a deep breath and entered the building corresponding to the address.

He found the door with the number matching the tag of the key on the first floor (A/N I mean the UK’s first floor, equal to the US’ second floor): the carving on the brass doorbell said “Riley”.

He inserted the key and unlocked the door.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

The door opened on a dimly lit living room, with two windows on the opposite side, one of which was slightly open.

On the left, a modern TV table was placed against the wall, a fairly big flat screen standing on top. A cream-coloured couch was in front of the TV: not particularly fancy, but definitely better than the one Johnny had in his apartment.

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in there: it was very tidy, not much stuff around, minimalistic, somewhat elegant even.

This wasn’t a family home. Johnny’s home back in the outskirts of Glasgow, that was the home of a family: books and papers everywhere, a pile of laundry waiting to be claimed and folded, the TV always on, children’s toys scattered on the floor for you to step on and hurt your feet...

This was a man’s house. A single and meticulous man’s house.

Johnny turned the ceiling light on, which lit the room much better than the feeble floor lamp that stood lazily on the far opposite corner.

Needless to say, no one was there.

He checked in the kitchen, then through the corridor until the bedroom on the far right of the hallway, which was probably Ghost’s room.

Johnny hesitated: it didn’t feel right to stick his nose into Ghost’s business, especially considering how private of a person he was. He turned the light on, revealing a bedroom kept in pristine conditions: a double bed, a fairly big white wardrobe, a dark desk with a simple desk lamp and a little analogue clock that screamed Y2K or even earlier, two shelves above the desk on which rested some books and random objects like a butterfly knife trainer, a waterproof wrist watch, Newton’s cradle with the canon five steel balls.

Johnny noticed how the bedroom had two nightstands, one by each side of the bed, but only the one on the left had stuff on top - a lamp, for starters. The one on the right stood there empty.

On the floor, below the window, laid a cardboard box: written on it, with a black marker in a neat handwriting, was the word: ‘THOMAS’.

Shit. Johnny was pervaded by the feeling that he was crossing way over the line now.

Thomas.
Johnny thought that he had just discovered Ghost’s real name.
Well, stolen, more than discovered.

Anyhow, no sign of the kids in there: he better focus on his mission, it was much more important now.

“Hello?” Johnny called, afraid that he had scared them off, “It’s okay, umh… Mr. Riley, umh, Thomas, sent me here. My name’s Johnny, I’m a… friend of your… dad.”
He wasn’t sure of any of the words he had chosen, to be fair.

No reply from anywhere. Damn it.

He was making his way back to the living room through the dark corridor, when his shin hit something fuzzy and small, scaring the living shit out of him and nearly sending him face down on the floor.

His heart was beating inside his throat from the fright: with a shaking hand, he reached for the light switch, and turned to see what the fuck that thing was.

A black cat sat in the middle of the hallway, the tail wrapped around the tiny body and a sleepy look printed on its face. It looked like it was barely past the kitten stage, probably no more than 6 months old.

Johnny placed a hand on his chest and let out a giant sigh of relief.

“Well hi to you too, lad. You scared the shit out of me.”

The kitten let out a low trill and made its way to the kitchen in a clumsy trot.

He would have dealt with the kitten later: now he really had to find those kids.

When his gaze landed on the open window, a chilling shiver ran down his spine.
He rushed to the sill and fully opened the window, staring down and bracing for the worst: it happens, right, "unsupervised kids accidentally fall off a four-story building and die on the spot", it was something everyone had read at least once in the news.

There was some sort of balcony there, though. No, it was an emergency staircase, Brooklyn-style.

“Guys…?” Johnny called as he scanned the backyard for any sign of life.

A white dart bolted from under a bush, climbed up the stairs and hopped on the windowsill.

It wasn’t white, it was orange: it was another kitten, an orange tabby with a curious look and a loud voice. Unlike the black one, this little guy meowed non-stop, and didn’t really care about disturbing the neighbors.

“Oh, hi, kiddo, umh-” but then the kitten jumped on Johnny’s chest, climbing with its tiny claws up on his shoulder, sniffing profusely and emitting a loud purr. Steaming Jesus, this fella was on crack.

“Alright, alright now, get down” Johnny intimated, grabbing the kitten with one hand.

He opened his phone camera with the other hand, he took a picture of that goofy hairball and sent it straight to Ghost, adding the caption:

[10:21 P.M.] You: [📷 Photo] Found this unusual looking mountain goat, won’t get off my shoulder. Is it yours?

He gently put down the tabby, which bolted in the kitchen, drifting like a rally car as it turned left.

Johnny’s phone buzzed in his hand:

[10:21 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Glad to see that anacleto didn't bail on me to join a street gang yet

[10:21 P.M.] Ghost 👻: As for the climbing, you're out of luck. He's gonna do that again

Johnny chuckled at the absurdity of the situation: he was texting with Ghost, who was at the hospital for a wolf bite wound, while he took care of his kids, which were actually fucking KITTENS.

[10:22 P.M.] You: Roger. Oh and by the way: next time you send someone to “check on your kids”, try to specify that you don’t mean BIPEDS! I was terrified

[10:23 P.M.] Ghost 👻: OK, instructions unclear. My bad

[10:25 P.M.] Ghost 👻: :)

Johnny had successfully provided the cats with their evening rations: preventing Anacleto from stealing kibble from Ophelia’s bowl was not as simple, the guy had gulped down all his food in half the time and then dived his face into his sister’s bowl, growling when Johnny took him away.

He took the tabby with him into a narrow room, where he found the cats’ litter box, together with an empty drying rack, a washing machine and cleaning gear like a vacuum and stuff.

Anacleto sat on Johnny’s back while he crouched to clean the litterbox, then he got tired of sitting and decided to go play with the lumps in the litter, tampering with Johnny’s work. He played with Johnny’s shoelaces, he played with Johnny’s necklace, he played with Johnny’s hands, his hoodie zipper - occasionally, he took a break from pestering Johnny by pestering Ophelia, who patiently endured the treatment and occasionally fought back in a rather dismissive manner.

Ghost would later find a video in his inbox.

[10:57 P.M.] You: [🎦 Video] Mayday, mayday, battalion under siege, I repeat, under siege! Send Ts and Ps

The video was taken with the front camera: it featured Johnny sitting on the couch, motionless, staring at the camera with an unamused look, mouthing an ‘Ouch!’ every now and then, while Anacleto rolled and jumped on his head, gnawing on his hair like it was catnip. Ophelia was peacefully napping on the guy's lap with her tummy facing up and all her black toebeans in the air, enjoying some soft belly rubs.

Finally, after a lot of nibbling and zooming around, Anacleto’s batteries, too, got depleted. When Johnny left, they were both sound asleep, curled up around each other.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

A Wounded Lone Wolf
Part 3

“How can I help you, Sir?”

“Yes, hi, umh I’m John MacTavish, I’m looking for… Riley?”

“Riley what?” the nurse at the reception asked, between the sleepy and the annoyed.

“Oh- perhaps Ghost?”

The lady raised an eyebrow from behind her thick glasses. “Are you serious, darling?”

Well, he had reacted the very same way the first time he heard it, he couldn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, he... He came to the E.R. earlier tonight with an-”

“I am not authorized to disclose any information about any patient unless I can see your permission under a full name here.”

Wait, perhaps Johnny did know Ghost’s name. He had a lead that he could follow from his recent mission at Ghost's apartment.

“Maybe try Riley, Thomas?” he attempted.

The woman typed in the letters lazily, pressed Enter and examined the screen.

“No "Thomas Riley"s. Sorry, sweetheart.”

“But-”

“Look, if you don’t have a way to get in, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s the procedure.”

He was out of options. But right as he was about to leave, a male voice stopped him.

“Johnny! It’s alright, Cynthia, he’s with me.”
Gaz showed the permission to the receptionist, who nodded and let Johnny in.
“This way, lad, follow me.”

They walked together through some corridors and past some doors, then they took an elevator. Gaz pushed a button, and the machine lazily went up.

“Well,” Johnny broke the silence with a chuckle, “I guess his name is not Thomas then.”

Gaz froze and gave him a concerned glare. “Where'd you hear that?”

The doctor was dead serious. What was it with them going from “all good” to “dead serious” in less than three seconds? Did they teach human Russian roulette in med school?

Johnny shrugged, feeling a bit naive.
“He sent me to his place. I read it somewhere in there.”

Gaz pondered for a moment, trying to find the words to phrase it as delicately as he could. He turned his entire body to face Johnny and placed both hands on his shoulders: “John, let me give you some advice,” he began, “I don’t know what you know, or what Riley told you. But I do need him to lay the fuck still for the next 48 Hours, alright? I need him not to stress out.”

“Alright,” Johnny followed, unsure where that was going.

“Do not - mention - Tommy. Not now, not ever. Under no circumstance ever, you should mention that name to him. That clear?”

Johnny had no idea what this was about, and he was frankly afraid to ask.

“O-okay, sure,” he just complied.

“Good. Very well.” concluded the doctor, and he turned back to face the elevator door, smiling as if nothing had happened.

Do not ever mention Tommy to Ghost. Duly noted.

Johnny woke up to the steady beeping of a machine. The room was dark, the only light coming from the monitors standing by the bed.

As he gained awareness of his physical body, he realized he had fallen asleep sitting on his chair, his head resting on the side of the bed.

“You sleep like a bear cub,” a familiar voice said softly.

Oh fuck, he fell asleep resting on Ghost’s bed. He quickly sat back up, feeling his neck agonize from the bad sleeping position.
A bear cub?

“Ah, awa' an bile yer heid…” he grumbled as he buried his face in his hands.

“English.” Ghost protested.

“Sorry, let me translate:” he paused and smirked slightly. “Go fuck yourself.”

Ghost scoffed in amusement, his head turning away with his eyes closed. “Much better.”

Johnny’s phone recited 1:52 A.M.

Ghost's eyelids pryed slightly open as he shot Johnny with a smug side-eye. “I’m serious. You sleep like bear cubs, same position, look it up.”

Johnny was never going to look it up; it would have been embarrassing to acknowledge that Ghost was right.

“Well, then you sleep like a rock. You haven’t moved an inch since I came.”

Ghost sighed. “‘Tis the fucking morphine.”

As comfy as hospital rooms can be, the dim lighting of the inside together with the neon lights that illuminated the corridor outside made the atmosphere oddly cozy.

Ghost reached for the night lamp and turned it on, pulling a little cord that hung by a wire on the side: the sudden burst of light caused Johnny to squint his eyes - he was still half asleep, after all.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he gestured at the light. "Can't fucking sleep here."

“Course,” Johnny reassured him. Even if he had minded, Ghost was the one whose comfort was the priority right now: his arm was covered in all sorts of cables, from IV to pulse oximeter to stuff that Johnny wouldn’t dare imagine the use of. If at all possible, the man looked even more exhausted now than he had looked a few hours earlier.

Underneath the mess of cables and tubes, Johnny could make out scattered details of a huge tattoo: it covered Ghost’s entire arm, peeking out of the sleeve of the T-shirt and going all the way down to the wrist, it depicted a plethora of different things, most of which were indistinguishable from Johnny’s position.

The staring session was interrupted by a low snort from Ghost: he had just received the video from Johnny, the one documenting the siege carried out by those fuzzy troublemakers back at his place.
"So they gave you quite the welcome, ay? I'm surprised Ophie stayed like that after you placed her that way, belly facing up and all."

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "I... I didn't place her on my lap like that. She did it by herself." Ghost didn't seem convinced, but that was the truth.
"I mean, she did glare at me from afar for a while, all suspicious, but then at some point she just made herself comfortable."
He looked up at Ghost, but the man was staring at his phone, intrigued.

"Well, look at that. She's never done that with me so far. She must really like you."
That was flattering; Johnny inevitably blushed a little.

"What's up with their names? They sound unusual," Johnny asked as he thought of the kittens.

"Ophelia is not that unusual. I'm assuming you're wondering about Anacleto: no story in particular behind that name, thought it sounded fitting for a character who's entirely cuckoo bananas like him."
Johnny agreed. Anacleto was equipped with inexhaustible chaotic energy.

Ghost went on, spontaneously: "They were strays. Rescued them from the street. Three newborns with the mother. All hungry, dehydrated, sick as this entire hospital combined. One didn't make it, alas. But those two - well, they got guts; they pulled through impressively."
It was such a heart-warming sight to see, Ghost getting emotional by thinking about his rescue cats. Sure, it was only thanks to whatever dose of morphine he was administered, that he was letting his guard down to that point. Well, for tonight, and only for tonight, Johnny was glad that Ghost was given morphine.

"Are you in pain?", he had let the question slip with a whisper.
Ghost became serious again, sad even, his eyes locked down on his own hands. "It makes no difference, Johnny."

He had a point, although Johnny was dying to say that he disagreed.
It does make a difference to me. I don't want you to be in pain. I wish I could take your pain and bear it all myself until it's gone.

He contemplated that thought, the unrelenting power that lied behind that desire to sacrifice himself for the guy.
Johnny had always been a person of selfless nature, but he had never longed so strongly for a chance to give up a part of himself in favour of another human being. Which was nobody but Ghost.
It had now dawned on him that that he was mistaken: he was confident he could keep this silly little crush under control, but he now saw how bold of a statement that was. The silly little crush had already gone out of control long before this mess had even happened. Which was why he needed to keep his mind off the fact, immediately.

"Man, I've gotta ask, though: how did you end up getting bitten by a wolf?"
Ghost sighed loudly and closed his eyes: "I recall inviting you not to ask about that."
He had pulled the trigger way too many times in a row without meeting the bullet, but that shouldn't have incouraged him to keep pulling until the gun eventually fired. He kinda deserved the scold.

"Better yet," Ghost added, trying to sit a little taller despite every bone in his body hurt like hell as he did, "you ask way too many questions, Detective Snoop. I don't recall being cool with that."
Johnny frowned a little; well, it was nice while it lasted. But then Ghost continued: "Which is why we're going to set up some rules: and by 'we', I mean that I am the one making the rules and you are the one accepting them without objections."
"Alright, go on", replied Johnny crossing his arms on his chest.
Ghost began counting the rules on his fingers as he formulated them, "First rule: you get to ask one question at a time; Second, I may or may not answer it; Third, I will then ask you a question of my choice, any question, and if and only if you will answer my question, honestly, then you'll get to ask me another one. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," Johnny echoed, thinking he had no problems at all with Ghost's terms.

2:31 A.M.
Johnny was spacing out in front of a coffee vending machine, waiting for his proverbial cappuccino to come out steaming hot.
He was having a really hard time focusing on the here and now: he figured it was mostly because he was no longer used to pulling all-nighters, but also for the surreality of the situation.

He had just received an entrance ticket to the mind of Ghost Riley, albeit with some constraints.
It was the most significant progress he had made with the man since they had met. He had so many questions waiting in line... But, then again, Dr Garrick had pleaded not to stress his friend any further, therefore Johnny should've paid attention not to pull the wrong strings. No 'Thomas', for starters; No Thomas, he repeated to himself.

He went back to Ghost's room (which fortunately was a single room), opening the door with his elbow, carrying an unspecified amount of snacks in his arms. "Hey, I've got supplies."
Ghost was still put in his bed, taking small sips out of a water bottle: when he saw the pile of goods held in precarious balance, he put the bottle down quickly to avoid choking on the water, giving Johnny a look of shock mixed with amusement.
"You've got supplies? Looks more like the supplies got you, lad."

"Proper healing begins with a load of food," stated Johnny. He sounded like his own mom.

"How did you even get so many different things?". Ghost was really impressed.
Johnny guided him through the loot, all the different floors of the building he had raided to provide 'optimal variety and range of choice', including the hospital café three floors down; Ghost listened in silence, most likely impressed by the extent of Johnny's silliness, then he opted for assaulting a bag of salted toasted peanuts while Johnny focused just on his cappuccino for the moment.

"You've been to a proper café, and yet you bought the vending machine cappuccino," Ghost observed with an eyeroll and decreed, "Your taste in coffee is truly shite."

Johnny raised his index finger towards the man, gesturing to wait while he took a sip from the paper cup dramatically slowly.
"Someday you will all understand the comfort unleashed by this beverage, and you will thank me. Until then, you are forgiven." He said, with a calm and loving voice as if he was a messiah who was not fully understood by his people yet.

Ghost scoffed. Pfft, unbeliever.

"Alright, my turn:" began Johnny. "What's the story of the wolf bite?"
"Ehh, fair is fair. Alright." Ghost surrendered. "So we rescued an injured wolf out of town not long ago, driver couldn't dodge it in time with his Jeep and had the decency of calling for help. Anyway to cut it short: it had been sedated, but I found out the hard way that I should have waited a tad bit longer for the sedatives to take full effect."

"Fuck me, man, now that's a story to tell. I thought there weren't any wolves around here..." mumbled Johnny, thoughtful.
"Some units have been recently reintroduced to the habitat. They are protected, or at least they were supposed to be. But... Well here I am. Which brings us to my question." Ghost tossed a peanut right into his mouth. "I know why I'm here," he gestured at the room, referring to the hospital, "Why are you here, too?"

Ghost pointed at Johnny as he asked the question: Johnny felt like his forehead had been pierced through and through by the man's index finger. Why was he there, at nearly 3 A.M. watching over a guy who barely tolerated him and only under heavy dosage of morphine when he had to work the next morning (which was but a few hours away)?
And why did Ghost want to know? Johnny feared that he had gotten busted crushing on the guy, who now tried to extort a confession from him.
No, it cannot be. And even if it was, Johnny wouldn't bend.

"Well..." he began, trying not to look embarrassed or cornered. "Why am I here... Why nobody else is?"
Ghost raised an eyebrow. "Answering a question with another question is not allowed. Rejected."

"Oh."
And there he thought he could get away with it.
Well, if the rules of the game wanted him to answer sincerely, then he was going to.
"I just... I feel like you would've chosen to be alone, hadn't I stayed. Chosen not to call anyone. But I don't want to leave you in here alone. I don't think I would want to be alone, so...". Putting those words together was harder than Johnny could foresee, and he left that sentence lingering in the air, unfinished, garnished with just a shrug. What a champion, he was: already embarrassed at question 0.

"There must have been something nicer for you to do tonight, instead of... This," Ghost pointed out.

Rule 3, Johnny, answer sincerely. "Actually, you kind of saved me from a rather uncomfortable catch-up with some colleagues. I was so not looking forward to it."

They both chuckled lightly; Ghost bowed his head, which now lied on the stack of pillows. "In that case, you're welcome. You've won yourself a question, so, go ahead."

A question, huh, any question. Now that Johnny was allowed to ask nearly anything, he was surprisingly out of ideas. Paaathetic.

"Umh..."
Damn it, was he really going to go empty-headed like that?! Any question, any, for the love of God!
"Do you play any instruments?"

Ghost reacted the same way Johnny internally did to his dumb-ass question: "...Really? Like, the musical instruments? Nah, by the way. Not currently. I had this guitar my mother bought me from a charity shop when I was a kid, I had learnt to play a tune or two. Not much anyway. Played the drums in a school band at some point: I wasn't too bad, we even performed in a couple gigs - it was no O2 Arena, obviously, but we were decent. Then, you know, school was over and everyone went their separate way. What about you?"

"Me? Oh uh, I've had a knack for piano my whole life. I was terrible at it when I was a kid- not that I'm any Beethoven now, heheh..." Johnny scratched the back of his neck nervously. "But yeah. God, I wasn't nearly half as good as Andrea back then - Andrea's my sister, older sister - but my mom poured her heart into teaching me anyways, so... It's thanks to her if I don't suck completely now. Been quite a while since the last time I played though."

Ghost kept his eyes closed the whole time: as far as Johnny could tell, he was drifting back to sleep. Until he smiled and commented with a: "Hm. Remarkable, that. My turn. Let's see... Why the library, Johnny?"

"You mean why am I a volunteer?"

"Mh-hmm", the man confirmed, and Johnny was struck by shivers so intense he literally felt his stomach turn. It was the hoarseness of that voice; it was the way the light enframed that face with gentle warmth; the way he lied on that bed with his eyes closed, surrendered, vulnerable; the way in which he battled against so much pain in silence, as if he forbade himself to give in to it and ask for assistance, or even a bit of comfort. Johnny felt drawn to Ghost by a magnetic force so unrelenting and unprecedented it was honestly frightening.

Good thing Ghost couldn't see him blushing right now.
"Oh... My uh... The school psychologist adviced me to. She said it would help me, umh, get out of my one-track mind, step out of my head; I don't know, help the community while I took some time off, I guess. It's a nice environment, really."

"Take some time off what?", Ghost inquired.
Suddenly, Johnny felt uneasy - he just wasn't ready to delve into that. He turned his gaze away, trying to convince himself that it was just a normal answer to a normal question. No biggie. "College, pretty much."

"Is that why you struggle with-" Ghost began, but he was scooped by Johnny.
"My turn." he paused, gathering the courage and the cheekiness required, and then he asked: "What is your name?"

Ghost smiled - a full, bright smile - and said with a low laugh: "Fucking hell, Johnny, you're a broken record. Just call me 'Ghost' like every bloody one else..."

They were silent for a while: after some wandering around the room, Johnny's eyes landed on Ghost's patient folder, which was hanging by a little hanger on the wall next to his bed.
On the faint green cover there were some writings - most of which was information that Johnny could care less about, like today's date and long numerical IDs, but one line especially caught his attention:

Riley, S.

There it was, the stomach turning again.
So Ghost did have a name; a name that began with "S.", apparently.
Johnny was so excited for such little piece of information, like he was holding onto a tiny little gold nugget - "S.".
As he sat in his little chair, transfixed onto that paper folder, he thought that perhaps, somewhere inside those files, lied the rest of Ghost's name: he was most certain of it, all he had to do was flip through one page, maybe two.

"I know what you're thinking, rascal."
Ghost had opened one eye, which apparently had been enough to read through Johnny's mind with ease, only to close it back again.
"Fine, go ahead. I cannot stop you from here anyway."

Johnny's heart sank. If at first he hadn't been sure whether to actually go take a look or not, now he had no doubt on how wrong it felt to do it. Ghost did not want him to know his real name, no matter what that "S." stood for: how impeding was it, really, not to know? Did a word matter that much?

"Come on. I don't bite. At the moment." taunted Ghost again.
"Nah, man, I'm not gonna," Johnny firmly replied.
"Why the fuck not, pardon my French?"
"Because I know that you don't want me to know, and thatt's fine! A name is just a bunch of letters that make a funny sound when combined, after all."

Ghost chuckled. "You're weird, Johnny."

Said the one who went by the alias of 'Ghost' and refused to be treated for an infected wolf bite, Johnny thought.

It was about then that Johnny received a video message, from Phillip Graves: he wasn't very eager to view it, but he figured that watching it straight away was better than leaving the message there, unvisualized for hours.

"Heeey, Soap, my man!", Graves was shouting to outpower the blasting music in the background, wearing that usual cocky half-smile. "Wheraaare you maaan? Look what you're missing out on, dude, this place is DOPE! Hey, Farah, say hi to Soapy!"
The front camera shifted from Phillip's face over to the left, where Farah stood holding a drink: she politely waved hi to the camera, smiling sympathetically - she knew that Johnny wasn't happy to be watching that video, and she gave him a look of "I know, Johnny, but be patient with him, please".

The camera returned to Graves now. "Anyway, Soap, Johnny, my friend, I was sooo bummed to hear that you bailed on us..." The way he had emphasized on the "bailing" was especially irritating to Johnny. His fist immediately clenched shut in his pocket. "I just hope this emergency of yours was legit, I wouldn't be happy to know it was just an excuse. Oh well, I'm sure it was not! Catch up soon aye? Have fun!"

"Fucking eejit..." muttered Johnny, shoving his phone away.

"Who the fuck is 'Soap'?" Ghost asked.

"Ah... That would be me. It's a long story."
Johnny hoped, prayed that Ghost wouldn't investigate the topic any further: the truth was that he was not ready to talk about the "Soap" thing as much as he wasn't ready to delve into his college falloff thing. He just wanted this thread to be over.
He was no longer hurt by that story, he was sure of it, he had done his forgives and forgets a long time ago; to unravel it again, however, was a different thing. It still filled him with embarrassment, shame, frustration. This was no time and no space for that.

Fortunately, Ghost decided not to be snoopy about it and didn't ask further.
Instead, he raised his spare arm and placed it behind his head, causing his muscles to flex in all their surreal massiveness: how much time and effort did he invest into training in order to reach that level of bulk? Johnny had been working out consistently for years now, and it did show, but that was a whole other level of showing. He must have trained a whole damn lot.

"Anyway, you would really stay in this shithole rather than going out?"

"Oh, very much so," responded Johnny without hesitation, "I am missing out on nothing, I promise."
He opened a bag of sandwich cookies and bit half off one. "Besides, snack night is always a good night, no matter what shithole you're in."

"I bet. Kills the boredom for sure," shrugged Ghost.

His chest rose and fell regularly under the blankets as he breathed. It's curious, Johnny thought: you don't get to see many people lift blankets up and down with their breathing motions. In a way, there's more intimacy in that rather than in nudity: in fact, I have probably seen a lot more naked people than I've seen people breathing under a blanket.

Now it became a little more shallow and swift, as if Ghost was trying to calm down or to withhold his poker face through a twinge of pain.
Johnny will never really know the extent of the pain that Ghost was currently under - and although he wanted to call someone to relieve him from that torture, he was also aware that Ghost was a perfectly functional and responsible human being, and thus the call was only his to make.

"Johnny."

"I'm here, what is it?"

"I uh..." Ghost hesitated for what felt like ages, so much that Johnny began to suspect the man was feeling seriously unwell.
"Ah, I'm terrible at this kind of thing." Now it was him who chuckled nervously. "Uh, I just, I've gotta thank you. For everything you've done. Saving my ass in the first place, and pulling this sort of... Junk food heist, and, well, everything. It was thoughtful, and very nice of you. I appreciate it."
Johnny was shell-shocked: it was the sweetest combination of things he had been ever told by Ghost - awfully phrased, yes, but nonetheless the sweetest. It felt so tremendously good to be acknowledged. He felt his heart beginning to pound harder as the guy went on.

"You're a good kid, Johnny. Don't ever doubt that. I'm sure you would make a good friend."

That last bit hit Johnny like a jarring note: what's that supposed to mean?
I'm sure you would make a good friend... ...if only what? Although what?
But, then again, Johnny could easily guess what the missing part said: something the likes of: "You would make a good friend ...if only I allowed you to."
And he could also guess that Ghost was not gonna allow him to.

It was the stupidest thing ever.

"But I could. I could be your friend. Hell, I am your friend already if you ask me; but if you want us to, then we, we can be friends."

Ghost sighed lightly. "It's not that easy, Johnny."

"It is. In fact, it is tremendously simple. I befriend you, you befriend me. Bam, we are friends. All it entails is that-... Well... I'm not sure, but not much, if you think about it. You can always have my back, major advantage. And uh, well, I wish you didn't... Vanish without trace ever so often," he went on, his voice now shaking as he pulled his very heart out in the open, "b-because then I would worry, because, friends worry. Because they care. You can also get Premium access to my annoyance services anytime, and-"

Johnny's monologue was interrupted by a muffled grunt of pain, coming from his... one-way friend, Ghost. He was breathing faster, despite he was exceptionally good at concealing it.
Tears were running down his face.

"Shit, lad, you're going through hell. Let me go get someone."

"Don't. I'm fine," Ghost had stated in a faint whisper.

"Are you sure?"
It was the dumbest question ever, but Johnny did in fact want to make sure.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just... I'm... pining for the fjords."

Johnny was confused. "Beg ye pardon?"

"I'm pining-... You don't-... You do know Monty Python, yes?"
Ghost made it sound like it was a fucking vital thing, a matter of life and death.

"I've... heard of it?" Johnny replied sheepishly, and Ghost facepalmed himself - a movement he conveniently exploited to also wipe the tears off his eyes.

"Oh dear... you gotta be shitting me. Come on. Turn that bloody thing on, we're watching some 'Flying Circus'. Yes now."

And so they did. Johnny did not protest: he fetched the remote, switched on the telly which hung on the wall, cast his Netflix on the TV and pressed play to the first episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus.
They watched an episode, and another, and another, eating questionable bags of chips and biscuits, having the time of their lives barring the pain and the fever; by episode five, they were both sound asleep as they had been a few hours earlier.

Peacefully adrift in a place where relationship labels like 'friends' didn't mean shit.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

The Grumpy Lion needs best friends too

Last online today at 5:14 A.M.

It was the thousandth time Johnny had checked his phone that morning. And it was barely 10 o'clock.
Although he was never going to admit it, he was hoping to find a text from Ghost. It could have been regarding any topic, he didn't care: he just wanted to hear from the man again.

A couple hours earlier, Johnny had left the room at the hospital while Ghost was still sound asleep - judging by his last online status, he was still sleeping. Or maybe he was just avoiding Johnny. Or maybe the thought of texting him hadn't even crossed Ghost's mind at all. Ugh.

God, what had even happened last night? It all felt so unreal now that the sunlight was back upon him - as if he had been dreaming all along and now the dream was over, leaving him confused and kinda homesick.
Well, actually, most of his confusion was probably attributable to how zonked out he was: he had slept for a grand total of, like, 45 minutes, and now he felt like he was existing on autopilot as he lazily strolled in the park with a placid basset hound by his side, who looked just as tired as him.
Aside from his desperate longing for a text from Ghost, Johnny was desperately longing for his bed and a good rest.

Last online today at 12:15 P.M.

Ah, you woke up at last. Hope you're not feeling as jetlagged as I do.
He cringed at his own thoughts: he shouldn't even think about being so impudent with Ghost. And he also should stop staring at the man's profile once and for all. Ghost was not gonna text him! What could he possibly have to tell him?
Johnny's eyes got lost onto the buildings and the crossroads moving by in a blur outside the window, as the bus hurtled down the same usual route. He probably should have called in sick and abstain from going to the library today, but he wanted to make sure that everything was in place - and ensure that Ghost didn't leave anything important around, like a wallet or something. He obviously couldn't do that the evening before, he was in too much of a rush.

After placing down his stuff by the help desk, Johnny met with his colleagues in the break room for a coffee: he informed them of the previous night's accident, to which they reacted mainly with concern, burying him with "Oh dear"s and "is he alright?"s.
He soon realized that telling them wasn't a very good idea: now he was unsure which information to disclose and which to keep to himself, since Ghost was so protective towards his privacy - and so he remained generally as vague as possible.

It felt reassuring to be back among his books: although he felt terrible (and also looked terrible, according to some particularly ruthless people) and still yearning for some sleep, he perceived a newfound comfort, walking through the tall solid wood shelves and slaloming between tables and chairs. The council was in high spirits: after both office chocolate party and Halloween movie night had proven extremely successful, they came up with a list of possible activities that aimed at enhancing the library's popularity amongst the young and the old folks, and invited all the staff members to chip in with their own ideas as well.

Johnny absent-mindedly pulled out his phone again.
4:03 P.M.. Fuck was he tired. He unlocked the screen, just as distractedly, and stalled once again on the open chat between Ghost and him: no new message since that video he had sent Ghost at ten-something the night before.
Last online today at 4:03 P.M. . Whoa, he had missed Ghost by just seconds.
Not that it mattered anyway.

He wondered how the guy was doing now: he must have been barely halfway through his hospitalization period. Was he bored to death? Agonizing? Lonely?
Perhaps he could have asked. Hey, how are you holding up? Hey, y'alright? Turned to a werewolf yet? How's the Flying Circus marathon going? Hey, I was wondering how you're doing...
Every thing he came up with felt wrong. They weren't that close, the two of them, he couldn't text anything like that without seeming inappropriate. Besides, he would have probably just annoyed Ghost, on top of his already annoying mandatory recovery.

He tried to focus on his textbook, but the thing took more the resemblance of a pillow minute after minute.
Staring at his textbook suddenly reminded him that yes, there was indeed something that Ghost had left here the day before: he stood up and walked to the reading spot where Ghost usually sat at, and sure as hell, his Jules Verne book was still there, open at page 90-something. Next to it was still the lion bookmark, too. A touch of pain stung Johnny's chest as he remembered the unpleasing conversation they had when he gave it to the man.
Johnny placed the bookmark between the pages and closed the book, carefully as though it was made of diamonds and crystal, and he took it with him at the help desk.
Now there was his cue to text Ghost.

[4:49 P.M.] You: [📷 Photo] Keeping him safe here in my corner
Together with the message was a photo of the book, with a pair of curious lion eyes peeking from inside the pages.

Johnny felt his face flush as he glanced at the text he'd just sent: it was the most ridiculous text he could send, yup. Although he could easily unsend it, he figured the excuse was valid enough, and so he kept it there, eager to receive a reply.

Deadass it was like waiting for Santa Claus as a 6 y/o.

However, Santa didn't show up during the remainder of Johnny's shift; this Johnny knew because he kept his phone by his side the whole time. Moreover, Santa was probably just ignoring him, because by the time his shift had ended Santa had logged into the messaging app 2 or 3 times without once replying to his text; this Johnny knew because... Let's just say that he knew. Let's not admit he had stared at the bloody thing for a whole hour at least.

Now he felt embarrassed. Unsure of why he'd even text in the first place. He should've known that it was a bad idea.

Walking out of the building. Please, text back.

Bus ride back home. Please, text back.

Opening the door to his apartment. Please, text back.

Johnny walked past the doorstep and into the flat: Ghost hadn't texted back.
The door lazily closed behind him; standing in the middle of his living room, he stared at the phone's lock screen, no new messages pending. Meh. He felt like a teenager hopelessly waiting for his celebrity crush to reply to his cheesy-as-fuck e-mails - which, unlike in some movies, never really happens.

He got rid of his coat and backpack, and finally collapsed on the couch.
He could barely reach for the starry blanket and pull it up over him; the exhaustion won him over in a matter of seconds, and he was fast asleep.

He woke up a while later - Minutes? Hours? Days? He couldn't tell - after a weird dream, or rather a nightmare.
In the dream, Johnny was snuggling with some guy on the couch: the man hugged him and kissed his forehead gently, and for a moment it had felt like the most blissful scenario ever conceived by Johnny's subconscious. Then Johnny had looked up at the man and he had seen that it was actually Ghost: Ghost had asked, in the same way he did back at the hospital, "Who the fuck is 'Soap'?", and then he had laughed. He laughed and he laughed, what started as a subtle giggle escalated into a barking hysterical laugh - Ghost was laughing of him. Johnny had looked around the room and he had discovered that Farah was there too, and so was Phillip and all his friends. Everyone was cracking up, openly making fun of him. Making fun of Soap. It was then that Johnny finally had woken up.

Fuck was that unpleasing. With a racing heart, he sat back up, feeling more zonked than before if that was possible. God damn it. He did feel shaken by the nightmare, but mainly he jelf downright exhausted. What time was it? He reached for his phone to check the time, but found one unread message by Ghost 👻 instead.

Shit fuck shit he had texted back!
Johnny was overcome by that weird mix of sleepiness and excitement, a match that didn't work too well inside his body - he was both too sleepy and too excited to coordinate his gestures properly. After a number of failed attempts, he finally unlocked his phone and read the text:

[11:12 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Are you clocking in tomorrow?

Wow, that looked like a telegram during war times more than a text, but Johnny was not going to complain. Was he clocking in tomorrow? Damn right he was.

[00:28 A.M.] You: Aye aye, same hour! ✌️

Johnny put his phone away on the nightstand and went back to sleep in his bed. He obviously forgot about checking the time in the end.

A good night sleep did wonders to Johnny: he felt a whole lot better when he woke up the next day.
During the morning he met with Farah, the two went for a walk while Johnny took care of Charlotte's daily needs: apparently, the party had been fun and the place was really dope like Graves had said; she'd met a new transfer student who came for a PhD, some Alex guy, said he would be likely joining them again next week - because guess what, the place was gonna host another party the following week. Which Johnny, she stressed, will be attending, it was a very good occasion to catch up with Phil and the others.
Johnny kinda wished she'd stop, once and for all, with that mediation crusade between him and Phillip, but he loved her way too much not to appreciate her efforts: plus, she was clearly intrigued by this Alex, although Johnny knew her well enough to know it would take her forever to acknowledge the fact.
At any rate, Johnny promised he was gonna be there: Farah had good taste with people, or at least she did most of the times, so he figured that Alex was worth meeting.

She was a little dubious when Johnny told her all about the night Ghost had been hospitalized: naturally, she did praise Johnny for being so selfless and caring towards a semi-stranger, but she was also concerned since the semi-stranger in question was the same guy that made him feel miserable not so long ago. Ultimately, she just prompted Johnny to be careful and to put himself first: she trusted him to stand up for himself if he was to be treated like shit again. Johnny reassured her. He could totally do that, right?

Johnny found himself involved in that conversation before he could realize.
He was roughly halfway through his daily shift at the library when he had overheard a group of college students debating about which free choice exams to select for their curriculum, which happened to be the same as Johnny's. A while later, he had been somehow fully involved in their conversation: it was a group of three freshmen, who felt as disoriented as they felt enthusiastic for the whole college adventure.

They were especially eager to hear about Johnny's advice and anecdotes from his early years, and reacted with awe every time they asked how he'd done in Course So-and-So and he replied with "ah, I got an A+", trying to brush it off as best as he could.
Johnny didn't feel like he could brag: while it was true that he had an outstanding average of A+ straight, it was also true that he had a massive breakdown at the end of his career and had to take a break, only two exams away from graduation.

He felt like he was nothing but a fraud. An empty shell of the superstar he believed to be not long ago. More than once, he found himself diminishing his achievements to the freshmen by saying "I got an A+, but it wasn't that hard, I just had to study a fair amount" and stuff like that.
This didn't prevent the guys from praising him like he was some sort of demi-God of the Chemistry Bachelor Program.

A while later, Johnny was spacing out, eyes staring out the tall window of the reading room: he had lost track of time chatting with those people, and now his mind went back to Ghost and his cryptic message from last night:
why did he want to know if he would be in today? He hadn't texted since Johnny's reply...

"Excuse me lads," he heard the ever so familiar voice behind him greet the group of students, "mind if I steal your friend?"
Johnny couldn't stop a smile from forming on his lips, nor the shiver running down his neck. God, was he happy to hear the sound of Ghost's voice.
"Riley!", he said as composedly as he could, turning to face Ghost: the man looked... unamused as usual and still weary, albeit less than the other day.
"Sure, o-of course," one of the students waved in embarrassment, intimidated by the huge man towering in front of them. He dismissed Johnny with a low "See you around campus - you are a living legend, mate!".

"You got fans?" Ghost inquired much to Johnny's embarrassment, now that the two of them were left alone.
He shrugged, not sure which was the honest answer, too flustered to even think of one.

The man was back to his usual habits: same usual dog-branded hoodie, same camo pants, same scowl on his face, with the addition of a pair of dark circles under his brown eyes. Fuck the therapy had depleted him.

"You look..." Johnny began, unable to push himself to say nice, good, better, or any of such blatant lies. "...alive, thank goodness. Broke free from the detention facility?"

Ghost mellowed in a slight smile. Man, Johnny could almost get used to that sight. "I'm on parole. I uh, negotiated for an early leave.""Afraid the word you were looking for is 'extorted'," Johnny teased.
"You don't want to know," the guy teased back. "No I did actually negotiate. Promised to stay put in exchange for the green light to go back to work a couple hours a day. No straining, no running, yada yada, pinky promise. Anyway, I brought you a little something as a thank you gift for babysitting me the other night."

Ghost handed Johnny a little envelope, like a letter or something. For him? Johnny was taken by surprise. He didn't expect anything like this. He felt his cheeks flush and his throat turn dry. "I-... I don't know what to say, you didn't have to get me anything, I was happy to help."
"I know," Ghost replied calmly, "but I wanted to."

Johnny took the letter and examined the exterior: there was nothing written on it except for a printed stamp with a coffee bean logo. Inside was a thick paper that resembled a business card to the touch, but when Johnny pulled it out and read the content he realized it was actually a gift card from a coffee shop.

"Your drinking standards are in desperate need of a pick-me-up," was all Ghost had to say. Oh.
Johnny was speechless. It was such a kind yet playful thought, he couldn't even protest at the insinuation. Ghost was a living contradiction of spite and sweetness, like a bittersweet cup of black coffee with the unstirred sugar sedimented on the bottom.

"I will pretend I'm not offended by that," he finally stated, sliding the gift card back into the envelope, trying to look resolute when he was actually melting inside. "Thank you, seriously." Every attempt at containing a full bright smile had miserably failed: the sight of Ghost slightly smiling back at him was not helping, of course.

"Would you Cicerone me through this enlightening experience?"

Oh shit oh fuck. Johnny had probably just asked Ghost out, or at least he made it sound like that. "I mean I-... Knowing myself I'd be able to come out of the place with a vending machine cappuccino anyway," he tried to swerve back to safety. "Besides this gift card is too much for just one person, so, uh, might as well share it, right?"
Ghost took a while to respond, the ominous silence slowly killing Johnny.

"Sure, I can do that." the man finally replied, his face not betraying any emotion in particular.

Johnny tried to reassure himself: see, that's what a friend would do. He'd been unable to take his mind off that lingering question that Ghost had left unanswered the other night: did the man want them to be friends? Were they friends at all? He knew that labels didn't matter as much as gestures and whatnot, but he felt restless nevertheless. He wanted to hear it from Ghost, no matter how childish that was of him.

"So... are we friends?" he whispered, his voice getting stuck inside his throat from the nervousness.

Ghost stared at him intensely, the molasses of his big eyes piercing through Johnny's.
It was the scariest bunch of seconds Johnny had gone through in a while; living around Ghost apparently had that effect on him, he better get used to it.
When Ghost's mouth finally opened, he hit Johnny with a: "What kind of dumb question is that?". Not the slightest smile in sight, only a raised eyebrow. Ouch.

After a brief tremendous silence, Johnny remembered he had something to return to Ghost.
"Ah, I got your book." he said, reaching for the copy of 'Around the World in Eighty Days'. He handed it to Ghost, avoiding eye contact.
God, he really had to fuck everything up by making that question, didn't he?

"Where's the thingy?" Ghost said all of a sudden, flipping through the pages of his book.

"What thingy?"

Ghost sighed, bracing himself to say something embarrassing. "The thingy. The... Grumpy Lion thingy."

Oh, right.
Johnny had taken it out earlier, in a moment of peak self-consciousness, he had replaced it with a more sober and generic library bookmark.
"I thought you didn't accept that," he said, feeling a bit confused.

Ghost sighed again. "Ain't nice to refuse a gift from a friend."
And this time, he had smiled.

The crippling weight was lifted off Johnny's chest as that last word echoed in the room. They were friends.
Johnny smiled back, ever so gratefully.

"I'll see you around, rascal." Ghost was already headed out.

Johnny wanted to cry his soul out from all the emotions he experienced in the last few minutes. Except he wasn't going to shed a tear tonight.

He sat back at his desk, smiling from ear to ear, flipping through the various animal bookmarks in search for one that he could claim for himself: after a brief search, he settled for a honey badger bookmark which was super cute and kinda resembled Johnny's curious haircut. He placed his new bookmark in the Chemistry textbook, thinking to himself:
"the Grumpy Lion needs a best friend, too."

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

The Grumpy Lion and the Troubled Badger

The days that followed felt like godsend bliss to Johnny.
It might be a trivialty for most people, to be acknowledged as a friend, but not for him, and not when the acknowledgement came from Ghost.

That said, getting rid of the insecurity that haunted the young Scot and his pursuit of the Grumpy Lion was a whole other thing: he was far from done tackling that aspect, but nevertheless it was a major reassurance to be called a "friend" loud and clear by Ghost.
There were moments in which Johnny felt truly invincible.

Neither of them had forgotten about their coffee appointment, which they agreed to attend on that upcoming Friday morning.
And yes, Johnny was excited beyond belief for it, duh: the thought of their date crept back in his mind everytime he least expected it, causing a surge of tingling excitement sprinkled with some of that good old nervousness that he might fuck it up. He was doing his best not to keep the hopes too high, by reminding himself that a date between two friends was all it was going to be.

Meanwhile, the improvised reading club was back with their regular meetings at the library: they'd spend most of the time reading, quietly for the most part, aside from the sporadic small talk and that ridiculous banter that both of them seemed to live for.
Ghost was not up to much, from what John could gather: he took Dr Garrick's orders seriously (at least this time), and spent most of his free time at home, watching Anacleto perform all sorts of stunts and bonding with Ophelia so that she would finally show her belly to him too, like she had done with Johnny. Ghost was super envious of that belly thing, Johnny had come to realize - although to be fair, Ghost's jealousy had been obvious from the very first moment he had seen that video.
Apparently the man was also quite pissed about the way he was being treated at work, with his colleagues taking all the straining jobs away from him in an effort not to fatigue him in any way. It made Ghost feel like an invalid, which he wasn't. He was perfectly capable of doing everything he'd normally do.
Ghost hadn't shared any of that explicitly, about his frustration at work and all that, but Johnny could simply tell.

Johnny could simply tell a lot of things about Ghost; there was a good amount of things the man wouldn't talk about as well as things that made him tense when mentioned, such as the infamous "Little Riley's Reading List", his injury and most personal matters such as what was his family like and so on. Johnny could tell by the way Ghost looked, moved, reacted - the way his body language spoke in place of words, through impereceptible signals. Therefore, although Johnny would have been okay with literally anything Ghost was keeping private, he vowed to himself not to force the hand the slightest bit; instead, he would just prove Ghost that he was a trustworthy and caring friend, hoping that eventually Ghost would let him in on its own accord.

Until that moment, things were perfectly fine as they were. Ghost and Johnny, two friends and their books. The Grumpy Lion and the Honey Badger flipping through the pages, where trouble couldn't find them.

On a whim, Johnny had even invited Ghost to join him and his friends to that party he'd promised Farah to attend, figuring it might take the man's mind off his frustrating new tran-tran; Ghost had politely declined, though, saying that it was best if he avoided a bath of crowds when he was on antibiotics.

It was roughly 10:30 A.M. of Thursday. Johnny was nervously bouncing his leg on the seat, while the familiar bus took him further in the opposite direction from where he usually went to work: he had only one appointment scheduled for that morning, and even that one had been canceled last minute, leaving Johnny with a whole morning of nothing to do, and so he had made a very reckless decision: he was going to visit his campus.

That decision had probably been made in one of those "truly feeling invincible" moments, his reasoning clouded by the arrogance of a youngster who scored a date with his friend who was Ghost Riley; that kind of arrogance that makes you feel like you own the world.
It wasn't a bad idea, nonetheless, to visit his department at University: if anything, it would've been good progress, terrific progress, were he to accomplish that.

He hopped off the bus and walked along the stone boulder path that led to the Chemistry department, a tall ominous building which blended among a group of similar structures surrounded by a well-kept green lawn and sporadic but massive oak trees. With a bit of luck, sometimes you could see tiny squirrels leaping here and there on the grass.

He made it past the entrance door and into the building, experiencing no major side effects except a slight uneasiness. So far so good.

[10:45 A.M.] You: Hey, I'm in the chem building, take a break? I'll wait by the snacks machine at ground floor ;), he texted Farah: he hadn't informed her of the visit, mostly because it was completely unplanned but also because he wanted it to be a surprise; he couldn't wait to make his friend proud of the progress he had made.

The place was mildly crowded, he noticed: young faces were roaming the hallways, going in and out chatting together while they went to class, backpacks hanging precariously on one shoulder. Johnny couldn't recognize anyone; he had been away for almost a whole year after all, it wasn't surprising.
The feeling of distress began to build up inside his lungs, making Johnny groan softly: he was doing good, great even, until that moment, he was not going to give in to his anxiety now.
He kept focus on the warmth on his cheeks and the ever so symmetric tiles of the floor, until he was confident that he would be okay, that the room wasn't going to start spinning around like a terrible trip.

You might be wondering then, how he went from that seeming steadiness to throwing up his entire soul in the men's restrooms within a handful of minutes.

Johnny would wonder the same thing later that day. For now, he couldn't come up with a single reasonable thought.
It had all gone south spectacularly, all because of a seemingly innocent conversation he had: Johnny had been spotted by the receptionist of the building, a lovely and kind lady whose only fault was being oblivious about Johnny's condition. She had cheerfully called the boy's name and said that she wasn't expecting to see him around, it had been so long since she had last seen him. She had asked where life had taken him today, afterwards, and it took Johnny a moment before he could realize that she was assuming that he had already graduated, when he actually hadn't yet: he tried his best to keep his cool as he explained that to her, and when he did it, she gasped in shock, arguing that a brilliant guy like him must have been probably on his way to getting a PhD by now, or so she thought.
She meant no harm, obviously, but the more she spoke, the more Johnny spiraled into darker thoughts: you are a fraud, these people think so highly of you and look where you're going in reality - NOWHERE, most of your colleagues completed their studies but you're never going to catch up, you should have never made it that far in the first place. Give up already. Fraud, liar. Fragments of topics he had studied in the past years swirled confusedly in his head. It was too much, it was oh way too much.
He had whispered something like 'excuse me' and made his way to the restroom, fighting tooth and claw against his weakening knees and the walls around him that wouldn't stop swirling wildly.
His lungs felt full of dry ice, burning and stiffening as he desperately gasped for air. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. By the time Farah had finally found him, he was still retching above the toilet in that stall, scared out of his wits.

It wasn't the first time she witnessed a full-blown panic attack of that proportion, and it always broke her heart to see his friend in such a miserable state: there was only so much that she could do to help, but she had become familiar with the things that helped Johnny the most, such as gentle physical contact or the sound of a friendly voice.

Farah stayed by Johnny's side for what felt like the whole day, singing lullabies in her mother tongue and holding him close, until he was okay enough to talk to her. He apologized first thing, for wasting all her time and failing that impromptu mission so clamorously. He felt mortified. She reassured him that if anyone on her lab team had a problem with her leaving for an emergency like that, well, they could eat a bag of dicks, case closed.

Welp. Better luck next time, Johnny thought at the end of the day, feeling ashamed and frankly distraught.

He had set a mug on the kitchen counter and put a teabag in, waiting for the water to boil in the kettle.

Upon checking his phone, he found a new text from Ghost. Right, the infamous Coffee Friday was tomorrow.
Normally, Johnny would be thrilled as hell to receive a message from the man: he probably would have been this time too, if it wasn't for the headache and stomach pain nagging him.

[8:58 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Meet me there at 7 A.M.

While Johnny read the first text, frowning strongly at the hour proposed by Ghost (7 A.M.?!), another text followed:
[9:14 P.M.] Ghost 👻: If that's okay for you obviously. I know it's a bit early, but it's worth it, I promise

Ugh. As much as he trusted Ghost and would do anything for him, Johnny was sorely tempted to counter-offer a time less extreme.

[9:15 P.M.] You: Sure, 7 will do, he ultimately committed.

Further reply came while Johnny was blowing the steam off his tea:

[9:18 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Aight, see you there. Good evening, Johnny :)

He was not used to waking up as early as 5:30 A.M.: the possibility of sleeping through the alarm had kept him on edge all night, he had woken up multiple times and had slept very poorly overall. Eventually the alarm went off for real and he got up.

He hopped in the shower and washed the weariness off his skin, taking extra time to moisturize that mohawk which desperately needed trimming. The only person who was allowed to cut his hair was Farah: she knew her way around the task better than the professionals, and she would usually do one hell of a job in exchange for one of Johnny's proverbial lasagna nights.
Perhaps she could work her magic before the party, he thought; she already offered to do his makeup anyways - because this party, too, was supposed to be a costume party.

Johnny got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, dabbing his hair damp with another towel. The young man who stared back at him in the mirror looked far from okay: all over the skin around his blue eyes were sprinkled several red dots, probably a side effect from yesterday's stomach trouble.

He didn't feel any physical pain today, not even slight remnants of the headache; what was still burning, though, was the fact that he couldn't make it through his mission, and it frustrated the hell out of him. He was so sure that he was doing better, and yet he had failed.

About half an hour later, he was dry and clean and picking something to wear.
He shouldn't go for anything fancy, this was a thing between friends, to be kept casual: after a moment of pondering, he opted for a pair of darkish jeans, a T-shirt with a snarky print, and a college varsity that fit him a bit too big.

Decent enough, he thought as he inspected his image in the mirror. Not that he was meeting with Gucci himself, Ghost wouldn't probably give a damn about how he looked anyway.

By 6:30, Johnny was out in the cold mist of November. Well, 'cold' was an euphemism, freezing would be a more accurate word for it, the humidity in the air contributing to make it even worse. He shoved the varsity hood over his head, hoping to prevent his hair from getting messed up beyond repair.
The city was already lively, cars and buses crowding the streets and pedestrians walking their dogs or heading to the nearest café for breakfast. Johnny decided to walk all the way to the place, as it served the double purpose of keeping his body warm and clearing his mind from all the lingering tension from yesterday.

He was committed to wearing a smile and acting positive in front of Ghost, he was absolutely going to achieve a tranquil state of mind by the end of that walk: after all, Ghost was doing him a huge favor by agreeing to go there with him, Johnny did not want the man to regret that.

The shop sign appeared on the corner of the road sooner than he thought.
According to Johnny's phone it was barely 6:47 A.M., and he took a pinch of pride for actually being early to the appointment. In his imagination, Ghost was obviously going to be there early, while he was the one to arrive insufferably late. It was not the best case scenario, clearly, but you know how Murphy's law goes.
Much to Johnny's surprise, however, Ghost didn't seem to be around yet - well, it was early, he simply got there first. Pure dead brilliant.

He was basking in the satisfaction of beating Ghost to the punch when he felt a presence creeping behind him.
"You're early," the presence had spoken.
If there was something that Johnny had learnt about Ghost in those days, and hadn't yet had the time to get used to, it was that the man had a remarkable talent for sneaking behind people undetected: he could have crawled into a room full of creaking wood planks and crumpled plastic bottles without making the faintest sound, and that had caused Johnny to jump from his chair more than once back at the library. He suspected that Ghost was even getting off on spooking him.

Johnny turned around to greet his friend, and ho - ly - hell, the man was beaming. They say there's two types of people in the morning: well, one was Johnny and the other one was Ghost: not that he usually looked unattractive, but that morning he was drop-dead gorgeous. His facial hair was freshly groomed to perfection, and for the first time he had actually styled his hair in a way that wasn't absolute scruff. On top of that, he had finally given in to wearing a coat, an English black long coat that wrapped around him like it was tailored just for him. Good Lord. And of course, those hot whiskey eyes, always vigilant, always melancholic.

"Sir Grumpy, Sir" Johnny teased him, trying to hide the fact that he had once again been spooked successfully.

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Call me that again and I will end you."
Johnny nodded in compliance, although he could tell that Ghost wasn't the slightest bit mad at him for calling him Grumpy Lion or any derivatives; it seemed almost dear to him, that ridiculous nickname he had been given.
"After you, Twat Badger", the man gestured for Johnny to lead the way.

The shop looked very sophisticated, the entire outer wall made of glass forming a single giant window, cozily-lit lightbulbs hung low from the ceiling and the furniture was entirely coordinated with two colors: the black of the metallic accents and the hazelnut brown of the wooden parts. Pocket-sized silos stood on the back of the counter, each with a name of coffee variety, like 'Pure Arabica' and such. Very stylish overall. Johnny wondered how Ghost had come in contact with such a place.

"Hold on," Ghost stopped him before Johnny could open the front door, "are you alright? No offense, but you look, uh... I've seen you in better conditions."
Oh. Shit. Johnny cursed himself as he realized he had actually managed to dress up poorly for an appointment with the only guy he had been remotely interested in since his college fall-off. They hadn't even sat down yet and he already gained a strike in the fuck-up list. Feeling ashamed, he looked down at his shoes, calculating how terribly wrong his outfit was.

"I was talking about your face," Ghost read through him once again. "You look like shite. Are you sick?"
Right, there was that too. "Oh. It's kind of a long story - but I'll make it short. I have attempted to do some things I wasnae ready for, and, bad stuff happened."

"Uh-huh. Well, let's get this over with so you can go rest, how about it. Let me show you the reason why we came here this early."
Ghost opened the door for Johnny and he stepped in without delay, grateful for the privacy that Ghost had left him.

The reason they were there at 7 A.M. became immediately obvious: they had just roasted a batch of coffee beans in the backroom, and the entire place was fragrant with thick aromas of coffee and some other faint smell that reminded Johnny of popcorn.

"Oh, steamin' Jesus, wow" was all he could say, taking in another whiff of the blissful scent. Ghost seemed amused by Johnny's reaction. "Pretty awesome, innit. You only get this once a day."

Johnny nodded. "Well I cannot blame you for starting off your days with this."
Ghost tensed to that, a sign that Johnny learned to associate with something personal about to come up. Ghost would tense anytime he was disclosing information about him, no matter how stupid the thing was: it could have been that he disliked shortbread, he would get nervous anyway.

"Uh, actually, this is how my days usually end" he eventually said, turning away. "I work night shifts. This is like my happy hour, more or less."
Oh. Night shifts. Now the werewolf practicioner hypothesis began to be truly plausible.

"Riley!" a loud masculine voice rose from the backroom, and a tall handsome man came out the swinging doors. "Que guapo te ves, hermano! And who's this?" the guy pointed at Johnny. He was wearing a black tight T-shirt and an apron that matched the colors of the café's interiors.

Johnny wasn't exactly sure what the guy had said in Spanish, but it did embarrass Ghost. Cute, cough cough.
Ghost greeted the barista with a friendly handshake. "I've brought you a disbeliever with sinful standards."

The guy cracked a laugh, despite Ghost made it sound like a very serious matter. "Alejandro, nice to meet you."
Johnny thought of replying with 'mucho gusto', one of the three Spanish phrases he could remember with confidence, but he ultimately opted for just "Johnny" and a polite smile instead.

"Show him how a proper cappuccino is made" Ghost told Alejandro, who promptly replied "¡A huevo! Take a seat my friends."

Johnny awkwardly walked to a two-seat table and took a seat, unsure whether he should have chosen a table or let Ghost do the honors instead. The man simply followed him along, the stoic look printed on his face as usual.

"Place is truly impressive," Johnny told him to break the silence.
"It is, yeah," Ghost nodded with a subtle smile, "although I would never work with coffee myself. Plunges you into crazy caffeine addiction."
Johnny looked puzzled: couldn't they just... not drink a lot of it? "What? It's an actual thing, they develop the addiction by just inhaling the fumes when they operate the machines or something - I don't know, I'm no expert. But it is a thing." There was something adorable about Ghost getting defensive about his knowledge; that, of course, unless he got too defensive, in which case we all know how unpleasant it was going to get.

Alejandro came back with a small tray, placing two cups on the table. "Plain black coffee, and the cappuccino for the sinner."
Johnny mouthed a 'thank you' and stared at the drink, beautifully decorated with a figure of a leaf in the foam. Another milky drink he would regret drinking later.

"Let us pray" Ghost joked as he solemnly placed both hands under his cup, as if it was holy wine and he was a priest reciting mass.

They both took a sip in a synchronized movement, and Johnny felt his soul leave his physical body and his physical body melt on the chair.
Holy shit, amen. It was the creamiest, most fragrant and delicious thing he had ever tasted. A gospel choir of aromas harmonizing to perfection: a touch of vanillla, cinnamon, maybe coconut, and certainly others he couldn't make out.

Johnny closed his eyes in ecstasy. When he opened them back, he found Ghost staring intensely at him. "So?"
Time to admit defeat, Johnny. Although technically this proved nothing against the validity of his comfort drink of choice. "Aye, aye, I repent. I repent."

"Amen" concluded Ghost, trying to contain a sly smile. The two remained silent for a while, enjoying the drinks. Johnny didn't expect Ghost to break the silence first but, surprisingly enough, he did:
"Anyway, Johnny, look. You know I don't do talking. I don't understand any of that 'talking about it to some friend to feel better' bullshit. Doesn't work for me, I don't feel any good for that matters." Where was he going exactly with that?
"But, uh, if that works out for you, if you feel like telling me, well, you can. You know, about the, thing you attempted yesterday."

God, Ghost struggled so bad with open-hearted talk. He must have truly hated those kinds of moments, Johnny thought. Well, it's not like Johnny himself wouldn't be ashamed while explaining his situation; it sounded so stupid from the outside, he felt as if he was a tiny ant trying to carry a coffee bean that's ten times the size of his body. But he figured he might owe him an explanation, Ghost was a friend now after all.

And so he plucked out the courage and began, trying to summarize it as efficiently as possible: after graduating high school with top marks, he had gotten in the city college, where he enrolled in the School of Chemistry with a scholarship. The first two years had gone brilliantly, he was acing test after test, working two part-time jobs as dogsitter and waiter for the local pub. He had successfully contributed to the publishing of several research papers, supervised by his teachers and researchers of the PhD program, he was one of the most proficient students that the university had ever known, and he made his parents so proud by living up to the MacTavish name, already brought to star-level by his older sister who had recently won a desk as a researcher in an Ivy League college in the States. He had given up on his social life, his hobbies, sometimes even his basic needs such as sleep and nourishment.
One cannot lead such a restless lifestyle without eventually breaking; his body began to send him signals of yield around last October, he became fatigued, pale, stressed out of his wits, sometimes he would get even physically sick with fever and headaches, but not even that was enough to slow him down as he pushed himself further and further. At last, he cracked under the stress of his impossibly high standards and tight schedule and he was brought down on his knees for several days, not even too metaphorically, and the days soon turned to weeks; he was examined by the school doctor and he was commanded absolute rest, a fuckton of vitamins and supplements, and most importantly to take a break from everything. His absence from the academic environment had fed an inner voice beyond any reasonable proportion, the one voice that repeated that he had been gone for so long there was no way he could ever catch up and graduate. The voice went from being a mere side thought, to being his main concern, to taking control over his life. He was no longer in control of his emotions when it came to college: he fully knew it was an irrational fear, but he struggled so hard to face it for what it was.

Ghost had listened to his whole narration patiently without once interrupting him. When Johnny was done talking, he allowed some silence to fall between them, trying to find the proper words.
"Man. I'm sorry to hear that. Sure explains a thing or two," he finally said, referring to the trouble he saw him have with the Chemistry book some time earlier. "I imagine your parents are being complete dickheads about it" he muttered, the spite in his voice making it sound personal.

"Actually," Johnny felt even more ashamed now, "they know nothing about this. As far as they're concerned, I am really this close to graduating with honors. I could never get to tell them. So now I just avoid the topic" He felt his eyes moisten with tears while his mind traveled to his mom and dad. He felt especially guilty for feeding them that lie for so long. "I mean, they wouldn't even be mad at me if they knew, but... Ehh, I haven't been the best of sons. I never kept this many things from my ma." Johnny dug into his cup, feeling flustered that he had just spilled a giant bucket of feelings onto Ghost, who was not even that glad to ask.

"I'm no good son either, believe me, and I am in no position to say this, but for what it's worth, you're a good kid. Okay, no need to stress about it, or the grades or any of that." Ghost was striving to sound cheerful, even though it was not in his nature. "What you did yesterday was trying, and that's already brave enough if you ask me. They say trying is 55.5% of the battle."

"Who said that?"

"Some robot in a videogame."

In just a few hours, Johnny had been gifted a mind-blowing cappuccino and some heart-felt advice from a friend.
Well okay no, not just any friend; from Ghost himself.

Later that day, Johnny texted his mother:

[4:11 P.M.] You: Hey ma, perhaps I can come home earlier than Christmas break if you'd like :)

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

On Bones and Steel

"So what do you think? Good enough?"

Johnny inspected his freshly cut hair. "Good enough? This is neat! I love it, thank you."

Farah winked at her friend through the mirror he was staring at.
The sides of Johnny's hair were trimmed with surgical precision; now the mohawk looked razor-sharp, thicker and darker than ever, falling backwards like a horse's mane.

The infamous day had finally arrived: the party night which Johnny dreaded.

No. Johnny didn't fear the party as a whole: he wasn't put off by staying up late, nor by awkwardly dancing to the rhythm of questionable tunes in the lounge holding a drink in one hand. It wasn't even about his friends in general; it was obviously about Graves.
Did he really have to meet Graves? Johnny was usually the first bloke to turn the other cheek, but Phillip could be such a pain in the ass sometimes...
As accommodating as he was, even Johnny had a limit: he was not the least bit thrilled to have Phillip mock him as usual in front of all their friends, at a time when they were supposed to chill out and have fun.

Anyway. He was in it up to his eyeballs now, it was best if he focused on something else as he got ready.
Farah was going bonkers on his hair now, styling the mohawk into a voluminous braid, threading metal beads and black and white feathers on locks here and there.
"Where did you even get those feathers?!" Johnny asked her as he sat as still as a marble under Farah's knowing care. She shrugged with a smile, as if people regularly bought feathers together with their toothpaste at Boots or something. Alright, secrets of the professionists.

"Come on, Johnny, it fits you perfectly. You've got to keep it on."

"It stings like hell!" Johnny emphasized, running his tongue on the corner of his lower lip.
His sorry ass had been persuaded to wear a lip ring. Yup. Not a real one, for goodness' sake, he sure wouldn't get an actual piercing on a whim. It was a fake one, but still it stung like crazy, and Johnny was threatening to take it off.

"Quit the whining, you'll get used to it", Farah scolded him from behind her jaw-dropping Día de los Muertos inspired face paint.

He had to admit, though, he liked the way the ring sat on his lip. It added quite a... something to his face. It felt stupidly cool, and it was not just the tingling of the steel. He had given Farah full permission to tamper with his image tonight, and now he felt stunning: he was flaunting that beautiful braid, dark makeup on his eyes, and that stupid black steel lip ring. He hadn't yet understood whether his makeup was supposed to resemble the eye sockets of a skull (his best guess so far), or the dark circles of a vampire, a random warpaint, or just some emocore nostalgia. Whatever that was, it was rad. He didn't worry for a second about looking ridiculous.

Besides, tonight was going to be just him, Farah and the others. He wasn't looking to make an impression on anyone and nobody was going to make a move on him anyway, he hadn't seen that happen in ages.
His mind inevitably travelled to Ghost: the man would have probably laughed at him if he saw Johnny the way he looked right now. 'Laughed', as in 'slightly chuckled under his breath'. Ghost wasn't one for rolling on the floor in a roaring laugh. Johnny wondered what he was up to: perhaps he was getting ready to clock in at Werewolf Clinic™, or grabbing a quick bite, or maybe he was still medicating his wounds.
He felt so grateful for the way Ghost had gone out of his way to comfort him the other day while still respecting Johnny's personal space: he knew how difficult it was for Ghost and how much he hated pep talks and the likes, and that made it even more special.
Johnny was growing fonder of that friendship by the day. He wanted to know more sides of Ghost, as many as there were.

Well, now. Enough thinking about Ghost. Johnny was up to something else tonight.

"Rog, I'll keep it on. But it does sting."

"There they are," Farah pointed at a group of people in the corner of the room, and Johnny recognized Phillip and the legendary Alex he only saw in pictures until that moment. They waved at them and Johnny waved back - contact established.
The place looked just about like any other club downtown: most of the space was dedicated to a roomy dance floor, framed by a modest lounge bar on one side and the VIP lounge on the other. People were dancing all over the place, popping bottles of champagne at the tables, chatting in groups, standing awkwardly with those signature plastic cups with double straws.

"Hi! You look amazing" Alex said pulling Farah into a friendly half-hug. That guy was so head over heels for her, it was the only one thing actually louder than the music.
"Thanks" she replied, and Johnny had the immediate impression that she was actually not that indifferent.

"You must be Johnny. I'm Alex, nice to meet you at last", the guy offered his hand to shake. Johnny mirrored the gesture with his hand, and Alex pulled him in another hug. This guy wasn't at all for formalities, it would seem. "Aye, my pleasure", Johnny said from behind Alex's shoulder.

"Johnny, Farah," Phillip greeted with a much more distant nod.

Alex gave Johnny a curious look from head to toes. "What are you supposed to be dressed like?"
Johnny shrugged. "Don't ask me, both of us are her creations," he pointed at Farah. "Who are you supposed to be?"
Alex appeared to be in a regular plain black suit, with a white shirt and a black tie, and a pair of sunglasses just as black.

"Me?" he said in a solemn tone. "I'm just a figment of your imagination."
Johnny blinked at him confused, clearly missing the clue, so Alex pulled a pen out of an inner pocket and held it right in front of Johnny's face, a tiny red tape square glued on the side. Nope, he still didn't get it.
"Come on, man, Men in Black!" Alex finally burst. "Oh, oooh, of course, aye," Johnny said, feeling a little stupid.

"And you're obviously Patrick Bateman," Farah observed talking to Phillip, who had his hair fastened backwards with gel, and the unmistakable transparent raincoat. Graves nodded in approval.

There were Jokers and Batmans, campy attempts at Superman, lots of faces painted as skulls, some vampires - some of those, Johnny had to admit, looked so on point they could have come straight out of Twilight - and all sorts of costumes in the crowd. Johnny felt like some sort of forgotten esoteric deity of death in his look, his blue eyes glistening in the black and white makeup.

"Let's get drinks, Jo," Farah told him cheerfully, grabbing him by the wrist.
Plain Red Bull for her, a super lemony Dry Martini for him.

The group stalled there until they finished their drinks while they talked about this and that, then Alex proposed to go dancing: as they made their way to the dance floor, though, Phillip held Johnny back, and both of them silently agreed to give those lovebirds some space.
Which also meant that Johnny was left alone with Graves. That occasion deserved another drink, a much stronger one, if Johnny wanted to survive without any incidents on his part. Therefore, he quickly got himself a Bone Dry Martini, figuring he might as well add more bones to a party full of skeletons. It burnt like hell in his mouth, so it was probably just what he needed.

"Party ain't bad, huh? What did I tell you?" Phillip said as they both scanned through the crowd. "Aye," Johnny replied absently.
"Hey, that an ex-boyfriend of yours? He's staring at you like he wants you dead" Graves made a subtle nod towards some point across the room, and that's when Johnny saw him: a huge, ominous figure stood like a wallflower on the opposite side of the room, staring right at them from the holes of a terrifying balaclava with a skull printed on it. No other feature could be made out of that person, except those pitch black eyes which were burning them down to ashes from afar: squinting his eyes, Johnny could distinguish a black leather jacket and a fingerless glove - that, too, with a skeleton-ish print - on the hand that held a cup containing most likely beer.
Johnny and the man made eye contact before the other man broke it and looked elsewhere.

For a brief moment, Johnny could have sworn that he knew the guy. But, then again, he couldn't think of anyone who looked that frightening. Not even Ghost. And Ghost wasn't exactly a Care Bear in Johnny's mind. That dude in that corner was probably the only person in the club who seemed to wear a costume in an effort to hide rather than show off, and it was pure nightmare fuel.

Johnny came out of the state of trance he had fallen into, smiling nervously at Graves. "That big scary bloke doon there? Nah, man. Never seen him before."

Johnny was more or less halfway through his second drink now, and he started to feel a bit light-headed.
"So, how's things?" he had asked Phillip, hoping to be spared from the Graves treatment.
The American guy shrugged with a sly smile: "Ehh, you know, same old same old. I heard you paid us a visit recently," he said, still grinning, "I thought you'd come say hi to Ol' Graves."

There he goes. Like clockwork. "Yeeah, there were some hiccups in the procedure..." Johnny replied, evasive. He was never going to drop that, was he.
"You know, Johnny, I don't get it," Graves said, sounding more aggressive now, shifting his weight on both his legs. "What's so difficult about it now?"
Johnny was about to take a deep breath and explain the whole ordeal once again, but the guy went on. "'Cause, you see, from what I recall you had no problem kicking my ass in the finals last year."
Johnny's eyes darted away from Phil's face, landing again on the man with the skull mask: sure as hell, the guy was staring in their direction again, looking absolutely nefarious. "Graves, man, my score was but two points higher than yours, I didn't kick your ass at all," Johnny tried to fight back, but Graves knew no peace.
"You scored fucking perfect, MacTavish. Your test was flawless. What the fuck are you doing, bathing in your sorrow all day? What's to be so sorry for?! You are an ass kicker, you're better than this."

"Phil, will you give me a break-" Johnny was truly exasperated.

"No, the fuck I will. It drives me nuts! It doesn't make any sense! Either you've been a master at cheating all along or you've completely lost your mind-"

"So what if I did?" Johnny finally snapped back, his inhibition compromised by the alcohol. "What if I did lose my mind?"

"Bullshit," Graves hissed, sounding full of spite. "I know you still have it in you. You can do better than this, and I will repeat it until it will finally fucking hit you. Stop digging your own miserable grave, man. People keep appraising John MacTavish in the lab, but that ain't you. You're back to being fucking Soap all over again." He pushed his hands against Johnny's chest, causing him to take a step back.

That was the last straw. But if Graves had one thing right, was that Johnny was better than this. He wasn't going to cause a scene and engage in a fistfight in the middle of the club. Nevertheless, the adrenaline rushed in his veins.

"Quit calling me that. You have no fucking idea what yer talking about", he fought back.

Graves was about to fire back, when something else caught his attention, something located roughly behind Johnny.
"Great, what the fuck is this guy's problem?", Phil said to himself: Johnny turned around to see the Grim Reaper in the leather jacket walking towards them, looking more pissed than ever. He was shocked when he felt some butterflies fly in his stomach as the man approached them - drunk and terrified, that's all he was, probably.
Graves' expression suddenly turned from one of hostility to a big polite smile - what a two-faced bastard. "Heeey, man!" he said to the masked guy, "Can I help you with anything?"

Johnny became suspicious that Graves actually knew that guy, that maybe they were in cahoots to pull some questionable prank on him all along.
But that suspicion quickly vanished: the man reached out with both arms, but instead of pulling Phil into a hug, he had grabbed him by the flaps of his raincoat and slammed him against his own chest, the impact so abrupt and violent that Phil couldn't hold back a whimper of pain.
The man kept a rock-solid grip on Graves, no intention of letting him get away as the two stood motionless, chest to chest. Johnny was so confused: what the fuck was going on? Were they friends or what? Who the hell was this guy?

The masked man leaned towards Phillip's ear, vanishing behind him. Judging by the look on Phil's face, he was saying something to him.
Once he had delivered his message, one that had clearly startled Graves, he released him from the deadly grip and stepped back.

Graves quickly tried to recollect himself, chuckling nervously. "Okay dude, geez, relax. We were just having a normal conversation. Nobody got hurt."

The guy stared intensely at Phil, then at Johnny, then back at Phil. Johnny thought that this guy alone could beat the shit out of them both, even if they teamed up against him.

With a sudden snap, the man grabbed Johnny by the wrist and walked away towards some dark hallway in the back, and Johnny followed along, ensnared in that bone-breaking grip.

Alright. Johnny thought he was a dead man for sure.
"What's going on here? Who the fuck is that?", he heard Farah's voice behind him, becoming more and more distant. Yup, he was so dead.

The man slalomed through the people in the dark and narrow corridor, dimly lit by a blue neon light at the end: he walked on and on, past service doors and more hallways, until all the crowd was gone and the two of them were the only people around.

Johnny tried to pull back, fighting for dear life, with no luck.
"Look, man, there must have been a misunderstanding, I don't know you, I'm no junkie who owes you money, I- I'm a blood donor, I'm as clean as new!" He was ranting non-stop, trying to say anything that would convince the man to desist, but his only response had been to stop and turn around to shoot him a deadly glare. Got it, it meant shut up and keep walking.

He pulled Johnny into a pitch-black room: Johnny didn't have enough time to read the sign outside the door, all he managed to see was the word "ROOM" and a red ban sign that forbade access to unauthorized personnel. "TECHNICAL ROOM", perhaps. Oh God, he was so so dead.

The door closed shut behind them. Johnny swallowed audibly, so scared he could hear his own heart beating in his ears.

"Please..." he whispered faintly. The blaring music was distant now, but still loud enough to overpower his whispering and make the walls slightly quake rhythmically. Spare me, his message figuratively continued.

The man loosened the grip and let go of Johnny's wrist, only to place a forearm across his chest and push him against the door behind him. He slightly gasped at the impact, more surprised than hurt.

Johnny closed his eyes instinctively, as to protect himself from a slap or a punch or, God knows, maybe this man had a knife and was going to slit his throat open. But none of that came.

A hand landed on his face, a surprisingly gentle, non-hostile touch: Johnny held his breath, still afraid, as the man ran a warm thumb along his jawline; it reached his chin, then rose to his lips and hesitated when it reached the lower left bit, where that stupid lip ring still sat diligently. He pulled back, as if the bloody thing had passed a small electric shock to his hand. Ironic, considering that it was Johnny's skin that was burning with electricity along the whole trail the man had traced with his finger.

Despite the firm hold the man kept on Johnny's chest, he wasn't at all aggressive or invading, but rather respectful. Adoring.

A second hand reached for his face, freeing Johnny entirely from the grip against the door. But Johnny didn't flee. Be it that he was tipsy, but it had been so long since he had felt so desired, so physically close to someone. Every inch of his skin caught fire as it met the man's touch. The Reaper gently tilted Johnny's face upwards, thumbs still stroking his cheeks softly, and he felt the tip of his nose meet the guy's, but once again he hesitated a little, like a cat who tried to walk in snow for the first time. What the hell, Johnny was the one being pinned against the wall, why did this guy seem to be the one intimidated by the touch of his skin?

"D-don't hurt me please..." Johnny whispered. What a dumb thing to say; in hindsight, if that guy had harmful intentions, that request would have hardly had any effect.

He felt the man's nose collide with his face again, this time with his cheekbone. He felt the guy shake his head against his cheek, as if to say: 'No harm, I promise'. Hesitantly, ever so hesitantly, the man rest his lips on the corner of Johnny's mouth, pressing softly against the cold metal, causing it to sting lightly. When did that stop stinging like crazy?! Johnny almost forgot it was there. The cold of the ring created a delightful contrast with the warmth of the lips that kissed him politely, reverentially. A match carelessly thrown over a pool of gasoline that caught fire inexorably.

He pulled back, standing motionless in the dark. Seemingly waiting for a sign, any sign; Johnny could have left and bolted away back to the safety of the crowds, but he didn't move. He placed his hands on the leather of the man's jacket and travelled up until they met his neck, then his jaw, the fingertips grazing the tips of his hair on the back of his head. The ominous balaclava was rolled up right above the nose, and that was fine by him. It was weird, how Johnny felt like he didn't need to look at this man to feel at ease, almost as if he knew him by heart.
Come to think of it, what the man had done earlier with Graves was standing up for Johnny, whatever he had told Phillip to accomplish that mission.

Johnny leaned in and kissed him back.
Both of them inhaled sharply at that, breathing each other in; Johnny was hit by the scent of some delicate cologne: it was as if everything about this guy was hesitating, even his perfume. Their lips softly danced against each other, allowing each other in, inviting to give up the wavering. Johnny's arms wrapped around the man's neck, fingers finding their way through the strands of his hair. His lips opened as he inhaled shakily against the man's lips, catching his breath, feeling his cheekbones burning. When their lips met again, the man sighed deeply and pushed Johnny gently against the door, kissing back more fiercely, his hands never leaving Johnny's face.

When their tongues shyly met, Johnny felt his knees giving in underneath him, every bone in his body reduced to jelly. He clung on the man's hair, careful not to pull too hard and hurt him. They chased each other playfully, intoxicated by the warmth of the breath that grazed each other's skin. What the hell was with this guy, that was driving Johnny insane.

Johnny bit the man's lip, smiling playfully in the dark, completely at ease. They slowly pulled back, trying to catch their breath, resting their foreheads on one another. The man ran his thumb again on the lip ring, as if he was trying to picture it in his head.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he suddenly pulled away; Johnny could hear the muffled sound of the fabric of the mask as it was slid back in place.
Before Johnny could say anything, the door opened behind him, and the guy slipped out, muttering something unintelligible.

Johnny leaned back against the wall, in a room he wasn't supposed to be in, catching his breath after he had just made out with a complete stranger he couldn't even tell the looks of, and it felt good as hell.

Still dazed, he made his way back to his friends.
Farah could read through him without a word, even though he had pulled himself together fairly well by now.

"What the hell happened?" Graves inquired, still sore from earlier.

"Uh... He punched me and left," Johnny said. "Weird ass guy, really."

He brought his hand to his face and rested his fingertip against the ring.
"Keep that". Yup, he was pretty sure that was what the man had said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Code Red at Werewolf Clinic™
Part One

-
"I fell in love with a ghost
Oh, under the moonlight
You took my hand and held me close
For once I was alright."
—Owl City, 'Up All Night'

Johnny had soon surrendered to the fact that any attempt at finding that man would be pointless.
He had nothing, not a single clue on him, except for a scent he barely remembered the day after, a creepy skull mask, and that was pretty much all. Johnny had never truly believed in love at first sight or soulmates or any of that; however, the moment the Grim Reaper had softly locked lips with him, he felt... complete, as if the connection between them had been there for so long, a perfectly wired circuit that just needed a spark of current to vibrate to life.
Ehh. That was just as stupid as the thought of chasing the guy. The sooner Johnny forgot about the man, the better.

A couple of days after that party, after life had gone back to normal, Johnny was up early and getting ready for his morning appointment with Charlotte, the chatty Spaniel.
Mindlessly brushing his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, he contemplated what an absolute disaster his love life was at the moment: his heart was torn between a stupid five-minute fling he had with an unnamed person who was now M.I.A., and his cemented and unrequited crush for Ghost Riley. So yeah, pretty successful, huh.

He rinsed and dried thoroughly, then he slid the lip ring back in its place: he had kept it on ever since the mysterious guy allegedly advised him to keep wearing it - he really enjoyed the way it looked, he couldn't blame the man for encouraging that.

After spending the morning with ever so impassive Charlotte, Johnny went to the library as usual, feeling, if anything, more confident than usual with his studying. He hated to admit that the twisted pep talk Graves had given him at the party had actually sparked some confidence back inside him: Johnny would rather tell himself that Phil was just contributing to an already established process of self-redemption.
And also, he may have enjoyed the sight of his peer being lifted like a puppy a little too much - the way Phil hung by the hands of that masked man in the club made him look like he no longer had any power over Johnny.

Most of the progress he had made with the Chemistry studies in the past weeks, with no doubt, was thanks to Ghost: he was always reading quietly in front of Johnny, always ready to cheer him up or bring him back down on Earth whenever fear took over.
That was the biggest paradox with Ghost: although he seemed to strive to come off as harsh and unfriendly, deep down he was actually one hell of a good friend. Johnny was positive on this.

That afternoon, Ghost joined Johnny just like he usually did. Judging by the position of the Grumpy Lion bookmark, he had finally read his way through almost the whole Jules Verne book - it had been a painful crusade for Ghost to read through that book, but he was doing a whole lot better with respect to a few weeks earlier, when he would barely flip more than two pages in the entire afternoon.
Johnny secretly hoped that he, too, was part of the reason Ghost felt more comfortable with reading; if anything, he would be glad to know he was returning him the favor.

"What's next on the reading list?", Johnny uncautiously asked him.

Ghost dryly replied, "Don't know."
Yellow card for forbidden question.

"Hold on, when did you get that?" he added after a brief pause. He was referring to the lip ring, obviously.

Johnny remembered how he imagined Ghost making fun of him for wearing that ring, and he suddenly felt like an idiot for still having it on.
"Oh, this..." he replied, running his index finger on the black steel, "it's just... I don't know, friend of mine insisted I wear it and it kinda grew on me." He carefully skipped the part in which he would give credit to a stranger and his advice (together with that whole Grim Reaper makeout episode, of course); that was too embarrassing to even think about.

"Hm," Ghost commented, spacing out before returning with his eyes on the book, "I see."

Johnny raised his gaze to look at Ghost and realized the man was subtly chuckling.
Of course he would laugh at his pseudo-piercing.

"What's so funny?", he protested.

"Nothing," Ghost replied, still wearing a sly smile.

"C'mon, man, just say it. I look like a teenager in the middle of an edgy phase. Mom you don't understand, these lyrics are very deep, That it?"
Johnny wasn't really upset with Ghost, or getting defensive for that matter, he was rather teasing him the same way he often did about the mohawk.

"Nothing!" Ghost insisted, unable to contain his smile, "’salright, it's not that awful, really."

"John? Hi, sorry for such a short notice, I need you to take Charlotte out again tonight, something came up and I've gotta go."

Short notice? It was 8 PM! God damn it.
Well, Johnny was way too kind to refuse, even if that meant saying goodbye to the comfort evening he had planned for the night - an evening consisting in him, a musical and a pile of snacks.
"Sure, I'll be there around..." he checked the clocl and estimated the time for dinner and a shower, "Ten PM, tops."
"Alright. Key's in the same usual spot" the lady said and she hung up before he could even say ‘okay’.

Some time later, reluctantly, Johnny got dressed and headed out towards the bus stop. He thought that this was going to be the major bummer of the evening: he could have never foreseen what the rest of the night actually had in store for him.

He got off the bus and walked to the house where Charlotte was waiting for him.
That poor dog spent most of the day all alone; Johnny was probably the human she saw the most, her owner never really spent time with her.

He crouched to lift a flower pot inside the small front yard of the house, finding the key underneath just as usual. The key slid in the lock and opened the main door, letting Johnny in.
The Spaniel immediately peeped out from the living room and trotted towards him, wagging her tail rather dejected.

"Hi darling," Johnny greeted her, unable to ignore the disappointment on the dog's face. "Sorry, it's me again. I know you were expecting someone else" He affectuously stroked her behind the ears, but even that was almost uneffective by now.

"Let's go for a fancy walk, shall we?"
He reached for the harness and the leash; Charlotte didn't protest the slightest bit as he put it on her, and the two headed out. Weeks ago, it was impossible to have her stay still for a second to slid the damn thing on, she used to be so excited to see him and to go out everytime, it was honestly concerning how such vibrant excitement had died in her.

At first, Johnny had mistaken this for something ordinary; just the usual gloomy Miss Charlotte, dragging her paws on the sidewalk.
Something was off, but it had been like that for days.

After some aimless strolling, she began to yelp softly, tugging on the leash as if she didn't want to walk anymore.
"C'mon, Charlie, darling... Here, have a wee biscuit." When she even refused the treat Johnny offered her, he began to suspect that something was unusually off, therefore he decided to take a U-turn and walk the dog back home.

Halfway there, Charlotte collapsed on the concrete with a soft thud.

To say that Johnny was terrified would be an understatement.
He immediately kneeled beside the poor thing, eyes darting everywhere on her body, fearing that she was just gone. Thank God she was still breathing, but she was visibly in distress: her chest rose and fell in rapid shallow breaths, and she wouldn't get back up from the ground.
With shaking hands, Johnny carefully held her between his arms and he lifted her up, thinking, thinking, thinking, trying desperately to keep calm and think of what to do. There was no time to call Charlotte's owner, considering that it usually took her hours just to notice he had called. There was no time to call for any vet. There was no time for anything.

It was only for a fortunate glimpse of memory that Johnny remembered about that vet clinic, the one he had visited when he'd had the stupid idea of finding Ghost - Dr Price's clinic, or something like that. It was actually close enough to rush there on foot, and so he headed for the ambulatory immediately, walking as fast as he could and constantly keeping an eye on Charlotte, making sure she was still with him. Feeling cold trickles of sweat running down his forehead, and his knees threatening to abandon him at each step.

He talked to her the entire time, trying to calm her down. Trying to calm himself down, too.
He had to save her at all costs.

He felt so relieved when he finally spotted the clinic in the distance, he almost burst out crying.
Hold on a little longer, darling, let's just hold on, both of us. Charlotte was still whimpering softly, a sound barely audible, while her entire body just hung from Johnny's arms like a ragdoll.

Thankfully, today the clinic seemed to be open, bright white light beaming from behind the blurred out glass of the doors. Johnny rang the bell with an elbow, soon receiving a raspy "Yes?" in response. Breathless and barely able to formulate any sentence, Johnny replied: "Dr Price? Please, I have an emergency".

The place he had just walked in was tidy and clean, the interior was fully designed in nuances of creamy white and sage green - much like a hospital. The waiting room was cosy enough, with the canon generic magazines sitting on a coffee table and informational posters on the walls such as “prevention of arthritis in dogs” or “why vaccinate your dog against Leishmaniasis”.

A skimpy cubicle stood between the waiting room and a corridor: Johnny assumed that it served as a reception hub, but it was currently empty and dark, which made a lot of sense considering the late hour.
The double doors at the end of the corridor swung open and a man came out, wearing a teal medical uniform and latex gloves. He must have been in his fifties, judging by the onset of wrinkles on his forehead and eyes, but he was all in all of pleasant appearance, his physique held up fairly well with age. Perhaps Johnny was misled by the massive mutton chops that the man sported on his face, which gave him a more seasoned look.
At any rate, this was probably Dr Price.

"How can I help you?", the doctor said in a polite tone.
"I-I was walking her when she, she just fainted, I..." Johnny mumbled, staring at the dog that was still lying in his arms, barely conscious.
"Alright, son, ‘salright. You did good, we'll take it from here." The doctor gently took Charlotte from Johnny's arms, unplugged the leash and carried her beyond the doors, leaving Johnny alone in the silence of the waiting room, fearing nothing but the worst.

He waited. He waited. He waited more. Somehow, it was now way past 11 PM; it was like stalling inside a timeless bubble.

To wait there, powerless like that, was excruciating.
Johnny paced around the room feeling restless, staring at those doors hoping to see anyone come through to deliver some news. He had left a voice message to Charlotte's owner, saying that the dog had an accident of unknown cause and it was now being treated at the clinic, attaching the address of the place. The lady said she would turn up ASAP. Based on the timestamp of that text, this was almost 40 minutes ago, no sign of her since. He was left by himself in that terrible situation; the smell of sanitiser and floor detergent in the room was nauseating him, and his thoughts were turning more and more negative - how could he let this happen? What if Charlotte found poisoned food, ate it and got intoxicated without him noticing at all? He felt like a horrible caretaker, an irresponsible person, undeniably at fault.

As he walked around, fidgeting with the leash, he noticed something on the walls that he hadn't spotted earlier: several drawings were hung in the waiting room and the corridor, portraits of animals in black and white, realized with what Johnny believed was a common pencil or charcoal.
There was an Irish Setter dog pictured standing with its tongue out, its glossy curly hair depicted in all its glory; the detail of a wolf, pictured from the shoulders above as it stared right back at the viewer with inquisitory eyes; a smaller portrait featured a wild hare immortalized while leaping above the grass.
The only work that involved more colors was also the biggest one: a full-body portrait of a mother deer and her baby fawn, both standing on their elegant slender legs, colored in the characteristic caramel brown; mama deer looked so breathtakingly elegant and beautiful, standing strong and vigilant over her child, her most precious thing. It was truly the most beautiful piece of art Johnny had ever seen.
His eyes shifted to the lower corners of the canvas, looking for the author's signature: he was expecting to read any name but fucking ‘SRILEY’, as much as he was expecting any person to come through those doors in that instant but fucking Ghost.

It shouldn't be so surprising. Ghost had never made up the address. This was his workplace. It explained the wolf bite, the med school, the familiarity with the Chemistry book, and last but not least, the fact that he was right there, in medical uniform, in front of Johnny right now. A surgical mask hung loose down his neck and on the navy blue shortsleeved shirt that left his sculpted tattooed arms uncovered. How was he not freezing in short sleeves, was going to be a question for later times.

Ghost was just as surprised as Johnny to be face to face with the young man. "Johnny?" he exclaimed, taken by surprise.
Johnny browsed through the possible replies he could quip: “blue suits you nicely”; “ you're the person I was least expecting to see and the one I'm most glad that I saw”; “why yes I know about this place because I went looking for you some time ago I need a hug please hug me, why because I might have murdered a dog ordinary happenstance haha” oh God help this guy.

"So this is the legendary Werewolf Clinic," he eventually said, hoping to sound half as cool and collected as it sounded inside his head.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Ghost said back, oblivious that this name was ever coined.
"Nothing," dismissed Johnny, frowning as his thoughts went straight back to his furry friend behind the doors. "How is she?"

"She was entering kidney failure when you brought her in," Ghost told Johnny in a tone so calm and professional he had never heard before. "We ran some tests, the results should come in momentarily. We would rather wait until the tests come back but I am pretty positive that she was poisoned. She's out of danger for the time being. I'm optimistic about her recovery, but the upcoming hours are going to be crucial."

So Charlotte was actually poisoned. Johnny felt his lungs collapse around his heart. It was his fault, somehow he had allowed this terrible accident.
"Johnny," Ghost's hand landed on his shoulder, sympathetically. "Don't worry, alright? she's in good hands. She'll be fine."
Ghost's eyes met Johnny's, who was this close to tearing up. "I'm guessing you're not the owner, right?"

"Right" Johnny echoed in a whisper.
Just about then, the door buzzed open and Charlotte's owner came in, skipping the formalities and going straight for Johnny.
"What have you done to my dog?"

God fucking damn him and his lack of discipline.

A few hours earlier, Ghost was folding the laundry in his house, careful not to leave the pile within reach of his two little devils: the skull mask was back into the drawer, Ghost couldn't bear the sight of that ominous relic for a moment longer.
The mask had been with him for most of his life; every time he was up to trouble, the mask was there with him, concealing his face and keeping his identity secret.

It had been so long since Ghost had pulled out the bloody thing, he couldn't even remember when was the last time he had needed it. He had behaved impeccably for months now, channelling his energy at work and at the gym. But then Johnny came around and everything was put in a blender: he knew from the very beginning that that one guy would be trouble, and so he had put a lot of effort into pushing the kid away, even by hurting him if necessary. All he had to do was stick to the rude attitude, which came pretty natural to him anyway, and wait for Johnny to eventually give up on him.
But he'd be damned if Johnny hadn't persevered. Now, let us be honest for a moment: Johnny was like that with every human being - always friendly and caring with everybody. No matter how many people were going to stab him in the back, he gave everyone the benefit of the doubt with a side of love and support. That was just who Johnny was; it was obvious that he treated Ghost in no way that was out of the ordinary. And despite his intentions, before he knew it, Ghost had been involved in Johnny's life, and Johnny found his way into a part of Ghost's life too, and now they were even friends. So much for pushing him away, huh.

The man's eyes gazed at the leaden sky outside the window: not many people had attempted to bond with him throughout his life, either as a friend or as a lover, and most of those who tried had been scared away at some point. Because that was who Ghost was: a very difficult person to be with. However, Johnny hadn't been scared away just yet: he was still sticking around, without faltering, not afraid to show his most vulnerable side to Ghost.

He had fought tooth and nail not to be charmed by those bright blue eyes, but there he was now. Crushing on the guy in obsequious secret. Pushing him away but aching for him to come back. There were days in which Johnny was all he could think about: hell, a couple times he had even given up his sacred workout to show up at the damn library, just to see him.

Crushing on Johnny was Ghost's problem only, it had no consequences on the other guy whatsoever.
What he had done the other night, however, had jeopardised everything: what the fuck had gotten into him for thinking, even for a split second, that showing up to that party could be a good idea?
He was supposed to stay away from Johnny, he was supposed to forget about him; instead, he had put on his old skull disguise, he had gone to the bloody place and glanced around like a creep until he had spotted his friend. He was never going to admit that the sight of John flirting with that blondie guy had ignited a timid flame of jealousy inside his chest; but the moment he saw that guy harassing Johnny, he had just seen red and intervened, risking to blow up his cover and humiliate himself for the rest of his days.

And lastly, as if all this wasn't enough, he had grabbed Johnny by the wrist and dragged him in the dark of a room somewhere in the building. And right there, under the cover of darkness, he had fucking kissed him.

It was such a shady thing to do. He had scared Johnny to death in the process, and for a long instant he expected him to just dart away as soon as he was allowed to; Ghost was battling desperately against himself, one side of him attempting to regain control of the situation versus the other side that just ached so forlornly for their lips to meet. For each inch he leaned forward, he went back two.
He had hesitantly placed his lips on Johnny's, a gesture full of a form of devotion he hadn't felt in a very long time, maybe ever, one he was almost frightened by. For that brief instant, Ghost allowed himself to cherish Johnny the way he really wanted to, even if the man was gonna reject him and leave in response.
And then he had felt Johnny pulling him forward and kissing him back, and the battle within him turned into a raging slaughter with no rules and no mercy on either side: he felt the cool steel of the ring against his lips (God, what was it with that damn ring on Johnny's face?) and Johnny's gestures that subtly invited him to give in and let go; for a moment, Ghost had thought that he knew, that he was fully aware of who the masked man was, and that was the most bittersweet sensation Ghost could possibly experience.
He was dying for Johnny to know, and he was terrified for Johnny to know, too.

For an instant, Ghost allowed himself to just be Riley S., just an ordinary guy who was falling for the library boy.
But that couldn't last; for he was Ghost, and he was always going to be no one but Ghost to Johnny.
Since that hazardous night, he had been haunted by the memories: as soon as he was alone with his thoughts, he was yanked back into the darkness of that room, his hands gracefully resting on Johnny's face, their tongues speaking the most intimate of languages. It drove him insane today as much as it had driven him insane in that moment. To make things harder, Johnny had kept that lip ring on every day since then; it was yet another witness that glanced at him as if to say you, you know how I taste like, don't you?

If he hadn't pulled out that mask, none of this would have happened.
Sure, Johnny seemed to have no suspect that he had even gone to the party at all, but that didn't erase the consequences of his actions on his side. He was haunted night and day. He picked up his laundry, cursing himself out loud: he should have thrown the mask away a long time ago, together with that dark and troubled side of him. He should've been more disciplined, in control of his actions.

“Here, wear this mask. If you really have to get in trouble, at least make sure you don't put your face in it.”
The words of his mother hit him like a dagger planted between the ribs. He remembered that moment like it happened yesterday. He had been such a disgraceful son to his ma, causing her nothing but worry and disappointment for his whole life. He pushed the thought away, too ashamed to face the truth even in the privacy of his home.

A familiar fuzz ball had hopped on his shoulder.
"Hi, 'Cleto" he vigorously stroked the kitten's head. "You know you can't do this shit forever, do you?"

Oh, the irony, to be called Ghost and be the one being haunted.

Now that he was at work, serving his usual night shift, he felt a little better. Relieved enough that he could think about the events of the last few days with lucidity and without major gut-wrenching feelings.
Price was running one last check on his patients before he would clock out, when he gave Riley a look of insufferance, like a father ready to scold his kid.
"Alright, kid, enough of that stare. What is it?"

Touché. Ghost had been torn for the past hour, unsure whether to talk to his boss or keep to himself, but Price had downright busted him.
"Nothing, it's just... Been thinking about things."

Price cocked an eyebrow at him, all but satisfied of the answer. "Hey. Come on, kiddo, you've known me forever, talk to me. Let me help you."

"It's that... Uh..." Ghost took a deep breath. God this was going to be embarrassing. "There's this... person, a friend of mine if you will..."

Price's eyes subtly lightened up. "Go ahead."

"I just..." uggh it was so difficult to put it in words... "I don't know, he's nice, and patient, and bright minded and whatnot, it would be only fair that I allowed him into my life but..." Dr Price waited patiently for him to pick the rest of the words, until he eventually added "it feels like a big mistake to have him see who I am really, entirely, I mean. That make sense?"

"In a way," his colleague replied. "Listen, lad. Do you fancy this person?"

"With every drop of me blood", Ghost whispered, an answer he wasn't willing to hear coming from himself.

"There goes your answer. You're a good kid, Riley, no matter how strongly you may disagree. As your pal and supervisor, I have no doubt of that. Go ahead and befriend this guy, I'm sure he will fancy you for who you are. We're only here this once, son; better skim down those regrets, you don't want to be too late."

Price had hit the spot. His words were truly shaking, for he had touched two weak spots at once, one being the regrets of his past, and the other being the future possibility that Johnny would actually give up on him and move on with his life. Both things hurt. But the latter could be avoided, if Ghost had played the right cards.
He would've had to tread a very delicate pathway and possibly suffer like a dog, but he would have tried his best for that little idiot with questionable taste in soft drinks.

Price and him went back to their tasks when the doorbell rang. Ghost never picked up calls himself unless he was supervising the place alone: he felt it would be disrespectful towards the owner of the business not to let him take the call - and besides, PR was definitely not his thing, so he relinquished the honor to Price very gladly.

"Yes?" he heard him say from the corner of the room. John Price was one of the persons he considered himself very lucky to have around.
The doctor pressed the button to unlock the front doors, hung the phone back on the wall and reached for a pair of gloves from a box on the steel counter.

"Get ready," he hastily told Ghost, "put everything where it belongs and sanitize the table, we got an emergency."

"Roger" Ghost replied as he obeyed, expecting no more than the usual hypochondriac customer concerned that their dog had broke a nail and bled a bit. Little did he know that fate was about to put him through yet another tiny trial by fire.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Code Red at Werewolf Clinic™
Part Two

“What have you done to my dog?”

It didn't go unnoticed by Johnny, nor by Ghost for that matter, how the lady who owned Charlotte didn't choose generic words that focused on the dog itself, like “where/how is she?” or “is she doing better?” , or even “what happened to her?”; it was more of an attack directed to Johnny, as if it was obvious that he had something to do with it. She wasn't yet aware of the poisoning or the kidney failure, Johnny had been informed but a few moments prior: all she knew was that her dog was unwell. Anyone with decent reasoning would be concerned about that, rather than bouncing at the dogsitter's throat. Johnny reacted with surprise and responded: “Nothin', she acted weird all night”. Ghost noticed a slight touch of hurt behind Johnny's eyes and suddenly the spite towards that lady grew a little fonder in him: if he were Johnny, he would not have tolerated that accusation, he would have bitten back.

Johnny thought that the lady might be around the same age as Ghost, and she was just as charming as him, at least aesthetically speaking. For a moment, the thought crossed Johnny's mind that those two would actually make a pretty decent couple: the idea made him even more nauseated than he already was, but evidence against that possibility came as soon as John saw Ghost's face oozing with dislike for her. Regardless of all, hopefully Ghost knew that he was incapable of doing any harm to Charlotte intentionally.

“You better, John” she snarled. It was oddly out of character, the aggressiveness with which she spoke tonight. She was never particularly rude to Johnny, she was just constantly elsewhere with her mind so she skipped a lot of good mannerism as a consequence, but that was a whole different level of lack of manners.

“Ma'am,” Ghost growled lowly, wearing an eerie smile and taking a deep breath. If Johnny were to guess, he was trying to keep it professional only to avoid getting his ass fired. “Let's not jump to conclusions. As I was explaining to John, the dog suffered a kidney failure, which can be fatal if not treated immediately. From what we can see, she's been in distress for some time now, I believe it could have happened at any moment. It was but a coincidence that Johnny was there when it happened.” He then concluded with a glare of his: “A fortunate coincidence, I may add.”

Johnny momentarily got lost staring at that figure: hell, Ghost looked so hot in that plain blue uniform, his head slightly tilted to the side and his arms crossed in front of his chest, masterfully embroidered with that tattoo sleeve. He spoke with confidence, but not with arrogance. Oh, and let's not forget those stunning drawings on the walls, of which Ghost must've been the author. Once again Johnny frowned at how little he knew about Ghost: there was so much more behind that glare than just an angry bloke. Johnny felt like an insignificant baby duckling who stood before a swan.

The doors swung open again, this time revealing Dr Price with some papers in his hands. “Good evening,” he began, “Who's responsible for the patient?”
“I am” said the lady taking a small step forward. Price nodded. “Good. First of all, you might want to know that the patient is stable for the time being, although we will keep her under observation for the next 24 to 48 hours, then we'll consider dismissing her.”

“Oh. Okay. That's a relief” the lady commented, smiling a little awkwardly. Johnny observed her: she seemed genuinely relieved, but not quite as much as he expected her to be. Something was off. Price handed the papers to Ghost, who scanned through the pages and looked back at Price, his eyes widening with surprise. Those had to be the test results. His gaze darted to Johnny and the lady, then back to Price, who gave his colleague a knowing look, as if to say “don't say a word, I got this”.

And so Price began to inquire: “has the dog been unwell as of recent?”
“I would say so. She seems, uh... dispirited, was a lot more joyful earlier this semester,” was Johnny's answer, to which the lady just nodded.
“Uh huh. Alright. What about physical illness? Ma'am, was she prescribed any sort of medications?” Price went on. Ghost observed the scene carefully. “Umh, no, nothing,” the lady said, staring at the floor and crossing her arms. Price sighed softly and proceeded: “Okay. Could it be possible that she has found something on the floor and ate it? A piece of chocolate, for instance.” The lady scoffed: “How am I supposed to tell? He is in charge of looking after her when I'm away,” she replied, hinting at Johnny.
Johnny wasn't hurt by those words - she was right, it might very well have been his fault. He was the one spending most of the time with Charlotte. Whatever she had ingested, she had probably done it under his watch. He had no choice but to meet his fate.

“Alright miss I am going to be very direct with you,” this time it was Ghost who intervened, his patience had clearly ran dry earlier than Price's. He took a step towards her and Johnny, he stared right into the lady's eyeballs, barely blinking. “Have you given Ibuprofen to your dog?”

There room fell silent for a moment. Price sent a glare towards Ghost, as if he had just ruined his plan to catch the culprit. At first, the lady looked offended by that insinuation, she composed herself and said “Look, I don't know what to tell you, big guy. He was the one who took care of her tonight. And I've been paying him to do that properly. How about you ask him that?”

Ghost didn't flinch. “Johnny,” his eyes shifted to the young man now, “did you give Charlotte any Ibuprofen?”
Ghost was serious, Johnny figured to reply just as seriously. “No sir, wouldnae dream of it.” That simple answer appeared to be satisfying enough to Ghost, because he turned to look at the lady again, a hint of a cocky expression on his face, as if to say: “There, I asked him and I got my answer. Now what?”

“What?!” she objected. “You're just gonna believe him like that?”

“As far as I'm concerned,” Ghost growled lowly, calling upon all the self-control he had left not to maul her alive, “I've known this kid for quite some time now. He wouldn't lie to a single soul, and that's not up for debate.” Nope, Johnny was notgoing to blush at that. Nuh uh. Who said this was a compliment anyway, it was just a statement, a true one. “I'm gonna ask you again, miss: Why did you attempt to treat your dog with ibuprofen, a drug that's toxic for dogs, for an exposure time long enough to nearly kill her?”

If Johnny were Ghost's supervisor, he would say the man had crossed a line there. He really had no tangible proof that she was guilty of that.

But the direct confrontation had hit the spot. The expression on the lady's face had quickly gone from defensive to completely cornered: all of a sudden, she looked like a third-grader who had been caught with no homework done. “I... I didn't know what to do, she always looks so down, I just thought she was in pain and gave her a painkiller.”

“How about taking her to a vet instead?” Ghost urged.
“Do you have any idea the amount of work I am buried with every single day? I barely have the time to breathe!”, she defended herself.

“You just said you're literally paying this guy to do this sort of things for you, just assign him to do it!”

She was silent, visibly mortified. Checkmate for Ghost.
“Look, miss,” Dr Price spoke now, way less brutally than Ghost did, “Nobody is coming after you for giving your dog a painkiller, it is a mistake more common than you may think. However, deliberately ignoring that the dog is in distress and avoiding to take her to a doctor... That might very well be a case of animal neglect. Nothing prevents me from suing you for that. But this is a matter for some other time, as I was supposed to clock out a bloody long time ago already. All y'all need to know for now is that the dog is fine, she's gonna stay here under monitoring, and when she'll be ready to be dismissed, we will sort this out.”
Nobody dared to say a word in response; Dr Price walked to the doors and stopped on the doorway. “Oh, and a word of advice if I may: you should thank this kid, he's the one who saved your dog's life. Good evening,” he said and he left.

Awkward silence filled the corridor. “Johnny, I-...” she began.
“It's alright, ma'am, 'tis already in the past.” Johnny smiled, or at least he believed he did - exhausted as he was, he couldn't be sure. “I know life's been tough with you recently. Go get some rest.”
“Thank you, John,” she weeped, eyes tearing up, “thank you so much. I am so sorry.”

Johnny offered her a hug, but she just turned around and left, sobbing softly.

Ghost was still there, observing like an intruder: there it was, another proof that Johnny was like that with everyone, and most definitely not just with him. There was nothing extraordinary between Johnny and him, there never was.

“Well, that was somethin',” Johnny looked up at the ceiling, “Hey Ghost, do you think I can see her?”

Ghost let out a low grunt. “Technically, you shouldn't. Oh, fucking hell... Alright. You owe me one.”
The man uncrossed his arms and pushed the swinging door open, gesturing for Johnny to come in.

Charlotte was in a tall and broad cage, lying down on the side, possibly sedated. An IV bag hung on the outside of the cage and went all the way down to her paw, where it was secured with surgical tape. She looked so tired, and more discouraged than ever.

“Hey...” Johnny called her softly. “It's okay girl, I'm here.”
Charlotte wagged her tail weakly, happy to see her friend. Her snoot inched closer to the steel of the cage, meeting the palm that Johnny had reached forward. She licked the hand twice, gently, and Johnny's face lit up in a fond smile. Hell, that dog was so dear to him, as much as he was to her. It it such an intimate gesture, the soft lick of a dog: it is not the same as being plastered with drool when your dog is so excited it won't stop licking all across your face - the soft lick is much more meaningful. It happens when excitement runs out, and all that's left is pure affection and devotion. Even with all the sickness and the pain, Charlotte had love to dispense to Johnny. Ghost scoffed, witnessing the scene: there was no soul on Earth unable to love John MacTavish.
“Fucking hell, Johnny, what is it that you do to them? They all like you so easily, look at that.”

Johnny smiled, flustered. “Ah... I'm afraid you're mistaken, lad. It wasnae easy to win her trust. It took me a bloody lot of patience and time. Fuckin' Christ, man, what the hell kind of product do you guys swipe the floor with?” he asked, still feeling nauseated by the odors all around.

Ghost scratched his back awkwardly. “Uh, I'm afraid it's not the floor, man.”

It was only then that Johnny noticed the stains on his jacket and hoodie. It didn't smell flowery nor like anything pretty. Shit, he had no intention of investigating what it was, but he could easily imagine, knowing what Charlotte had suffered. Ugh.

“Uh, let me get you some clean clothes” Ghost offered nervously, vanishing into another hallway before Johnny could protest. He followed the man into a smaller room with some lockers along the walls and a makeshift kitchenette with just the necessary appliances: a microwave, a coffee brewer, and most importantly, a tea kettle. Fucking brits...

“Ooh, big boys room. Am I allowed in here?” Johnny quipped, instantly regretting making such a dumb comment.
Ghost huffed, hands busy with his locker's combination. “So it would seem. Congratulations, you're a big boy now.” Did Johnny blush for the hundredth time? Absolutely, but hopefully Ghost didn't notice.

Johnny stood there like an idiot as he waited for Ghost, who quickly returned with a plain black T-shirt and one of the ever so familiar dog face hoodies. “Here, this will fit you a little large but it'll do for now.” He handed the pile of carefully folded clothes to Johnny, who hesitated for a moment but accepted it with a “...Thank you.” All cool, he was just about to slid in Ghost's hoodie. Absolutely nothing worth screaming internally.

Johnny placed the clean stuff on a chair nearby, and proceeded to take off his stained clothes.
“What's up with the dog graphics? Is that some kind of mascotte?” he asked, with his head still buried inside his clothes. He finished undressing and shoved his hoodie on the floor, turning to face Ghost who wasn't replying. The man's face was visibly flushed and contracted in an expression of unease. Oh, shit, he had made Ghost uncomfortable, standing there bare-chested like a moron! He should have thought at least of the possibility that Ghost may not be okay with people undressing in front of him like it was no big deal.“Oh, I'm sorry-” Johnny began, reaching for the clean clothes as fast as he could.

“No, it's, uh-” Ghost stammered from behind him. “It's, yeah, some sort of mascotte of the place. It's a homage to Price's late dog. He loved the bloody thing more than anything. We keep suggesting to print it on the front of the shop, but, well, we got stuff to do, so...”

Johnny's head emerged from the new hoodie - it was indeed a large fit, but it was very comfortable and smelled like freshly done laundry.

Ghost picked up Johnny's stuff from the ground and took it somewhere in the backroom. “Hey, w-where are you going with that?” Johnny asked, a little confused. “I'm washing it. With the dryer we have here, it shall be as good as new within an hour or so.”

Johnny flushed at the kind gesture. “O-okay, thank you.”

“How long have you been working here?” Johnny sat diligently by the desk, looking around like a kid in daddy's workshop. Ghost was fiddling with some paperwork on the other desk by the adjacent wall, seemingly focused on his work. “Not that long. I trained in the military for a few years after graduating. Been working here pretty much ever since I came back.”

It was so cliche and pro-military propaganda, to think of Ghost as some sort of badass for being in the military, but Johnny couldn't help it. Ghost was like a vet vet. And this pun was never going to see the light of day, if Johnny didn't want to make a complete fool of himself.

“Oh, wow. Were you like in the Sniper Elite or the SAS or somethin'?”
“That's classified.” Ghost cut short, adding a timid huff to clarify that he was not really upset. Nevertheless, Johnny complied and abandoned the topic.

Upon looking around, he noticed a few books on the shelf above Ghost's desk. “Do you read a lot in here?” he asked, picturing the man as he read all by himself in the silence of the ambulatory at night. Ghost raised his head and gave Johnny a quick look, before returning to his practice. “Not really. Sometimes you gotta keep yourself entertained, sure, night shift ain't really a party. But there's always work to do.”

It must have been lonely to work night shifts alone. Back when he was a waiter at the pub, Johnny had always some colleagues buzzing around him. It kept him company even though he never familiarized with anyone.

He squinted his eyes trying to read the titles of the books. “Wait, isn't that a copy of the Wizard of Oz? You borrowed one from us not long ago” Johnny observed. Ghost let out a grunt and his back tensed, and Johnny found himself on thin ice all over again. “Yeah, I couldn't- I don't really-... Those are my brother's books. Doesn't feel right for me to read them, even though I'm the only one reading now.”

Johnny was genuinely surprised to hear Ghost mention family. It was the first time he didn't abruptly shut that topic down and ran for cover behind his walls. He didn't look overjoyed to talk about it, sure, but it still was progress.

Johnny wanted to say something safe, something that would encourage Ghost to go on talking without adding any pressure. “Mhm. He's... not quite the bookworm either...?”

Ghost let out a bittersweet chuckle, still sounding very nervous. “Quite the opposite. He was.”

“How come did he stop?” Johnny asked, wondering what reasons could a person have to stop enjoying reading books.

Johnny couldn't see Ghost's face, since the man had his back to him. But he just knew he had asked something he wasn't allowed to ask, something too personal. Something too painful. He could guess the expression on Ghost's face, he didn't need to look. After an everlasting moment of tension, Ghost murmured: “He just stopped.”
That was the end of the answer, and of the whole thread at once.

Silence filled the room, the whole building even. Johnny had a strong feeling he had said the wrong thing. Implying there was anything good that he could have said, which at this point felt really unlikely.

“Did you make those drawings on the wall?”, he tried to change topic eventually.

“Ah...” Ghost sighed, betraying a hint of embarrassment. “Suppose so.”

“Oh,” Johnny commented. How was he going to say that he found them breathtakingly beautiful? That he admired Ghost's drawing skills and talent profoundly? Without blushing to death?
John took a deep breath, feeling his heart pacing faster. “They are... They are stunning, mate. Like, seriously, I've never seen anything this beautiful before, you got some real talent.” Objective Do-Not-Blush: spectacularly failed.

Ghost turned around to face Johnny, momentarily abandoning his paperwork. He was visibly embarrassed by Johnny's praise, wearing a smile he would hide so adamantly by staring at the floor. Such a shame, 'cause his smile was to die for, Johnny thought.

“Ah, it's nothing... the beauty lies in the subjects. All I do is take that beauty and fix it on paper.”

How could Ghost dismiss such a masterful work of art?! Johnny thought about that deer with fawn portrait, it was unthinkable to act humble about that masterpiece. “Don't flatten yourself! The credit goes to you just as much as it goes to them. You are a great artist, you should be proud.”

Their eyes met in silence: Johnny couldn't tell what was going on behind Ghost's stare, always so intense and enigmatic. His heart jumped into his chest and he felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. Damn it, kiss me unconscious, he thought for a flashing instant. “I'm gonna go check on the laundry,” Ghost got up and disappeared in the back, leaving Johnny and his racing heart alone in the room. What the hell did he just think about?!

Ghost came back shortly after, carrying Johnny's stuff still warm and meticulously folded. Johnny thanked him about one thousand times, saying that it wasn't necessary and that he was going to return the T-shirt and the hoodie ASAP; Ghost brushed it off, claiming that he had a ton of those hoodies and plain shirts thus Johnny might as well keep them.

“Well, I better get going”, Johnny had said after the 1001st 'Thank You', already agonizing at the thought of waking up early the next day. He asked Ghost to keep him updated on Charlotte's recovery, and Ghost politely accepted. With nothing left to say, Johnny waved his friend goodbye and gave one last look to the sweet angel that slept in the cage - after fearing having lost her tonight, it was immensely relieving to see her alive and being taken care of.

And so he stepped out in the freezing cold of 2 A.M., squeezed into a comfortably warm jacket while the cold air pierced his face and ears. The halo of scent intermittently reached his nostrils, irradiated from the hoodie he had seen Ghost wear so often in the reading room but which was now on him: it felt so surreal, to have this unfamiliar, inebriating smell on him, he even felt a little guilty for having such an intimate contact with Ghost's belongings, with his very scent.

Johnny replayed each and every interaction the two of them had in his mind as he walked back home: every word, every glance, every gesture (Ghost had placed a hand on his shoulder?!), every nervous smile and chuckle. Every thing about Ghost Riley was to die for, to be honest. Soon enough, Johnny had made it to his doorstep, earlobes aching as they returned to room temperature.
He slipped into his apartment and immediately got ready for bed, sliding on his pajama trousers and taking hold of the hoodie trim with both hands. Humh, well... he should have put on the rest of his PJ. He could have done that. Or, he could have kept the hoodie on. There was nothing wrong with keeping it in bed, right? No bed police was going to arrest him for the sleepy crime of inappropriate attire. Actually oh God what a stupid idea, why would he sleep with Ghost's hoodie, what kind of creep does that. Sure enough though, nobody was ever gonna know if he slept with it.

His hands let go of the hoodie, ultimately decreeing that the hoodie was going to stay on - only for tonight. Under the blankets, he snuggled inside his forbidden pajamas, lulled by the warmth, the scent and the memories.

He fell asleep, embraced by the soft fabric of the hoodie, praying for that scent to remain imprinted in the cotton weaves forever.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

And Begin Again

-
“I don't know much about your life beyond these walls
The fleeting sense of love within these God-forsaken halls,
And I can hear it in his voice, in every call;
‘This girl who's slept a hundred years has something after all’.”
—Porter Robinson, 'Sad Machine'

Dear Mr MacTavish,
I am glad and relieved to hear from you. Hoping that you won't mind such short notice, there's a free slot for an appointment tomorrow morning;
if you were available to come, I will see you in my office.
Best regards, Professor A.W., PhD.
head of Chemistry Department

Johnny didn't hear from Ghost at all until the day of Charlotte's discharge from the vet clinic: he had been busy with school, specifically with a visit to his department where he had booked an appointment to talk to his teacher. The professor had been very welcoming and not once judgemental towards Johnny's prolonged leave and entire situation, he had made Johnny feel like he was speaking with an old uncle rather than a professor, which helped a lot in soothing the boy's nerves. They had briefly gone through Johnny's student career (an excellent one, the teacher stressed), and considered possible solutions for the remaining steps that would lead to graduation at last. It was a very laid-back conversation, and after all that time, Johnny felt like he was finally building up enough strength to give college another go.

When his phone buzzed to announce a text from Ghost, that evening, Johnny was doing something he hadn't been doing for a long while: studying Advanced Chemistry by himself, in the solitude of his kitchen table. He was accustomed to living alone now: he did have a roommate up to some time ago, but the guy had left to some student exchange in Southern Europe and barely said goodbye, so now he was essentially on his own.

[5:39 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Good day, rascal :) just wanted to inform you that Charlotte will be released tomorrow morning

[5:40 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Also, Price wants to talk to you

Price wants to talk to you. The words echoed ominously in Johnny's mind: what could Dr Price possibly want from him? Did he come to the conclusion that perhaps he was the one responsible for neglect towards Charlotte? It couldn't be, he was always as careful as it gets towards her. Oh well, there was no point in worrying now, Johnny figured. He would find out the next day.

[5:42 P.M.] You: Okay, I'll be there 😁✌️

Johnny placed his phone on the table and rested his chin on his knee. He thought about the time he spent with Ghost in the clinic that night. It still stung that he had inadvertently touched a sensitive nerve, causing Ghost to push him away a little, but aside from that the man had been so caring and sweet towards him, Johnny almost felt sorry for giving him so much trouble.

There was no way of knowing what was the appropriate thing to tell Ghost, each and every time: it was like waltzing with an atrociously uncoordinated partner who moved in unpredictable ways, every step you take could land on their foot and hurt them and there's very little you can do to avoid this.
Johnny sighed: hopefully it wouldn't be too awkward between them tomorrow, Ghost sounded fairly chill in the last text he sent.

He wished there was a red button he could just push to erase all the confusing feelings he had for Ghost, all the feels that made his words get caught in his throat, his mind go blank and his hands shake with fear and excitement every time he found himself around the man: if he could push that button, then he would be able to live this friendship to the fullest, to be the supporting character that Ghost deserved - needed, even. But there wasn't. All that Johnny could effectively do was vow to do his best not to lose his mind.

The next morning, Johnny got ready and headed out towards the clinic where, according to Ghost's latest text, he would have met with Dr Price at 10 o'clock.
The weather was getting colder and colder by the day, it crept in through the threads of the scarf he carefully chose to pull out of his wardrobe, at last.

After a quick bus trip, Johnny was right in front of his destination, standing right next to the doorbell he had rung a few days before, when he was desperately looking for assistance: now that he was actually there, a hint of worry crawled back into his chest, for he really couldn't think of any good reason Dr Price could've had for summoning him too, other than trouble. Now, ringing that bell was suddenly a little scarier. But he couldn't chicken out, so he took a deep breath and rang the bell, and the front door of the clinic buzzed open within seconds.

Johnny made his way into the waiting room, uncertainly - God damn it, this was a lot scarier than he expected, it was like being called to the principal's office or being scolded by his dad, which Dr Price could very well be given his appearance and vibes.

“Johnny, you're here!” a voice called from the infamous corridor, but it wasn't Price's - it was Ghost's. That's it, Johnny was hallucinating.
Johnny turned around to see that the voice did, indeed, belong to Ghost, that was really him walking towards him in regular clothes and with a warm grin on his face.

“Ghost...?” Johnny couldn't hold back a tone of surprise, “What are you doing around here?” the boy asked, perplexed by the fact that, joining a couple dots, he could tell that Ghost must have clocked out a few hours ago already. Also, it was unfair how gorgeous Ghost looked this morning, despite being probably exhausted from working all night. Not the slightest sign of dark circles contaminated the man's alert gaze.

“Uh, nothing, I was just passing by and I thought... Anyway, come,” Ghost kept it very short and vague and gestured for Johnny to follow him to the back - nothing wrong with that, Johnny thought, the man just didn't want him to snoop into private business.

And so he obliged and followed Ghost to the back, the hesitation still tangible in every gesture. Upon opening the door, Ghost revealed two silhouettes standing in the room: Dr Price, as well as Charlotte's owner. Somebody else was also there, somebody which bolted towards Johnny right as the doors swung open, yanking the leash off the lady's hands causing both her and the doctor to gasp.

“Hey! Easy, easy, darling, hello,” Johnny kneeled to greet the Spaniel, which was beyond excited to see her biped friend again, she looked a whole lot better and healthier today. Charlotte plastered Johnny's face with drool licking him fondly and wagging her tail spasmodically.
“Ehh, just as I expected,” Johnny overheard Dr Price comment feebly. What was that supposed to mean? Again, was he in trouble for something? He decided to compose himself: he stood up and wiped the drool off his cheeks with a sleeve, and politely greeted everyone good morning.

“Morning, kid,” the doctor greeted back with a hint of a smile. The lady mouthed a “Hey”, smiling a little awkwardly - whatever this was about, they better get it over with quickly, because it was beginning to get on Johnny's nerves. “Okay, you must be wondering why you're here today, that's fair... So, I will get to the point,” the vet said, joining hands in a praying sort of position. Meanwhile, Ghost found his position behind Johnny, standing by the doors as if he was the party's bodyguard.

“Miss Bennett and I have consulted,” Price went on slowly and with savoir-faire, “regarding the whole situation with the dog. Upon dismissal, we could decree with sufficient certainty that Charlotte is in perfectly good health - physical health, I mean. I believe the issue with her faltering energy to be psychological instead: she's fairly young, her values are all in a healthy range... I see no other reason for her state of unwellness other than depression. Charlotte feels lonely - abandoned, possibly. Her current accommodation cannot offer her a serene lifestyle, she can no longer be taken care of properly.”

“Ah, I see. I'm sorry,” said Johnny after listening to Price's report on Charlotte. The dog was laying patiently at Johnny's feet, glued to the young scot as if she wouldn't allow him to leave her again. “I don't mean to be rude, Doc, but what does this have to do with me? Aside from work implications, I guess,” he asked.

“Well, Johnny, uh,” Price sounded less confident now. “Charlotte is very fond of you, clearly. And you are fond of her. Therefore, what we are trying to propose you is to take her in with you.”
“Oh” Johnny let out, caught entirely by surprise. Taking Charlotte with him? As in, forever? Well, for starters he wasn't expecting anything like that.

Price went on. “You don't have to make a decision straight away, Johnny, I reckon it mustn't be easy for you to juggle between work and everything, this is not a part-time responsibility...”
“I can do it,” Johnny cut short, “Besides, I think my dog-sitting days are pretty much through. I recently spoke to my college supervisor and I will go back to being just a student, so I'm gonna take a hiatus from the tight dog-walking schedule I have these days. What I mean is, my life will be much more under my control now,” Johnny explained. He gave a quick look down at Charlotte and smiled before adding, “You're right, she is dear to me. The thought of sending her anywhere else I don't know feels kind of...”
“...Unbearable,” Ghost finished the sentence from behind him. The accuracy of his guess, together with the hoarseness in his voice, gave Johnny slight goosebumps: he slowly turned around and looked at the man: “Yeah. Unbearable.”

“Well, alright then. We can agree on a period of trial, so you can see how you guys settle down. It's okay if you come to realize that this is too much for you: I trust you will be responsible enough to acknowledge the fact for the sake of Charlotte's wellbeing,” said Price, to which Johnny said “Yes, sir, of course.”
“Alright, folks, let's fill in the paperwork.”

Johnny had to sign a couple papers and provide the usual personal info such as birth date and full name, after which he was finally dismissed. Charlotte would come home to him for the first time the next day, and Johnny felt mostly just excited about that. Price explained to him that the Spaniel would need to observe a special diet in order to recover from the kidney trouble, and he would have to make sure that she drank plenty of water for the same reason. He made himself available for any clarification anytime Johnny needed any guidance, and the boy thanked the doctor politely.

Welp, back home now.

Johnny was on his way out when Ghost reached him. “Johnny, hey,” he said, a little flustered.
For a moment, Johnny thought about the latest developments between Ghost and him, and feared that the man was about to address the little major accident he had caused about Ghost's brother. “Hey,” Johnny responded, trying to smile and conceal his worries.

“Hey,” Ghost echoed again. Awkward. “Listen, I just wanted to say-” the man paused and shifted weight between his feet, staring briefly at the ground with an expression that was hard to decrypt, looking almost as if he was in pain. There is no weirder show than that of a person who seems to be oblivious to their level of attractiveness - that was Ghost right now. “I just, I heard you're making progress with school. That's great news,” the man continued, offering one of his breathtaking sweet smiles to Johnny who smiled back, disarmed and instantly flushing red, replying “Yeah, I'm pretty yaldy. 'Tis good.”

“Yeah,” Ghost echoed for the second time, allowing more awkward silence in. “Well, feel free to text me at any time if you need help with your new mission. I mean, with the dog thing.” He proceeded to place both hands on Johnny's shoulders and firmly added: “I mean it, do call me. It is literally my job to help you out with this stuff, you won't bother me.”
Johnny tried not to dwell on the fact that this was the second time Ghost had touched him intentionally in two days or so. It surely meant nothing.

“Uh, sure, lad. I will. I certainly will, thank you.”
The two awkwardly exchanged goodbyes, and Johnny made his way to the door again.

“Johnny-” he heard again. It was such a muffled cry - one that, again, came from Ghost - so choked up in the man's throat, it was as if he actually didn't want Johnny to hear it. But Johnny had heard it, so he slowly turned around again saying “...Yes?”

For the first time, Johnny had no doubt he had just witnessed Ghost blushing. “I-”, and again, the man looked almost in agony. “It's okay, talk to me, just talk to me,” Johnny wished to say to him.
“For what little it's worth... I am proud of you.”

Johnny felt his chest burst with warmth and pride. “Thank you. Really. It is worth.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 18
And then there were Two

-
“I know you feel like a stranger
watching everyone pass by
whatever it is you're chasing
I hope that you realise
time is moving fast but we can make this moment last.”
—San Holo, 'make this moment last'

Charlotte landed into Johnny's life (permanently) the next day.

The now former owner arrived in the late afternoon, just like they agreed, leaving everything she had bought for her dog during their years together, which amounted to: a soft navy blue dog bed with a couple blankets, a plushie and some squeaky toys, leash and harnesses, parasite repellent vials and so on. Johnny insisted on paying for all that stuff, at least for a part of it, but the lady refused.

They took Charlotte on one last walk together, during which the lady told Johnny all about how the dog used to be crazy in love with her former fiancé and how she was never the same dog after he had left them; it was clear to Johnny how the same thing applied to the lady, too. But her man and her had different priorities in life, so splitting up was really for the best. Similarly, it was for the best to leave the sweet Spaniel to Johnny's care now.

And so, after one last goodbye, it was Johnny's turn to take care of Charlotte.

The very first 48 hours of Johnny's new life with a dog weren't exactly a honeymoon. The feeling reminded him of the one he had when he had just started college: sure, it was exciting to embark on a brand new adventure, but it also felt so overwhelming to be surrounded by the unknown. Sometimes it feels almost unreal, like you're stuck in a state between the sleeping and the awake, powerless, unable to react to the unrelenting stream of things happening all around you. Yeah, Johnny felt like there was so much going on around him that he barely had the time to catch up.

Charlotte was being an absolute sweetheart, nevertheless: she settled down easily to this new home and company, Johnny figured it was because they weren't really strangers to each other in the first place. Despite the boy's concerns, she didn't seem to suffer from any aftermath of the illness; sure, she wasn't bursting with energy just yet, but Johnny's fear of finding her unconscious was proven groundless every morning, for she was always up and looking healthier than ever.

And so both of them gradually became accustomed to their new companion. It had downed on Johnny (maybe on Charlotte, too) how less lonely he felt now. He barely had realized how lonely he used to be before having her by his side, a sweet little friend always glad to enjoy his company, either strolling through a park or lying on the couch together enjoying some evening snuggles. They could get used to this new life.

Johnny was also kind of extra grateful for Charlotte's presence in his life, for it was a great assist in his mission of bonding with Ghost.
Regarding the man, well, he was keeping his word: he was becoming kind of a more talkative texter now, after urging Johnny to consult him if he had any doubt regarding Charlotte's needs.

[November 27th, 5:13 P.M.] Ghost 👻: How's the lady doing? She seem alright?

[5:24 P.M.] You: Ehh, she was obv sad to let Charlie go, but she'll be fine

[5:25 P.M.] Ghost 👻: I mean the dog you twat

Johnny opened the photo he had sent Ghost on that day and smiled fondly: it was a picture of Charlotte laying on her back with her tongue dangling out her mouth, ears flopping on the cushion of the couch, showing off her belly (probably demanding scratchies). Parenting was indeed a chore, but just like most parents will tell you, it was worth the effort, Johnny thought.

Sitting on the couch, with his dog snoozing by his side, Johnny found himself re-reading through their conversation once again: God, it felt pathetic to realize that he had memorized most of it. How many times had he read it already? It wasn't even anything special! Ghost was simply being friendly, making sure everything was going smoothly: still, Johnny ended up staring at their chat multiple times a day, as if he was afraid that those texts were going to disappear at any moment, leaving him with the lingering sensation of having dreamed all along. Every time he went back to that convo, he could find the texts right where he left them, and along with them the reassurance that things were indeed very real and very okay.

He was just going to scroll through it once more. Ghost and him regularly exchanged pictures of their pets now; the man had an authentic brewery of shenanigans going on under his roof, mostly thanks to the little orange devil that was Anacleto. It took a while for Johnny to realize that Ghost had begun bringing up his own little anecdotes spontaneously, and it felt truly heart-warming; sure, there was also a little voice in the boy's head that couldn't help but wonder whether this was going to be just temporary, if Ghost would eventually go back to being the grumpy i-dont-text-often guy whose messages came rarely and unexpectedly.

Perhaps it was true: perhaps, once he'd be sure that things were alright with Johnny and Charlotte, Ghost would very simply yield back and their friendship would fade, ever so naturally. Ugh. Enough scrolling and thinking for today.

“Hey, what are you looking at?”, commented Johnny, exchanging a side eye with Charlotte. Damn, she seemed to know he was at it again, she knew him this well already. “Fine, yes, I ken. I'm puttin' it doon.”

Against all odds, Charlotte had been also allowed to enter the library, on the sole condition to always stay put by Johnny's desk - which, not surprisingly, she was, being the polite lady that she was. She had become a superstar in no time with all of Johnny's colleagues swooning over her, as well as kids and grownups among the customers - and to be honest, she loved being in that new spotlight.

Johnny had also seen Ghost at the library after Charlotte's dismissal, just once. It was two days before today, on a regular gloomy day in the middle of the week. Johnny had arrived and placed down his stuff, Charlie by his side as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet it was a surprise, for Johnny, to find his Grumpy Lion sitting in the reading room again. It almost felt weird to see things go back to normal. Johnny had waved the man hello, and Ghost nearly jumped off his seat to greet Charlotte and him. Jesus, he was still reading Around the World in 80 Days, bookworm wasn't exactly a fitting alias for Ghost. At any rate, they just engaged in some small talk, acknowledged that Charlotte was doing great and chatted about the holidays (which were merely a month away), nothing special, until Ghost left with his sports bag shortly after.

It was a comfortable illusion, the thought that maybe, just maybe, Ghost went there just to see Johnny for a moment. The man hadn't planned to stay for too long, in fact, he left shortly after Johnny arrived; of course, that might be just a speculation, an incorrect one at that, but it was nice to hope for a while.

The Grumpy Lion and his friend the Honey Badger. Johnny could get used to this, too.

“Alright then, I'm going.” Johnny stated firmly as he jumped off the couch. Normally, Charlotte would take this as a hint that it was time for a stroll, and thus she would go from real chill to real crazy in an instant: this time though, since they had just returned from a walk, she didn't move an inch - she just stretched blissfully and returned to sleep.

The mission he was off to accomplish today was to go buy Charlotte some food at the pet store: Dr Price had given him a small bag of supplies that would fit the dog's dietary restrictions, the supplies had lasted for a few days but eventually, the dreaded day that food ran out had arrived. It shouldn't be a big deal, all he had to do was find the same product and buy it again. Piece of cake.

Yet there he was, completely lost after scanning through the pet food aisle multiple times.
“Oh, yes Sir, we usually have those, but they're momentarily out of stock,” a young boy in a green work uniform told Johnny after he built up enough courage to ask for his assistance. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I recommend asking your vet for advice, you know, you can never be too sure, right?”, the assistant chuckled nervously. The boy was kinda cute but Johnny would never realize that, partly because he was genuinely focused on his quest, partly because his heart was busy swooning over someone else.

“Alright, uh, thank you,” said Johnny. Call your vet, no big deal.

Well, he could call Price. He figured it would be less awkward.

Yup, it was definitely the best option. Just call Price.

But then again... “I mean it, do call me. It is literally my job to help you out with this stuff, you won't bother me.” Ghost had literally said so. Fuck it, Johnny was going to call him, and he was going to do that in a very normal, non-terribly-awkward way.

He stared for a little too long at the contact on his phone. Just call, come on. Finally, he hit the 'Call' button, shifting weight from side to side nervously. The line rang once, twice, thrice. God this was a terrible idea, he was obviously being inappropriate right now.

“...Johnny?”, the familiar voice spoke on the other side of the line.

Johnny froze for a moment. Shit, alright, just tell him what's up.
“Y'alright?”, Ghost asked again, expecting a reply.

“Uh- Yeah, no, sorry for bothering you,” Johnny said, “I uh, I could use some advice. I'm so sorry, is this a bad moment?”

“Johnny. It's alright, go ahead, what is it? Is everything alright?” It felt both sweet and mortifying at the same time, how caring Ghost could sound sometimes. It clashed spectacularly with the harsh facade he put up initially.

“Yeah, I'm just at this Pets Corner trying to find food for Charlotte. The kibble that Price got me is out of stock, and I'm looking for a proper replacement...” Johnny felt like a 6 y/o kid who just told his parents he threw up in the middle of the night.

“Alright. Let's see. Solid food, you want to look for-” Ghost promptly responded, and then he threw in there a few unpronounceable words that sounded esoteric even for a Chemistry student, “Those are fairly important. If you're going for wet food, another valid option is anything containing-” two more God-forsaken terms. “Try to avoid-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, Wonderful Wizard of Oz”, Johnny interrupted the man, “I need you to repeat your funny spells to me. Hold on a sec, let me just-”, Johnny searched his pockets for some piece of paper to write down.

“Johnny. Hey,” Ghost said firmly, “Listen. Look outside.”

Odd request, but alright. “Okay, now what?” Johnny asked as he complied and gazed out of the shop's windows.

“Do you see a barber shop?”
“Umh... Yes, 'Old Tony', or something.”
“Alright, don't move,” Ghost said, before hanging up. Now, if Johnny was going to be delusional, he would think that Ghost was going to show up within minutes. But Johnny wasn't, at least not for longer than an instant, it was a crazy idea. Either way, he didn't move, unsure of what the hell was going on.

Until Ghost showed up for real, no longer than 7 minutes later.

Life should stop foraging Johnny's delusional ideas, seriously.
“Evening, Johnny,” Ghost said with a subtle smile as he approached the incredulous scot, “All good? You look like you just seen a ghost,” he adds with a smirk. Pun intended.

“I- yeah, you shouldn't have bothered-” Johnny began to protest.
“Bollocks, lad. Let's find your stuff,” Ghost quips back with a wider smile. There was no way of getting used to that sight, was there?

Chapter Text

Chapter 19
It's raining cats and dogs! (Hallelujah!)

It seemed like the most natural thing one would do. At least judging by the nonchalant look on Ghost's face. His towering figure looked as intimidating as usual, but there wasn't any sign of tension or slight annoyance emanating from his stance: the man was just scanning through the bags of dog kibble, looking just relaxed, focused on his mission - again, as if it was the most natural thing to do. That is, rushing there in record time when he could have just explained it over the phone. It could have meant two things, Johnny thought: one, explaining things to Johnny must have been so frustrating that Ghost would rather do the damn thing himself; two, Ghost really hated talking over the phone. A combination of the two was not to be excluded.

Johnny's gaze followed his friend's brown eyes as they darted from a product to another. Ghost had very light hair, it now occurred to Johnny; he was almost unsure whether it was red or actually some peculiar shade of blonde.

“Johnny?” Ghost called, awakening the Scot from his trance.

“Yeah, sorry, I'm here,” Johnny apologized to him.

“Something bothering you?” Ghost inquired, with the same adorable amount of concern that Johnny had almost gotten accustomed to.
Something. That would be your face. Or you. Everything about you is so impossibly beautiful it nearly bothers me.
“Just thinking aboot school stuff,” he eventually lied, lying being his only option there.

“Hey, you'll be fine,” Ghost reassured him, patting his shoulder with a half smile. “Anyway, we've got a few options here,” the man went on gesturing at the shelves. Sure, Johnny was going to be fine.

“That would be nineteen pounds fortifive cents”, recited the cashier smiling politely after scanning all the products they had chosen. It was a mix of kibble and wet food, and it was going to last for weeks.

“Let me take care of it,” said Ghost as they both pulled out their wallets at the same time. “Nuh uh, you cannae do that,” Johnny immediately protested, “it ain't happening.” Johnny could not allow for Ghost to also pay for Charlotte's food. Sure, the man had a higher-paying job and whatever, but this was not middle school! These were no longer the times in which the one who got the highest allowance offered to buy popcorn at the movie theatre. Johnny was not going to allow that, not if he didn't want to become Mr. Burden the Burden: Burden Edition.

“Charlotte is my responsibility, man, it's my duty to provide for her,” the young man insisted.
“Alright, fine,” Ghost thankfully gave in, not abstaining from helping with the bags.

The cashier glanced at the men he had just served and rested his chin on his palm, pouting like a child. “Ah, yer a lucky bloke,” he murmured, and Johnny was almost sure the guy was talking to him. “I'm sorry?” Johnny asked, perplexed. Realizing that Johnny had no idea what was going on, the boy at the till rolled his eyes and put a polite grin on. “Nothing, here's your receipt, have a good one!”

Odd little guy. Johnny had no idea what that was about.

“Johnny-...” began Ghost as soon as the two got out the store.

“Look, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in there,” he began, looking as if he was trying to shrink his chest between his shoulders. “I didn't even fucking think for a second. I just thought that... Now that you won't be working as much... Nevermind, it was inappropriate. 'm sorry.”

Johnny didn't see that coming, and at first he was unsure how to respond. For sure, it was absurd to him that Ghost felt like he had to apologize to him. For what? As far as he knew, Ghost was only guilty of trying to be nice, like any genuine friend would do. “No need to apologize, I appreciate it,” he told the man, trying to sound reassuring. A pat on the man's shoulder was still out of question, despite he didn't feel uneasy receiving those himself. It's just that it was not easy to read Ghost and his comfort area, Johnny didn't want to risk overstepping.

Ghost looked successfully reassured. Good. The man sent an intense stare to Johnny, pleading puppy eyes that would make anyone's knees melt. God, will you ever stop doing this to me? “Can I get you a warm drink at least?” he offered. This guy was clearly on a quest to leave Johnny out of words. “I uh, you don't have to-” an incredibly flustered Johnny began to say. “Hey, don't worry. It's not like I'm taking no for an answer.” There it was again, the uncanny nonchalance. Whatever Ghost's mission was, it was succeeding.

And so there they were, heading towards the café at the corner of the road. “I was thinking,” Ghost said a little absently, “There might actually be a job for you at the clinic, you know?”.
Johnny raised an eyebrow: as flattering as the offer might be, he was only a Chemistry student... “But Ghost, man, I am no vet,” he objected in fact.
Ghost explained, “And you don't need to be. It's actually a job at the grooming station, you know, bathing those little devils, trimming nails, trimming fur, stuff of this sort. Price's nephew was in charge of the whole thing for a while, until she left for college and the service was suspended. Price's clinic is first in line for wildlife rescues, between that and regular visits there's no way we can provide grooming services too...”
Johnny scoffed. “Tsk, alright, we both know it's because you both have an aesthetic taste so bad you can't be trusted around comb and scissors.”
Ghost glared at Johnny, only to chuckle lightly. “First, I'm not the one wearing a fucking mohawk on me head; and second, fuck off,” he articulated the friendly advice so it was perfectly clear.

“Fair enough,” conceded Johnny. “Anyways,” Ghost went on, “It's a nice way to get some income. You would only have to work a couple afternoons a week, possibly during days that match well with your new schedule.”
Johnny pondered the option as he absorbed all the info - upon thorough inspection, it was actually a pretty reasonable idea! Besides, he could always use the extra cash. “Well, I don't know what to say... Thank you, I'll think about it.”

“Yeah. I'll talk to Price, see what he thinks about it,” the man concluded, kindly opening the door of the café for his friend.
Well, one thing was certain: working with Ghost would be the death of Johnny. And yet, no matter how intimidating the idea was, Johnny was also dying in the hope of that actually happening.

It was a freezing late afternoon, yet Johnny and Ghost chose to walk with takeaway cups instead of taking a seat in the warmth of the café. As though the paper containers in their hands could be warm enough to heaten up their entire bodies.
Welp, not that there was a need to warm up, really, for Johnny was already melting like an active volcano on the inside. He was flushing, possibly also shaking a bit, and neither of those reactions were caused by the cold. Shit. It couldn't be happening for real. Not to be presumptuous, but this kinda really felt like an actual date. With Ghost. And Ghost was there, and he was not being unfriendly in the slightest - no, Ghost was exactly the one who offered to get coffee in the first bloody place. Somebody pinch me on the arm, or slap me in the face, whatever, just wake me up now, Johnny thought.

“You're so awfully quiet today,” Ghost murmured from above the clouds of steam of his black coffee, “making fun of your taste in beverages nearly lost its appeal.”
Keep it cool, Johnny, just talk to him normally. “I am not to mingle with non-believers, though your ignorance is forgiven,” he feigned haughtiness, obtaining a huff of amusement from his pal.

“Tell me something about you,” he then blurted out. Ghost kept walking, his eyes locked on the steaming cup. “Like what?”

“Like, I don't know, something,” Johnny vaguely muttered. “I don't know shite about you...” he went on, biting his lip.

“What's there to know about me?” Ghost inquired, looking strangely amused and melancholic at the same time. It was another thing that Johnny had learnt to notice better over time: he could instantly tell when the look on Ghost's face darkened, as if there was a tiny black cloud that could plunge the man's gaze into the shadows. He wondered if Ghost could feel the clouds as they formed above him, or if perhaps he had gotten used to it.

“I don't know, silly stuff, like... What's your breakfast like? Wait, too personal. How about... Do you have a comfort film?” ranted Johnny in one breath.

Ghost feebly chuckled. He probably found Johnny ridiculous at this point. “A comfort film... Probably the Matrix.” The two briefly exchanged a skeptical look at each other. “What? You can't blame me, every teenager of 1999 went bananas for the Matrix! It had crazy special effects and Neo and Trinity and computer nerds and whatnot...”

Johnny had watched The Matrix back in the day, and for sure it had been a memorable experience; however, the post-apocalyptic scenario in which all humankind is enslaved so that their brains can feed a giant machine wasn't exactly his idea of comfort.

He took a sip of his infamous cappuccino. “Alright, I can see the comfort of it,” he half-lied.

Ghost nodded and asked back, “Why, what is your comfort film?”

Johnny sighed. “Well, I dunno, probably any musical that comes to mind. You name one, it's probably comfort material to me.”

Looking around, Johnny could see that some stores had already displayed some Christmas decorations on the fronts. Being it barely December, that choice struggled to find any sense in the boy's head, but he was such a sucker for Christmas decor that he didn't even mind.
He turned to face Ghost who looked rather lost, as if he had been caught with no homework done for class.

“...Okay maybe not just any, but most!” Johnny corrected. Nope, Ghost was still lost. “Oh God you can't name any?”

“I don't really watch that stuff...”, Ghost pouted in defense. And although it was something that he wouldn't even dream of doing, Johnny reacted as if Ghost just told him he was an alien: an expression of utter shock and disbelief flashed on his face. “You don't-...”. There were no words, he was speechless. No musicals, not even a La La Land or a Grease, or Mamma Mia!. Johnny sighed dramatically, raising his gaze towards the sky; then again, throughout his life he had hardly ever met anyone who was so into musicals as he was, therefore it might not be such a sacrilege after all. He composed himself, “Somebody must educate you.”

“Well, I'll see if someone is willing to take up the job,” was all Ghost said in reply, and a part of Johnny couldn't help but feel a sting of pain at the thought that the man didn't immediately think of him for such a job.

Ehh, nevermind.

The two kept on walking. Shortly afterwards, they reached what appeared to be a makeshift little shelter for stray cats: food bowls and a couple cardboard boxes were left on the sidewalk, seemingly empty. Ghost stopped to inspect the place, looking for signs of life.

“Looking for something?” Johnny asked.

Ghost gestured for him to stay silent, resting an index in front of his nose. “I'm sure there's someone around- oh, there you are!”

A grey tabby approached the crouching man with circumspection; it was an adult cat that looked well-fed and fairly used to humans. Possibly domestic. The little guy examined Ghost's hand, decided that he was trustworthy and rubbed his head on Ghost's palm, demanding pets. Well, Johnny knew the man was a cat person, but he didn't expect him to be so passionate about them, which was heart-warming in a way. The corners of his mouth tilted up in a fond smile, while Ghost chatted with the cat in small sentences like “You're such a handsome guy, yeah, truly distinguished.”

The next few seconds turned the situation into something extremely chaotic all of a sudden: a man appeared from around the corner, walking a dog on the leash; the dog spotted the tabby and instantly went apeshit on him, barking ferociously and tugging the leash like a raging bull; the cat arched his back, hissing and growling at the dog, then he bolted away frightened. The man apologized and pulled the dog close to him, resuming their walk. Ghost dismissed him with a gesture meaning "no problem".

Well, that was an intense chance meeting. “Woah...”, said Johnny while Ghost stood back up, “What's it with cats and dogs, I'll never understand. Back at home we used to have a cat hanging around our house, little bastard and our dog gave each other hell for as long as they could”

Ghost rubbed his hands against each other. “Well, it depends on the subjects, but generally the cat-dog rivalry is nothing but a stereotype.”

“Yer telling me they can be best pals?”, Johnny asked naively.

Ghost smirked. “I'm sure of it. Are you feeling like conducting an experiment, Man of Science?”

Minutes later, Johnny found himself sitting in Ghost's car. It was some model from the 90s, painted with a gorgeous silvery grey color and kept in pristine conditions. The inside was comfortable, albeit freezing of course, not to mention extremely clean - nothing like Johnny's family cars at home, always inhabitated by old grocery lists and umbrellas that were supposed to be put back on the rack weeks before. It was remarkable, the discipline Ghost had developed over every aspect of his life. Johnny found himself wondering about baby Ghost once again: was his bedroom this flawless when he was a kid, too? Or was he one of those kids who came home from football practice and rushed upstairs with muddy shoes still on, much to the joy of his ma, and then the militay training made him get his act together and become the man he was today?

Johnny was neither of the two for all his life. He was much less messy now than he was as a kid - young Johnny had a lot going on inside his head, and just like any other creative mind in the world, most of his thoughts came out in a confused whirlwind; his mom often had to ask him to tidy his room, unlike with his sisters who were as neat as it gets, but he managed to keep it together and get out of school with decent grades and minor inconveniences, at least with teachers. Classmates were, of course, a whole other story.

Ghost pulled off in front of Johnny's home address and the engine of his car elegantly shut down with a soft purr. “Go ahead, I'll be here,” he dismissed Johnny, implying that he was not following him upstairs. “Aye,” echoed Johnny as he stepped out of the vehicle. As exciting as it might have felt to have Ghost visit his place, Johnny was glad that the man hadn't followed him inside: he wasn't expecting any visits today (and certainly not from Ghost) thus his apartment was a mess; he would have felt mortified to have Ghost witness that. It was nothing like Ghost's place, nothing like Ghost's stuff in general.

God, I cannae possibly stand a chance with him. He's such a meticulous and resorceful man, and I am just...
The self-saboteur's voice whispered inside the boy's head. He had become more skilled at recognizing whenever his inner saboteur was trying to tamper with his thoughts, and he was aware that it was not to be trusted, but damn, it always had such good arguments on its side.

“Charlie?”, he called from the front door of his apartment, and the Spaniel immediately appeared from the feebly lit living room and trotted towards him, tail wagging happily. “Hey, darling, wanna go for a trip?”

“Alright, here goes nothing,” announced Ghost, still calmer than ever, as the key slid into his front door with ease.

Johnny's dog examined the surroundings eagerly, everything being so new and unexplored. She was about to meet Ghost's two rascals, Anacleto and Ophelia; Johnny was unsure how he expected her to react, but at this point Ghost had him curious to find out.

“Come in,” the man invited them past the door and into the living room. The place looked as neat as it had been on that day Johnny was sent to look after the kids not too long ago. A ridiculously tiny Christmas tree stood on the coffee table, poor thing was so small even the remote looked bigger next to it. Johnny couldn't help but crack a laugh.

“What a festive spirit we have, aye?” he quipped. “Hey, I live with kittens. This is as festive as it can get in here,” replied Ghost while he hung his coat on a hanger, revealing a gorgeous bordeaux turtleneck sweater that wrapped his bulky chest ever so perfectly.

I am almost sure this man can wear about anything and still look stunning, Johnny thought. Even an Easter Bunny suit. A giant fluffy onesie with bobbing ears and a puffy round tail. All cotton candy pink. And a basket in one hand with eggs in it. Pffft, hilarious. But still, drop-dead gorgeous. He better take that image off his head if he didn't want to burst out laughing.

A pair of orange pointy ears emerged from the cushions of the couch. “It's alright, let her roam, Johnny,” Ghost invited his friend.
Feeling a bit unsure, Johnny unplugged the leash from Charlotte's harness and she politely walked away from him, smelling everything she found, until she met the rascal number one, Anacleto.

Johnny hesitantly took off his coat while he observed the scene. “I'm making some tea,” announced Ghost before disappearing in the kitchen.

Anacleto looked far from pleased to have a furry guest inside his house, but also far from frightened: he immediately charged against the dog, puffing up his tail and hopping like a mountain goat. He looked as intimidating as a kitten possibly could (which is very little). Charlotte, which was very much not a territorial animal, observed the kitten make a scene and remained unimpressed, just curious. Meanwhile, Ophelia monitored the situation from her safe spot on the high end of the sofa, looking suspicious.

Ghost reappeared holding a steaming mug in each hand. “Earl Grey is fine?”, he asked. “Aye,” nodded Johnny. “What are you doing, you!” Ghost placed the mugs on the coffee table and went to mock the orange tabby, gently jostling the kitten's body left and right like a toy. “You're the size of a potato, you know that, right? You're no big guy.” Anacleto protested against the man's hands, biting and scratching playfully.

Ghost sat on the couch. Well, Johnny supposed he could do the same...
He walked towards the empty spot, shyly, thinking it was such an arrogant gesture to claim a spot next to Ghost Riley on the man's very couch. After a painfully awkward moment, he finally gathered enough courage to sit down.

Mugs in hand. Sitting in silence. John felt like a lifetime passed while they sat on that couch, watching the situation between their pets evolve: Anacleto and Charlotte sniffing each other as an accepting handshake; Ophelia cautiously inching closer to the scene of action, hissing and backing up every step she took; Anacleto pondering which activity he fancied more, chasing Charlotte's tail or biting her ears; playful fighting, no harm intended whatsoever.

And despite he was very engaged by the exilarating show, Johnny couldn't ignore the rising tension inside him; he could basically feel Ghost's warmth expanding towards him. Were they ever this close? Probably not, Johnny thought, neither physically nor generally. They had come such a long way from that afternoon when they first met. Looking back, he realized how much Ghost had mellowed down and opened himself up to him over time, and he felt very grateful that he had a chance to see this side of Ghost.

Johnny couldn't possibly ask for more. And yet, he secretly did.
And he felt mortified, 'cause it was wrong to be this greedy: now that he had found such a valuable friend in Riley, whatever his real name was, he actually wished for more, he had wished for more all along. Johnny couldn't allow that, and even if he did, he couldn't allow for that to come to surface for Ghost to see. He had been sitting close to him for so long, the tension was becoming hard to bear. He couldn't even turn around to look at him, so he kept staring at the pets trio in front of him.

A lifetime later, Johnny built enough confidence to just say “Alright, you won, they do get along...”, but no reply came from Ghost. Which meant there was nothing left for Johnny to do except to finally turn around. When he did, he discovered one more side of Ghost he had yet to see with his own eyes: the man was asleep. He had peacefully dozed off, the empty mug held between his thighs and hands, his head slightly tilted to one side. Of course, gorgeous angels like him don't drool like idiots, nor they say weird shit in their sleep, nah, they look exactly like the gorgeous angels that they are. According to the accounts of his flatmate, Johnny even laughed in his sleep sometimes, which was... kind of creepy.

Charlotte had also collapsed into blissful sleep, in the meantime; Ophelia the black cat was curled up against the dog's chest, while Anacleto fell asleep mid-fight, didn't even bother getting off the dog's back, he just dozed off right there and then. Everybody was quietly resting, as if they all trusted Johnny to watch over them. It was such a wholesome sight to see, Johnny wished for that moment to never end.

Shortly afterwards, alas, Ghost jolted awake. He ran his palms on his face and regained consciousness, and everybody else followed him as he did, Charlotte waking up first and the kittens jumping up consequently.

“Oh, bloody hell... What's the time?” Ghost asked, seemingly embarrassed. “God, how long was I away? I am so sorry,” he said, definitely embarrassed this time. So even Ghost felt embarrassment sometimes. If Johnny weren't totally intimidated by the man, he would find the sight adorable. “It's alright, it's... Six thirty P.M.”, Johnny said after checking his phone. “Fuck, I've gotta go,” Ghost fumbled as he stood up, and Johnny followed him.

The two got ready to head out: Johnny plugged the leash back on Charlotte's harness and Ghost quickly fed his cats.

“Uhm... I didn't mean to kick you out, it's just... You know... Night falls, duty calls,” mumbled Ghost.

“Yeah, of course, lad. It was uh... It was nice to hang out, thanks for having me.”

“Yeah, thanks for sticking around. I can get you a ride home,” offered Ghost, jingling his car keys on his hand.

“It's fine, don't worry, we can walk.”

“You sure? It's freezing outside.”

“Yeah, we would have to go for a walk anyways, so...”
Awkward silence fell between them. They stared at each other on Ghost's doorstep for a painfully long instant. “Yeah, uh, well...” Ghost said, and then he swung his arms open to pull John into a hug. It was the most awkward hug ever, it barely classified as one, really, but it was a hug, indubitably. And thinking back at it, Johnny was just as awkward, barely hugging Ghost back, barely touching the man at all. God it was really the most stupidly embarrassing interaction ever. But it made Johnny's heart flutter for hours on end.

[10:15 P.M.] You: [📷 Photo] Proof that you were right (😒)

Johnny sat in bed, cradled by the comfort of the entire day. He wasn't sure what to say to Ghost after that awkward moment, but he figured he owed him a picture of their pets sleeping all bundled together, as the man couldn't witness the view personally.

Ghost's account status became Online, and Johnny watched in suspense. Typing...
Maybe it was too awkward, maybe Johnny had unconsciously crossed a line, and was about to receive the bad news that he had to step back a bit. Typing... Whatever he had to say, Johnny hoped that it was going to annihilate him softly.

[10:22 P.M.] Ghost 👻: ❤️

Chapter Text

Chapter 20
Christmas Special :)

Oh, the gut-wrenching thrill of not knowing if that person really likes you back.

It was more tempting than ever, in those last few days, for Johnny to indulge in the hope that Ghost could be into him, romantically. Sometimes, Johnny found himself imagining scenarios: he had always found Ghost attractive, obviously, but he had never dared to imagine the two of them kissing or touching each other in any intimate way. Not until recently. Those days, however, he found himself daydreaming about the warmth of Ghost's strong hands running on his skin more often than he would like to admit. It filled him with shame, for once again he was wishing for more than what he already had; but having Ghost so up close and personal, so much that he could feel the man's warmth reaching his body, that had put Johnny in a rather difficult position.

There was nothing to speculate over, at any rate: Ghost was only being amicable.

He had to admit it, though: even if Ghost didn't like Johnny that way, it was nice to believe that he did.

Christmas was around the corner.

Well, no, not really, but it was already time for Christmas markets. And Johnny had signed up for a very special quest: taking Miss Cath, his colleague from the library, to the traditional Christmas market. The old lady had told him about how she had been feeling down in the dumps: this year none of her sons or nephews would come visit her to promenade down the market stalls together. It was something they used to do every year and had a very special place in the lady's heart - therefore, Johnny had decided that Cath was going to have her promenade, this time with him and Farah.

Every detail of the sneak attack was planned to perfection: Johnny had gathered intel about Cath's whereabouts, and ensured that she would be home and available on the designated day.

“Hello, handsome,” Farah greeted Johnny as they met in front of Cath's house, “What have you been up to?”

Johnny shrugged from under his coat. “Not much. Getting ready for the next semester, reviewing stuff, walking the lady,” he gestured at the leash attached to his wrist. Farah kneeled to greet Charlotte, they had barely had an occasion to meet yet. Charlotte collected Farah's pets eagerly, wagging her tail underneath the trim of the dog-sized sweater that Cath had knitted especially for her.

“Alright, let's get to it!” Johnny announced, making his way to Cath's front door. He rang the bell and waited for a response.
Moments later, Cath opened the door, wearing slippers and a wool shawl, clearly not expecting an invite to go outside.

“Oh-! Johnny, dear! What are you doing here this morning?” she inquired, surprised. Johnny briefly explained to her that there was never going to be a routine check on her heating system, it was just an excuse to keep her at home and available so that they could surprise her with a visit to the Christmas market.
Cath was bursting with joy and amazement - she hadn't seen this coming at all! The old lady thanked Johnny and Farah a thousand times for such a lovely gesture, then she excused herself and disappeared inside to get changed.

Walking the Christmas market in the middle of the morning was as comfortable as it can possibly get: the weather was not excessively cold and it was not too crowded, but nonetheless every stall was fully operative and vibrant with mouth-watering aromas.

Cath couldn't stop smiling as she walked arm in arm with Johnny, her nephew for one day. She was very pleased to notice that Charlotte's sweater fit her perfectly, but couldn't abstain from expressing her disapproval of that “iron devilry” that Johnny wore on his lip, which had become an actual, real piercing. Sometimes Johnny second-guessed his decision to get that piercing done too, but he still felt pretty good about the way it looked.

The three of them got roasted chestnuts from one stall, gingerbread biscuits and hot chocolate from another, couldn't resist the churros stand either (can anyone resist it really?), hung traditional decorations on the big Christmas tree in the middle of the square. Johnny also stopped by a stand which sold beautiful hard-cover books of classic novels: obviously, he barely remembered any title from Little Riley's reading list, and he dreaded the thought of making an unwelcome gesture, but he eventually decided to buy a copy of Oliver Twist as a Christmas present for Ghost: worst case scenario, he would change his mind and keep it to himself rather than gifting it, no biggie.
The three of them eventually headed back to Cath's place at about lunch time.

Cath couldn't stop thanking the impromptu family which had gathered on that day just for her, saying that it had been a while since she had such a special day. Needless to say, it was everything Johnny had hoped to achieve - to make her feel happy and cherished. There was a lot going on inside the young Scot's head, between school and the new job, Charlotte and, well, the whole situation with Ghost; for now, though, all of his worries would be put aside, he firmly decided.

The plan for lunch was to unleash his phenomenal skills and concoct one of his majestic lasagna trays for his ladies, while Farah offered to help Cath decorate her own Christmas tree and place decorations around the house. With all the goodies that they had eaten at the market earlier, it was unbearable to even think of having lunch right now, but Farah knew damn well that there was always room for Johnny's lasagna. Later on, they would gather around the table in the living room to play board games.

“Johnny, my darling, but you will still be coming to the library, will you not?”, Cath's face peeked from behind the spikey branches of the tree to look at Johnny who was busy in the kitchen. “I am so happy that you will be back to school, I just wish... Ah, that is so silly of me, it is just so nice to have you around,” she said, smiling from ear to ear.

“Of course I'm still coming to the library! Just, perhaps not as often,” Johnny reassured her while casually flicking a kitchen towel over his shoulder. He was adamant about wearing Cath's cooking apron, which was a white apron with a crocheted red ribbon and red trims with polka dots; it made Cath giggle everytime she looked at him, and Johnny couldn't be happier about that.

“I think that the grumpy man has grown a lot fonder of you, you are good for him,” Cath went on with nonchalance.
Johnny's hand stopped stirring the sauce for a moment as he realized she was talking about Ghost. God, he had promised himself not to think about him today. “He used to be mad all the time, and he barely made an exception with anyone... Of course he was sort of nice to me, but I know that people like him only need some extra kindness. My poor Richard was the same, you know,” she went on by herself, the thought of her late husband moving her.

“The Grumpy Lion needs best friends,” Johnny quoted, and of course neither of the ladies understood what he meant.

Just about then, Cath's face brightened up with excitement. “Oh, perhaps he could join us for lunch, what do you think?”

Johnny felt his heart jumping in his chest. That was such a bad and exciting idea.

“Eh, I don't know, Cath... He is probably busy with work or family, no?” Johnny attempted, flustered.

“Come on, Johnny, call the grumpy man. Worst he can say is 'No, thank you',” Farah teased him. Great, so she was in cahoots with Cath. Ah, steamin' bloody Jesus.
Johnny pondered his options as he assembled his lasagna masterpiece: indeed, the worst that could happen was being rejected (possibly even in a polite way), but Ghost and him had barely texted each other since that "❤️" from a few days ago, and it had plunged Johnny into a state of confusion: what could that heart possibly mean? And why was he being so naive about it?! Ghost was probably just appreciating the picture, surely that heart meant nothing more to him. But what if it did? Nah, it couldn't be: why would he send such a risky text and then proceed to nearly disappear for days on end? If he wanted me he would have texted, but he did not, Johnny told himself.

“Oh come on, darling, let's share some Christmas warmth, make an old lady happy - he is such a handsome one, you should see him...” she whispered at Farah, who patiently nodded at her. Johnny knew she had eyes for nobody other than Alex, with whom she was actually considering getting serious.

Oh God. Fine. Ghost was probably busy anyway, maybe he wouldn't even pick up the phone.

Johnny took a deep breath and agreed, much to the joy of Cath. He pulled out his phone, feeling the heat rushing through his neck and cheeks as the name "Ghost" flashed on the screen.

Johnny pressed the dial button and waited, wishing to be buried alive from the embarrassment. He heard the line ringing once, twice, thrice. See? He's not even picking up, I knew it was no biggie. He felt relieved.

“...Johnny?” Ghost finally called from the other end, his voice a little raspy.

Oh God oh fuck, alright. Johnny scratched the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks burning. “Ghost, hi, uh... Sorry to bother you,” he began.

“Is everything alright?”, he heard Ghost over the speaker, a touch of concern in his tone.

“Yeah, no, 's all good, just...” he took a deep breath and licked his lips, trying to find the words. “I am at this lady's house, Cath, not sure if you remember her, the knitting lady from the library,” he explained.

There was a brief silence. “Okay, go on,” said Ghost.

“Yeah, it's a long story, but umh... She was wondering if you would like to join us for lunch. We are having lasagna.”

The long pauses between Johnny and Ghost were excruciating. Johnny was holding his breath as if he was waiting to be hit on the head by a brick at any moment.
“Hold up, she asked if I am joining?”, the man eventually replied.

“Yeah, I'm sorry, I've got nothing to do with it, I promise. You are probably busy with other stuff, it's okay if you can't come,” Johnny rambled, trying to save face. Ghost was clearly unamused by the whole situation.

“Ah... No worries,” prompted Ghost. “Well, actually, I happen to be free as a bird today. Clinic's closed so I'm just here killing boredom. Tell her I will join gladly.”

“Oh,” was all Johnny managed to let out. “Oh, okay, umh, great, I'll send you the address. Cool, I'll see you in a while.”

“Roger. Bye, Johnny,” echoed Ghost before hanging up. Was it all in Johnny's head, or did Ghost sound a little disappointed?

Ghost's car pulled up in front of Cath's house shortly after. The metallic sound of the car door closing outside sent Johnny's mind in a state of nervous frenzy: his lasagna was dutifully cooking in the oven, Cath and Farah were finishing setting up the table and pulling out a couple side dishes to accompany the main course with. All he had to do was act normal. Take that clumsy hug out of his head, together with the ambiguous text.

When the bell rang, Johnny rushed to open the door to Ghost, feeling his hands drenched in cold sweat. God damn it.

The door swung open, and Ghost and Johnny faced each another again. God, what a sight for sore eyes.

“Hi,” they both said in unison.

“You look-” the phrase got stuck inside Ghost's throat as his eyes darted on Johnny's chest and back to his face.
Johnny's gaze followed Ghost's down his own body, assuming his green sweater had been fatally compromised by the lasagna sauce - what other possible reason could the man have to give him that look, otherwise? - but found it intact. You look like the Grinch but with a lip ring, that was probably the thought that Ghost decided to spare Johnny, killing it midway.

“Johnny...?”, he heard calling from the table. A great save, to which Johnny clung instantly.
“Come inside,” he stepped back inviting Ghost in. “Thanks,” Ghost muttered.

Thank goodness they were not alone: meeting Cath and Farah seemed to help melting that awkward initial tension between the two of them, Johnny was immensely grateful for that. He could not have survived a moment more otherwise. Ghost was so thoughtful to bring a fancy-looking bottle of Italian red wine, not knowing that half of his fellow diners didn't drink any alcohol. Never mind, hopefully it would help breaking down tensions even further.

The man was impeccably polite towards the ladies, not very talkative but neverhteless friendly. Johnny couldn't help but notice how Ghost avoided his gaze, and it felt mortifying. Perhaps he had overstepped, he only deserved this outcome.

“Oh God, ma'am, this is the best lasagna I've ever tasted,” sentenced Ghost after taking a bite out of his chunk of baked pasta. Cath smiled sheepishly, and so did Johnny. “Seriously, your husband was a lucky man for having you in his life.” Tsk, flatterer.

“I am very glad you like it! But this was actually Johnny's work, you know,” she admitted, and their eyes finally met for a second.

Once again, Johnny was pierced through and through by the other man's intense gaze. It still burned like rocket fuel inside his chest, the feeling of those eyes landing right on him, and for a fraction of a second he could have sworn that there was nothing but devotion hiding behind those brown eyes. “Oh,” Ghost eventually exclaimed as they both went back at staring at their plate, “Umh, well... In that case, your girl... Your partner, they must be very lucky,” the man stumbled on his own words repeatedly, blushing.

“Save your breath, big boy,” was the reply from Farah, “Johnny's almost too single to function.”
God, this was getting embarrassing. Johnny chuckled with pretend ease. “Aye...”

“Fucking hell, Johnny, seriously,” Ghost reiterated, “You're a pro.”

An entire wine bottle later, the situation was back to that state of spontaneousness that Johnny wished so hard for. It was nice to see Ghost enjoying himself as he played Risiko! with Cath, Farah and him. Cath was swooning over his charm and manners; Farah, too, seemed positively impressed and fond of the man's company. Someone even had the audacity to pull out more gingerbread biscuits and top that off with hot chocolate. Johnny felt like he was going to explode at any moment from all the food they had, but it had been a very sweet day so far.

Charlotte was taking a nap on the red moquette, while Cath's cat had bolted upstairs as soon as he saw the dog and never came back down.

“It looks so nice on you...” Cath wouldn't stop repeating how gorgeous Ghost looked in that holiday jumper.
Halfway through the afternoon, she had pulled out those hideous Christmas-themed sweaters, claiming that it was part of the tradition for everyone to put them on. Ghost had protested, as politely as his tangible disgust for those things allowed. And so, Johnny had proposed that they would play Blackjack and spare the winner of the tournament from the jumper ritual. Everybody accepted, each of them confident that they would win. But none of them had won: in fact, Cath had kicked everyone's ass spectacularly, and now all three of them looked like very overgrown seventh-graders. And as much as Johnny could find his new outfit ridiculous, it was much more fun to look at Ghost than to self-commiserate: his jumper sleeves barely reached his wrists, and it really looked like his biceps would rip the wool threads at any moment. Oh God, it was so hard not to laugh at his face. That was probably the first and only time in which Johnny couldn't find him just hot.

“Yes, ma'am, you've told me...” he grumbled, trying so hard to keep it nice and polite not to hurt the lady's feelings.

And the rocket fuel ignited once again, when Johnny finally burst out laughing at the scene and Ghost did nothing but smile back at him.

Thanks were given and hot chocolates were drunk, and Johnny decided to go the extra mile and pulled out the paper bag from the Christmas market.

“Umh, Ghost, before you go, I actually have something for you, in case I don't see you before the holidays,” he said, handing over the bag to the man. “Didn't have time to wrap it fancy, sorry.”

Ghost seemed caught by surprise, and hesitated for a moment before grabbing the bag. A slight smile formed on his lips before he could even open the package. “Fucking hell, you didn't...” his hand reached in and began pulling out the book. “Johnny, you didn't have to...”

“I wanted to,” replied Johnny just like Ghost had done not too long ago.

“Oh, man.” Ghost caressed the hard cover of Oliver Twist like it was a relic, mesmerized.
“I wasnae sure if you had it in yer list, but I figured I may roll the dice,” explained Johnny from the other sofa where he was sitting.

“It's... It's beautiful, Johnny. Thank you, really,” concluded Ghost. The two smiled at each other. “Uh, actually I got something for you too.”
Now that was something Johnny had not foreseen. What could Ghost possibly have for him?

The man stood up and reached for his coat, extracting a white envelope from the inner pocket. It looked like one of those plain white mail envelopes in which grandparents stuff money for your birthday. Ghost sat back down on his spot of the couch, leaning in to hand his present to Johnny. And no, their hands did not meet when passing the thing, because this was not a cheesy rom-com and they were not secretly in love. Well, except that Johnny obviously was.

“It's nothing, really, I stumbled across an open desk selling those and I thought of you...”
Johnny opened the envelope and gasped with excitement: it was two tickets for the most awaited premiere of the year, the brand-new Wicked musical, which was going to take place in a couple weeks in the city.

“Well, I thought you could bring your plus one, but since you're almost too single to function,” said Ghost, quoting Farah (and also Mean Girls, to be precise), “well... you can bring anyone you want.”

Johnny tried to gather his words. “Thank you, I love this. I will definitely go,” he said, wishing with every cell of his body that he could just ask Ghost, nobody else but Ghost, right on the spot.

Cath profusedly thanked everybody once again, pulling Ghost in a hilariously tight hug. This mission had been way more successful than Johnny could possibly imagine.

“Ah, Johnny,” Ghost called before returning to his car, “I meant to ask... Are we cool? I'm afraid I've crossed a line the other day, and made you uncomfortable.”

“What? No, absolutely, everything's fine!” said Johnny relieved, finally allowing himself to pat the man on the shoulder. Wasn't that difficult after all. That night, Johnny would think back and smile at that moment, at the stupid relief they both felt after realizing that they were possibly both worried for the same stupid reason, when there was nothing to worry about. People can be so silly and unreasonable sometimes. Hopefully everything was going back to normal now.

“So, how long has this been going on for?” Farah asked her friend once they were alone.
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“This you and that guy crushing on each other like desperate teenagers but refusing to admit it thing.”
“What? Who?!” Johnny asked, for once actually oblivious.

Farah shook her head. “Johnny MacTavish, you are so impossibly dense sometimes.”

A/N: please enjoy this absolute treat of a fanart by my bestie:

He was so not a fan of that sweater.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21
Take a Hint

Christmas holidays had Johnny a little on edge.
He promised to himself that he would talk to his ma and tell her the truth about how he was struggling with university. He had no doubt: she was going to be nothing but understanding towards him. And yet, something had him on edge at first. Perhaps it was the thought of her asking why he didn't feel like he could talk to her about this. Why did he lie to his family for so long about his condition? I was ashamed, would be Johnny's honest response. I was too ashamed to admit that I was failing, so much that I didn't reach out to anyone at all until recently. Johnny was never one to lie to his family, especially his mother, and the guilt was consuming him every single day.

The familiar mossy roofs and grey driveways had saluted him as the bus drove lazily through the neighbourhoods of Glasgow, taking him and Charlotte closer and closer to home.

It felt good to be back home. It always had a special place inside his heart, not everyone could say that and he felt lucky to be one of those people who can feel safe in their home. Everything was pretty much the same as when he left: same chaos, same vivacity, same old smell of comfort. His mother seemed a little more tired than usual, which made him realize how time flew by while he was busy dealing with his shit in his little own world.

Johnny's father bonded very easily with Charlotte. He had always had a sixth sense with animals, his wife often joked that he was better with them than he was with people. She wasn't entirely wrong. But he was a good man, one who tried his best.

The young Scot wanted them both on the couch one evening: he took a moment to gather the courage, comforted by his best friend who rested her head on his lap, wagging her tail in approval. And little by little, he told them everything, from the major burnout episode to the anxiety attacks he suffered in school. He told them about the library, about Charlotte, about how he was trying to put the pieces back together with the help of his friends. He told them about Ghost, the man with the funniest name and the grumpiest attitude, who was so unwelcoming towards him that he ended up being the one igniting the determination back inside him, encouraging him to take it one step at a time and always believing in him. He cherished his friend deeply because of that.

A major weight was lifted off his chest, as soon as he told the whole truth to his parents. He apologized for feeding them lies for months, saying he regretted that immensely. But the falloff obviously didn't matter to them: Johnny's parents were simply heartbroken to hear what their son had been going through, what he had been dealing with all alone. It was a moment full of love and sweetness, and it taught Johnny that he could always count on family no matter what; although his sisters would probably get a little judgemental in the process, ultimately everybody had his best interest at heart.

He spent the rest of the holidays eating all sorts of traditional dishes, catching up with old mates, snuggling with Charlotte in his living room and playing cards with his mother. He always beat her spectacularly, but she seemed to love losing against him.

Johnny got back to his usual life feeling full of renewed motivation. Lots of challenges awaited ahead, but he finally felt ready to face them.

First of all was his new job at Price's clinic, which Johnny found out to have obtained while he was in Glasgow.
He met with Dr Price one evening: the man explained everything he needed to know, all the procedures and the do's and dont's, and they agreed on a weekly schedule. Johnny felt a little bummed because his working hours barely overlapped with Ghost's: he would clock out right when the man would clock in. That will do, he figured.

And things began taking an unexpected turn with Ghost during those days at work: Ghost never missed an occasion to show up earlier to work whenever Johnny had an appointment with a particularly verbose husky or a shiba inu, only for the pleasure of standing by the grooming station and enjoying the show of Johnny battling with a dog that shrieked and fought for dear life tugging left and right like a possessed creature, while Johnny tried to bath it without ending up more soaked than the dog itself. And all the while, Ghost would be very careful not to help the poor lad, but rather enjoy the spectacle with crossed arms, just to piss him off. Johnny would glare at him and ask if he was ever planning to lend a hand, to which question the man would promptly grab the medical clipboard and pretend to be super busy with vet business. Meanwhile, both of them tried not to laugh like idiots.

And then, one evening like any other, Johnny found a brown paper bag next to his stuff in the break room: he unwrapped it and found a blueberry and banana cupcake from the bakery down the road, still warm.

He had no doubt it was from Ghost, and he slowly began to get used to this new special treatment: every now and then, the brown paper would appear next to Johnny's backpack, sometimes holding a cupcake, sometimes a brownie, sometimes a donut.

Being pampered by Ghost wasn't bad at all.

And so Johnny came up with a way of thanking Ghost the same way the man had been silently spoiling his new colleague: every day he would hide a little chocolate somewhere in Ghost's stuff.

[11:49 P.M.] Ghost 👻: [📷 Photo] wtf mate???

[11:50 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Hiding chocolate in a cup in which i usually pour hot water is not a brilliant idea

[11:50 P.M.] Ghost 👻: As you can see for yourself

[11:53 P.M.] You: LOL it doesn't look like something I'd drink

[11:54 P.M.] You: No more chocolate in the tea cup, duly noted XD

Melted chocolate in boiling water did not look inviting at all, indeed. It looked more like some body waste he didn't want to think about. But he'd be damned if he wasn't enjoying this new routine between Ghost and him.

After a couple weeks had gone by like that, Johnny received a rather ominous message from Farah:

[9:03 A.M.] Farah: Johnny MacT., we really need to talk. Me and you, face to face, ASAP.

Johnny didn't feel too shocked or concerned about that conversation: sometimes Farah would tease him with dramatic texts like that one, but it was hardly ever a sign of real trouble. They were mature enough to never really fight ugly, and besides, he couldn't think of anything that he could have done to wrong her so badly. When the doorbell rang announcing his friend's arrival, Johnny trotted to his apartment's door - he had just finished setting up some snacks for her. Setting up snacks for friends coming over is of critical importance.

Farah didn't look upset. She looked like the most regular Farah that Johnny knew so well.
They engaged in small talk about their duties between her research project and his new job at Price's, families, friends.. and soon enough, Johnny realized that he was unknowingly prolonging the small talk phase in an effort to postpone the serious talk. Turns out he was nervous after all.

Eventually, the two ran out of small talk topics, and a short awkward silence fell between them.

“Ah, mon, spit it oot,” blurted out the Scot nervously, “What's this about?”

Farah gave him a smile between the smug and the reassuring. “Ah, J... This is... Uh, an intervention.”

“What?!”
An intervention? For what? Johnny barely even drank any coffee, why on Earth would he need an intervention?!
“I am... Rather confused,” he replied, flabbergasted.

Farah seemed to realize that she had made a slightly poor choice of words. She blinked rapidly and tried to rephrase it. “Well. No, actually. Johnny. I tried. I tried to tell myself that you were just messing around, but now I am beginning to believe that you're just so naturally oblivious and I really cannot stand it anymore,” Farah explained with a nervous smile.

“I... don't get it...” echoed Johnny, still dumbfounded.

Farah muttered to herself, “Yeah, I figured. Okay. Let's see. Did you find your "plus one" for the play? The play that you happen to have tickets for since Ghost got them for you as a gift?”, Farah inquired, adding a little too much emphasis on the last bit.
“Uh, nay,” admitted Johnny, “oh-! Would you like to go with me? You could have told me, of course we can go-” God, now it was obvious! It was so inconsiderate of him not to invite her straight away, especially since she was there when he got the tickets. He should have known.

“Johnny- ah, damn it. Take two,” Farah sighed. Why was she so frustrated?!
“Browse through our chat gallery, please.”

Johnny obeyed, oh, so, confused. “What do you see, Johnny? In the most recent pics.”
“...A bunch of screenshots?”
“Yes!,” Farah yelped enthusiastically, “get a biscuit, you doofus. Now, what can you tell me about those screenshots?”

Johnnny's face quickly turned warmer. Oh, damn, he had been oversharing, he must have crossed a boundary right there. “It's...” he paused to take a bite out of the damn biscuit, buying time, “Well... it's just some silly conversation with Ghost.”

Farah insisted: “Go on. Elaborate.”
“Well,” Johnny inhaled, embarrassed. “I just wanted to share this sort of... thing we do at work. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I didn't know you weren't okay with that-”

“Oh, for fucks' sake, MacTavish! Are you into him?!” Farah finally burst, a whisper turned into a proper shout of frustration.

Oh. Well. To answer that question was very easy: oh, yes, big time. But was it this that made her so uncomfortable?
“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean- ugh, that's beside the point. Okay, now that I know that you're not entirely oblivious: what else can you see in those pictures?”

Johnny couldn't say. Perhaps he was, indeed, entirely oblivious. “I can see... That... Ghost avoids emojis and apostrophes?”

“Goodness. My goodness. Johnny, why haven't you asked him to be your plus one for the musical?” asked Farah, this time with all the tenderness that she could gather in her soul.
Well, it's not like Johnny hadn't thought of that. In fact, he thought of asking Ghost every damn day, but... That would just simply never happen, right? “'Cause... Well... I'm sure he's got other business-”

“He LIKES YOU too, you absolute, complete, moron!” the young woman finally said, her face instantly filling with an expression of major relief, as though she had been holding her breath for the past ten minutes. “That's what I've been trying so desperately to show you, man, Ghost likes - you - back!!” she emphasized clapping her hands at each word. “Can't you see that he is dying for you to ask him to go to that musical together?! As in a date? A totally romantic, non-platonic, not-just-as-a-friend date?”

“Farah-...” now Johnny was shocked for real. “I-... I appreciate your high consideration of me but... Ghost is only being nice,” he told her, unable to ignore the sting of pain that came with admitting the truth, which was that Ghost couldn't possibly be into him.

And so, armed with endless patience, Johnny's best friend began pointing out:
Has Ghost been leaving him little treats just for the sake of it? Yes;
Has he ever seen Ghost doing that with anybody else at work? Not really, but they didn't have that many colleagues...
Has Ghost been showing up earlier to his shift just to “annoy” Johnny? Yes, but that's because-
Has Ghost been offering his help or advice insistingly? Yes, but he was only being professional...
Has Ghost been texting him for seemingly futile reasons? Yes, but I mean, friends do that all the time-
Do they? ....Yes? ...Right?
Has Ghost asked Johnny whether he had found anyone for the musical yet? Well, yes, come to think of it, but...
He ever mentioned anything related to his romantic life? He's a very private person...
Still shows up to the library? Yes, but...
Does he still carry that very-childish Grumpy Lion bookmark when he does? ...Yes...

Question after question, the thought began to take shape into Johnny's brain, at last:
perhaps, according to very logic reasoning, Ghost really liked him back.

Which meant that maybe, just maybe, Johnny should try to make a move.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22
Soap on a mission

Well.

Convincing Johnny that he might have a chance with Ghost was... Relatively easy. Sure, the lad was stubborn like very few things in this world are, but he was presented with way too much evidence to keep denying the fact to the bitter end.
Actually making a move, however, was a whole different thing. Johnny had spent the past couple nights staring at the ceiling, pondering: the idea of actually confessing his feelings to Ghost and Ghost reciprocating him filled him with undescribable joy, sending swirls of excitement all over his stomach - that would have been everything he could possibly wish for. He would take the man out to see the musical (as his date!) and it would be an unforgettable night. Hell, maybe he could refer to him as his boyfriend from then on. Maybe they could get used to spending hours snuggled on Ghost's couch, hands grazing each other's arms and hair, and he could finally allow himself to get lost into those eyes like molasses.

On the other and much less pleasing end, though, there was the possibility of Ghost rejecting him instead. “Thank you, Johnny, but I am already seeing someone”, “I'm not really into men, Johnny”, “I'm not really into you specifically, Johnny”. so many ways he could break Johnny's heart. And on top of the heartbreak, he would inevitably compromise the beautiful friendship he had with the man, irreversibly, awkwardly, for good. What would he do on the workplace then? Just avoid him as best as he could, never meet the man's eyes ever again? That would have been too much to bear. Losing what Ghost and him had built over the last months, that was too much to bear.

Johnny was being torn apart by the options and their consequences. He kept telling himself that he was going to be young and bold only once in life, that he had all the evidence and all the virtues to give it a try, that trying was worth the risk. Worst case, he would have told Ghost that he liked him, which was somewhat of a compliment, and compliments are a good thing. Right?
Ah, God help him.

Days remaining until the musical: 8.
Had Johnny even remotely succeeded in his mission of asking Ghost on a date so far? 'Course not.

It had been a fairly chill day at the grooming station, but Johnny felt still somewhat tired. He ran both hands through his mohawk and sighed, feeling the work apron struggle to accompany his movements as it fell too tight around his chest. Just about then, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

[6:51 P.M.] Farah: Told him yet?????????

Johnny read the text and huffed a little, unable to contain the smile that formed on his lips: she just knew him like no other, without her constant pressuring he would just slowly convince himself that it was nothing but a bad idea to talk to Ghost about the musical.

[6:51 P.M.] You: I will today...

[6:51 P.M.] Farah: YOU BETTER!!

“'Sup, Johnny, texting anyone interesting?”, quipped a voice behind him, and Johnny nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh- uh- nah, you wish, heheh,” was all he was able to blabber back as he turned to greet Ghost. God, he was so blushing, he could feel his cheeks catching fire. The man was just drop-dead gorgeous as usual. He had already slipped in the short-sleeved medical uniform, showing off the tattoo sleeve and all the statuesque muscles underneath it: a thought crossed Johnny's mind that Ghost's hair had been growing longer than usual, he didn't remember it ever reaching the man's eyebrows, while now he could see it almost reaching the eyes - and felt the urge of wiping it on the side with his hand. Sure, Johnny, as if we weren't already blushing wildly, go ahead, might as well do it for real.

Meanwhile, Ghost was leaning on the wall, arms crossed, wearing a little half-smile that painted an insufferable smug look on his face.

“I wish? Me?”, he echoed as he stood up. “Nah, I don't think I do,” he then added, proceeding to place a hand firmly on top of Johnny's head and scruffing his hair.

Ask him. Ask him. Ask. HIM.

“Awa' an bile yer heid” he said, as flustered as ever, trying to comb his mohawk back into a presentable state with his fingers before he would auto-combust for good.

“Hope you fancy Chelsea buns, kid,” he heard Ghost's voice echoing through the corridor as he headed to his station.

God fucking damnit, he thought to himself. We'll get 'em next time.

Twenty-four hours later, Johnny was back in the same room, back in the same situation. Oh, but this time he was going to accomplish his mission.

“Hey twat, what's new?” asked the familiar voice in what was by now a familiar gesture.
Nothing, except that we're going on a date next week, perhaps, please?
“Not much, uh Chelsea bun was a treat, thank you,” said Johnny in response.

“Glad you liked it,” said Ghost in a warm tone, “Come, I want to show you something.”

The man guided Johnny through the corridor and into the main room of the clinic, where Charlotte had been hospitalized not too long ago. He stopped in front of a cage and gestured for Johnny to look inside.

Johnny cautiously leaned over and saw what looked like a mixed-breed dog, her fur mostly white except for some black patches here and there, lying down on the cage floor as she breastfed four impossibly small puppies who all looked like their mama.

“Somebody found them in the trash today. Unbelievable what people are capable of.” The hostility in Ghost's voice was as thick as the rain over Glasgow.

“My, look at them. So fragile, so beautiful,” murmured Johnny, captured by the sight of the puppies still fighting for their life despite all they'd already been through.

“Right,” confirmed Ghost with a sigh next to him, but he wasn't looking at the cubs. He was staring down at Johnny. The two made eye contact for what felt like an eternity, and for once Johnny could spot a different emotion behind the man's gaze - together with the usual gloom, he could spot something that resembled... warmth. And it was paralyzing. A sight to die for.

“Ghost I-...” Ask him out. Ask. Him. The fuck. Out!!!!

Ghost cleared his throat, looking away flustered. Was he blushing too, for once?

“I admire the work of you lads,” said Johnny. Ugh, he was impossible.

“Uh, thanks. We're just doing what we can, but there's no end to situations like this,” said Ghost, still avoiding eye contact.

Silence filled the room. God fucking damnit, there was no way in hell.

“Anyway, yeah, thank you, I better get ready,” muttered Johnny nervously.

Johnny buried his face in his hands as he sat in the staff room. Why, why was it so hard to just ask the man a bloody question?!
He was painfully aware the odds were kind of in his favour, but still he'd get all flustered into silence every time he faced Ghost. The what ifs were also a constant antagonist in the equation: what if, what if, what if he said 'no'?
But what if he said 'yes'?!

Alright, that was enough. Johnny could no longer tolerate that limbo. He got back up on his feet, took off his grooming apron and marched back towards the main room with resolution, feeling his heartbeat gaining speed and intensity as he got closer and closer to his goal. He was going to ask, it was now or never more.

“Ghost, I want to tell ye somethin',” he announced with all the courage he had left in his body, barging into the room where he found Ghost leaning towards the sink, washing his hands. The man turned his head towards him, seemingly unbothered. “Johnny, what is it?” he asked. You have to ask him now, a voice inside Johnny's head reprimanded him. But once again, Johnny froze. Ghost stood in front of him, a puzzled look on his face, water still running from the tap. Say something, say something, for the love of God.

“Soap,” blurted out Johnny, after his eyes had darted for a moment on the bottle of anti-bacterial hand soap that lied on the sink surface. Ghost looked confused. He shut the tap and reached for a towel. “I wanted to tell you about the Soap thing, how I ended up with that name, dinnae ken if... if ye remember...” blabbered the Scot. Ghost furrowed his eyebrows for a moment and nodded, “Yeah, Soap, I recall. What about it?”
Johnny was painfully aware that it wasn't at all what he wanted to tell Ghost about at the moment, but he had once again chickened out of it - on top of that, he now had to tell him about something that made him feel a little insecure to this very day, despite he had forgiven all of it a long time ago. Forgetting is hardly ever the same as forgiving.

Johnny rested against the counter on the side, feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sting that came with failing in his intent, and began.

“Uh, this was Fourth Year secondary school,” Johnny tried to sound calm - telling Ghost about this was less scary than telling him about the musical anyway. Meanwhile, Ghost kept up with his daily chores, checking products on the shelves and monitoring the IV bags of his little patients. Although one might've thought the contrary, Ghost was paying attention to Johnny: upon hearing prolonged silence, he would turn to face the boy as if to say 'Go on, I am listening', which was a subtle yet sweet gesture that stole Johnny a smile. “Ah, okay, so, just to clarify: I... like men.” Johnny went on, holding his breath as he waited for a reaction from Ghost. Ghost stared at the boy for a long moment, then burst out in a genuine laughter. “Yeah, Johnny, I know, don't worry, I know, go on.” He wasn't making fun of Johnny in any way, he sounded cheerful more than anything. Johnny smiled back at him, shyly. “Yeah. Uh. Back in high school, umh, I had a massive crush for this boy I was in Biology with,” he went on looking away, embarrassed by the mention of his own teenage crush and the memories that came back with it. “We were somewhat friends, alright, I thought about confessing my feelings for him a thousand times but, ye ken, I was in an all-boy school and I couldn't dream of coming out in that environment. I'd only told my ma up until then, nobody else.”

“Anyhow, in the end, I made up my mind and decided to tell him. I don't know, I thought I had a chance, or that he would at least understand, you know. So one day while we were walking home, I just spat it out in the most awkward way possible,” Johnny chuckled at the memory of that tremendous confession, all the stuttering and the hesitating that a teenager can possibly display when confessing.

“Uh-huh, go on, I am invested,” he heard Ghost encourage him as he kept dealing with his duties.

“Well it... Seemed to be working I guess? He kinda said yes?” Johnny scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little silly in hindsight. Hadn't he been a lovestruck inexperienced teen, he would've known something was off. “Yeah, he said we could give it a try. Which doesn't sound too great, right, I know that now, but back then I was too busy being overjoyed because I had somewhat of a boyfriend.”

“Anyhow, things are good, or at least they seemed good to me. Some awkward stares between us, some timid smiles, you know, the butterflies and everything, it was a blissful start for me,” Johnny went on, a little embarrassed, obtaining a tender chuckle from Ghost, who kept listening in silence. “I had it all, right? Just taking things slow and easy. And... One day he tells me to meet him behind the gym building, because... He had been thinking about kissing and wanted to, like, have our first. Y'know. And I was... So excited - of course I was also super nervous, naturally, but ugh,” Johnny stared at the ceiling, allowing the neon lights to just blind him as he reminisced that feeling of excitement that comes only once in life.

“So after a neverending day in school, I make my way to the back of the gym, and I just... Sit there on the concrete and wait. And sure enough, my boyfriend does arrive shortly after. But my excitement soon just dies and gets replaced by an unpleasant feeling of uneasiness as I realize that he is not alone. He brought a full group of blokes with him, and they are just unable to contain their chuckles. It becomes clear to me at this point, that I had been just toyed with; and also, that my secret is now in the open. Everyone then just starts mocking me, making fun of me because what, were you going to kiss a boy? Did that make you all excited and stuff? Just barking with laughter and everything- and my alleged boyfriend, in all of this, he just timidly laughed along, didn't really participate in the mocking but obviously did nothing to stop it either. And yeah, that sorta hurt.”

Ghost turned his head towards Johnny: he looked somewhat upset, reasonably so after hearing the boy's story. Still, Johnny felt like reassuring his Grumpy Lion that everything was okay. “We did have our grown-up talk at some point, this guy and I, to make amends and everything - I know exactly what he did, he sold me out to save himself. He was just as afraid as I was, maybe in a different life it's me who did that to him. I don't hold any grudges against him, it doesn't really hurt me anymore. Still, we did go our separate ways eventually, of course. He's been married for about two years now,” Johnny smiled fondly. He wasn't sure he hoped for such a happy ending for himself at all, but it must've been nice to find your forever person, he thought to himself. He meant what he said anyway, he was holding no grudges against his old friend and first love whatsoever.

“Yeah but they did give you hell, didn't they?” inquired Ghost, a touch of spite still in his voice.
Johnny sighed. “Yeah, that they did. That's what the whole Soap thing is about, actually. It soon became popular habit for the whole PE class to turn to look at me in the changing rooms, saying stupid stuff like, y'know, MacTavish is here, better be careful not to drop the soap, which slowly just shrunk to simply me being 'Soap' - and this nickname came together with me for quite a long time, even after everyone got bored of the charade. So yeah. That was the thing. Sorry I took you all this time, feels dumb now, it was nothing really, uh-” rambled Johnny as he quickly stood back up, suddenly feeling so, so stupid. At that moment, Ghost swiftly turned around, placed his clipboard on the table in the middle of the room and wrapped his arms around Johnny, pulling him in a warm hug.

In the blink of an eye, Johnny was embraced, softly held against the man's warm chest. He could feel his heartbeat, recognize the familiar scent. Ghost just held him tight enough, both palms open and resting against his back. His chest rose and fell regularly against Johnny's head. And for a while, they just stood like that, in silence. It was the most paradoxical feeling ever - Johnny thought he could die any moment, that his heart would just give in from feeling too much, but at the same time he was just drifting into a feeling of peace. He felt the man's hand rest on his head, gracefully caressing along his hair. There it was, blissful surrender.

“Johnny, do not let anyone hurt your heart like that again. Ever.”
Ghost's words vibrated in his chest and on Johnny's temple. There were countless arguments that came to Johnny's mind, all just perfectly valid. But all he said in response was a “Hm. I'll try.”

Yeah, next time he would've totally asked him out.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23
It's always the rainy days

Previously, on Like an Open Book:

In a last-moment attempt at chickening out of what was actually Johnny's mission - to ask Ghost on a date, that is - our hero ended up telling the man the story of how he earned the unfortunate nickname "Soap", resulting in a sweet sweet display of affection by Ghost, the Grumpy Lion himself. Hours later, Johnny could still feel the touch of the man's hand running through his hair, and it was truly the most blissful feeling he had experienced in a long time, maybe ever. Who would have thought that a seemingly harsh character like him had such tenderness hiding somewhere?

Armed with the recent happenings, Johnny had made up his mind once and for all: he was absolutely going to ask Ghost to be his date for the musical.
He didn't have much time left, the play was but a few days away, which started to become a bit of a problem - what if he asked too late and Ghost had already agreed to other plans by then? Which was why he could no longer wait. He was going to ask, today.

“Wild berry pie today, fancy?” Ghost quipped from the same spot as usual, with the same crossed arms as usual and the same smug expression as usual - snapping Johnny back to reality.

“What if I said no, would ye return the thing?” asked Johnny back, trying to look just as smug. Ghost let out a deep chuckle, “No.”

“Figured that,” Johnny replied with a smile, returning to his cleaning duties at the grooming station. He never intended to say no to the pie, just to clarify, he was just messing around. And Ghost surely knew that.

The man headed to his business, leaving Johnny to finish with his remaining tasks - and to overthink every aspect of his misssion, of course.
Soon enough, it was time for Johnny to clock out. Fidgeting with the brown paper bag which contained yet another treat from Ghost, Johnny sat alone in the break room and allowed himself to feel nervous. He was not going to allow nervousness to sabotage him once more, but still he acknowledged the feeling. It was there, after all. He didn't prepare a speech or anything like that, he figured he was just gonna bring his ass in the other room and say what he had to say somehow. He trusted that he could do that around Ghost by now. Well then, for the hundredth time, here goes nothing.

He took a deep breath, snuck the bag inside his backpack and wore his coat.

Feeling the earth tremble underneath his feet, with hesitation he approached the main room of the clinic, where Ghost must've been tending to his duties as usual.
“Hey,” he said after peeping from the slightly open door and making sure Ghost was actually there. Hey, that was all, off to a great start eh, Johnny?

“Hey,” echoed Ghost, interrupting his routine to pay attention to his colleague. “You alright?”

“Yeah, all good, didn't mean to worry you,” Johnny started to ramble. God, why did he have to be so clumsy?!
“Yeah I was wondering, do ye have a minute? Mind coming outside for a second?”, he went on. Pathetic, but better than nothing.

“Sure, can do,” said Ghost without questioning, and he seemed determined to follow the scot outside the building wearing nothing more than his short-sleeved uniform. Johnny couldn't help but worry that he was going to freeze, but he was familiar with the man's stubbornness enough not to even bring up that concern. The two made their way outside the clinic: it was way too cold for anyone to be comfortable in short sleeves, as Johnny could easily imagine, but Ghost didn't seem to flinch at the cold as it hit him, much to the boy's surprise. The man stopped on his feet and looked straight at Johnny, waiting for him to speak up: Johnny could feel his heart threaten to burst out of his ribcage and kill him on the spot and his head turning into a messy whirlwind of oh god oh god oh god what do I say now what do I say now what do I say now

“Well then,” was the cue from Ghost as he crossed arms against his chest as usual. Truth was that he was probably cold, indeed, only too stubborn or lazy to shield himself with a jacket.
Well then, Johnny. “Yes, uh. There is,” started Johnny, speaking painfully slowly, “something I've been meaning to tell you.”
“Mh-mh? Some trouble at work? Was someone rude to you?” asked the man, offering some guesses. Was he being protective towards Johnny again? God, it was really hard not to find it adorable.

“Nay, nay, nothing like it. It's just... It's actually about you,” Johnny went on, mustering up all the courage he needed to look up and stare right at Ghost's face. Goodness gracious, those eyes, especially at night. “You remember those tickets you got me for Christmas, for... The musical...”

If Johnny was bad catching hints from people, well, Ghost wasn't the brightest one at that either. He raised an eyebrow and inquired, “That I do, what's up with that? Did I get anything wrong-”

“I'm so sorry,” murmured Johnny, chuckling at himself, “This is pathetic. I am pathetic.”
“Don't say that,” began Ghost, taking a slight step forward, but Johnny went on. “I'm trying to ask ye oot. I've been trying to ask you out for days and I found so many excuses not to, really, it's ridiculous.” The rumble of thunder echoed above them. A storm was announcing its imminent arrival not too far away.

“I've been trying to ask you if you wanted to be my plus one for the play, because I would love to go with you. I know it's not your thing, musical and theater things, but, well, if you'd like to give it a go-...” continued Johnny with a shrug, trying to keep calm and collected. The realization now hit Johnny that he had leaped past the ledge and that there was no coming back now; all he could do was hope that this wasn't going to be sheer disaster.

“Oh. Johnny, I-”, tried to begin Ghost, looking... nervous? His brown eyes met the ground, and Johnny thought it might be a good sign - the bloke was a lot more shy than he would admit, after all.

“I like you, Ghost. I don't want you to get me wrong. In your position I would just assume that you'd be asking me out as a friend, because what else could it be, right?”
“Johnny-” cried out Ghost again, but at this point Johnny was on a rambling spree. “No, I'm not asking you out on a date as a friend, I am asking you out on a date as a date. Because I like you, and not just as a friend. I've liked you ever since you came back to the library to apologize. Hell, I've liked you ever since you yelled at me, since forever. I knew there was more to it than just a pissed off lad with very little sense of politeness. I've liked you with all I have ever since and I only liked you more with each passing day.”
“Please, Johnny, will you-” tried the man again. But Johnny was not done. Not yet. Unleashing his feelings, at last, was one of the most freeing and empowering sensations he had ever experienced, he truly felt like he could move mountains in that moment. He had to let Ghost know, he had to let him know about everything. “And I know,” he swallowed loudly, feeling the lump in his throat slightly hurt as it found its way down to the stomach, “that I'm a mess, and I am a terrible cook and my place isn't remotely as tidy and clean as yours and I cry in front of the telly but... If there is half a chance, half a chance that you might be...” Johnny found himself fighting back the tears at this point, for which he finally took a break from the incessant rambling.

“Will you please stop...” whispered Ghost, sounding shocked like never before, his stance no longer the usual, firm stance of every day.
“I am tired, of pretending like I am normal about this, about us. I am not normal about us, I am not normal about you, Ghost. Ever since you found your way into my life, I found my way back on my feet, back to striving to become the best version of myself. It's just what you do to me, man. And I know you're not one for acknowledging even the slightest positive accomplishment when it comes to you yourself, but you have to accept this: this is what you do to me every day.” Johnny was desperate for acknowledgment, and Ghost looked like he was going to faint at any moment now.
“I am so in love with you it almost hurts. And, again, if there's even one chance in a million that you would like to go out on that-”

“I can't do this,” he thought he heard Ghost say under his breath.

Shit. The first thought that popped in Johnny's mind was that he was too late after all, that Ghost couldn't go because he had other plans. “Oh,” he said, unable not to sound a little disappointed, “Yeah I thought it might've been too late for that. I'm sure you have other things to do. But we could go out some other time!” he smiled at the man cheerfully, “I know this place-”

“JOHNNY, for fuck's sake, I CAN'T do this, I can't go out with you!” scanned clearly Ghost, half-yelling at Johnny. It was then that Johnny realized the man wasn't smiling back at all.

“...What?” was all Johnny could murmur in response. Make no mistake, it's not like he hadn't heard the man loud and clear: he had caught his reply, and it really wasn't a reply he was expecting, nor one he was any eager to hear.
Ghost wasn't just nervous or upset, he looked almost scared: his chest rose and fell rapidly, almost frantically, as if he had just looked in the eye of Death itself and was fighting against a building panic attack; his arms had untwisted from the usual crossed stance, and now they hung almost lifeless off the man's shoulders and down to the sides, paralyzed. He looked as pale as a cadaver, even though he must have felt cold as hell and people tend to blush in all funny shades of red when they are so cold. He stood there motionless, breathing heavily, looking as if he was about to burst crying. What the hell was going on?

“Johnny, I-...” Ghost fought to get some air inside his lungs, “I'm so sorry...” he ran both hands through his hair, as if to say 'What a mess have I just gotten myself into.'
No. It couldn't be. There was no way in hell. Everything began to whirl around Johnny as the realization sank in that he was being rejected right now, that it was indeed going to be sheer disaster. God, he felt like he was about to throw up. “But... I don't understand, what's the matter?” asked Johnny, desperate to understand how he could've actually misread the situation that spectacularly - just then, he felt a drop of water hit his scalp, then another; cold, thick raindrops started to fall down slowly all over.
“I just- I just can't- I'm sorry, Johnny, this is all my fault-” cried Ghost, hyperventilating.

Nothing made sense anymore. Was there someone else in the man's life already? Was he just not into him at all? None of the thousand options could make any sense in Johnny's mind right now. Nothing at all could make any sense in Johnny's mind right now. “But- I thought-” cried back Johnny, now in an open fight against tears, a fight that he lost very quickly.

“I gotta get back to work. I am sorry, Johnny, I am so sorry.” Ghost's eyes met Johnny's, and they looked just as full of pain.
Without adding another word, the man walked past Johnny and into the vet clinic, sniffing up loudly as if he was about to cry as well. Leaving Johnny standing there on the sidewalk. Alone. Petrified. Under a now raging thunderstorm.

Only one bittersweet thought was able to form inside Johnny's head:

"Of course it has to be on a rainy day."

Chapter Text

Chapter 24
The Aftermath

-
“And your voice cries out
for the coup de grâce
and the lights go out
will there be a trace
that I loved, Silvia?”
—Miike Snow, 'Silvia'

There are no words to accurately describe the earthquake of emotions that was roaring inside Johnny's chest as he stood in the exact spot where he had been rejected by Ghost a minute ago. Or maybe it was five minutes. Or fifty. He honestly couldn't tell. The concept of time escaped him in that moment. Everything was motionless and spinning at the same time. He would have honestly loved to formulate some thoughts, any thought, something that began with “How” or perhaps “Why” - a simple “Why?” would have been a good enough starting point, if only he had any control over his thoughts at all.

Heartbroken, confused, disappointed, scared, lost; Johnny was experiencing a dozen different feelings all at once, all blended to thick chunks that got stuck inside his throat and caused it to hurt like hell. Blood was flowing so fast through his body he could hear the wooshing sound in his ears. Johnny, I can't do this - the man's words echoed all around him, bouncing on the walls and the sidewalk and coming back to haunt him from all directions. I can't go out with you. Guy couldn't even bother being honest and saying I don't want to, nor could he bother explaining why he allegedly couldn't - besides, "couldn't", it felt like a half-assed excuse to avoid telling Johnny the truth. Truth hurts, they say? Well this didn't exactly feel like a warm hug either.

Anyhow, Johnny knew he couldn't stand there on the sidewalk forever, trapped in that swarm of rioting emotions, entranced by the jarring sound of his many thoughts. But snapping back to reality would have made it all, well, real.

“Fuck it's pishin it doon” he finally muttered to himself as he realized he was getting soaked under the rain, the tone of his voice so numb he was honestly surprised to hear himself like that. So he finally figured he should head home - there was nothing left to do there anyways.

His mind didn't register much about the bus drive back to his apartment. He felt his body being gently rocked left and right by the swerving of the large vehicle on the road, his ears still ringing, his eyes burning: had he been crying? That better be the case, he also had a runny nose - and if that wasn't the result of crying, then he was indubitably catching a bad cold. He cursed himself at the thought. God, he had been such a fool for everything.

Thoughts were trying to crawl to the surface of his mind, thoughts he was trying to push back into the unintelligible choir - little by little, however, those thoughts overpowered the noise, becoming more and more audible and clear.

It is over. You have ruined everything. Ghost doesn't like you, Ghost has probably never even liked you platonically or in any other way. It was cute of you to convince yourself -to fool yourself- into believing the contrary, but the truth was always under your nose and your perception couldn't be any further from the truth.

And the most painful part was that, together with these very very reasonable thoughts, also came the memories: one after another, flashbacks of a thousand moments he had spent with Ghost were flashing before Johnny's eyes, each landing a punch right into his stomach.

The Grumpy Lion.

The night at the hospital.

“You get to ask one question at a time, Detective Snoop.”

The stray cats by that café. “I'm more of a cat person myself.”

Eyes glued to the floor, Johnny hopped off the bus at his usual stop, moving on autopilot.

“Do you wanna go grab a coffee with me?”

Johnny dragged his feet up the usual staircase. Sniffling more and more, he reached for his keys as he approached his apartment door. Were the keys that cold or was it Johnny's hands that were freezing?.

“You're weird, Johnny.” Please, please no more flashbacks, he prayed. They hurt like hell and they made no logical sense now, given how things had turned out.
Charlotte came to the door wagging her tail: as devastated as he might have been in that moment, Johnny still had a dog, and she still needed to do her things outside. “Hi, darling,” he greeted her with a sigh. He hated to realize it, but the sight of Charlotte reminded him of Ghost so much, it reignited the memory machine in full force, and for the first time Johnny was unhappy to see her. He hated himself for feeling that way: Charlotte had no part in the recent events, it wasn't her who broke his heart nor was she the one who was foolish enough to get his heart broken. She was the same angel as always, she loved him as unconditionally as always and she greeted him as eagerly as always - she didn't deserve to be resented, not even just with unspoken thoughts. It filled Johnny with a sense of guilt.

Reluctant, the two stepped out in the rain, once again. Would be pretty fucking nice if it stopped pouring for a damn moment, it really would be nice, but nope. Not a chance, of course.

Johnny's eyes followed Charlie absent-mindedly as she scanned the grass in the park and walked in a zig-zag motion;
What will it be of them now? Of Johnny and Ghost, that is, what will it be of their... whatever it was they had? How was Johnny supposed to behave around the man at work the next week?
It's not like he hadn't thought about that scenario when debating whether to confess or not. Were Ghost to reject him, things at work would've become awkward - no matter if Johnny chose to go on acting like nothing had changed or to go no contact at all for a while, or any in-between, the awkwardness would have remained a constant in the equation. But nah, surely Ghost wasn't gonna reject him, right? Let's spill the beans instead.
He chewed on his lip out of frustration. He did not want to think about it anymore. He did not want to think at all.

It's funny how people usually go on a walk to "clear their head", so that they will feel better by the time they come back. By the time Johnny came back from his walk, he was even more upset than before. Upset and freezing. He was gonna need a hot shower if he didn't want to freeze to death - but not before blow-drying his beloved dog back to dry and warm conditions: he then left Charlotte on his two-seat couch to enjoy the newfound comfort and headed to the bathroom.

The hot running water helped soothe his nerves, at least on a physical level. As he ran his hands through his wet hair, one more memory crept back into his mind - one that was supposed to be the sweetest and most heartwarming of all:

The warmth of that hug. The tenderness of that hand running through his hair. “Johnny, do not let anyone hurt your heart like that again. Ever.”

Almost ironic how badly that had aged in such little time. Why on Earth had Ghost said that to him? Why would he tell Johnny something like that and then proceed to-
It made no sense, and it was not fair. It was NOT! FAIR!

Johnny grimaced through the sharp pain that was spreading across his palms, after he slammed them on the wall tiles in an outburst of frustration.
God, that was not him. He was losing it. He shouldn't let a heartbreak fuck with him like that. Besides, who decides what is fair and what is not? Did Ghost owe him a positive answer just because Johnny assumed it was the likely one?
Who was he kidding, he deserved the wake-up call after weeks of daydreaming with no real evidence.

Still battling with his frustration, Johnny stepped into the living room to find his dog still on the couch and his cellphone ringing on the kitchen counter. He picked up and hesitated for a long instant, looking for a way to say “Please leave me alone” without being hurtful.

“Hey, Farah.”

“Hey, Casanova, are you gonna tell me how it went or do I always have to extort everything from you myself?”

It was not fair. It was not fair.
The image of Ghost crept back into his mind - God, he was so fond of that man. It hurt like hell to be so fond of him.
“Farah, I-...”

Farah waited in silence for a moment, but it seemed like Johnny couldn't explain any further. “Oh bloody hell, you haven't told him?!”
Johnny scoffed at the absurdity of the situation, “Yes, I did, actually.”

“Ah, about time, dummy,” she replied with a chuckle. “So? How was it? C'mon, tell me everything!”

Not to be mean, but Johnny didn't have the energy to tell her everything. It was so frustrating to hear the confidence in Farah's voice, the way she sounded so positive that he had the thing in the bag, that only made him feel like more of a fool. He had been so delusional that he was even able to fool her too - and boy, Farah was many things but certainly not a person you could fool easily.

“He said no,” was all Johnny managed to offer as a description of the events. Silence fell on the other line of the phone for a long instant, until Farah responded with a predictable “...wait, what?!”

“He said no, Farah, he doesn't want to go out with me,” Johnny tried to articulate, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to suppress the sting between his ribs. “Alright, Johnny, stop bullshitting,” she replied, unsure whether to sound amused or concerned now.
“Does it seem to you like I'm in the mood for bullshitting you?” observed Johnny, getting struck by guilt immediately as he realized how pissed he sounded. Not good.

“I-... Johnny, I'm sorry, I thought-”

“You thought?! Really?! What did ye think exactly?” Johnny felt himself slipping into Saying-Things-You-Do-Not-Mean territory, no strength left in him to stop the downfall. “Why didn't you stop me?” he asked as he began to sob quietly.

“Johnny, I- I'm sorry, I really thought-...” Farah was clearly taken aback, possibly even hurt. Johnny felt mortified.

“Why would you even think that?! You know me, you know I could never stand a chance in the first place!” yelled Johnny, tears running down his cheeks again. It was all clear to him now: why would either of them believe, at any point, that he actually had a chance? It was so obviously untrue, it should have been obvious to Farah all along, at least to her.

“Don't say that, darling, you know I do not like hearing you say this stuff,” she tried to cheer him up.

“We both know it's true. I was nothing but a fool and it payed off accordingly, so why wouldn't you stop me, really?” insisted Johnny, hysterical.

“Jo, you know that I love you-” began Farah, but he cut her off with a sharp “Yeah, you sure do...”
Oh, God. He didn't just say that. Hearing something like that from Farah would have hurt him so badly, he could only imagine how she must've felt on the other end right now.

“...Why did you say that?”, was indeed the response that came after a moment. Anyone who didn't know her too well would have assumed that she was just hurt, but Johnny knew his friend well enough to tell that she was also getting very pissed.

“You're always the one talking sense into me, pointing out things that smell funky, you must have seen this coming from miles away and if you cared in the slightest you could have stopped me from, from-...”

“Okay, Johnny, listen. First of all,” she prompted cutting him off, “if you could bother recalling how things actually went, maybe you would remember that I had warned you about that guy, I had told you that I didn't like him, I didn't lke the way he treated you. Did I do that or not?”
She was right, of course, Johnny remembered having that conversation, but she went on before he could give any verbal confirmation, leaving the question a rhetorical one. “Well, it doesn't seem to matter to you. I don't know what the hell has gotten to you or how important this guy is, this is not you and I am not having it. So now you calm the fuck down, get some osygen back to that brain, and call me once you've done that. Maybe I'll feel like picking up then.” And with that, she hung up.

Silence filled the room, and Johnny was left alone with the sound of his own sobs. In a matter of a few hours, he had managed to lose everything that was dearest to him, and the fault was no one's but his. All he could do was cry over the damage he had done, and so he did: he sat on the floor and cried, hugging his knees against his chest, face buried in the inside of his elbow, wishing to disappear underneath the floor tiles forever. He sat there and cried until Charlotte came to tuck her snout in the cocoon he had made of himself, reaching for his face and giving it a friendly lick. Johnny uncurled just about enough to pet the dog's head, and she gave him a concerned look. God, she really could read him like that.

After sitting there for a while, teary eyes and burning chest, Johnny finally stood up precariously and made his way to his bed, Charlotte following him close. He gestured her to hop on his bed; she was allowed to sleep on the big bed for tonight, Johnny told her with that gesture - she immediately understood and hopped on the mattress eagerly.

With his beloved companion resting by his side, Johnny eventually fell asleep, still crying and aching, while the little wooden-carved fox stared at him with the same naive smile as always.

Chapter Text

-
“Friends are like stars
because no matter how far
when it's dark outside
they will be your light.”
—Ephixa, Half an Orange, 'Time Travel Kool Aid'

Upon thinking about what Johnny did in the past 24 hours, one is drawn to wonder how could you wake up at all the morning after; where could you find the strength, physical and emotional, to open your eyes and keep moving, in any unspecified direction.

Johnny's eyes opened on a new day, immediately accompanied by a raging headache. It hadn't been that long since the last time he had cried himself to sleep and woke up in desperate need of an aspirin. Ironically enough, back then it had to do with the same person he had cried for last night. Same old Riley, though for a surprisingly different reason.

Riley. Ghost. It took him a minute to remember the events of the past day; when it clicked, it hit Johnny like an HV train crashing at full speed against his chest, leaving an empty hole in place of his lungs. No victims on-site, only some idiot guy's heart.

He had gathered the courage and he had confessed his feelings, and he had been rejected in such a rushed and dismissive way by someone who, if anything, he thought to be a friend. But that wasn't even the worst part anymore: the worst part now was that, because of that stupid heartbreak, he had been a jerk of unprecedented proportions to his best friend ever, hurting her feelings gratuitously. In other words, Johnny had fucked up all the fuck-uppable in a matter of hours, and the thought was eating him alive.

He sighed loudly, taking a hold of both his temples with his palms, trying to manually stop the pain; Charlotte quickly realized that her friend was finally awake and she greeted him politely by snuggling closer to him.
“Hey,” he whispered in a hoarse tone. Although he could have stayed in bed petting his sweet dog all day, he was aware that she once again had physiological needs he had to take care of - and so, with another loud sigh, he got up, cursing at the pain that hit his head as if there was an invisible metal shelf above him and he had just slammed his head against it.

Guess there was more than enough time to dwell on the thought that it was all over later.

Johnny crawled in the kitchen looking like a zombie from some shooting videogame: pale complexion, bags under his eyes, feeling less than alive, the whole package. He made himself a cup of instant coffee, no intention of hitting a café anytime today, and drank his mediocre breakfast while he watched Charlie eat her kibble. “It's us two poor rejected sods against the world,” he thought as he watched over her. What a pathetic thought! He really should get a grip, he mentally scolded himself promptly.

The two headed to the park, for once on a sunny morning. Great, the skies decided to bless Johnny with a bright clear day on the one exact day his eyes hurt like hell and were sensitive to light. Fuckssake. Well, at least the breeze was cool and that soothed him a bit, enough to convince him to walk Charlotte on a longer trail just for her well-being. He was happy to notice how quickly she had been healing, how she looked happier and livelier by the day. If anything he was being good enough for her, he told himself.

Walking Charlotte did him good for a little while. He had even bought a little pastry to eat along the way. Maybe he had fallen for the illusion of being someone else for as long as he was outside - he could have been anyone, not just a college disaster, a naive Romeo and a crappy friend. The idyllic fantasy crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as he found himself back in his living room, though. Unable to do or to think about anything, he abandoned himself on the couch next to Charlotte, covered her and himself with his blanket and turned on the telly.

He watched this and that for hours, zapping between reality shows for teenagers, documentaries, news channels, old espionage films...

God damn it.

Four hours later, the thought finally took shape in his mind: he had to try and make amends. While everything was lost with Ghost, perhaps there was hope for fixing things with Farah. He loved his friend so much, of course he didn't mean a word of what he had said to her the night before. He was definitely going to apologize, at that point it was gonna be up to her whether she was going to forgive him or not. But for sure he was going to offer his most sincere apologies.

And so he got up again, he dressed up again, he put on his coat and left his apartment again, with his other favourite girl trotting by his side.

Maybe she's not home.
Johnny had bravely rung the doorbell outside Farah's place, but she hadn't answered; the thought of calling the mission failed and going back to the safety of his flat was obviously tempting; it was scary to make amends, especially since he was still in the middle of a burning heartbreak of a different kind. He wasn't sure he could deal with another one. But he had told himself that he had to try as hard as he could, and there was no real need to persuade himself of that - no need to remind him how much Farah meant to him. With a steady motion, he rang the doorbell again.

He stood there waiting for a few more seconds, until the door finally opened and a familiar face peeked from the other side.

“Hi,” said Johnny with a sigh, already feeling the tears forming in the back of his eyes. Farah and him stood on each side of the doorstep, staring at each other - Johnny hoping to be greeted, Farah simply staring at him, until she broke eye contact and said “Hi” back.

“I uh, I came to see you,” he tried to begin.
“Yeah, I can bloody tell that,” she replied with a sigh. Not the best sign, Johnny thought, but she invited him in; he gratefully accepted and walked into the living room that he knew like the back of his hand: he had walked in there so many times, but today he stepped in as cautiously as one would step on a floor of crystal figures.

He knew exactly what he needed to tell her, it was just hard to let the words out.
They sat facing each other for a few minutes, the look on Farah's face telling nothing but “Speak, already”, until Johnny finally began with: “I... was... an ass.”

His friend blinked slowly at the strong start and she added: “Yes.”

“I was oot of my mind, I took it out on you and I should not have done that,” Johnny went on, fighting for dear life, “you were only trying to cheer me up.”

“You should not have done that,” echoed Farah in a calm and somewhat reassuring tone.

“I'm really sorry, I didn't mean a single thing of what I said. That was so stupid of me. And I came to apologize.”
It was only then that Johnny realized how emotionally exhausted he was. He felt like he had held his breath for the past 24 hours, and now he was at his final little bubble of oxygen - either he resurfaced now, or he would suffocate. Farah seemed to notice that too, he could see the apprehension in her eyes.

She gave him a slight smile full of the fondest affection. “Apology accepted. I am pissed at you,” she stressed, pointing her index in his direction, “but you're forgiven.”

Johnny wanted to add something, anything that could stress how grateful and lucky he felt; all he could do, however, was wrap his arms around her and pull her in a tight hug, finally sobbing with relief. He felt Farah's arms slowly wrapping around his back too, his hug being welcomed and reciprocated; “There, there,” she murmured, running a hand slightly up and down his back in a caressing motion, “it's all good, we're good.”
They stayed in that hug for a moment more -safe, forgiven, accepted- before Johnny pulled back to proceed to the second thing he'd been meaning to ask.

“Umh, I know I'm giving you no advance now because, well, the thing is tomorrow, but... Would you want to go see that musical with me?” he asked, feeling a little ashamed for treating her as a second choice.

She smiled and nodded, “Sure. I've kept my evening free,” she poked at her friend's cheek, “just in case your standard went up a notch in the meantime.”

Johnny scoffed at the smug expression on Farah's face. “Sounds great, I'll see you there then,” he smiled back.

Unsurprisingly, the musical was a blast.

Johnny loved every second of the performance, from the acting to the photography to the script he knew by heart from start to finish. He was elated to see that Farah seemed to love the show too, despite her initial scepticism. It had definitely succeeded to take his mind off it, at least for most of the time: sure, there were moments in which the spears would take another thrust across his chest, and it did ache as it poked him, but he was comforted by the knowledge that he was not alone in this: all he had to do was turn a little to his left, and the proof of that would lie under his eyes, watching the show with a slight smile on her lips. He wasn't alone in this. He was going to be okay. Things were going to be alright. After clapping their hands to numbness, the two started making their way out of the theater, still feeling excited and content. God he had loved every moment of this afternoon spent with his best friend. He was already feeling grateful at the thought that he would have spent the entire travel back to his place ranting to her about the show non-stop, and she would have patiently let him. Hell, judging by how enthralled she'd been, perhaps she would have participated in the rants with the same excitement. The plan for the rest of the night was to buy pizza and spend the evening at Johnny's place, eating, chatting, possibly watching more stuff. Johnny couldn't ask for anything better.
It was really the best way to welcome the changes that were about to happen in Johnny's life: tomorrow was going to bring a new week of work, another week of library duty, and he was very careful not to ask himself how was he gonna deal with either of those; but two weeks from now he was gonna be back on campus, ready to finally give college another go and finish what he had started with passion.

Hopefully a fresh start, something to keep super busy with, away from the heartache, or at least from the most painful part of it.
He really didn't want things with him to go that way, but he was trying to make peace with the idea that what was done was done, and that he actually didn't regret any of it. Part of him felt almost glad that he wouldn't have as many occasions to see Ghost in the future, part of him was sad for the very same reason; part of him would only want to rekindle that friendship, try to revert the damage he had done, part of him kinda knew that there was nothing to rekindle anymore - it was forever broken, beautiful while it lasted, and now forever gone.
All he could do for now was wait and sit through the ache.

“Mind if I hit the loo real quick?” asked Johnny as they made their way to the exit of the building.
“Go ahead, I'll wait outside,” promptly acknowledged Farah, slaloming through the crowd to reach that much needed fresh air of the outside.

That had been fun, she must admit. She wasn't sure what to expect, but the show was really impressive. Everyone must've been so talented and dedicated to pull such an amazing show, perhaps Jo wasn't entirely a fool to be into this type of stuff so much. She should have watched some more, perhaps she could ask him for some recommendations.

She positioned herself on the other side of the road so Johnny could see her better once he'd get out. Hands in her pockets, she just enjoyed the fresh breeze after spending hours inside the theater.

She looked around mindlessly, until her eyes fell on the tall figure of a man standing on the sidewalk just like her: tall, broad, hands in his pockets, looking pretty restless judging by his seeming inability to stand still.

There was no way she knew the man, and yet he looked oddly familiar: the towering stance, the reddish hair, that "every day is a bad day to talk to me" type of aura surrounding him. She didn't know him directly, but she was sure she had seen him in a picture or a verbal description. It rang a bell too familiar.

Wait. Nah, it couldn't be. There was no way in hell. He was gonna hear it from her now.

Ghost didn't know what he was doing, honestly. He thought, he figured... he didn't think or figure anything, truthfully. He was aware of what he'd done, and there was no unbreaking Johnny's heart. But maybe. He didn't even know. All he knew was that he was standing at the exit of the theater like a moron, with nothing to say and no plan in mind. Perhaps he could've just stood there in the penumbra of the evening, like an assassin, like an exile, hoping to see Johnny head out. Just to see if he had gone, if he was doing alright. Not that it was any of his business. Perhaps he could have talked to him. Perhaps he could have apologized. Told him that he had been unnecessarily harsh. Told him that he'd made a mistake, that he didn't mean a word, that in truth he was just dying to-

“What the hell are you doing here?” he heard a woman ask in an all but friendly tone. He turned around to see she was swiftly walking in his direction. Was she talking to him? Lord, did she look pissed.

“Excuse me-”

The gal skipped the introductions and slammed an open palm right against his chest - she was surprisingly strong and she caught him by surprise, as a result he sorta loss his balance and took a step back. She had guts for sure, and she had already gotten on his nerves.

“Do I know you?” he asked, finding his stance again.

“I know you well enough,” she hissed back, with no intention to be intimidated. “Now if you don't mind answering my question, what are you doing here?”

“I'm not sure I know what's going on-” Ghost began, though he could've gotten a hint by now that this was no mistake and they did have some acquaintance in common.

“Well I do,” she cut him off, looking as determined as he had ever seen a human being be. “I have spent the past twenty-four hours trying to make my friend feel less shitty because you couldn't own up to your feelings, you miserable ass.”

Yup, that must've been that one friend of his. “I'm not sure what were you thinking then, or what are you thinking now with this, but you are done messing with Johnny. Am I clear?”

“Look I-” he began to explain. But in truth, he didn't know what to tell her. In truth, she was right. He had no fucking clue, and he was going to do nothing but further harm. He knew himself well enough by now. Those two words lingered in the air for a long instant, until they froze and crashed on the concrete, where he set his eyes as if he could see the shards of that pathetic attempt.

The woman, instead, was still looking right at him, with a mix of rage and disappointment on her face. “Now get lost, before he sees you,” she dismissed him, looking as if she was carrying the pain of her friend herself.

Ghost didn't protest. With a nod, as if he had been scolded by his superior officer for something he legit did wrong, he obeyed and walked away.

Farah stood her ground and watched the man walk away, ready to defend her position in case he were to change his mind, albeit she was frankly pretty sure that he wasn't going to.
“Hey, sorry it took me a bit,” she heard her friend announce behind her eventually. She turned around to face Johnny and shook her head to reassure him, “no problem.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at Farah. “Hey, is something wrong? Something happened?” he asked.
Farah hesitated for an instant, then she smiled at him and said “no, actually, nothing at all.”

Chapter Text

-
“The hardest part of ending
is starting all again.”
—Linkin Park, 'Waiting for the End'

The alarm on Johnny's phone went off at 6:30 A.M. that Monday morning.

And so it begins: a new week, a new semester, a new chance.

It would have taken at least another full week for everything at university to kickstart, the time that separated Johnny from the actual new chance at school felt a little like limbo to the young scot: under other circumstances he would have taken that week to himself, he would've probably invested it on some long overdue personal project or he could have very simply spent that time re-centering, taking a proper mental break between things to set his focus on the next goals; this time, however, he kinda wished that for once he didn't have that week at his disposal, he would have rather gotten right at it, make his mind real busy real soon.
Would've been all too easy, though, he thought to himself as he dismissed the alarm with a calculated swing of his arm.

After a quick stop at the bathroom and a terrible porridge for breakfast, he was ready to head out and take Charlotte for a quick walk before his daily errands began. The weekend had left him in a rather cheerful mood: sure, everything was still right there, aching as it should, but he was no longer hopeless about the immediate future thanks to the support that he had from his friends. He felt grateful that he never really had to face the world alone - few things were scarier than that, he figured.

Before heading to the library, Johnny took a quick detour to the Student Office on campus, mainly to check that everything was good and ready to start the following week; he had been assigned a personal counselor, free of charge, to help him find strategies to deal with his struggle and guide him through the remaining journey til graduation. That was yet another new thing that was going to start in the upcoming week, and while Johnny knew it wasn't going to be easy, he didn't feel all too frightened by it. Things were looking bright, he was going to commit to that thought. At least for what concerned school.

He did his best to keep his mind off certain memories while the ever so familiar bus drove him to the public library; he tried to focus on the passersby on the sidewalks, on the shop signs that hung by the buildings, on the music that played in his earbuds. For every time he thought about work again, his stomach started knotting and his heart started racing. There was something so dreadful about what was going to happen next with him: they were bound to run into each other again, pretty soon even, what was he going to do then? What was he supposed to say or avoid saying? Honestly, he wasn't even sure what he wanted: a part of him still hoped that Ghost and him would find a way to clear up that misunderstanding and go back to where things were before it all went to shit - but then again, there was no real way to make that happen, and also, that was no misunderstanding; Johnny had spoken his true heart out, labelling it as a “misunderstanding” was not going to change that in any way.
Therefore, the two options he could realistically hope for were a) run into Ghost and engage in a surprisingly civil conversation with the man, have that be the norm until Johnny would finally move on and perhaps the two of them could find friendship in one another again; b) not run into Ghost, at least not today, and postpone this question to a later time.

The bus made the last turn before Johnny's stop. He sighed. Interesting reasoning, the one above; interesting reaction, too, the one his stomach had at the idea of running into Ghost. One of dread, indubitably. And yet he found himself, once again, wishing to run into him.

The library brought back memories. Of course it did.

It seemd like it was only yesterday, that Monday afternoon when he had first met Ghost: not exactly a textbook meet-cute, that episode. Johnny's lips curved in a bittersweet smile as he convened that, paradoxically, he had managed to misjudge the man and also judge him fairly accurately at the same time back then; it also felt a little sad to come to the conclusion that Johnny couldn't figure that man out any better now than he could've back in the day, as if all that time spent around him had been entirely inconclusive, like he had been chasing a fantasy all along.

Needless to say, there was no sign of Ghost in the entire library: not in the reading room, not between the aisles, not in the breakroom by the coffee machine. Not at the helpdesk. Not anywhere. Naturally.

Ms Cath greeted Johnny with a warm hug and a comically bulky jar of homemade chicken broth she had prepared specifically for him: “I want you to think of me every time you make soup for yourself,” she had told him. It was heart-warming to see how bummed she was at the idea of Johnny taking less turns at the library to focus on school, but Johnny reassured her that he was definitely going to visit and bring Charlotte along as well if they allowed him, or drop by the lady's house with a tray of his majestic lasagna. The latter seemed to be particularly enthralling to her, so he promised he was going to make that happen.

Then came the part of the day when Johnny had to show up at work at Dr Price's. Running into Ghost was considerably more likely there, though not certain. Johnny's schedule at the grooming station was merciful enough to keep him busy without stress nor accidents throughout the shift; although he was expecting to see the familiar silhouette of Ghost make its appearance at the end of the afternoon, the man did not show up at the usual time, nor in the fifteen minutes that followed. Feeling a little silly, Johnny eventually got changed and left, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

Tuesday went by like a specular copy of Monday: Johnny goes to the library, no sign of Ghost at the library; Johnny goes to work, no sign of Ghost at work. Johnny goes around, no sign of Ghost anywhere. The thought had crossed his mind to send the man a text - just to make sure he was alright, nothing more: once he had received even just a thumb up that Ghost was indeed alive and well, he wasn't going to nag the man any further. It sounded pretty reasonable. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though: after all, knowing Ghost, it was definitely safe to assume that he didn't want to be bothered with any motive.

And so Wednesday morning went by with no sign of Ghost as well, Johnny began telling himself that perhaps he should've stopped hoping for anything. There was no use in thinking about him.
Well, there was never any use in thinking about him; it was never about “the use” or “the reason”, when it came to how he felt about Ghost. Anyhow, better discard this thought at once, too.

Later that day, Johnny was at work and about to clock out: he was cleaning up the bathtub he had used shortly before to bathe a samoyed, when the silhouette appeared briefly across the doorway and vanished behind the locker room. Johnny mentally sat with himself at that point: it was most definitely Ghost, given the time of day and the proportions of the shadow who walked by. He was obviously nervous at the thought, but he figured that a good course of action would be to make the first step and say hi - very polite, very civil. But then again, if Ghost actually walked by just now, then he intentionally avoided to stop by and say hi himself, which was strong enough evidence of the fact that he didn't want to be very polite very civil today. Oh, fuck it, Johnny thought, he was going to stop the overthinking and go say hi. As soon as he heard the footsteps of the man in the corridor again, he reached for the door and peeked out, ready to let a greeting out of his mouth: all he could see, however, was the exam room at the end of the hallway closing lazily, an unmistakeably tattooed arm disappearing past it.

Never mind, he told himself, maybe tomorrow.

Johnny kept his hopes at a reasonable level throughout the whole day of Thursday - i.e., very low.

The start of the semester was getting closer and closer, and he finally found himself caught up in those thoughts instead of, well, the usual ones; he was chewing on the thought that he was going to be one of the older blokes in the audience now - was that going to be awkward? He kinda felt like it was going to be, although he had never found it awkward to meet older students in the past. Perhaps it wasn't going to be as bad as he envisioned it right now.

He was going to meet with Farah, Graves and some colleagues later that evening, they had insisted that he joined them for an evening of board games and college party activities, something of a welcome-back ritual to bless his return into the scene, and he had accepted - he was hoping that things weren't going to get uncomfortable as it was often the case when Graves was around, he wouldn't have wanted to start the semester on the wrong foot. Yup, perhaps it wasn't the best idea. He was seriously contemplating bailing on them, as sorry as he might have felt for standing up his dear friend.

Still pondering his options at the end of his shift, Johnny hung his apron to the hanger by the bathtub and made his way to the staff room to get changed, walking phone in hand as he texted Farah to confirm that yes, he was going to be there in about an hour: he lifted his gaze from the screen just in time to see the door opening in front of his face and the towering figure of Ghost appearing from behind it. Oh, shit. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd last seen the man so up close; hell, it felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd last seen the man at all.

Ghost seemed... Surprised. As if he didn't know that Johnny worked there, as if he found it unlikely to run into him. God, the intensity of that stare was unfathomable as always, Johnny thought there was never going to be any getting used to that stare.

“Oh,” he murmured, quickly realizing that his mouth had remained slightly open in a dumb expression.

Ghost opened his mouth himself, as if he was ready to say something but ultimately remaining quiet. The two stood at each side of the doorway that separated Johnny from his backpack and coat, both things he kinda needed to grab before heading out. Ghost picked up on that and slid to the side, muttering a low “Sorry, mate.”

“Sorry,” Johnny echoed nervously, “I uh, yeah-”

“...Yeah, I'll-” Ghost hesitated in return, “I'll be off-” he added before disappearing in the corridor. He was gone as quickly as he appeared.

Over the minute that followed that quick encounter, it took Johnny a lot of effort not to burst into tears.

Chapter Text

“So.”

“So!” echoed the counselor from the other side of the desk wearing a comically large smile, “how was your first week back on campus?”

Johnny sat on the leather armchair in the counselor's office; this was his first real counseling session with this lady, who was now sitting on her office chair waiting for him to start with his sitrep. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure what was the difference between this and actual therapy - probably none, he figured, they just called it a different name for the sake of it.

Johnny took a breath in and began, “It was...”
His gaze scanned the room as he bought some more time: elegant books about psychology and education were lined up on the shelves, potted plants sat here and there looking neater than in a picture.

She kept a firm, although not harsh, stare on him, encouraging him to go on. “...Okay,” he finished, convening that it was the simplest and truest way to describe it.

He meant it. Things had been smooth. He had printed his class schedule and carried it around like in a cheesy coming-of-age movie, had all the required study material borrowed or printed ahead of time; he really felt like he had all the important stuff figured out.

“Okay,” mirrored the lady again, “I'm glad to hear it's looking good,” she added in a half-question tone, signaling for Johnny to elaborate further.

“Aye,” Johnny shifted on the armchair, “some of the courses I have are re-takes, like, I've been there before, some are new, but the topics are fairly easy to me,” he explained, “so I'd say it's looking good so far.”

Johnny had always thought that last-minute crunches were not the effective way to prepare for finals or lab practice, he had always preferred to study topic by topic as the course unfolded during the year; that way, even if some textbooks weighed half as much as the man himself and the written test required him to memorize most of those, he wouldn't struggle as hard as his colleagues who started preparing from scratch, barely two weeks away from the test. Everybody has their strategy, he figured, this was his own, and it had served him well. That is, of course, until something went spectacularly awry.

The lady smiled patiently. She obviously wasn't asking about the pragmatic aspect.
“That sounds great,” she started, “and how have you been feeling, Johnny? It would be perfectly understandable if you felt a little bit overwhelmed...”

Johnny sighed. “I do, a wee bit,” he admitted, not without feeling a little angry at himself for having felt that way during the week.

That prior Monday morning, Johnny was standing in front of the open door to the lecture room. It was a fairly big classroom, and the students were beginning to populate the rows of seats, chatting with each other as they waited for the lecture to start. Johnny scanned the room, trying to see if he spotted some familiar faces, but all he could see were strangers. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or intimidated. It really seemed like everyone from his year had passed the class and moved on, and now he was the only one going for a retake. Well, technically he hadn't failed the class, he had just left before attempting the finals, but it still counted as a fail to him. He took a deep breath in and stepped into the room.

“I was afraid to enter the room for a moment. It sounds silly in hindsight, but I had this conviction that everyone would immediately recognize me as that MacTavish lad who did this and that and then disappeared and lost the year, and they would look at me... Differently. Badly. But nobody did.”

Much to Johnny's relief and surprise, nobody reacted to his arrival. Things went on as if he was an ordinary student, one who hadn't done anything exceptionally good followed by anything exceptionally bad. He made his way to one of the front rows, where a group of students sat mostly in silence, and sat down a couple of seats away from them. He was pulling out his textbook and his impossibly messy bloc notes, when the professor, who had been minding her business at the desk up until that point, lifted her gaze towards him and blinked in excitement: “Oh dear,” she had exclaimed to herself, “MacTavish! Good to see you again!” she said; Johnny felt so thankful that she had kept the greetings to a minimum, that was already more than enough to make him flush with embarrassment and feel the anxiety crepting up again, taunting him with scenarios where the whole class would turn to him and start whispering, filling him with stares of pity and disappointment. So he did what he was taught to: he focused on a distant object in front of him and channeled his attention on his breath, on the air going in and out of his nostrils, on a random part of his body and how that specific part felt in that moment. Acknowledging how he felt, without allowing it to take control over him. “Hey mate,” said one of the students in that group next to him, “Sorry to bother you,” he gave Johnny a nervous smile, “But I've gotta ask: are you that MacTavish?”
The other guys and gals from the group had turned to him as well, their attention caught by the conversation. “The MacTavish who published like, five papers before even graduating bachelors?” Oh no. God, please no. Johnny felt his breath start to shake as he tried to conjure a reply.
“Ah...” he smiled nervously, “it was actually six papers, but uh, yeah, that's me.” God damnit, what a cocky reply. Johnny wanted to bury himself alive. But the guy just laughed, looking genuinely amused. “Rad, I loved your work on micro-explosives, mate, you've gotta tell me the story behind that one!”
He had to admit, that was a mad idea and a very fun one to conduct research on, he had felt very surprised when the journal had accepted his submission - he thought of it as no more than a toy project, but it had landed him a spot in the final conference; somebody had even deemed it of military relevance, go figure. “Blimey, my manners. Let me introduce you to the others!” the guy had gestured for him to get closer, “Come sit here, I promise we don't stink. Though we might later, if we really end up going for chicken curry for lunch. Would you like to join us by the way?”

Johnny smiled. “Yeah they didn't treat me like an exception. Not in a good, and neither in a bad way. In the end, they just treated me like me,” he sighed with relief as the lady nodded and smiled at him. “Turns out there are people who retake the class even more than once, a guy in the group is at his third take, even!” He then exclaimed, only to feel bad for sounding judgemental towards the guy, who was actually a perfectly chill and surprisingly witty person.

“And do you think any less of him because of that?” inquired the counselor.

Johnny felt the sting of guilt immediately. “Nay, nay, not at all, ma'am! That really is not what I meant. He's a great guy.” Once again, Johnny meant every word he had said, and he hoped that it showed.

The lady nodded. “See? What I'm trying to say is, if you don't think any less of him, then I don't see why you would think any less of yourself,” she gently pointed at him. Johnny smiled in defeat: it was a perfectly good reasoning, he figured he could convince himself of that with time and patience. “Aye,” he admitted, “that makes sense.”

“I don't expect you to agree with me right away,” she said, “but we're going to get there. Self-kindness takes practice, and it's good that you're not alone as you learn that.”

“Aye, I have some very good friends around me,” Johnny smiled, thinking about Farah and how the two of them took up the habit of meeting every morning for breakfast. Farah would always check in on her friend, always ready to cheer him up and bring him back down to Earth whenever he was dealing with any intrusive thought. “Old friends and some new ones.”

“So you've been making some new acquaintances, that sounds great,” she said.

That prior Thursday morning, Johnny was heading out of class and to the labs to meet with Farah, his mind caught up in its thoughts. Paying a little less mind to where he was going, apparently, as the cliché goes. He turned around the corner and ran - physically - right into some guy who was also looking God knows where and lost his balance, nearly falling on his ass. “Jesus, lad, are you okay?” Johnny had quickly asked, immediately feeling mortified. “I'm so sorry,” echoed the guy, “I should've minded my steps, really, are you alright?” he asked in return. The guy looked vaguely familiar, although Johnny could not remember why for the life of him. “Aye aye, all good, sorry it's totally my fault,” he reassured the guy in return. He looked at Johnny for a brief moment and went: “Wait- Johnny! Of course it's you,” he quipped. As much as he felt bad for it, Johnny had no idea who this lad was. “I'm really sorry, have we met before?” he asked. “Yeah, I am pretty sure we did. You're not exactly an easy one to mistake,” the guy added, giving him a little cheeky smile. Johnny had to admit - it was kinda cute. It fit his figure pretty well. Still, he had no recollection whatsoever. “Yeah no, forgive me, it escapes me still,” he admitted.

“Sanderson, remember now?” he introduced himself (again, apparently) giving Johnny his hand, which Johnny shook with a confused smile, “We've met at Phil's the other day, although I can understand if you don't remember me given how many bloody people were around that night,” added Sanderson with a chuckle. There weren't all too many people at Graves' place on that day, to be perfectly honest, the reason why Johnny had so few memories of that gathering is that he had been mentally elsewhere most of the time. The moment of their introduction slipped away from his mind completely. Johnny carefully avoided mentioning that he had forgotten that moment completely. “Ey, nice to meet you again, then, Sanderson,” said Johnny politely. “Just call me Gary,” said the guy with a bright smile, and they loosened the handshake.

“So what are you doing here?” he inquired as the two walked through the campus yard. “Ah, I am finishing my Chemistry degree,” cut short Johnny, hoping the guy wouldn't ask any further questions about that. “What about you?” he asked back. “Physics,” Gary answered with an infectious enthusiasm. “Ah, yeah, I've heard is one of the toughest bachelor programs here,” observed Johnny. Gary crossed arms behind his neck as they walked, “oh, I wouldn't know about that.” Johnny turned to him raising an eyebrow. “I'm a PhD,” the guy said with seeming nonchalance. So he had completed both his bachelors and his masters program. “Oh,” was all Johnny could say to that, already feeling somewhat not up to the situation. Gary gave him a smile full of what Johnny perceived as peace: “Oh, it's just pieces of paper, it only means so much, you know.” The two stopped on their tracks. “Well, I'm off to that building now,” Gary gestured at some never-before seen building, marking the end of their brief walk together. “Aye,” Johnny acknowledged. “I'll see you around, Johnny, it was so nice to see you again,” he said, then he turned away, leaving Johnny to wave his hand in that direction.

Johnny thought at the recently learned lesson. Just some piece of paper. If they don't think any less of you, perhaps you shouldn't think much less of yourself either.

“Aye,” Johnny nodded, letting it sink in, “it's not looking bad at all.”

Chapter Text

Johnny's boat was floating on just about alright.

The days were getting a little longer, although one couldn't yet say that they were getting warmer too.

It was during those days in particular, that Johnny began to understand what his therapist had told him: change is a process, a journey, not something you can activate immediately by flipping a switch. Some days were good, some days were bad, some days were just average; and although he was always tempted to bask in the frustration on bad days, he was doing his very best to keep in mind that not everything was bad just because it looked bad right now, that he wasn't going to be automatically a disappointment because of one single bad day. Or even two bad days in a row! He was slowly but surely learning to be kinder to himself - a tough practice to master, but he was making steady progress.

He hadn't really talked to Ghost since that disastrous evening: he had regularly shown up to work at the clinic over the last couple of weeks, but he had barely run into the man at all, and whenever they did bump into each other, well, things had been on a staple high level of awkwardness.
Johnny reflected on how his approach to this whole “Ghost thing” - the “Ghost-epilogue”, if you will - had changed from the way he would have experienced it not too long ago: past Johnny would have felt horrible, guilty of all kinds of unspeakable crimes, he would have felt the need to apologize to Ghost for being so inappropriate and unreasonable and then buried himself in a coffin of shame, never to resurface again; now, present Johnny felt none of that. Present Johnny was disappointed with the outcome, yes; missing the daylights out of Ghost and thinking about him on a regular basis, also yes; but he didn't feel sorry at all for doing what he had done, nor did he regret any of it. It was simply an unfortunate turn of events, as he had learnt to call it - he had taken his shot, missed the target spectacularly, but he would have done it again if he could go back. He was fond of Ghost, Ghost had brought good into his life and made him experience such special feelings; Ghost deserved to know that, and he was free to do whatever he wanted with such information. Sometimes, to love is to let go.

As Johnny slowly healed, he began to enjoy the company of his friends and classmates more, and that seemed to reflect on all of them as well: was everyone always so sociable with him at school? Had he forgotten that aspect during his hiatus or was something different now?
He had such a busy life back then, he probably had to turn down any invite that came his way. But he was beginning to see the perks of having someone to talk to and hang out with - they didn't have to be all absolute besties with whom he shared everything, simply knowing that he wasn't alone on the journey made a huge difference. Those lads were sparking a new kind of energy in him - a bright, confident version of Johnny that he had forgotten he was, and he was enjoying every bit of it.

Riley's eyes blinked open on a new day.

He was never the most enthusiastic about life, but those days especially had him wish he wasn't alive. Not now, and possibly not ever.

What had he done.
The question was once again purely rhetorical: he was painfully aware of what he had done. He had toyed with the feelings of someone who was very special to him, and allowed his selfishness to come between them and ruin everything. He had broken Johnny's heart like it meant nothing. He knew it was the only thing left to do after what he had heard Johnny say. Those words echoed inside his head at every hour of every day: I'm not asking you out on a date as a friend, I am asking you out on a date as a date. Because I like you, and not just as a friend. I am so in love with you it almost hurts. Thanks to you, I am striving to become the best version of myself.

It hurt like hell. That is what hell must feel like. Those were such beautiful words, and Johnny decided to spend them on him. On Ghost. Johnny had no idea who Ghost really was, who he had been all life long, and the fact that he saw someone so inspiring in him was madddening. He had deceived the guy, and he deserved to be in hell now.

He hadn't been the most responsible guy during those days: he had called in sick twice, knowing full well that nobody was going to cover for his night shifts, yet another display of his undeniable selfishness. He hadn't spent his free time in the wisest way either: getting out of work, finding a club that would let him in that late into the night and getting completely wasted all by himself was the staple ritual procedure for a bit. But the agony he was trying to eascape quickly caught up to him: after returning home particularly drunk one morning and accidentally crying himself to sleep, he had convened that this plan was neither the smartest nor the most effective. So he went back to the gym and let his anger out on every equipment and combat opponent that crossed his path.

“Hell, mate, you look stone cold for someone who throws those fists,” someone had told him in the boxing ring during a break they had desperately called between rounds. You look stone cold, damn right he was, he didn't want anything of what was going on inside him to surface, nothing was supposed to look off on the outside. The whole thing was something he and only he was going to deal with. He didn't deserve it any differently.

Johnny. Johnny MacTavish was so kind to him. They started on such a wrong foot - well, Ghost did - and yet he was always so kind to him.

At times, Johnny made him feel like there could have been another way, after all, another Riley that could live a life different than Ghost's. A life of warmth, forgiveness, of letting go of his past, of simple wholesome things. But that was all wishful thinking, at least for Ghost. Johnny deserved such a life, but Ghost knew it was a life he was never gonna be able to give him. All that Ghost built, he usually ended up destroying, one way or another - a life with Johnny was not going to be an exception to that trend. And the fact that he knew that and still allowed himself to get closer to the guy was unforgivable.
What was he doing, pretending they could be friends? Ghost could never be friends with Johnny. Ghost was madly in love with Johnny. He had been madly in love with him from nearly the very beginning, from that day at the library when Ghost had so harshly screamed at him, only to be confronted by the purest form of surrender. Unlike him, Johnny never refrained from showing his most vulnerable self, and that had shaken Ghost and everything he had built over his life down to the very core. It takes courage to wear your heart in the palm of your hand, thought Riley, and Johnny had tons of that. Ghost couldn't say the same about himself.

Johnny was an adorable mess, a clumsy one too at times. He would get so shy so easily, stumbling on his own words and blushing so hard at the slightest misunderstanding. He was such a friendly character, always ready to put others first and come up with ways to make them happy. And God, he was so brilliant, so smart, and he just could not see it. He had a nice word at the ready for everyone except himself, who was perhaps the most special of all.
And yes, as shallow as it may sound, the way the lad looked had put Ghost under yet another kind of spell - he had his share of fun taunting the guy for his unusual haircut (who wears a mohawk like that these days?), but all along he was undeniably buying it in full. It suited Johnny perfectly. Plus, there was the way he smiled at him, staring with those big bright eyes that no emotional turmoil could ever turn dark. Honorable mention had to go for that lip ring he recently had gotten, which... God, was it a sight. Was it enforced by the fact that Ghost was able to give it a taste at some point? Maybe, but that was for nobody to ever know.
In summary, from Ghost's perspective, nobody could get to know Johnny MacTavish without falling for him. The grave mistake was believing Ghost could be an exception, but it had eventually dawned on him that it was not the case.
And the fact that Johnny could perhaps develop a little crush on him was a possibility that Ghost had contemplated, but that confession had gone way beyond anything he had estimated. It was so heartfelt, so pure and full of emotional charge - Ghost couldn't accept it.

And now he was brawling with the most intense yearning . He felt devastated for breaking the guy's heart, devastated for bringing his hopes up, stupid for bringing his own hopes up as well and in the first place; and he was missing Johnny like it was breathable air.

He groaned and turned in his bed, a sign of his wakefulness that immediately activated the kitten-trap: Ophie and Anacleto were quick to invade the man's base, tails upright, purring and meowing loudly and stepping everywhere with their little paws. “Yes, fellas, I'm awake, we're eatin',” said Ghost with a sigh.

He had been chewing on a thought for a day or two now: perhaps he could do something about this situation.
It felt so selfish of him to keep bothering Johnny with his presence after everything he had put the lad through, but he came to the conclusion that he couldn't help it - he was going to be selfish about it, if his friend was going to allow it. There is no unbreaking a broken heart, it's true, but perhaps there was something he could try to mend. Of course, that meant that if the plan worked out and they went back to a civil level of friendship, then he was gonna have to deal with his gut-eating feelings in silence - imagine telling Johnny how he truly felt for him after rejecting him that way, that's just mental. There was no way he could do that.

As he took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee and watched his cats devour their first meal of the day, he made up his mind: he was going to talk to Johnny that day.

He thought of preparing some sort of stupid speech while running his daily errands, but that was surely not gonna work, so the thought was promptly discarded every time; soon enough, it was time for him to head to work, and though he was never going to admit it to anyone ever, he was nervous. He was still battling with the guilt that came with choosing the selfish option for himself, and he was nervous on top of it. What a pathetic show.

He drove to work and tried to collect himself - interestingly enough, military training usually came in handy in situations that demanded a cool spirit and a firm hand, though he usually made the most of that during risky operations at work rather than... this.
He stepped into the clinic, treading lightly as if he was on a stealth mission - stupid, there was no reason to be careful whatsoever. Besides, what time was it? Was it too late? Ghost wasn't one for showing up late to work, but truth to be told, he had been clocking in earlier than he should've ever since Johnny was hired, just so he could have a chance to say hi. Just to see him. God, he was in that much trouble, wasn't he?

He entered the staff room and felt a touch of relief upon noticing the Scot's items by his hanger, signaling that he was still around. Which meant he had to actually put his plan to action now. C'mon, piece of cake, just put words into sentences.

Johnny was about to leave when the figure of Ghost leaned into the doorway. He seemed oddly careful, as though he was afraid of stepping on a landmine or something. Despite all, Johnny couldn't help but unleash a full smile his way - he missed him, as much as he was aware that something had broken forever, he still missed the hell out of him, and to see his face peeking in from the corridor looking not too grumpy (if anything, tired) was such a welcome splash of refreshing water.

“Hey,” said Ghost softly.

“Hey,” echoed Johnny, unsure what else to add, “you alright?”

“Can't complain,” Ghost nodded with a little shrug, “how about you?”

“Can't complain either,” mirrored Johnny, feeling a touch of pride for his latest achievements.

Ghost took a step into the grooming station room. “Listen, I won't take much of your time, I just wanted to say-” began Ghost, only to notice way too late how good a move preparing a little speech would have been, even just a general outline, for now he felt like words had abandoned his body and mind.

“Go on,” Johnny encouraged him, trying not to sound spiteful, because truly he was not. He turned his body to face the man, as one usually does when they commit to listening carefully.

Ghost took a deep breath. “Okay here's the thing. I was really harsh on you the other day, well, the other week, or whenever that was,” rambled the man, “I wish I had a better reply to your beautiful words but I couldn't even explain myself, and I still cannot to this day, to be perfectly honest with you. Maybe I will, someday, hopefully. I just wanted to apologize and,” he inhaled, “just know that I'd be happy to start over, if you're up for it,” he ended with a nervous chuckle.

Well. Johnny wasn't expecting that, for sure. But honestly, he was so happy to hear from the man again, normally. He took a moment to take Ghost's words in, and ultimately told himself that he was going to take that chance: besides, “there wasn't a day when we haven't been friends for me, man,” was what he felt and told Ghost in response. He was, as a matter of fact, very fond of the guy: he had established that Ghost didn't like him back the way he liked him, but perhaps they could still be something. So he was going to go for that something, of course.

“But that's gonna have a cost in baked goods,” Johnny quipped to lighten the mood.

“Roger,” confirmed the man with a slight smile full of the fondness Johnny had learnt to accept.

Chapter Text

Hey! Long time no see. I just wanted to send out a ping to confirm that yes, I am alive and no, I haven't abandoned this fic!
I have been reworking the previous chapters as I previously announced, but this semester is the final showdown of my college career and boy, it's like it's aware of it and it's been sending all sorts of shenanigans my way - some of them really unpleasant, unpleasant enough that I was somehow prescribed psych meds to calm the hell down on extreme occasions.

I'll be working my arse off for the next couple of weeks, after which the divines have promised me the most peaceful time (please, please stick to that promise) until my next wave of duties pops up, presumably a couple of super chill weeks during which I intend to resume my activity and make some good progress in this story.

I'm pretty burned out, NGL, but I'm almost through. I'll be back soon, I can't wait!

I hope y'all are doing well :)

Love, Nico

Chapter Text

Truthfully, clearing the air and agreeing on a fresh start with Ghost had brought such relief to Johnny.

Make no mistake, his life was on a pretty good track: he was nearly just a full-time student again, genuinely enjoying his lectures and the impromptu social gatherings with his college friends old and new. He was keeping up the habit of meeting with Farah for breakfast every morning, even if sometimes "breakfast together" was only a cup of takeaway coffee and a quick chat on the way to class, it was Johnny's favourite way to start every day in a positive mood. One or two extra guests would join from time to time and Johnny was never unhappy about that, but he also kinda cherished those mornings where he was the only recipient of his best friend's attention.

Reviewing his notes and getting ready for classes and upcoming exams was going pretty well, he was almost completely at ease with the whole thing - at least in the setup he had built for himself right now. He didn't want to push his luck too far by studying alone at home very often, as he wasn't sure whether that would take a turn for the worst and land him in the panic zone again, so he spent those hours at the library. It was the perfect choice, it allowed him to enjoy a safe familiar space, make continuous progress with his studying, and make his library colleagues happy by showing up regularly like he had promised.
Some days were good, some were less good: some days he would be less productive and blame himself harshly, temporarily forgetting the whole "be kind to ourselves" plan he reviewed with his patient patient counsellor every week; some days he would lose hours getting stuck on a train of thoughts that started with "let me see how many days we still have until the test" and ended with "I'm never gonna make it, this was a mistake entirely". He was still learning the art of observing these thoughts instead of actively partaking in them - sometimes he succeeded at that, sometimes he didn't, it sounded way easier to do when told by his therapist. But all in all, his library routine was proving effective, so that became a constant as well.

After a few days, he had invited his study group to join him at the library, and they had all gladly accepted. It was a special kind of comfort, the one that came with studying in a pack; when you're in a pack, nobody struggles alone. Studying with the rest of the gang was yet another perfect solution for him, they had an unspoken agreement for which Johnny had the knowledge and the brains for the group, and the group could keep Johnny grounded and calm. Sure, sometimes they would get a little too chatty and loud while Johnny would have rather kept it quiet, but it was a compromise he was willing to accept.

Ghost used to be a quieter reading companion.

Anyhow, a midterm exam was approaching rapidly and our guy didn't want to cram at the final stretch, so he was at the library nearly every day; he would usually go to class, return to base, take care of Charlotte and go to the library with her. Everyone on the staff had fallen for that dog since the first day, so they were all more than happy to take care of her while Johnny took care of his homework.

Not all of his peers showed up with the same dedication as Johnny in those days, but he was pretty sure he was gonna see more of them and more frequently, the closer the midterms would get.
For now, the staple study gang was made of two classmates and Johnny - and Phillip Graves, for some weird reason.

And Gary Sanderson. For some weird reason.

Well, Graves Johnny could somewhat understand: he had advanced to the master program but it was still a master in Chemistry, so they were studying the same stuff albeit at different levels; he had a history with Johnny too, them being in the same course the year before; and he had a passion for picking at the Scot, it seemed like that thing was never going to leave. What better occasion than study sessions to slide in a little snarky comment?

So yeah, Johnny might not have been jumping with joy, but at least he could somewhat justify Phil's presence.
But Gary's?

The guy was a Physics student - a PhD, no less! As far as Johnny knew, PhD students had access to their own office, with a private desk, spacious whiteboards on the walls which are immensely helpful when doing research and calculations, dedicated break rooms with coffee brewers and all that. That sounded like the dream to Johnny, he really couldn't understand why a guy who had access to that would rather attend a public library instead.

Gary's presence had become more and more constant over time, but it wasn't until recently that Johnny actually noticed: it began like a random presence at this or that gathering at Farah's or Phil's; then, although Johnny couldn't pinpoint when exactly, the guy began to show up at breakfast, and he would tag along with the rest of the group until they split up, each heading to their department. It must have been on one of those occasions, Johnny figured, that Gary came to know about the library gatherings; needless to say, Johnny couldn't recall when exactly the guy first showed up at the library either. Oops.

In his defence, it wasn't Johnny who was so careless (at least he didn't believe himself to be!), it was just that... Gary had a way of being neutral. Not the life of the party, not the party's killjoy; not someone you can't forget, not someone you can't remember. Except Johnny couldn't remember most of those interactions, alright, but still! He obviously remembered him in general.

Johnny enjoyed Gary's neutral character, he gave Johnny the exact amount of space and peace he needed. He was polite, and respectful, and Johnny never felt like he was walking on eggshells when he talked to Gary. Not that they talked much. They mostly found each other in the same place at the same time. Unusually often. Sometimes Johnny could swear he could catch the guy staring at him from across the table during study time or at the pub, but surely that must have been just his imagination, nothing else.

"I've gotta ask," Johnny approached Gary as they took a little break by the coffee machine. He had been pondering whether to ask him or to pretend that he didn't notice, after all it could have been all a coincidence or something that was only in Johnny's head. What kind of suspicious motive could Gary Sanderson have to spend time at the library with them, right?

"So what brings you to the library with us so often? Not that you're unwelcome to join us or anything, just..."
Johnny mentally cringed at yet another failed attempt at not being awkward.

Gary shrugged with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. "I like the environment", he said, "it's cool to have a change of scenery every now and then, right?"
"Right," echoed Johnny rather passively, unsure if he agreed that strongly. "No, seriously, I like the place," reiterated Gary with a sincere smile, then he added "And the people too." He gave Johnny a pat on the shoulder, which he accompanied with a charming wink. "I'll see you back inside," he dismissed Johnny. "Right, seeya," echoed Johnny. What a peculiar character.

"We are so screwed!" The bloke sitting at the head of the table buried his face in his hands and let his upper body collapse on the open Chemistry book.
"No offence, brother, but I think what you are trying to say is You are screwed!" reprimanded another guy at the same table. Just as Johnny had easily predicted, the 'guy who was screwed' decided to join them a little late through the semester; he was the guy who was at his third re-take of the course, and given how things were looking right now, there was probably gonna be a fourth one. The scolding only made him look more mortified. He was a big broad guy with unkempt facial hair and a messy overgrown haircut, probably homemade: a bear guy, Johnny often thought with affection. He might not have been the brightest of all when it came to Chemistry, but he had a heart of gold and he meant well.

"Hey," Johnny took the stage, "no man left behind," he said firmly as he shot a scolding stare at his pal for being judgemental towards Bear Guy. Sure, he was right, Bear Guy should have started preparing for the midterms earlier, but judgement was not what he needed from his study buddies right now. Right now he needed to be helped and supported. Just like what Johnny needed back in the day. You can never know what's going on under the hood of everyone else. "Let me see," he said as he got up and walked towards Bear. He inspected the content of the page his book was open at; "What's the problem, mate?" he asked gently. Bear sighed, "I only understand one out of five elements of this formula, and that is this one", he pointed at the one thing everyone at the table probably knew since tenth grade. Johnny sighed, feeling Gary Sanderson's eyes on him (again). "Only that part, you say," Johnny tried to sound neutral, but he recognised that his friend was in dire need of a review of a few chapters. "Alright, listen. I can stay overtime with you tonight, I don't have work so we can grab a wee pizza on the way and stay at mine for as long as you need. What do you say?" he offered, placing both hands on Bear's shoulders. Bear looked... dispirited, but he was thinking about it. "MacTavish... You'd do that?" he asked with puppy eyes.
"Of course, lad", Johnny nodded, lips arching up in a reassuring smile, "we're in this together. Give it your all and I'll take it from there. Okay?" Bear nodded with a timid smile, "o-okay. Thank you, man, really." Johnny let go of Bear's shoulders, "Don't mention it. Keep pushing, we're almost there!"

Johnny returned to his seat just in time to see Phillip scoff and shake his head. "You got a problem, Graves?" he inquired in a low tone of voice, getting serious. He had way more than enough of Graves' behaviour.
"Nah," Graves said with a smug smile, staring down at the table, "I just wonder..." Phil teased, waiting for Johnny to take the bait. Johnny didn't say a word, he only raised an eyebrow. It was exasperating. Graves crossed his arms against his chest and leaned on the velvet chair, looking pleased. "Where was this when you actually should have been like this? Huh? Last year, for example."

Johnny sighed. He was not gonna let Graves provoke him that easily and in front of everyone too.
"Dude, if I may," Johnny and Phillip turned around simultaneously to see Gary was wearing the calmest smile, "I think, Phillip, that if this had been there last year, whatever was going on at the time, then you wouldn't have talked as much. Because Johnny would have fed you so much dust you would've barely seen the finish line," he said, not a hint of spite in his voice, only pure amusement. He almost sounded genuinely proud of Johnny, which was crazy. Johnny felt his cheeks blushing a little: as much as Johnny was sure he had imagined it, it felt damn good to be appraised like that.

Graves looked... not exactly happy. He let out a bitter chuckle and leaned towards Gary, inquiring: "Is that so, my friend?". Gary didn't budge. He leaned forward himself and echoed: "I am positive, my friend", adding emphasis on the last part by speaking exceptionally slowly. Graves remained silent for a moment, looking at the window, then at the bookshelves, deflecting with method; then he clicked his tongue and mumbled "...whatever, dude. It's not supposed to be a competition, this thing anyway, you know?"
"Don't mind that, mate," intervened Johnny; he didn't want the charade to keep going, nor his friends to be dragged into it. "It's a stupid thing between us," he dismissed the matter. "Yup," mirrored Graves wearing his insufferable smile again, "it's a thing between us, like he said."

Gary didn't seem satisfied with that solution. He was about to add something, but his attention got suddenly caught by something behind Graves, at the nearby table. Bear Guy followed Gary's gaze and frowned: "Bloody hell, who spat in that lad's coffee this morning?"
Johnny turned around and his eyes landed on his much-cherished friend, looking grumpier and more tired than ever. Sports bag hanging lazily on his shoulder as always, he was heading to his usual reading spot; in his hand, the fancy copy of "Oliver Twist" Johnny had gifted him for Christmas. Johnny was immediately struck by the memories of that Christmas celebration at Ms Cath's: the horrible sweaters, that silly misunderstanding before saying goodbye, the board games, the musical tickets. The damn musical tickets. Ehhh.

"Right?! Who's that?" Gary supported Bear, not expecting any answer, not expecting that anyone in the group actually knew that man. Except Johnny did. It was Ghost. "That's-" Johnny nearly began, "--Excuse me." He got up and made his way towards the towering grumpy guy, leaving Gary and the others slightly puzzled.

"Ghost," he greeted the man.
They had agreed on a fresh start not long ago, and that had been a relief. That said, maybe the start they had agreed upon was a little more "fresh" in Ghost's mind than it was in Johnny's expectations: the two had met each other a few times, but things had always been... cold. Johnny wouldn't even define that a product of awkwardness, things had simply gotten... quiet, in what seemed like a natural process. They didn't text pretty much at all, made but small talk in the corridor of the clinic, that was all. On the day they had had that conversation, Johnny had jokingly said that "their newly re-established friendship was gonna come at a cost in baked goods": of course, he didn't really mean that, and Ghost seemed to understand the non-serious nature of that comment, because the little bags of sweet treats had never reappeared. Oh well, perhaps Johnny should have expected that. But honest to God, he missed those little gestures of affection from Ghost.

Honest to God, he missed Ghost. He missed the guy like hell.

"Johnny," Ghost greeted him back, trying to wear a smile but failing quite spectacularly. Bad day, Johnny figured, we all have those sometimes. He turned his eyes to the book, Ghost was barely a few pages in. "How's the book?" blurted out Johnny. What a stupid question. He could see for himself that Ghost was making nearly zero progress in the reading. "Eh," Ghost made a sound of frustration as he examined the outside and the inside of the item, then he quickly went back to stare at Johnny and added with haste: "No, the design is great! It's a beautiful book. It's the story that..." Ghost let silence finish the sentence for him. Well, Oliver Twist wasn't exactly a fun story.

"Yeah," simply confirmed Johnny, "I understand that."

The conversation died right there. Oh God, so it was awkward between them.

Johnny looked away to check on his table and found all his pals staring at him - they all made sure to pretend to be studying as soon as the guy turned around, red-light-green-light style, though some were not so quick on the trigger and made it as obvious as it gets.

For as long as he had been alone at the library, Johnny had been sitting at that very same table Ghost was sitting at now - the table of the Grumpy Lion and the Honey Badger, library friends - but ever since he had been bringing company with, he had taken the habit of sitting at a different table. It didn't feel right to share Ghost's table with the rest of the guys; even if Ghost probably didn't give a damn about "their thing" and whether to share it with others or not, it was dear to Johnny, and so he respected his own wish.

"Well, I umh, I should go," muttered Johnny nervously while gesturing at his table, "got an exam in a week or so, got the whole task force getting ready."
Ghost sent a quick look at the other table, causing another round of red-light-green-light. He let out a sound that could be described as a muffled melancholic chuckle. There it was again: that heart-wrenching look of utter sadness behind those mesmerizing dark eyes. It had always made Johnny's stomach knot, but now more than ever. Why, why, why does he have to be like this?

"Ah, yeah. Break a leg, Johnny," the man said, "even though I don't think you'll need any luck." With a little more effort, he managed to wear a little smile in encouragement.

Johnny nodded. "Thank you, mate," he smiled back, barely. So this is how it was gonna be now. Again.

It was worse than the eggshells and snarky comebacks of some time ago. It was nothing.

"Alright then, I'll just go now," repeated Johnny, turning a heel ready to head back, until Ghost stopped him. "Johnny-"

"Yeah?" he turned around again. "Is everything alright?"

Ghost seemed to ponder for an infinitely long instant. "I- it's just-" he struggled for a moment, faintly gesturing with his hands. "...Actually I forgot, never mind," he finally brushed it off.

That guy was truly impossible. "Okay, well, I'll be over there in case you remember," Johnny dismissed the man, and the man nodded dismissing him in return.

Johnny returned to his seat, feeling more dispirited than ever and immensely reluctant to go back to study. The atmosphere seemed to be infectious and spreading quickly, for everybody else at the table had gone back to their business and quit all the red-light-green-light games at once. Everyone except Graves: he was still, not very politely, staring in the direction of Ghost with a puzzled look on his face:
"I could swear I've seen that guy somewhere before."

Chapter Text

Ghost was stuck.

Well, to be perfectly honest, he had been generally stuck in a situation for a while now, even though he was way too stubborn to admit it.
He had tried to keep his mind and body busy: he had gone back to work, back to the gym, even back to the library from time to time; he would go running on the outskirts at the most improbable hours of the day; he would ask Price for extra assignments off-shift. He had gone back to the shooting range, thinking it would be a good idea to practice his aim again after a long while, scraping the rust off his shooting skills and taking the edge off. It had almost worked.

It shouldn't have been that hard to get that kid out of his head. Ghost had been there before: pushing his feelings away anytime he'd become emotionally involved with someone was nothing more than aerobic exercise by now, something he had built the muscle for over the years. But he'd be damned if he could get Johnny out of his head.

Reading had become downright impossible: he was already awful at it, had been all his life, but in the past couple weeks he could barely flip through two pages on the most successful days. Damn this entire reading crusade, Ghost cursed the day he made that stupid vow countless times.

Wooden carving was hopeless, his mind couldn't bother paying attention to his own hands; he had even injured himself with the carving knife a couple of times. Nothing serious, the worst damage was to his own ego and self-esteem for failing at something he had never failed at before. It made him feel so stupid.

The one thing that seemed to keep functioning normally was the drawing. Ghost drew a fucking lot those days. He had produced so many sketches, some more and some less detailed, of several subjects;
His favourite model had been Lucky, the dog they had rescued with her puppies from the garbage: Ghost had made drawings of the canine family nearly every day at the clinic, capturing scenes like playtime, feeding, grooming, sleeping and yawning. He would make those drawings with effort and then stash them up on a shelf, gone unnoticed by the world. Ghost was aware they were not that bad, he had received objectively a good amount of compliments for his art in the past, he just... couldn't care enough to do anything with those creations, they didn't bring him any particular sense of joy or pride.

In the last couple of days, he had been trying to make an accurate drawing of Charlotte, Johnny's dog: it had begun with some quick and messy sketches as a distraction from his book (anything to get away from those pages, right?) but then he told himself fuck it, might as well put in some serious effort and cook up a proper portrait. So that had become his only activity at the library, where he could observe Charlotte while she stayed put by the help desk. Johnny would also be there, studying for his exams two tables away from Ghost: the guy had been back in the game stronger than ever - from where Ghost was standing, it was clear how he had reconnected with his inner ability to learn and help his new study group, keeping everyone motivated and focused on the target. Johnny was nailing it.

Ghost was so proud of him.

God, so entitled of him to think that. Who was him to award Johnny with his much valuable pride?

Anyway, things were surely going for the best for Johnny: he seemed calm and happy, and he had some friends who were crazy about him - hell, some were even a little too crazy about him for Ghost's taste - not that he gave a damn! It was just... such a corny sight, that's all.

Still, the plan was to finish his drawing of Charlotte, then proceed to draw Johnny next to her too; Ghost figured it would be a nice gift, a portrait of Johnny and Charlotte together, but as soon as he was done drawing a hand and a forearm, he hit a massive block and just could not get anything right from there. It seemed that drawing a portrait of Johnny was a whole different story, much harder than the animal counterpart. Ghost simply couldn't sit with the image of Johnny in his head or in his sight for longer than a couple seconds, it made him feel bad in a way that he didn't want to figure out: frustrated, angry, embarrassed, and so sad it was almost pathetic.

After a few hours of unsuccessful attempts, he had convened that he was going to go for a portrait of Charlotte alone: human anatomy was way too difficult for him anyway, and that was the plausible reason why he could not manage to fix an image of Johnny on paper.

All he had to do was hand the portrait to Johnny. A very simple task, right? Walk over to Johnny's table, deliver the item and return.

Though maybe it was best to do it when they were on a break from studying, that way he wouldn't distract Johnny from his work. The problem was that every time they took a break, Johnny would get up and go for a stroll - and that one guy would always go after him like a lovestruck bodyguard. Ghost had no idea who that lad was, he had never seen him before, but he could tell that he had a soft spot for Johnny.

On one hand, it was undeniable that the thing bothered Ghost; on the other hand, could he blame the man?
Who could not fall for Johnny MacTavish?
The only product of this very logical reasoning was more frustration for Ghost.

Ghost could not claim Johnny, nor Johnny's attention and affection, to himself: he had his chance (God, Johnny had even confessed) and he had blown it. Now he could only watch his dearest person in the world as he rightfully moved on, and he should also move on himself - considering he had cut off any other option anyway.

He sat at his table, book open on the same page as the past hour and a half, holding the portrait in his hands as he once again avoided delivering it to Johnny.
He scanned across the charcoal strokes, examining his work, taking in the lines and the details. His gaze stopped on the hand, that hand that he had left there lingering, attached to no body, associated with no face.

He knew that hand. A while back, he had felt its touch on his skin, in the locks of his hair, down his cheek. He remembered that feeling like it was yesterday.
God. Ghost didn't feel good at all for doing that whole thing the way he did - subtly, tainted by deception and selfishness. But it had felt unlike anything else he'd ever experienced. Which made him feel only worse, by the way.

C'mon, mate, just wake up. Hand the gift to the guy, go home and do something with yourself. It's time to move on.

Johnny was stuck.

That was not even metaphorical: Johnny was frozen on his butt, incapable of moving.

He was sitting in the exam hall, pencil in hand, barely fifteen minutes into his midterm exam. He had prepared, he was more than confident that he could pass this exam, or at least he had been confident until ten minutes prior; all that confidence seemed to be gone now. Where and how had he lost it?

The words on the exam sheet became a blurry mess. Oh God, no, please not now. Johnny tried to mentally state the facts: he was prepared, he was ready, he knew the topics and the questions were not hard. Come on, Johnny, move.

He couldn't regain control. He was lost up in the air in a cloud of catastrophic thoughts: you're going to fail this, you are not ready enough, you never have been, in fact you probably condemned your study group to meet your same demise - you even deceived them to trust you, as if you were ever in the position to give them advice and tutoring!

His palms became cold with sweat as he began to struggle to breathe normally. He could hear the familiar ringing inside his ears, which only made him drift further away into a state of isolation. All the other students around him were physically there, he could see them and they could probably see him too, but it was as if there was an invisible dome between him and the rest, between the rest and him.

Well, here's where the sprint of the past weeks ends, he thought, at the first real obstacle.
None of the techniques he had learnt with his counsellor were working in the effort to regain control: taking deep breaths, focusing on nearby objects, on his physical perception, nothing would bring him back down.

There was only one trick he hadn't tried yet, one final desperate attempt before he would mess this up for good. When you find yourself in a place of stress, take your mind back to a place of comfort; concentrate on a memory that you are fond of, one that brings you peace and safety, let the good counterweight the bad and plant yourself in the centre of that balance.
Johnny closed his eyes. The couch, visualize the couch. The first element he was able to visualize was Charlotte, he was so familiar with what his dog looked like he could recreate the image of her instantly. Charlotte was sleeping on the rug. She was tired. Then there was little Ophelia, sound asleep by Charlotte's side. And then Anacleto, the little orange hurricane, passed out on the dog's back, couldn't even bother calling a timeout from the fight and fell asleep mid-action. Adorable little rascal. It was dark outside, the living room was lit by dim sconces. All around him, the place was pretty tidy and clean. Johnny was warm and comfortable, upon looking down he could visualize the cup he was holding in his hands: it was a cup of Earl Grey tea, no longer steaming hot because it had been sitting on his lap for a while. It was a peaceful and quiet moment, he could not even hear the distant mumbling of a TV or some neighbours having an argument a few doors down.

And then there was Ghost, sitting on the couch next to Johnny, as sound asleep as their gang of three. With his own cup of tea still in his hands, the man had dozed off and Johnny hadn't even realized. He looked so peaceful, so gracefully vulnerable. He was trusting Johnny with his unconscious self - or maybe he was just too tired to worry about that aspect, though Johnny kinda really wanted to believe that he had earned some of the man's trust, otherwise that would've never happened. Looking peaceful and at ease, for fucking once. It was beautiful, everything about that moment was so beautiful and Johnny couldn't help but think that it was all going to be alright.

It was all going to be alright. It was all going to be alright. "Break a leg. Though I don't think you'll need any luck."
Johnny reopened his eyes and took a big breath, feeling his heart rate slowing down to a normal rhythm again. He took another minute to catch his breath. He could do it. He was going to make the Grumpy Lion, and himself, and every motherfucking one else, prouder than ever.

He grabbed his pencil and started over.

"Oh my God, oh God, don't tell me, I don't wanna know."
Bear was covering his eyes with his palm rather dramatically. The group was waiting ever so patiently in the crowd of students who tried to access the corkboard where the midterm results were hung. In the era of all things digital, some teachers still preferred the print-and-hang approach, oh well.

Johnny was worried. He had answered all the questions on his sheet, but the suboptimal start had cost him some precious time so he had had to catch up fast and he had given some rushed answers in the process; he could have easily miscalculated some steps of the reactions, and if the mistake was in an early step of the chain, it would have propagated until the end, compromising the whole exercise. Yeah no, there wasn't much to be confident about. He chewed on his lip ring nervously. Bear Guy seemed to be terrified too: for once he actually felt like he might have passed, but the uncertainty of passing seemed to be more taxing to him than the certainty of failing. Johnny tried to pat the guy on the back, promising him that everyone was gonna pass it, but honestly, he wasn't so sure about the outcome either, not of Bear's test and much less of his own.

The people on the front rows seemed to have no intention of backing down and letting the others consult the board, what was taking them so long?!
"You peeps really need to get used to the way things work around here, only stay gentle for so long," burst Farah all of a sudden, "alright, the coffee shop is on the other side of the building, people!" she added loudly enough so that everyone in her immediate proximity could hear. And with that battle cry, she charged forward, the rest of the gang hesitantly following her like she was everyone's mom and they were at the zoo trying to catch a glimpse of the elephants through the iron fence.

Farah ran a quick scan through the list of candidates, barely betraying any emotions on her face. Johnny wouldn't dare look at the result, so he looked at her instead. She shook her head, turned to face Johnny and said with a shrug: "wow, surprising, I'm shocked. Plonker." she smiled and gave Johnny a pat on the shoulder before disappearing inside the crowd again.

Johnny turned to face the board again.

| MacTavish, J. | Exam Sheet B | A |

Oh.

Johnny felt a swarm of butterflies taking flight into his stomach. He passed. He passed with an A. It was something he had unlearned to process and assimilate.

"I scored a C... I SCORED A C, OH MY GOD I SCORED A C!", someone screamed at the top of their lungs next to Johnny, adding a series of shrieks and barking laughs that resembled more the sounds of a primate than those of a person. "JOHNNY! Oh God, I passed!!!" It was Bear, Bear had finally passed his goddamn exam, or so he had announced to the entire building in a tone of voice Johnny had yet to experience. The gargantuan creature appeared in Johnny's peripheral view and attacked with deadly efficiency: Johnny found himself trapped in a giant hug that could have easily broken all of his ribs, had the guy put in 1% of extra strength.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus-" Johnny could barely squeak from inside the mortal grasp, his cheekbone pressed against Bear's chest.
"Ohmygod ohmygod I'm so happy, mate, I'm so happy," he gave his poor little pal another vigorous squeeze, "Thank you so much, Johnny."

Johnny tried to reach for Bear's back and gave him a couple of pat-pats in encouragement. "Oh, don't mention it, but please let me live," he tried to protest, and he was only partly joking. Bear released him from the hug with an "Oh, I'm sorry," and Johnny could breathe back to life.

He had to admit: he wasn't so sure about it during their desperate study sessions, but he was very happy that all of those sessions had paid off.
He was able to help Bear pass the much-dreaded exam, and he was confident that Bear hadn't just passed the test, he had also understood the topics effectively.

It felt pretty good.

"Am I allowed to say I told you so?" asked Farah trying to provoke Johnny.

"You know you're not," protested Johnny, trying to be serious. But honestly, he was so elated he might have allowed her this once, who cared. He was one step closer to graduation, still with a flawless average.

"Alright, boss, whatever you say," Farah surrendered, only to lip-sync a very noticeable "I told him so" to the rest of the group, who chuckled in return.

"Well, I oughta go home, Charlie's waiting," Johnny tried to wrap it up. He could not wait to go home, walk his dog, then get cosy on his couch and go through a long long marathon of musicals with Charlotte and a huge bowl of popcorn. That was going to be his celebration, the best of its kind.

"Alright! Well done everybody," echoed Bear with a joyful smile, "I cannot wait to tell my mum. Let's celebrate at mine this weekend! She's gonna come over, and trust me when I say she makes Shepherd's Pie like you've never tasted before."

While the crowd debriefed over the sudden celebration plans, Johnny stepped out and pulled out his phone. He wanted to tell Ghost about the exam; he figured that the man might have wanted to know about the outcome, given that he kinda expressed interest the other day...? Was Johnny a little self-absorbed for texting Ghost out of nowhere in what seemed like a self-celebrating "look at how cool I am" type of statement?

Johnny stared at the chat between Ghost and him for a moment: he tried to compose his message once and cancelled, twice and cancelled... Nah, everything he wrote sounded self-absorbed. He locked his phone and stashed it back in his pocket; he was going to tell Ghost at work, bringing it up in person would have been much more casual and less pretentious.

Everybody said goodbye and went their separate ways. Johnny pulled out his earbuds, ready to pick a playlist to listen through on the way back home when he heard footsteps trotting behind him: "Hey Johnny?"

Johnny turned around and saw Gary coming at him with his hands in his pockets and a big smile on his face. God, it was really difficult not to think of a happy golden retriever when he looked at the guy. Which was kinda sweet.

"Gary," Johnny said, "can I help you?"

Gary shrugged, "No, I mean yes! Uh," he looked around nervously. Golden retriever golden retriever. "How about we celebrate with drinks tomorrow night?"

Johnny thought about it for a moment. "Uh, sure, yeah, I've got work though so I can't join you before I clock out."

"Sure, no problem!" Gary replied, beaming.

"Alright," Johnny wrapped it up with a polite smile, "feel free to invite whoever you want, I'm fine with everyone," he added.

"Ah, actually..." Gary seemed flustered, like he was going to blush any second, "Actually I was thinking of going just the two of us, if you don't mind?" he said in one breath, squinting his eyes like he was bracing for some impact.

"Oh, okay, sure, fine by me!" reassured Johnny. Gary probably wanted a little break from the general high energy of the group, understandably so! Johnny could use a little break too, and a part of that was gonna take place on that very evening.

"Ah, great, alright, I'll text you the details! See you then!" Gary exclaimed, then he turned around and started trotting away.

Most certainly a funny kind of energy, the one this guy has, thought Johnny.

Chapter Text

"It's not a date!" Johnny almost shouted with a smile that could barely contain a hysterical laugh.

"Oh dear God," sighed Farah from behind her facepalm, "Yes, Johnny, it is a date."

"It's not a date," repeated Johnny, crossing his arms like a pouting kid. "I am telling you, it is not."

"Jo, it is so much a date I can see the year, the month, the day, even the hours and minutes," Farah scanned clearly while gesturing with her arms, "the International Organization of Standards is looking for you because they want to make this date format the new standard - that is how obviously a date this date is." Johnny shook his head. He really was thicker than a rock. "Oh, come on, does 'I would rather go just the two of us' really give you no clue?" She asked making quotation marks in the air as she referenced the exact words Gary Sanderson said to Johnny the day before. "Not to mention, if we want, the fact that he is crushing like mad on you and literally everybody else noticed except you. Dummy."

"He just wants to hang out... In peace, I assume, without grizzly-like figures threatening his life or the endless talking about Chemistry. Or maybe he just wants to talk to someone. Again, in peace." Johnny shoved a peanut in his mouth. The two were hanging out at his place, with no particular agenda in mind, just hanging out a wee bit before Johnny would head to work. He had decided to enjoy an extra day of rest from his studies - the world was not going to crumble if he celebrated his recently conquered 'A' for a little bit longer.

"Right, Gary really wants to talk, in peace, in a perfectly platonic non-romantic kind of way," Farah teased him.

"Okay, you are intentionally making it sound ridiculous," Johnny felt -and resisted- the urge to throw a peanut at Farah.

"Huh, am I?" she asked out loud, as if it was actually a question worth asking.

"It's not a date," stressed Johnny again, absolutely positive, "you will see."

It was definitely not a date. What a crazy idea.

Johnny was waiting for Gary at the established rendez-vous location, leaning against a lamppost in that slightly anonymous but nevertheless fancy neighbourhood. The days were getting warmer, he noticed as he stood there killing time, slowly but steadily warmer, so much so that he was wearing no scarf tonight. It was good news, finally he was going to be able to enjoy more time outdoors, with his dog or his friends perhaps. Johnny had wondered a couple of times in the past, what a summertime version of Ghost could have looked like, what the man could be up to (or rather, what he would not be up to), if he struggled with the heat as little as he struggled with the cold. Johnny's mind inevitably travelled back to that image, to that idea, that picture that he had painted in his brain of a short-sleeved Ghost who put sunglasses on or perhaps a plain black baseball cap - only to scold himself back to reality a moment later: had he forgotten? He was not gonna get that information. He was probably gonna see the guy... exist, but that was all. No special access on Ghost's pasttimes or favourite locations to visit in the summer.
Right, never mind.

He had told himself he was going to tell the bloke about his recent academic success in person, perhaps at work, but he ended up failing in the intent; earlier that day he was about to clock out from Price's vet clinic, he had seen the shadow of Ghost walk by, and he had done nothing to stop him; he had not approached the guy in the clinic room, not even a quick peek from the door. The two of them acted like two parallel lines and didn't cross paths - intentionally. Right, it had to be intentional on Ghost's side. Well, the truth was that even though Johnny was dying to talk to Ghost, he had avoided meeting him too, and he did that just as intentionally. Why would he avoid him? Didn't they establish a truce? And now Johnny was the one being weird about it?

Johnny shrunk between his shoulders and looked down at the sidewalk. He felt pretty stupid now. Then again, it was probably for the best. And besides, he could still talk to Ghost next week, it wasn't such a big deal, right?

"Johnny!" the voice of Gary called with polite excitement from behind him. Johnny turned around and saw a... rather fancy-looking Gary? The guy didn't look much different from everyday Gary, but one could tell that he had put a little effort into his appearance tonight: styled his hair, dressed up nicely, wore some kind of perfume. Well, you couldn't exactly say the same about Johnny: he looked exactly the same as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. Johnny felt the urge to mentally defend himself for looking so unfit for the occasion - he had been busy working! Alright, no, who was he kidding, he wouldn't have taken this occasion much more seriously even if he'd had the time to prepare. He would have treated this event just like he treated any other gathering with the others. In other words, he would have treated it as usual.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," Gary apologized, greeting Johnny with a small courtesy hug.
"Oh please," Johnny reassured him and hugged him back, "you barely were!"

Gary pulled away from the hug and gave Johnny a quick look. "You look nice!", he decreed after a moment of what looked like ponderation. Nice? Johnny?!
Johnny nearly laughed at the guy's face: what was he on about? "Nah, mate, I look the same as usual", was his honest response.
"Yeah well..." Gary said back with a shrug and a sheepish smile, leaving the sentence flutter ominously in the air, unfinished. "Oh, I see now", thought Johnny, "he was trying to make greeting-small-talk and chose that as a random icebreaker. Makes sense, a strange pick but it makes sense. Better than commenting the weather I guess." Johnny felt a little silly for even suspecting that Gary could have meant what he'd said - of course it was a form of small talk, there was no evidence whatsoever that could indicate otherwise. He mirrored the gesture and scanned Gary's outfit. "Now you look actually fancy!" he genuinely complimented his friend who replied with another shrug-and-smile combo. Alright, yeah, that gesture could be kind of adorable. "Shall we?" Gary gestured with dramatic elegance towards the corner.

"After you," Johnny answered with a little bow of his head.

Okay. He had to admit it. Gary and him had just walked into a place which looked oddly elegant and intimate for a location of a non-date. Johnny had the doubt for a split second that Farah wasn't tripping after all. Nah, there was no way - if this was really a date then Gary would have said so at some point, but Gary made no mention of the D-word at all. He probably just wanted to show Johnny a cool place he knew.

It was a modern and elegant cocktail bar, not as fancy as a 3 Michelin Star restaurant but definitely not a shabby pub either. A large cocktail island stood in the middle of the room, the tall dark stools surrounding it like picket fence. A woman in a white shirt and a blonde ponytail was standing behind the counter, busy brewing her next potion with skillful gestures.
Towards the walls were small round tables, each accompanied with two comfortable-looking chairs and a cute little table lamp which lit the seatings just enough to add that extra cosiness. Lounge music filled the atmosphere pleasantly, not too loud nor too subtle. "I was lucky to find a table with so little advance," Gary seemed to have heard Johnny's thoughts, "if you wish to find seats here during cocktail hours on a Friday night, you might as well wait until next year." Bloody Jesus, a piece of cake! Gary really had gone the extra mile for this occasion. The place didn't look so crowded now to be honest, probably due to a combination of factors: it was a weekday, fairly early in the evening, and there weren't too many seats available in general, which meant that the restaurant was intentionally keeping the numbers low in order to guarantee an enjoyable experience.

Another barista greeted the two and escorted them to their table. Johnny took a seat and began flipping through the pages of the menu: "Tonight's on me, of course," Gary quipped with a wave of his hand before Johnny could try to comment on the menu and its price in general. "What? Oh, no, not a chance," Johnny protested as vigorously as he could. Gary smiled and waved both his hands, "I'm not hearing it. I dragged you out here, we're celebrating your success, of course it is my treat."
"Oh I'm sure you can find some reason to celebrate too," Johnny tried to counter-attack, trying to dodge the "your success" that tried to compliment him. He wasn't really the best at accepting praise.

Gary stopped and wore a smile again, looking away and... blushing slightly?
"Alright, well... Like I said: I dragged you out here," he repeated, sending a piercing stare into Johnny's eyeballs. Was he... trying to provoke him? Or maybe he genuinely felt bad about dragging Johnny out! What a shame, there was no reason to feel bad about such a thing. "Oh you did not drag me out," Johnny reassured him as a consequence, "yeah I sort of had to rush here from work but it's no problem! I had nothing to do at home."
Whoa, he was terrible at giving reassurance huh. Gary smiled with a nod and went back to his menu.

It had been a good evening. Or at least it had seemed so to Johnny until he properly reflected about it.
He was replaying the whole thing like a video tape in his mind while he walked Charlotte before bedtime:

Gary was awfully normal; polite, nice, a pretty good balance between someone who lets you talk but is not too quiet either. He reacted in the most normal, predictable, nice way to everything Johnny said, no sentence from him ever felt like it was going to stab Johnny in the chest or stomach. Not really what he was used to...before.

"So, tell me about you, Johnny," Gary had asked at some point, resting his chin on his palm. Johnny was chewing on a delicious bite of crab cakes, the only dish he had ordered from the selection of aperitif food menu - of course he was going to be mindful of the costs, no matter what Gary had said earlier. Tell me about you. "What do you mean?" Johnny had asked. Gary had shrugged with a smile - he really enjoyed doing that, huh? "You know, tell me about you, your life. I would like to know more about this Johnny MacTavish lad."

Johnny wasn't sure if he had ever been asked anything like that before, he wasn't sure how to answer that. So he had told Gary a bit of what came to mind: Glasgow, his family, his weird knack for explosive materials that had led him to the Chemistry Department in university, giving just about enough information about his fall-off that Gary would finally understand what it was that Phil Graves kept nagging Johnny about.

"So that's what the 'Soap' thing is about," the guy had reasoned out loud. No, Johnny explained (again, delving into just enough detail), that was a high school bully thing that Graves ended up knowing about, unfortunately, and loved digging back up just to deal a little extra damage. "Ah, the wonders of the school days," Gary had commented with an eyeroll, "you know what they used to call me?" he had quipped. Johnny had nodded, signaling to go on. "Roach," Gary had revealed, "as in 'Cockroach', the insect, of course," he had said, somewhat clumsily.

"'Roach'?" Johnny had echoed, "why 'Roach'?"
"Eh, I wasn't exactly a pretty kid," explained Gary, "I had this huge acne all over my face, comically large bracers, what else, a uni-brow... The ugly nerdy kid stereotype straight out of one of those kids' movies," he had gone on, without looking too bothered by the memories. "Of course my interest for mathematics did not help at all!" He had added with a chuckle, and Johnny chuckled in return. Oh yeah, very plausible alas. gary shrugged and sighed, without losing the smile, "eh, whatever, kids suck. I really was ugly though," he laughed again. With such a cute smile, Johnny had noticed.

He had figured he could say that out loud, he had always had the conviction that if you think something nice about someone, the best thing was always to let them know. And so he had said:

"Ah, you definitely redeemed yourself from that 'Roach' curse, you can rest easy on that!"

And Gary had reacted... Weirdly. He had said "Oh, now, please," chuckling and hiding his face in the palms of his hands, blushing - most very definitely blushing.

So Gary was bad at accepting compliments too. Johnny hoped he wasn't out of line with that comment, he thought he had picked nice words... Or at least appropriate ones.

"Thanks for the night," Gary had said when the time came to dismiss each other, "I had so much fun."
"Aye, me too," Johnny said back. Yeah, it had been fairly nice, quite an enjoyable time. "We should do this again sometime," Gary had added. "Sure, maybe sometime," had confirmed Johnny. Why not, the occasion might have presented itself indeed. "Alright then," Gary had hesitated. And the two of them stood in front of each other like morons for a moment, held in place by the sentence Gary had left unfinished. Was Johnny supposed to just leave? Probably. He was about to do so when Gary stepped forward and planted a clumsy quick peck on Johnny's cheek.

Oh.

"I'll see you," Gary had finally said with a wave of his hand before turning around and heading his way. He was totally blushing again. Johnny had waved back hesitantly, still trying to process what had just happened and fully aware that Gary was already gone and was not going to see that waving gesture.

Oh.

Johnny blinked back to the present, in front of Charlotte who was patiently sitting down on the concrete path, waiting for her guy to return to reality. "Ah steamin' bloody Jesus," he murmured to Charlotte and to himself, "I think maybe that was a date."

What time was it? Ghost had kinda lost track of time.
He was tipsy. He wasn't planning on getting piss drunk tonight, only a drink or two in compliance with the local customs. The minimum amount required to achieve his objective. It sounded rather cold and calculated if you put it that way, and sadly reality wasn't all too distant from that description. Ghost had headed out that night with the precise goal of spotting a stranger at the bar, engaging in the bare minimum amount of small talk, just enough diplomacy to get down to business - and finally, hopefully, get down to said business.

In other words, he just wanted to hook up. Pretty much. No strings attached, minimum effort, minimum personal involvement. And this young lad that he was now pinning against the wall in the back of the bar didn't seem to mind, he did not seem to mind at all.

Ghost wasn't one for bragging much, but he had to admit it - this guy was losing his mind under Ghost's hands - the whole plan had worked really well on him. Ghost did not know much about the guy, nor had he asked or wanted to know anyway; he only knew that he was an exchange student, most certainly younger than Ghost, skinny, with long blonde hair that reminded a bit of a wilting weeping willow. He had an accent, maybe Eastern European... or was it more like French or Dutch? Ghost had no idea, and if the guy had told him where he was from then he couldn't remember hearing that detail. He could have blamed it on the loudness of the rock music or the chatting of the people that were filling the place to the brim. It did not matter anyway.

He wasn't really Ghost's type. He was not... ugly, Ghost wasn't so cynical as to use such a word anyway, but not really the stuff of dreams either. Most definitely he did not cause the feeling of ocean waves inside Ghost's chest. The feeling of ocean breeze. Or whatever. He was okay. He was there. He was available. Expendable. And he was hooked to Ghost's act.

Ghost had not wanted to know names and had insisted to go by "Ghost", as usual, and once again that guy had bought it perfectly, saying how exciting it was to keep things mysterious. Yeah, that would do, exciting is fun.

The guy let out a louder moan as Ghost softly bit at the area between the neck and the collarbone.

They hadn't talked much. Hi, hi, how are you, not bad, what brings you here - you could probably count the sentences they had exchanged on the fingers of two hands. It was relieving, it meant that they were probably looking for the same thing: a fun distraction.

Ghost kept kissing the guy's neck up and down more fiercely; the guy mumbled something unintelligible with short breath, God knows what language he spoke but it sounded encouraging. Ghost tightened his grip on the guy's hair a bit tighter, figuring a little hair pulling was going to work its magic but being careful not to hurt the guy.

Ghost despised himself for that. For toying with this kid. He had always disliked one-night stands, but that was almost all he had conceded himself over the past few years. At the same time, giving pleasure to this stranger pleased him in return, it was still a win-win of some kind.

Pleasuring this guy was satisfying. And judging by his reaction, that guy was pretty happy about it too.

Ghost felt the guy's hands reaching for his leather jacket and pulling him closer. Yes. Reaching up for his neck and pulling him closer. Perfect. Then he pulled him back and away and whispered against Ghost's lips, breath still short and scented like the mint from his mojito: "can we take this somewhere else? Please," he planted a rather eloquent kiss and added, "I live close by..."

Then he kissed Ghost again. Demanding. Not really begging, more like taking without asking. Closing a gap that Ghost had carefully constructed and kept open. The guy pulled Ghost's face against him, trying to take the lead.

Ghost froze. That was off the script. He was not going to follow this guy at his place, he was not going to sleep with him or anything that couldn't happen right where they were. That was not the plan. Or was it? What was the plan again? To get laid? Or just to make out? But Ghost didn't want to make out either, he did not want to touch lips at all.

"Get off me," he backed off with a sudden tug, breaking free of the guy's hold on his neck.

Memories started flooding Ghost's brain without control. That couldn't be good. The lip ring's missing.

No. He was missing the lip ring.

Someone's lip ring. Someone he had to forget about, he was trying ever so desperately to forget about.

"What is wrong?" his guy had asked in a clumsy English. Confused, a little hurt possibly. Understandable.

Ghost ran a palm down his face, as if he was trying to wipe everything from this interaction away all of a sudden. "I uh..." he tried to mumble something, but there was nothing to mumble. He had to leave, now.

He stormed out of the dark alley, leaving the guy with a very puzzled look on his face - he vaguely heard him mumble something, probably an offensive remark towards Ghost, but Ghost was already so far away he couldn't even figure out if it was a language he could understand.

Ghost drove home, his eyes on the road, barely blinking. Barely thinking.

He was lying in his bed, in the darkness of his bedroom, when he finally allowed himself to formulate the thought he had been pushing away for hours, for days:

There was no way he could be just friends with Johnny MacTavish.

Chapter Text

The paper bag rustled quietly under Ghost's grip as he walked down the streets, reading the plaques with the names of the roads and turning corners with resolve, following the instructions from the bartender whom he had just interrogated.

Where was he headed? Great question, Ghost was almost wondering that himself: he was on his way to a stranger's house to apologize.
The truth was that in the few days after that night at the pub he couldn't avoid feeling bad for treating that lad like shit and leaving him there without an explanation. Why did he feel so bad? This was literally the main and most convenient benefit of one-night stands - you do not owe anybody an explanation, an apology or anything. You can stand someone up at any moment and you don't have to feel bad about it. There are no rules in the hookup game, aside from perhaps basic hygiene concerns.

He didn't owe the guy an explanation nor an apology, that wasn't even the first time he had treated someone unfairly in that context. And still, this time he found himself unable to go back to his daily business until he had offered an apology, or at least tried to make things right. There was something different in Ghost's m.o. now, for some reason.

Ghost didn't stop to reflect on what was changing inside his once stone-cold heart, nor what was causing such changes - there is always plenty of time to do that sometime later, he often told himself. Right now his urgent business was to jump into the action: he went back to that pub, put his bloodhound skills to work and asked a couple of tactical questions to the right people, obtaining a full address of the guy's apartment.

The paper bag he was carrying was from a bakery: no serious apology can be carried out empty-handed, Ghost thought, and he figured that flowers would have been too cheesy a gift, and an ambiguous one too - while he did want to apologize, in fact, he did not want to give the impression that he had romantic intentions of any kind towards the guy, so he figured a little snack would be the way to go and he had bought a bag of millionaire's shortbread and some chocolate biscuits.

The guy's name was Cedric, Or Frederic, Ghost couldn't catch. He found the apartment door in what looked like a student campus, tall and uniform buildings placed around curated lawns. He double-checked the address number he had written down on his phone, confirmed its correctness and knocked at the door without thinking twice (or even once, really). A dozen seconds went by with no answer; Ghost was about to knock again when the door opened on a sleepy-looking blondie, who peeked from inside his dark lair and squinted his eyes when the corridor lights hit his face. He looked even more pale and skinny than the other night, strands of his long straight hair resting against his torso like in a painting of Venus. A scruffy kind of Venus who looks like she just woke up.

Cedric's eyes widened in shock. "Oh putain," he whispered to himself after taking moment to look at Ghost - he had joined the dots in his sleepy head and recognized our man. He mumbled something unintelligible and began to close the door, clearly not intentioned to see the man again, but Ghost was prompt to stop the door with his palm; "Hold up!", he exclaimed a little too loudly, causing Cedric to take a small leap back from the fright.

Ghost never understood what it was that caused everybody to be so intimidated by him... He supposed he could work on his manners, probably?

Okay then, manners. Don't scare the kid.

He slowly raised his other arm, jingling the paper bag with the goodies - trying his very best to wear a friendly smile. "...I brought food?" he offered.

Cedric stared at the offering for a long moment, frozen on the spot, then he finally rolled his eyes and shrugged, opening the door again. "You are lucky I'm hungry," he mumbled rubbing his eyes and disappeareing inside, lowering his guard.

"How did you even find me?" asked Cedric while he leaned against the counter, waiting by the brewer for the coffee to be ready.

Ghost shrugged, trying to come up with an explanation that would not make him look creepy. "I know my ways," he said. Never mind, that sounded creepy. "Plus, it's not like you made much of a mystery out of where you live, given that everyone at the pub knows where to take you when you get wasted," Ghost tried to joke around, hoping that he wouldn't sound like he was scolding him.

Cedric kept his gaze on the floor - he didn't look bothered, more like he was spacing out for the boredom or the sleepiness - then he chuckled softly and nodded, "I suppose that you are right". He had put something on in the meantime, a very loose V-neck shirt with white, black and brown stripes and a hood which Ghost couldn't possibly imagine the use of. He was really kinda cute, if one was willing to ignore the goblin energy that he emanated.

He handed a mug with steaming hot coffee to Ghost and they sat together at the table.

"Should I ask me why you're here?", inquired Cedric with a biscuit in his mouth. He was perched up on the chair in a pose that resembled that of a gargoyle, Ghost couldn't fathom how this kid could possibly achieve that weird pose, let alone be comfortable in it.

Ghost fidgeted with his cup awkwardly. "I uh... I want to apologize for the other day." Cedric stopped chewing like someone just hit 'Pause' on him, "...to apologize to me? Really?" he asked with genuine marvel. Ghost shrugged - it only hit him now, how sad he had actually felt these past few days. "Yeah. I am going through some weird times and... I should not have made you pay the price for my bullshit."

Cedric looked very puzzled. "Mais non, relax, my friend! It is not like you left me on the altar," he laughed, clearly he found the situation hilarious and Ghost's reaction a little over the top. He took another bite off the shortbread. "I mean yes, I did hate you in that moment, but it's not my fault that you are good at what you do," he joked, hinting at those non-religious activities they indulged in the other night. "But it takes more to break my heart. All is good."

"Good, I mean, yeah, I'm glad," Ghost tried to express relief. Oh God, it was so self-absorbed of him to even think that this guy would have his heart broken by a 10-minute makeout session with a lad he had just met, all while drunk too. Who did he think he was? Suddenly he felt like an irritating main character. Silence lingered in the room for a moment, Ghost's eyes on the coffee, Cedric's eyes on Ghost.

"You, on the other hand," Cedric observed, "look like your mind is busy. Somebody broke your heart?" he guessed, probably meaning it as a joke.

But he had hit the spot, right where it stung.
And so Ghost ended up doing something he would have never imagined he could do before: he told that kid the whole story. About Johnny, about the library, Johnny's study anxiety, Charlotte the dog, Cath the library lady, all the way to the confession and his stupid brain tilt and rejection. A pathetic incontrollable stream of unsolicited information.

"Ah... I see it," the guy said after Ghost was done, "you have a big problem, my friend," he took a sip of coffee wearing a strange look of superiority.

Now Ghost felt embarrassed. This was stupid. "Whatever," he dissimulated, "I talked too much."
God, that sounded like Johnny. When did he start sounding like Johnny?

"The only thing worse than a idiot in love..." Cedric sentenced in his clumsy-sounding English; he took another bite off the shortbread, adding unnecessary suspence, "...it is two idiots in love," he made a "V" gesture with his hand, emphasizing the number "two".

"What?" Ghost tried to process, unsure why that line sounded so weird to him. Despite a literal confession had been delivered to Ghost, it still sounded impossible that Johnny and him could be mutually in love with each other.

"Eh, do you see? That is my point," the guy replied. Oh, fucking hell.

The two sat at the table a little while longer, chatting awkwardly about their lives and where they were headed. A diploma in photography, art school, going wherever life sends you, the vet clinic, that master course in veterinary medicine waiting on the tall shelf of the "maybe someday"s.

"Thank you for the breakfast," said Cedric as he escorted Ghost back to the door, "too bad your heart is so busy, you seem like a nice guy," he added with a smirk, "it is his loss and my loss also".

Ghost sighed feebly. I am so very definitely not a nice guy. "Maybe in another life."

"Maybe," echoed Cedric. Hesitating for a moment. "I'm just gonna put it out there," he added with a cheeky smile, "In case you change your mind and want to have a little fun, you know where to find me."
Ghost chuckled at the audacity. "Noted," he confirmed as he walked away.

It's weird, how things can get much better without you even noticing. You are in a tough spot, things are pretty hard "but you are working on it", you have this idea that someday it'll be much better - you don't really notice this someday as it gets closer and closer, you simply wake up one day, look back and realize "damn, I made it to the infamous 'someday'".
That's what it felt like to Johnny right now, he supposed. He was walking down the hall of his department holding a piece of paper he thought he would never see anymore: his bachelor's thesis acceptance form.

He was finally going to be able to start working on his bachelor's thesis. He only had this thesis, one lab module and one exam left until graduation. He didn't want to praise the day before the evening, but it looked like he was going to obtain this diploma after all. Like, for real. It felt almost untrue.

He kept walking, letting those thoughts sink in. When a dumb smile formed on his lips, he didn't even stop it.
He was so excited to tell Ghost about the thesis. He stopped and took out his phone. He opened the chat with Ghost: the last text was a picture he had sent of Charlotte being her usual cuddly self, lying in one of her funny poses, to which Ghost had simply added a "laugh emoji" reaction. Three days ago. No sign of life on either side since then. Things were probably still awkward, eh?

Ah, enough with the self-sabotaging thoughts, he was going to text him.

Hey, I got my thesis accepted!!!

Hmmm... Nah, too out of the blue. Johnny erased the message. Perhaps he could tell Ghost next time at work and go with just a little teaser for now.

Hey hey, I have great news to tell!!! :)

God. What a main character he was. What was he even doing? He erased the message.

You know what, he was going to tell Ghost in person. He had a couple of days to come up with a less self-centered way to announce the achievement to the man.

He stepped out of the building and into a sunny day - spring was definitely here at last. The temperature was still chill, as it always was during spring, but the sunlight made it feel extra warm and enjoyable; sunlight, what a rare sight! Maybe he was elated from the thesis thing, but it felt like the skies were really in his favour today.

"Johnny!" he heard the familiar voice of Gary Sanderson summon his name. A beaming Gary was trotting towards him. Johnny waved and smiled. Things were smooth between them, it was as if the enthusiasm in Gary was inexhaustible. "Enthusiasm about Johnny", Farah would be prompt to specify if she were there, but that suggestion was still way too absurd to Johnny the Marble-Headed.

"You're in a good mood," Gary noticed. Even the sidewalk could probably notice Johnny's good mood today, but yeah, good observation.

"Aye," Johnny confirmed and handed the prized piece of paper to Gary, "lookie here." Gary examined the paper and smiled from ear to ear, "here comes Johnny MacTavish!" he put an arm around Johnny's shoulder and gave him a friendly squeeze, "you got this in the bag, mate, I am sure of it," he cheered on, and the two began to walk side by side, looking for a place to get a hot beverage and a sandwich for lunch.

"So, ah, Jo," Gary started, getting flustered as he often did, "I had a really good time the other day," he began, referring to the date-non-date-or-maybe-actually-date they had a few days prior. Yup, that episode existed, as much as Johnny wanted to erase it from his memory - not because he had a bad time at all, but rather because of the embarrassment of not understanding that it had been a date until the very end of it. Few people would be as dense as Johnny about it. Johnny smiled kindly, "aye, I had a good time too," he replied.

Gary smiled awkwardly, gesturing as if the words were stuck in his throat and trying to come out.
"What?" Johnny asked, unsure if he should have felt amused or concerned. Gary sighed. "Would you want to do it again? Say, tomorrow night maybe?" he offered, blushing a little.

Johnny reflected for a moment; Yup, he was free tomorrow evening. He smiled and shrugged back, "Sure, we can do that!"

Gary seemed... confused. As if the answer given by Johnny was not the one he was expecting or hoping for. Johnny furrowed his brows.
Gary stopped walking and turned to face Johnny, placing both hands on his shoulders. "Look," he began in what sounded like an apology, "I don't know if you still don't get it, or if you're being polite, or what else." What was this guy on about?! "Uhm... And I don't know how else to ask you. Or yes I probably do. But."

And then he gently pulled Johnny towards him and pressed lips against his.

"Date me," he went on after pulling away, "maybe. No, actually, no 'maybe'. Date me. If you'd want to." He kept his eyes sealed, as if he was afraid to look, adding an extra "I would want to."

What the hell.

Johnny did not have time to even figure out where the floor and the ceiling were, he felt like it had all happened within the blink of an eye, he was so taken by surprise he had barely realized that it was his turn to speak now. His turn to answer. Had Gary Sanderson actually just kissed him? And asked him out for real for real? Meaning he had to have an answer?

While Johnny's mind spiraled in a whirlwind of a billion thoughts, Gary had opened one eye. "You don't have to say yes, of course - you don't have to say anything! Just... Think about it, perhaps," he rambled on, in a way that Johnny couldn't help but find cute.

"No, aye," Johnny cut him off, "sure, let's do this."
Sure, he could have reflected on it for a while before answering - but is there really any use in reflecting on this kind of things? You should rather give yourself a very short time interval instead, Johnny had told himself, giving yourself that extra pressure is what makes you really see what's your ultimate answer. It is kinda like flipping a coin: you don't really flip the coin because you can't choose between head and tails; you flip a coin because it is only once the coin is rotating mid-air that you find yourself thinking "oh, I hope it's tails". And that's how you really make your choice.

And Johnny's choice was: sure, why not. Gary was a sweet, and cute, and adorable guy, one who brought a lot of positive energy around Johnny. And he clearly fancied Johnny a lot. And he was great boyfriend material, a guy that would never let your happiness go neglected, one that cares for you openly. There was virtually nothing one could find against it.

"...Really?" Gary opened both eyes wide, his expression now between incredulous and beaming again.
"Aye," Johnny repeated, "yes, sounds good to me," reiterated Johnny with a smile.

Gary exhaled sharply. With a little hesitation, he slid both hands from Johnny's shoulders all the way down and held his hands. "Okay, cool!" He said awkwardly, but nonetheless excitedly. "God I thought I was going to explode," he added in the middle of a huge sigh, finally letting go of the tension. Johnny chuckled lightly and said: "Speaking of which, let's get your big brain something to eat, aye?"
The two resumed their walk down campus.

That was his attempt at being flirty, or maybe cheesy, towards Gary. Either way it was a pretty awful attempt. But Johnny had always been pretty bad at this game, right?

Chapter Text

So. Johnny and Gary were a thing. A couple, two individuals who dated each other. Yup.

It felt a little strange at first: Johnny had not been in an actual relationship in a long while, his recent carnet being a sad collection of things that seemed to go somewhere but eventually didn't, little flings that never took off for good, crushes he had kept unconfessed, crushes he had confessed but had been met with disaster rejection. The one with Ghost was one such example.

This one however, was a rare case of success!
Well, one could argue that Gary Sanderson kinda threw himself at him. He had been head over heels for Johnny since very early on, despite Johnny stubbornly refused to recognize that. He didn't play hard to catch at all, there was not much longing nor much tribulation of any kind.

Maybe there didn't have to be tribulation. Who said that the one "good relationship" had to be a tough one to win? Sometimes things could be simple and straight-forward. Right? Just because you didn't have to fight so hard for it, doesn't mean it's not the right one for you.

Sometimes Johnny found himself wondering about such things. For most of the time, however, he tried to keep his mind off the matter and enjoy the bliss of this new exciting adventure with his love interest. His boyfriend Gary.

Johnny had not even begun to get used to the word "boyfriend" yet, the two syllables would still refuse to come out of his mouth whenever he had to mention Gary. He would often opt for "my friend", "my lad", but "my boyfriend" was not quite working yet. Johnny was aware that Gary might have felt sad or hurt if he had known about this... wording difficulty; it felt so soon, though! Johnny was sure that the difficult term would turn ripe by itself at the right time: he was probably going to use the B-word without even noticing, one of those days, so nonchalantly. He was going to let it happen naturally rather than force it out.

Getting used to this new kind of situation was a slow process in general: Johnny would find himself thinking "Whoa, what are ye doing?!" every time Gary held his hand, only to realize that ah, true, this is what we do now. He started waking up to a "good morning" text, leaving a "good night" text before he hit the hay as well. It was a simple but sweet little routine thing.
It was like Gary always knew what to do to make Johnny feel... adored, for a lack of a better word: every morning he would wait for Johnny at the bus stop, serve him his bestest smile, walk with him to the coffee stall on campus and ask him about his upcoming day as they walked. Johnny began to notice how Gary was much more prone to asking questions rather than talking about himself, as though anything about Johnny was in any case more exciting about anything himself. Johnny wasn't sure he enjoyed this kind of spotlight always pointed at him, but he supposed it was sweet, a sign that you're cared about.

"I was thinking we could go to the Science Fair this weekend," began Gary as he fidgeted with his paper cup, letting it spin in slow circles. If the guy had a tail, it would never stop wagging, Johnny thought. "There's going to be all sorts of cool things - not too nerdy, I promise you!" he added rising his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Johnny pondered. Had he known himself just a bit better, he would have figured out he was experiencing some preliminary symptoms of relationship burnout - all this was really sweet and exciting, the part that he hadn't yet realized was that it was moving too fast. Too much too soon. In his inexperience, he was getting carried away by Gary's never-ending excitement without realizing that he was craving some time away from it. Didn't mean that he wanted "out", more like he could have used "a little bit less". They had been seeing each other almost every day on campus, and almost everyday outside of school: sometimes it was to study, sometimes to go out on a date of whatever kind, sometimes at Johnny's place to chill and cuddle in front of the telly. Cuddling was literally all it was, they hadn't taken it any further than that yet, much to Johnny's relief; he was definitely not ready to go anywhere past a tepid makeout episode, not yet, and he didn't have any rush in that department.

Yet despite his undertow, he genuinely considered attending the Science Fair.
"I'd love to," he began, "but I've got the final lab test coming up next Monday and, ye know, want to be ready-ready."
Gary pouted, probably in a joking manner. "Bummer, sucks to be dating a booksmart honey," he joked, although Johnny felt a tad offended by that comment. Gary seemed to pick up on that reaction very quickly, because he was prompt to add "I'm just kidding. I get it, I was almost as committed as you in my undergraduate days." He scratched the back of his neck a bit nervously, "do your spectacular thing, MacTavish, if you are left with some spare time and want to check it out, give me a call, okay?"
God, he was so insufferably adorable and accommodating.

Johnny smiled and nodded. "Aye, I will," he confirmed. Maybe he was going to be able to make time for a quick visit to the exhibition, no need to exclude it a priori.

Gary served another one of his sweet golden retriever smiles. "Great, awesome! I've gotta go now, I'll see you later, gorgeous," he dismissed Johnny with a peck on his cheek. "Later!" echoed Johnny with a wave of his hand.

Yeah nah, the boyfriend life was not bad at all.

The clock hit 6 P.M. sharp when the vet clinic's entrance door opened, allowing a man inside. It was Johnny's last customer for the day, a rather scruffy-looking man in his fifties who took clearly a lot more care for his cat than he did for himself. Johnny was done grooming his stunning Maine coon with perfect timing and no trouble whatsoever; that big boy was as majestic as he was well-behaved, he almost looked like he enjoyed the bath and the brushing to shed the excess fur, definitely one of Johnny's favourite customers.
"Evening, young lad," the man greeted Johnny with an amicable tone, "has Olaf given you any trouble?"
Johnny shook his head and shrugged with a polite smile, "Nae, not a bit, sir!" he reassured him, handing the massive cat carrier over. He could have sworn he saw the man lose his balance a little, upon taking the box with his giant four-legged friend. "Ah, you've done a wonderful work I see, thank you!" he sentenced, offering Johnny a handshake. Weird, but Johnny shook it anyway, "was a pleasure, sir, come visit us again," he added in his best PR voice.

Johnny got ready to clock out.
Apron back on the hanger, backpack in order, coat on. He headed out of the staff room and into the corridor: the double door of the clinic room rested closed as usual, the small blurred windows in the centre revealing the lights were on and someone was busy walking left and right behind them.
Johnny urged himself to go check in on Ghost, provided that it was indeed him, the shadow Johnny could see behind those panes; he had been meaning to tell the man about his recent achievements in school, had been meaning to do that for a few days now, but the time and the means never felt quite right to do it. Well, there was it, the moment he had been waiting for. No big deal at all, he was going to deliver the news like he had meant to, easy as pie.

"Hey," he attempted, peeking from one of the doors he had barely opened.
"Johnny, hey," the familiar voice greeted him back. Johnny stepped inside the room: it was in pristine conditions as usual, barely anything out of place except the tools strictly necessary to work. Ghost stood in the middle of the room, next to some equipment Johnny couldn't even imagine the use of; the man's hair had been growing longer and longer, though it managed not to look shabby nor too wild, falling down his forehead and eyebrows in just the right way. And the unmissable short-sleeved scrub revealing the tattoo sleeves, of course, this lad was incapable of feeling cold it seemed. Ghost was standing there motionless, looking almost unsure what he was supposed to do, as if he was waiting for a sergeant to command him to rest. So stunning it was unfair, just as usual. Then he snapped back to reality and abandoned his business. "What's new?" he asked Johnny, leaning against the counter by the wall.

Johnny had the weirdest feeling about this: although Ghost looked seemingly normal, he couldn't help but notice some kind of tension in him. Maybe he had forgotten that this was the regular Ghost experience, maybe he had always been like that and the memories that Johnny had of an actually chill Ghost were just fabricated by his own delusional mind.

"Ah, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," Johnny began,
"Me too actually," Ghost burst, interrupting Johnny mid-sentence, "uh, I've been meaning to talk to you too."
Oh, cool, not what I was expecting but cool, was Johnny's first reaction, though he did feel the voice in the back of his head adding: I'm not sure why you haven't fucking texted me in a decade then, if you were meaning to talk. But he suppressed that thought with all the strength he had; he really disliked catching himself being spiteful, he found spite so unnecessary and bad.

"You go first then," offered Johnny, but Ghost waved his hands in front of him, "nah, please, you go ahead."

"Well, alright, uh..." Johnny began, "I finally started working on my thesis! I had this research topic in mind for a couple of years now, I had pitched it to a professor back then and he was happy to take me in and be my advisor now, so..." he paused and nodded, "...we got that going! Still got a few things in the way, but I'm getting closer to graduating," he explained.

"That's great news," Ghost commented, changing the crossing of his arms against his chest, "I'm... really happy to hear it," he added, and Johnny was sure that he meant that, but why did he look so unhappy then? He looked more like he was resisting the urge to flee, bearing with that conversation out of politeness and against his own true will. Nervous, or in some kind of pain.
Johnny's mind traveled back once again to that day when they agreed on a truce, on being friends. Because Ghost missed him, as he had said in his own words. Why were things still so weird between them? Johnny could have sworn that the atmosphere was not so tense on that day, not remotely. He didn't know what to do to fix it.

"Also I'm seeing someone," he blurted out.

Maybe this would have done the trick. Maybe, if Ghost knew that Johnny wasn't going to pursue him anymore, he would have loosened up and everything would have gone back to normal. No more tension, no more awkwardness. "It's a guy from uni," he went on, even though any additional information was completely unnecessary, "well, not exactly from uni in the sense that we're in the same class... we're not in the same class, but uh... he's also a student. Or sort of." Okay, enough info, really, shut up now, Johnny.

Ghost had frozen. Revealing no emotion whatsoever, he just stared at Johnny, arms crossed, without even blinking. "Oh," he responded after a couple of never-ending seconds. He uncrossed his arms and started making his way back to whatever that thingamabob was that he was working on earlier, "nice. I'm happy for you," he added, already half-immersed in the task again.
God damn it. Nothing was going to work on this guy. He seemed almost disappointed, or even bored. No relief, no tension dissipating, just that bleak "Oh" that had left things exactly as they were a moment before. Johnny sighed, feeling pretty sad and dispirited. "Thanks," he replied, unsure what else he should have said.

Wow, now that had worked like a charm.

"Ah, what did you want to tell me about?" he remembered, just a split second before he left.
Ghost froze again, though Johnny could not see the expression on his face as he had his back turned. The man remained motionless for another second or two, letting an "Ah..." linger in the air almost as if he was trying to buy some time. Then he sighed and said, "Ah, yeah, the vaccine."

"The vaccine?" repeated Johnny, feeling puzzled.

"Yes, Johnny, the vaccine. It's due next week, I'll have Price call you to schedule an appointment," Ghost explained, sounding rushed, almost annoyed by the conversation.

"Huh," Johnny reflected, "I don't remember any upcoming booster deadlines for Charlotte, are you sure-"
"Johnny," Ghost interrupted him again, this time sounding definitely irritated, looking at Johnny with just his eyes and the rest of his body facing the weird machinery, "I've got work to do," he reprimanded. Got it, conversation over.

Johnny didn't know how to react. He just felt a little silly and guilty for taking up so much of his time during working hours. "Right, sure, umh, I'll see you around then," he muttered amidst his mixed emotions. Ghost gave nothing more than an "Hm" in response, already busy with his stuff again. Johnny turned around and headed out.

Chapter Text

On that afternoon, Johnny MacTavish was enjoying something he hadn't been enjoying in quite a while: a shift at the library.

It was a normal and uneventful weekday shift, nothing special about it per se, just another rainy day at the library he knew like the back of his hand by now. It just felt so good to be back.
He caught himself shooting long glances all around the place, savouring the surroundings as one does when, well, they return after a long while. Truthfully, it hadn't been that long, but between school and everything else, it had felt like ages to Johnny.

The aisles with the shelves full of books, the occasional visitors browsing with excitement, the students chuckling in the reading room, the comforting smell of paper and of the old and well-maintained moquette.
This place and all the beautiful people who worked in it were so dear to Johnny. He remembered the person he was when he first started attending the library - a young freshman with many ideas and hopes, and what seemed to be inexhaustible energy to invest in those. Over the course of those couple of years, he had gone through a lot, the very best and the very worst, and he had learnt many lessons, some more and some less pleasant to learn. And this place had had his back all the while, acting like his second home and second family every time he needed it.

He was currently flipping through an illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland, unable to resist the urge to admire the drawings instead of reading the actual story. Surely it had been a busy and challenging couple of months for him; now that he only had a final exam and his thesis left to do, not only could he afford to be back at the library more often, he could also take a break from his studies and actually enjoy a good book for a bit. It felt so refreshing.

"What are you reading, handsome?"
Gary's voice pulled Johnny back from the magical world of Alice, almost spooking him a little. "Hey," he whispered, closing the book so his boyfriend could read the title on the hardcover. Gary was slightly leaning towards him from behind the helpdesk, elbows and forearms planted on the wooden desktop. The creamy white turtleneck sweater wrapped around him gently, reminding Johnny of a feathery soft duvet just like the one he had on his bed nearly all year long.

Gary gave Johnny his usual beaming smile. "Alice in Wonderland," he read out loud, "peculiar choice!"
Johnny shrugged. "I guess so," he commented. It was so weird, Johnny couldn't really understand how he felt in that moment; he wasn't exactly bothered by Gary's ambush, it was just that... he was enjoying that moment by himself, it felt as if Gary's arrival had somewhat spoiled it.
Ugh. Johnny felt guilty for feeling like that. Gary had done nothing wrong, yet he was bothered.

"Are you alright?" Gary seemed to read Johnny's thoughts - at least partly. Ahh, now he felt twice as guilty, like he had gotten caught in a forbidden act.
"Aye," he lied, "just a wee bit tired, is all." Gary nodded, then he leaned further over the counter and planted a quick kiss on the Scot's temple. Always so gentle, this lad. Johnny chuckled at the unexpected and stealthy gesture, such a sweet one, which probably meant that Gary could not read Johnny's thoughts in full, he supposed. He was pretty sure Gary wouldn't be so spontaneous and tender, had he known Johnny had just formulated a thought that resembled "leave me alone".

What in the heavens was wrong with him?

"Alright," Gary said as he pulled away on the opposite side of the counter. He seemed a little dispirited, but he wasn't losing his usual fond smile, and Johnny felt relieved for that. He gestured at the reading room: "I'll be over there working, I've gotta finish drafting a couple sections of the article before I can call it a day. Maybe we could grab a bite later?" he offered.

"Sure," Johnny confirmed with a nod.
"Great, I'll see you later then!" Gary exclaimed, careful not to raise his voice above the limit allowed by the environment. "Later," echoed Johnny - unable, God, unable to stop the feeling of relief for being left to his business.

His hands reached for the book again, eager to get lost in a story that wasn't his own.

This pathetic back-and-forth really had to stop.

Ghost was getting more and more pissed at himself for being unable to stop behaving like he did.
Johnny must have been sick of him by now. Hell, everyone around him must have been sick of him by now. Even the people who bore with him the most were starting to show signs of insufferance.
"Listen, I am speaking from my heart, hermano," Alejandro from the coffee shop had told him the other day, "I love you like you are my brother, but you gotta get your shit together, man. I can't cover your ass for eternity."

Ghost couldn't blame Ale for reprimanding him; that episode had been especially bad. Like "call the police" level of bad.
After spending the last remnants of the night post-work getting piss drunk at a club, Ghost had had the brilliant idea of visiting Ale and Rodolfo at the café; while the staff tried to push through the breakfast rush hour, Ghost had sat down at a table and stared viciously at the customers until someone was careless enough to stare back at Ghost for a moment too long, at which point he had stood up, slightly wobbling due to the drunkness still lingering, he had approached the poor stranger and he had threatened him with words one shall not have the audacity to repeat, until things nearly escalated into a full brawl right in the middle of the café.
It was not even 9 o'clock in the morning, God damn it. Ale had to drag Ghost out of the store forcibly - while he might not have had enough muscle to overtake a sober Ghost, he had enough to overtake an intoxicated one. He had told Ghost those words, and Ghost knew the guy was speaking from his heart and that he was genuinely concerned about him and sick of his heartbreak bullshit. He had to be thankful that his mates were able to de-escalate matters and that nobody had pressed charges or called the police after that pitiful episode. He had to be thankful that someone, somehow, still had his back despite all.

Things had gone to shit. Just when he had thought they couldn't get any worse regarding his own demeanor, Ghost had found out that his most cherished train had left the station for good. What an idiot, what an absolute tool he had been. So stubborn, so indecisive, that not only had he rejected the one lad he was hoping to confess or be confessed to - nah, not just that, Sir - he had dwelled on the 'if's for so long, for so unfathomably long, that the one lad had moved on. And God, he was so pissed at Johnny when he had casually dropped the news the other day - 'by the way, Ghost, I am seeing someone', like it mattered so little, like it was a joke.

No, Ghost was not really mad at Johnny. Ghost couldn't, in his rightest conscience, be mad at Johnny.
Johnny had every right to move on. Ghost was pissed at himself.

Ghost was pissed at himself like he had been for most of his life.

But that one episode at the coffee shop had been a bit of a wake-up call for the man: he had hit rock bottom, and he had silently made the resolution to quit being an asshole once and for all. He wasn't a fucking kid anymore, chrissake, he had to grow a spine and some maturity and move forward for good this time. That didn't mean that he had to forget about Johnny MacTavish or suppress his feelings with all he had - he just had to learn to live with them, soberly, peacefully, without being a loose cannon for everybody around him.

With that goal in mind, Ghost began retracing his steps back to healthier habits: the gym, the portrait sketching, the reading. And finally, after what felt like a whole semester, he had finished reading 'Around the World in Eighty Days' by Jules Verne.
It was no life-changing novel to him, but he had somewhat enjoyed it. He had fond memories of those days at the library, back when he was struggling to make progress in the reading room, and Johnny would sit next to him and share the struggle with him.

Well, that time was gone now, and the book had been read until the end. Johnny was probably done with that enormous Chemistry textbook too by now - according to his accounts, he was almost done with his bachelor studies entirely. He was fucking nailing it, that kid. Ghost was so proud of him.

And there he was now, just a few feet away from Ghost. At the library, at the helpdesk. Ghost chuckled at the déjà vu: same grumpy Ghost Riley who came to return a book, same helpdesk, same stunning guy with a horrible mohawk ready to serve him.

This was Ghost's chance to move on with his life, the way he intended to. The right way.

He felt like he could barely contain a smile when he approached the desk. Alright, be normal and all.

Johnny didn't see him coming; he seemed to be lost in a book, though Ghost had no idea which book it was. His hair looked even longer than usual - he had seen the guy no later than a week ago, how long can hair grow in such a short time? He must have been imagining it. He was wearing that varsity jacket Ghost had seen a few times before, and a plain black T-shirt underneath that fit his figure just perfectly. Just perfect.

Fuck. This was not a good start. Ghost was staring at Johnny, openly, as if the world was not all around the two of them. Ghost better get a grip and return to reality.
Wake up, lad: the lad has a lad now.

Ghost blinked a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of that hypnosis. Alright, Ghost approaches Johnny: take two. And... Action.

He took a few steps forward, and Johnny finally lifted his gaze toward him.
He looked... surprised, but Ghost wasn't sure whether it was surprise good or surprise bad. To be fair, he was surprised to see Johnny at the desk too; it had been a while since he had seen him actually working at the library. But it wasn't a surprise bad for Ghost: a surprise surprising, a surprise kind of scary, a surprise that made the room spin all around him, but most definitely not a surprise bad.

"Ghost!" Johnny called him. It was hard to explain: even though Johnny was not physically smiling, Ghost could swear that his eyes were.
Nah, Christ, he was reading into nothing, enough of that already.

He gave Johnny a nod as a way to say hi back. "What brings you in today?" Johnny inquired, closing his book, which turned out to be 'Alice in Wonderland'.

Ghost placed the Jules Verne novel on the desk. "Ah! Ye made it!" Johnny said with a smile. Lord, he really was stunning. "Eh, took me bloody long enough," Ghost mumbled, after realizing he had to re-borrow the damn thing at least once or twice. Hell, it had taken as much time for Ghost to read the novel as it had taken for the protagonists of the story to travel across the fucking world.

"But yeah, about time I return it," Ghost sighed and stated his intentions, "aaand... I take this one with me," he added while placing another book on the counter, 'Treasure Island' by R. L. Stevenson. Johnny swiftly unlocked the computer at the corner of the desk and started the procedure with a "Roger, Sir".

Ghost stood silent while he watched Johnny speedrun through the management application with ease, so much that he didn't even need to click with the mouse - he knew all the keyboard shortcuts like he had scripted those himself. Tab. Tab Tab Tab. Tab, Enter, Tab, Spacebar, F5 and Enter again. The printer behind Johnny started whirring sooner than Ghost could have said his full name, which was not a particularly long one.
He stared in awe and could not help but wonder: what had happened to the old Johnny? The clumsy, scaredy young lad he was when they had first met, the one Ghost had made so uncomfortable back then. The guy who could not put together a three-word sentence and looked like he could have started crying ugly in the middle of the room. That Johnny seemed to be gone. In his place, there was a serene guy. Well, perhaps Ghost's perception was deceiving him in telling that Johnny did not look like the happiest ever, but nevertheless he looked serene. Like he was carrying a burden much lighter than before.

Rationally, Ghost figured that it was the result of Johnny's student career picking up the pace. Irrationally -or was it so absurd?- Ghost could not help but wonder if the burden that Johnny got off his shoulders was actually Ghost himself.

"Ahem, alright," Johnny halted Ghost's train of thought. He was folding the form he had just printed in half before he would hand it to Ghost. "Ye know the rule, return in 30 days," he said, wearing a little smile - a little, purely polite smile.

"So how d'you do?" Ghost blurted out. God damn it. The conversation had clearly become an inconvenience to Johnny already, and he couldn't even stop himself from dragging it that little bit longer. Prying into Johnny's business like he had any right to do so whatsoever.

"Ah," Johnny looked surprised, like he wasn't expecting such a question. He smiled and turned his stare down at the keyboard. Look, Johnny, tell me to go to hell at once, I will understand and see myself out. "It's, uh... It's been alright. Lab work is going well, partial results are looking interesting... It's pretty neat. Aye, is all good," he debriefed Ghost, conveniently leaving out the personal life part where he was a boyfriend who was dating a boyfriend.

Ghost shrugged, "Good for you. I mean that," he said, trying not to sound like he was making meaningless small talk. He did mean that; he was genuinely glad to see Johnny in a better place.

"Thanks," replied Johnny with another polite little smile. He reached for the Jules Verne novel, just in time for Ghost to remember one small but important thing. "Ah!" he leaped forward and put a palm on the book to stop Johnny from taking it away. He opened it and started flipping through the pages, feeling a weird flash of heat rushing through his cheeks: "Sorry, I almost forgot something," he mumbled as he flipped.

He found the thing towards the end of the book, quite predictably. The 'Grumpy Lion' bookmark Johnny had given him a long time ago, one of Ghost's most cherished little trinkets; it filled him with such warmth and homesickness every time he glanced back at that smiling maned little guy who was beginning to suffer a little damage from extensive usage, despite Ghost had been very careful to preserve it as nicely as he could.

"The bookmark," Johnny said in a whisper, "You... You still have it..."

Ghost looked up and his eyes met Johnny's: he looked rather surprised, shocked as if he had just solved the riddle of a lifetime. Lost inside those big blue eyes, Ghost felt like the words were getting stuck inside his throat, even though he was trying to say something that seemed so straightforward and obvious to him: "Of-... Of course I still have it," he managed to say. Luckily, he had had enough consideration to avoid adding a 'What a dumb fucking observation, kid.' Because it was, indeed, that obvious to him.

"I-..." Johnny began, but it seemed like he, too, was having trouble formulating sentences. Neither of them said a word. They kept staring into each other's eyes, seemingly lost, seemingly speechless.

And for a moment, Ghost thought. Ghost suspected. Ghost possibly even hoped. Maybe he was not imagining this moment they were having right now. He just wanted to step forward and kiss the daylights out of Johnny right now.

Oh, fucking hell. Ghost's stomach contracted in a painful spasm as he brought himself back to the real world. Is this how we are planning on changing things? The whole 'learning to live with my feelings for him'? Moving on and all that crap?
Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

He exhaled sharply and retrieved the lion bookmark, quickly as if he was trying to go unnoticed with that gesture. "I'm gonna go read now," he told Johnny, carefully avoiding eye contact now.
"Aye, ahem, sure, see you," Johnny dismissed him.

Ghost headed over to the reading room, slowly but with resolve. Committed to his plan, still. He was going to sit down in the reading room and read his new book, and he was going to do that normally, minding Johnny's presence at the desk in a normal way.

He sat down, trying to keep his eyes on the cover of the book; surely he was imagining it due to his own emotional turmoil, but he could feel Johnny's eyes on him.
It was not going to be easy, but Ghost already knew that.

"So," Gary was back at Johnny's desk in what Johnny perceived as a bare handful of minutes. "I was thinking we could eat at this Indian place I like," he began.

Johnny was doing his best to focus on Gary's ideas, but he found himself investing an enormous amount of energy into trying not to peek down the reading room. Ghost was just sitting there... normally, minding his business like it was the normalest thing ever, and for some weird reason it was making Johnny uneasy. It wasn't that weird. Ghost always had a way of making Johnny feel uneasy; he figured it was just a 'Ghost thing' that couldn't be avoided no matter the circumstances.

The silence that fell around him brought Johnny back to the moment, just in time to realize Gary was waiting for his input now. Shit, what was the topic... Something something Indian restaurant that he liked. "Sure, I fancy Indian food," he told Gary, trying to put in some proper excitement.

Gary rested his chin on his palm and smiled at Johnny. "What about a dumpling bar instead?"

Dumplings. Dumpling bar. Johnny chew on that thought and scanned his surroundings in the meantime: when his scan reached that corner of the reading room, he caught Ghost staring in their direction for a split second - barely a split second, so much so that he thought he might have hallucinated it, the man went back to his book very swiftly and shifted position on his seat, burying deeper in his usual dog hoodie. Was Johnny imagining things or did Ghost look unusually upset or uncomfortable?

"...Earth to MacTavish?" Gary teased him back to reality once again. God, he was awful at paying attention today. "Ah, sorry," he apologized and realized he had no idea what the current dinner option was, "come again, please?"

Gary frowned a little. "Dumpling bar. What's up with you today?"

Great question, ugh. Johnny shook his head in defeat, feeling genuinely sorry and mortified. "I don't know," he admitted, "I'm just thinking a lot, ye know, about school and the thesis report and..." he shrugged, "I'm a wee bit tired, stuff on my mind is all."

"Yeah, I saw that," confirmed Gary on the other side of the desk. He placed his hand on Johnny's, stroking the back of the scot's hand with his thumb gently. "It's gonna be alright, you know," Gary comforted him, "you're going to be alright, you got this in the bag no matter what life will throw at you next."

Johnny finally locked in to the here and now. It was so sweet and wholesome, the way Gary cared for him. He smiled and squeezed Gary's hand in his for a second, "aye, I know, thank you," he said. Gary placed a swift peck on Johnny's cheek, causing Johnny to smile and blush like a teenager. "Dumpling bar sounds perfect."

"Alright, great, I'll go collect my things," Gary declared. Just then, the lovebirds' attention was caught by something moving past them: a guy, a tall broad man with a black coat and a book in his hand, was heading toward the exit, looking pretty pissed like he'd had a bad day or a long streak of those.

"I remember that guy," Gary whispered, "does he live all his life with a stick up his arse like that?"

Johnny had no idea why, but he felt annoyed by that insinuation. Gary probably meant no harm; he was pointing out something about a stranger - something which, by the way, was true most of the time. There was a reason Ghost had earned the title of 'Grumpy' for himself. Still, Johnny felt like he should have defended the man.

"Nay, he's not always like that," he whispered back, remembering the days when he was able to witness a non-grumpy Ghost. Back when Ghost had come all the way to the pet store to help him with Charlotte's food, when he invited Johnny over for an improbable playdate between his dog and the man's cats. Definitely not a grumpy Ghost, that one.

"Oh, you know the lad," Gary observed, with a tone of voice that Johnny was almost sure was one of slightly forced nonchalance. Damn right he knew the lad.

"Aye. He's a friend, I suppose."

Chapter Text

"Five weeks."

"Five weeks?"

"Aye, about three more to finish the labwork, plus one to put together a nice report, and I should be done. The fifth week is only allocated in case things get horribly delayed for whatever reason, I should not need it."

Johnny and Farah were walking with Charlotte, taking in some rare spring sunlight. The two had managed to meet up for a couple of hours, an event that had become awfully rare those days; between academic duties and romantic life Johnny had somewhat lost sight of his surroundings, it felt as if everything around him moved much faster than him all of a sudden. Three weeks for the outside world had felt like fifteen minutes for Johnny, and it was only in a moment like this, walking side by side with his dear friend, that he could notice the mismatch in the pace of all things.

"That is mad," Farah observed, talking about Johnny's final stretch until the thesis discussion, "only four weeks to finish your thesis?" She was seriously impressed, borderline concerned, by the commitment of her friend to finish within such a short timespan.

"Honestly, I plan on finishing it all within three weeks even," replied Johnny with resolve, like it was the most reasonable plan ever. He was in the zone now, and in a stubborn kind of way: very few things could have gotten him out of the zone.
Let's be real, being in the zone served as a perfect escape from whatever was going on in his personal life. For example, the fact that he was growing more and more in need of personal space from Gary and was utterly incapable of asking for it. Gary was not imposing, it was Johnny who was unable to say 'No' to any initiative out of fear of disappointing his boyfriend. It was as if Johnny was afraid that Gary would start overthinking and reading too much into his refusal.
Johnny was overthinking about Gary's potential overthinking - that was a new level, Johnny had unlocked meta-overthinking.

As for Ghost, Johnny positively refused to acknowledge the situation with Ghost.
What situation anyway? There was no situation, Ghost had eloquently established that. What Johnny had experienced at the library the other day was nothing more than normal friendship. It would have been foolish to develop expectations for anything different from that: friendship. And besides, he had no reason to wish for any expectations to be met, he was settled and happy now. He had moved on.

He had no intention of acknowledging that this was yet another thing he was running from by hyperfocusing on school.

The two made their way back to Johnny's place; he freed Charlotte, refilled her bowl and pulled out some snacks for him and Farah as well, joining her on the couch and laying the tray with the snack feast on the coffee table in front of them.

A brief silence filled the atmosphere, and Johnny was quick to realize that Farah was trying to pick the right words. "Jo..." she began, only to sort of choke mid-sentence. "What?" Johnny asked after waiting a couple of seconds. She sighed and began to gesture . "I... I don't know how to say this right, but I am a bit worried about you."

Johnny furrowed his brows and shifted on his seat so he could face her better, "What ever do you mean?"
His life was going rather great! Graduation was right around the corner, he finally had a nice boyfriend, life at work was alright and low-key, he truly couldn't imagine what Farah could be concerned about.

"Johnny, you know how much I care about you, right?" she tried to find a better angle to hit the nail. Johnny smiled and reached for her hand, giving it a tender squeeze to confirm that he knew perfectly well. "I know you haven't been really complaining about anything, but I can't help noticing... I do not see you happy, Jo," she finally spilled with a sympathetic smile.

Johnny blinked with surprise. Seriously, where was this coming from?
"I... Nay, I am okay! I don't know what you're talking about," he chuckled, feeling almost amused by the absurdity of her claims. "Yes, exactly," responded Farah, "you are okay. I am not saying you are not okay, I am saying you don't seem happy. You are just... sitting through it all, at a time of your life when you should be rather beaming with excitement, and joy, and... And as much as I did not like the big guy from the library-"

"Okay where are you going with this?" Johnny asked rather abruptly. Why was Farah throwing Ghost in this equation?
As soon as those words came out of him, Johnny realized, much to his disappointment, that they sounded defensive. He resisted the urge to facepalm himself. Why was he defensive? She had barely mentioned the guy. She had barely mentioned anything at all, to be fair.

Farah looked down at her own hands, her brown eyes carrying a sense of impotence. "Look," she whispered, "I am not saying that I wish you and the big guy were a thing,"
Johnny let out a sigh of frustration: she knew exactly how that whole confession plan had worked out in the end, "and I am sorry that I have misread that situation and pushed you into an unsuccessful outcome," she added, reading the frustration on Johnny's face.

"I'm not saying that he was the one for you, I'm not even sure if there is such thing as 'the one', I just think that... You seem 'okay' with Gary - as I said before, just 'okay'." Johnny felt a wave of heat rushing to his face: once again and as usual, Farah knew exactly what was up with him, it really was unavoidable. Johnny wasn't too comfortable, being so vulnerable to the truth now. She went on: "I wish you were more than okay. I wish you were happy, excited, sparkling with the kind of energy that I just cannot see in you now. You deserve to feel more than just okay."

For a moment, Johnny was completely speechless and defenseless.

"Gary is a very nice guy, I have no doubt that he is a good partner to you, I guess I am afraid you might have rushed into this thing with him, or that you felt like settling, maybe." Her gaze was firm into Johnny's, she was a woman of brave heart and noble motives, never afraid to speak up her mind.

Johnny was still haunted by that feeling like his face was about to melt from the heat. There it was again, the feeling like he was a school boy who got caught with no homework done. He knew, he knew damn well, that Farah was right about everything she had said - he was just not ready to admit it.

"Will you guys stop worrying about me and my life?" he cried out at first. Nobody else had worried about him and his life like Farah, he had exaggerated that part on purpose to sound more convincing. Goodness, since when had he become unable to speak with his best friend normally? Realizing that he had once again gotten all defensive made him feel like crap. "Sorry about that," he apologized, "I didn't mean it. I really appreciate your concern, but I promise I'm fine! Fine as in happy and excited," he clarified, "and you're right: Gary is a very nice guy, and I'm happy with him, and we are a thing," he stated with a little too much emphasis, as if he had to convince Farah of all that. Truthfully, he had to convince himself. But he hoped that Farah would buy at least this half-lie. "We're happy, I'm happy," he reinforced.

Farah stared at him intensely for a few seconds, scanning for any additional information conveyed by Johnny's eyes; finally, she looked away and toward Charlotte, who was lying in her little bed right below the TV.
It seemed like Johnny had won the staring contest. For now.

"Alright, yeah, sure," she gave in, "all that matters to me is your well-being, you know," she pointed out, "I love you, dummy, I want you to be as happy as you can be."

Johnny smiled and felt reassured, but a part of him still wanted to get over with this conversation ASAP. "And I am beyond grateful for that," he continued Farah's sentence, "but really, there's nothing to worry about, okay? Can we drop it?"

Farah smiled, a bittersweet smile of someone who gave up the cause for now. "Yeah, sure, we can drop it," she declared.

Johnny nodded and turned on the TV, ready to put that conversation behind him.

But that conversation was gonna come back to haunt him soon after. It was gonna come back and go around in circles in his head again and again, until the ever so familiar spiral of anxiety would kick in and drag Johnny down with it, until the walls would close around him and nothing would make sense any longer.

Johnny could not foresee that now. Now the conversation was behind him, and he felt fine.

Author's Note

Hello, my precious ones.

For starters, I am so very unhappy about the final looks of this chapter, but I once again accidentally blinked a whole month away so here goes, much to my own disappointment.

Tons of things are going down in my life at the moment. I am steering the wheel of my professional life towards a much different direction, I have no idea if this maneuver will succeed or if it's gonna bring nothing but disappointment and shattered expectations - it is looking pretty good so far, much better than I had hoped for, but I will not celebrate until I actually make it.

I feel like crap for coming to this conclusion as my current occupation is more than decent under many aspects, but truthfully I cannot bring myself to enjoy what I currently do, and it's taking away so much joy and energy from my personal life as well. Send a little good energy my way, if you can, so that maybe this crazy shot I took at a different career actually lands somehow.

I think I'm gonna try to publish shorter chapters from now on, I really want to give this story its long awaited ending but it seems that I am physically incapable of keeping a decent rhythm with updates. I'm so mad at myself it's not even funny. I started this thing as a fun experiment, and it seems like I lost sight of the fun component and fell victim of self-imposed expectations and standards which plague so many aspects of my person. I will remind myself to just have fun, it's important to do so!!

I might also try to get a couple of chapters fully written before I resume posting again, Christmas break seems like a good time for this - provided that life does not collapse on me in the foreseeable future, that is.

In any case, happy holidays - and as usual, thank you so so much for reading still. ♥

xoxo, Nico

Chapter Text

Things were great.

That was what Johnny tried to tell Farah so insistingly, and he meant it. Things were objectively great: he was almost done with his bachelor program, he had passed nearly every exam with flying colours, he had a full deck of lovely friends, an honest job that made him feel content, an enviable boyfriend who was nothing but nice to him.

If one was willing to ignore Johnny's cognitive dissonance when it came to matters of heart, everything was indeed great.

Yet somehow, all Johnny needed was 24 hours alone with his thoughts; 24 hours had been enough to not only destroy an already precarious idea, but to also steer Johnny's mind in the completely opposite direction, with very unpleasant consequences on his well-being.
It would have been much better, much easier, to have this moment of self-reflection in the comforting company of a friend like Farah, but he had been stubborn enough to play it cool until she was momentarily convinced to desist: now that the moment of self-reflection came upon him forcefully he was all alone, no friend to help him go through it and stay away from the intrusive thoughts. And intrusive thoughts, they are good at what they do; they saw an opportunity and immediately took it.

What the hell was he doing? Where was he headed in life? Now that this academic journey was coming to an end, he had realized he had no idea what he wanted to do next - he was even more lost than he had been when he got out of high school. He should have had at least a general idea by now, but he had none. Not having a plan is for unprepared people, that was not something Johnny was. He felt so bad for not having a plan. So scared.

And let us not even get started with the Gary thing.

What the very hell was wrong with Johnny for being such a bad boyfriend to Gary?
It wasn't like he was actively being mean or bad in any extreme way; if that makes sense, he had been even worse than that: he had been indifferent. No matter how hard he tried, he could not keep up with Gary's energy, let alone match it. Up until that point, Johnny had told himself that it was normal, that it was only a matter of time and the habit would have kicked in, he just had to get used to this new boyfriend life and he would have gotten better at everything. Yet he was still failing at that. He wasn't sure whether Gary had not noticed or he was playing dumb, either way he now realized how scary it was for him to think about the possibility of Gary noticing. What hurt Johnny the most about this realization was the motive of his fear: he wasn't afraid that Gary would be hurt, he was more afraid that Gary would leave him. Johnny was afraid for his own sake, not Gary's. What kind of fucking partner acts so selfishly?!

He hadn't understood shit of the boyfriend life. He had fucked it up spectacularly - almost irreparably, it seemed. And he had no idea how to fix it.

He had moved on from the whole Ghost thing. He was sure of it. He had to be over it. He had come to terms with the non-feasibility of his silly little fantasy a while ago, he was positively no longer holding on to that hope.
That said, anyone with better self-awareness would have understood that giving up the hope did not necessarily imply no longer yearning for the damn person, but that was yet another thing he was only now beginning to discover and understand the hard way.

It made him feel ten times as shitty. Unworthy of his guy's affection, unworthy of anyone's affection really.

He really was a good for nothing piece of shit.

The deeper Johnny dug his own grave of thoughts of self-hatred, the harder it became to climb out of it. Soon enough he was no longer able to think clearly, his stomach became a messy washing machine in full spin cycle, he began to cry and sob and sob more and sob uncontrollably. Charlotte snuck her snoot under his arm, looking to reassure her two-legged friend.

"I'm sorry..." was all he could tell her, accompanying the words with a tender stroke behind her ears, "I'm just so sorry, Charlie."

Those kinds of episodes had always been a double-tap blow for Johnny, they made him feel like shit two times: one due to his intrusive thoughts and downward spirals, and one because everytime he had an episode he condemned some of his loved ones to worry about him. And the latter hit him far worse than the former - nobody should ever be worried or sad because of him, let alone his most cherished people.
His therapist had kindly explained to him that it is natural for them to worry, much like he worries for them, and that it's not selfish of him to rely on his friends' support when he needs it; as usual those words made a lot of sense on paper, but it wasn't as easy to put them into practice.

"...Johnny?"
The voice on the other line of the phone greeted him from a familiarly noisy environment. Johnny didn't respond at first, despite he was the one who had just initiated the call. He couldn't remember the last time he had called - God, he was awful to the bone. "...Darling, are you there?" the voice called again.

"Hi, ma," Johnny finally responded and couldn't help but lie and wipe off his tears, "aye, aye I'm here."
"What's the matter, honey, is everything alright?" asked his mom, most likely feeling concerned due to how rarely her son used to call. Johnny felt another barrage of tears threaten to storm out, he contracted every muscle of his face trying to shut it in. "Aye-.. Aye, I'm good, umh, how's everyone?" he asked, mostly in the attempt to shift mom's attention onto something else.

"Ah, we're alright," his mom began, "I'm babysitting the neighbors' kids as usual."
"Aye, it sure sounds like it," replied Johnny with a chuckle. He could hear the shouting of the kids in the background, running around the house playing games. Never a dull day at the MacTavish HQ. He could have told his mom about his progress with school, he could have told her about Gary -strangely enough he hadn't said anything to his parents about either yet, despite they would have been reasonably happy about both things- there were a handful of things he could've told his mom right now, but frankly he didn't feel like giving any sit-rep, he was just desperate for something to hold on to and get back up on his feet. He would have had plenty of time to give his ma a detailed report later, and he promised to himself to do so.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to hear from you, see how you were doing," Johnny cut it short, "I'll call another day, you sound busy," he took a little break before adding, "I love you, ye know?"

Mom remained silent for a long instant. She was definitely concerned. "Jo, are you really alright?" She insisted.
Johnny ran a palm on his face. There, now his mom was worried about him. Good job, dickhead.

"Aye, aye, just a wee bit tired from the studying, got a lot going on with a project," he half-lied. "I'll call you back. I promise. Take care." He cut it even shorter, and waited for mom's response.

"Aye," the response finally came with a sigh. Mom was convinced enough, phew. "You take care too. I'll talk to you soon. I love you so much, baby," she dismissed him and they both hung up.

It was the sum of those things, together with God knows what strange decision process that took place in Johnny's brain, that led to Johnny and Charlotte sitting on the bus now, headed somewhere Johnny was too mentally exhausted to question. Way too tired to ask himself what the hell was he thinking - and why the hell, of all places he could go, of all the people he could seek, he was riding a bus that was headed to Ghost's place.

Nope. He was not gonna ask himself questions about this idiotic blitz operation he had started.

Perhaps he could have remembered at least one thing though. A simple simple detail about Ghost's habits that only a selfish asshole like Johnny would not take into consideration when ringing the man's doorbell in the middle of the afternoon. A detail that suddenly became obvious when Ghost opened the door, looking as scruffy as someone who just woke the fuck up against his intentions because he fucking worked night shifts.

"Johnny..." Ghost murmured with a hand gripping the doorknob, squinting his eyes against the unpleasing light of the hallway. Yup, he was asleep. He had been until a moment ago anyway. Steamin' Jesus, Johnny was truly on a good track to winning the 1st prize for Selfish Asshole of the Day today. The urge to cry his eyes out came back like a raging fire, and this time he was only able to contain it partly: a couple of tears ran down his cheeks as he stared at Ghost (why was he standing in front of Ghost again?), motionless at the man's doorstep like an idiot, completely confused about pretty much everything.

Strangely, the man did not look angry, only surprised. And groggy. Thank goodness, upsetting Ghost was the one thing that would have truly completed the collection of things that mortified Johnny today. That said, if Johnny wasn't 100% mortified, he surely was 98%.

"Oh Jesus oh fuck, you were sleeping, of course you were sleeping," Johnny rambled to himself, feeling like a total imbecile now. What a stupid idea. What a selfish, stupid idea. "I'm so sorry I woke you up," he apologized, barely containing the sobs now.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, rascal," Ghost tranquilized him, letting go of the doorknob and taking a step forward, looking like he was hesitating. As much as Johnny would never admit it, the sound of Ghost's raspy just-woke-up voice had sent a deadly shock down his spine. Yup, still as breathtaking as ever. "I was oversleeping anyway. What's wrong, Johnny? You look like hell," the man continued, looking genuinely concerned.

Great. Another important person who was concerned about him. Please, please, stupid monkey brain of mine, Johnny prayed in his thoughts, stop doing this to my people and give me control over my emotions back.

Johnny was on the verge of bursting in tears again when Ghost took another step forward and placed his hands on the scot's shoulders. "Hey, calm down," he said with a mix of gentleness and firmness that was almost paradoxical, the exact tone that one would use to handle a scared dog that might bite you out of fear, his brown eyes staring straight into Johnny's, "it's alright, no need to feel sorry for anything. It's all good. Now come inside and tell me what's going on."

Johnny sniffled and obeyed. Ghost must have been really good at his job, Johnny thought.

He wasn't sure what he blabbered about in the minutes that followed: how would he be sure when he himself barely had a clue what was going on in his own head? He was pretty sure he blabbered something about how he was going nowhere and how he didn't have a clue anymore, he remembered apologizing a dozen times, including apologies for waking Ghost up which costed him a scold from Ghost as the man had explicitly told him there was nothing to apologize to him for. He remembered feeling like an idiot, and feeling sorry that he was making such a fuss for no reason at all. He remembered Ghost listening patiently, as he usually did.

"Alright, listen up," began Ghost after Johnny was done rambling, "first of all we gotta patch you up," he declared with absolute resolve.

"Patch me up?" Johnny echoed, feeling a little puzzled. Man, it felt good to speak to Ghost normally again - as "normal" as this ridiculous ambush could be.

"Yes, Johnny, patch you up," Ghost repeated as if he was explaining something ever so basic. He leaned forward on his seat, his back leaving the cushion of the couch and his elbows meeting his own knees as he sat in front of Johnny. "What do you do when you feel like shit?"

Johnny thought of a possible answer. "Oh, this is embarrassing," he mumbled.
"Go on, what is it?" Ghost encouraged him. Johnny covered his face with his hand and sighed, "I... bake cupcakes, I suppose."

"Alright, copy that. I'll grab my things and we'll be off to the Tesco down the road then," Ghost declared, sounding like all of this was absolutely normal.

Johnny watched Ghost get up and go fetch his wallet, while he sat like an idiot on the couch, almost stunned by the surreal nature of all that. "Are we going to... actually bake fucking cupcakes?"

Ghost snorted. "No," he replied, "no cupcakes. A cake, however..." he hinted, turning around and offering a little amused smile. "Come on, chop chop. We've got work to do."

Chapter Text

Johnny was becoming more and more suspicious that this was actually a fever dream. Maybe he had cried so hard that he had passed out on the floor in his apartment, and now he was having this absurd lucid dream where Ghost and him were strolling down the aisles of a small Tesco, casually shopping for cake ingredients.

The most surreal part was obviously given by Ghost himself: this armored tank of a man, equipped with the usual menacing aura, walking around with a cute little blue shopping basket, looking at shelves full of colorful sprinkles and birthday candles; the man was acting so casual, as if Johnny had not just crashed at his door in total shambles, as if there hadn't been any awkward history between them. No, Ghost was unphased.
Which left Johnny with no other option but believing in a well-crafted hallucination.

He was feeling pretty beaten up because of all the crying and spiraling, but the current atmosphere was awfully calm: it reminded him of a baby who had cried and shouted at the top of his lungs for a while, until the grownups came and patched his wounds with a band-aid with Spider-Man graphics printed on it, gave him a glass of chocolate milk and calmed him down, leaving the kid to process the shock and unwind. He was left with burning eyes, a headache and a slight dizziness, together with a general sense of confusion.
But he had subconsciously decided to give up and enjoy the fever dream, whether it was real or not. Ghost and him were going to bake a cake, by suggestion of Ghost himself; Johnny was never gonna figure out this man, not in a million years.

"Ah! Flour," the man muttered to himself as he slipped a white bag in the basket. "Fetch me a box of eggs, will you, Johnny?" he called out. "Copy that," echoed the scot after a moment, snapping back from his thoughts. Yeah no, completely surreal.

He returned shortly after with a medium-sized box of eggs and placed it gently in Ghost's basket; Ghost stared at what they had gathered until that point and looked around. His eyes rested on Johnny's face for an instant, causing an unwelcome rush of heat to climb up his cheeks - there was really no getting used to that man's gaze ever, those piercing brown eyes that always seemed to invite you to play tag, "catch me if you can, chase me until the end of time". And Johnny would have chased those eyes until the end of time, truly he would have, had he not been told by Ghost himself not to.

"Eggs, flour, cocoa powder, butter..." Ghost paused, mentally double-checking the recipe in his head. "Ah, one more thing," he exclaimed before heading somewhere, Johnny patiently trotting behind him. The two stopped somewhere in the aisle with breakfast goods, where Ghost took a jar of... Marmalade?

"Apricot jam," Ghost seemed to have noticed Johnny's perplexed face, "it's essential. Homemade jam would be better, but I'm no cottage frolicker, as much as I would like to be. Organic jam will do," the man explained - again, too nonchalantly. "I thought we were making a chocolate cake," Johnny pointed out. Ghost made a funny face and clicked his tongue, "sort of. I'm thinking more of a Sacher," he revealed.

"A Sacher..." Johnny repeated, still struggling to grasp at this fever dream of a mission. Mentally savouring the way the man pronounced that 'sort of' - so insufferably English. Cockney, pretty much. Johnny's accent had nearly completely disappeared over the years, as he adapted to the multi-ethnic scene of university and the big city, but it would still resurface every now and then. He wondered if Ghost still noticed.

Johnny would never imagine, but Ghost was actually putting a lot of effort in that seemingly nonchalant attitude that afternoon: the man was feeling all kinds of worried -who wouldn't feel worried when a sobbing guy shows up at your door like that?- he was feeling all sorts of concerned, frustrated, wishing with every fiber of his body that he could just hug all Johnny's trouble away, whatever trouble he was going through. At the same time, he wanted to be very careful not to act too concerned: he didn't want to make it seem like he pitied the lad, he knew it was only going to make Johnny feel guilty. He needed Johnny to feel safe and okay for doing what he did: trusting Ghost in time of need. And so he had been quick to organize this expedition and avoided to ask questions and to talk about it for now - he was pretty bad at that part anyway.

He had acknowledged the situation, but he wasn't putting too much pressure on it. Neither of the two knew how delicate was the balance Ghost was accomplishing in that moment. It is a truly remarkable human skill, landing the perfect shot in an emergency situation, like a sniper on the rooftop trying to aim cleanly at a target that walks with a hostage in their arms. Yet Ghost had taken aim and landed a graceful headshot right now.

Underneath that grumpy hostile surface, he was one hell of a good human being. Johnny had never had a doubt about that.

Anyway, a Sacher cake. Chocolate cake with apricot jam in it: seemed pretty straightforward, Johnny had had Sacher cake before.

The two quietly began to make their way back to Ghost's apartment: Johnny found himself unable to take his eyes off the man as they walked, completely mesmerized by the unbothered look on his face, his ever-present short sleeves no matter the weather, his slow but secure pace. "Hey Johnny", the object of his attention suddenly brought him back on Earth, "huh?" he answered, but Ghost kept his gaze on the sidewalk ahead of him; "two goldfish are in a tank," he said after a moment, "one turns to the other and says, 'do you know how to drive this thing?'

"Wow, that was terrible," was Johnny's comment after he processed the objectively awful joke Ghost had just cracked, but the man chuckled at his own pun looking quite satisfied, "'little army humor," he added wih a smirk. Johnny shook his head - what a godawful joke, really - but he had to smile along eventually: the thought that maybe (just maybe) Ghost was trying to cheer him up was so heart-warming. That could not be the actual motive behind Ghost's sudden humorous moment, he probably just felt like cracking a joke.

Ghost turned the key and opened the apartment's door on an amusing scene: Charlotte was lying on the carpet of the living room, real busy playing with Ophelia and Anacleto, Ghost's cats. The trio froze as soon as their humans entered the room, Charlotte lifting her head while Ophelia was climbing on her belly and Anacleto was clinging to her head like a mind-controlling parasite or a very strange orange toupé. They always knew how to have fun, those guys.

"My, they've grown," Johnny commented, noticing how they were no longer kittens, but more like young cats now. "That they did," confirmed Ghost, betraying a sense of pure fondness for his little guys, "the rascals."

Soon enough they had both washed their hands at the kitchen sink, gathered all the ingredients and the tools on the counter, turned a couple lights on and gotten down to business.

Ghost had found a recipe on some website, he had read it from start to finish and then stashed his phone away, claiming 'everything was clear'; Johnny would have kept the recipe at hand just in case, but he figured he'd trust the lad. It was just a cake after all, once you figure out the general steps there really aren't many ways to fuck up a cake.

Ghost was sieving the flour and baking powder together, in the meantime Johnny took care of the liquid ingredients and was currently busy melting the butter. Efficient like hitmen, working back to back. Johnny had to admit, it was pretty cozy. "Are ye sure we don't want to take another look at the recipe, mate?" he offered looking behind his shoulder and in Ghost's direction. Ghost stopped and looked back at Johnny, wearing a smile that was a mix of cocky and amused, one that could easily turn into a hearty laugh. "Just trust me, lad, we got this," he insisted. He then proceeded to lift a hand off the sieve, point it towards Johnny and poke Johnny's nose with an index covered in flour. Johnny was so caught by surprise by that act of tomfoolery, he instinctively buried his entire face behind the inside of his elbow, trying to wipe the flour off his nose and simultaneously hiding how badly he was blushing right now. Steamin' Jesus, how embarrassing, why would he do that?! At the same time, he couldn't help but find it so funny he also chuckled like a teenager. How, bloody, embarrassing.
But so fun and refreshing too.

"Bile yer heid," exclaimed Johnny between chuckles before he could even realize.
"English, MacTavish!", yelled Ghost in response, but he was only pretending to be upset.

The batter was soon ready, poured in the pan and shoved into the oven; Ghost was busy cleaning up, Johnny doing his best to help out where he could. As he cleared the counter from dirty bowls and leftover ingredients, he noticed something was missing. "Wait, where's the jam?"
"What?" asked Ghost from the sink, turning off the faucet so he could hear Johnny's question. "The apricot jam, where's the jar?" "Ah, it was empty so I threw it out."

"What do you mean it's empty?" inquired Johnny, "where's the content?"
Ghost must have placed it in a dedicated bowl, even though Johnny struggled to see the use of transferring the jam from a container to another container for no reason.

Ghost turned towards him, looking like he had just heard the stupidest question ever asked, and that was when Johnny began to suspect. "Ye didn't pour it in the batter, did you?", he dared to guess. "Uh..." Ghost shifted his weight from leg to another, "that I did, why?"

Johnny let out a loud snort that culminated in a loud, hearty laugh that went on and on and on and seemed to never end; Ghost looked between offended and puzzled at first, crossing arms in front of his chest (God help us survive the way Ghost looked when he did that), but he was soon infected by Johnny's laughing spree and timidly smiled along, crying out a "...What?!" in response. Johnny buried his face in the palms of his hands, stil laughing so hard he had to catch his breath, "You-..." he tried to begin, "You didn't."

"What's so funny about that, twat?" protested Ghost.
"The jam goes in the cake, after it's cooked! Not in the raw batter," Johnny explained, "I'm sorry, have you never seen a Sacher cake before?"
It was a risky question, the one Johnny just asked, one he could envision Ghost snapping at, but Ghost did not snap; he simply looked amused at his own mistake - a little embarrassed, a little amused, roughly in a 50-50 ratio. "Yeah, I've seen one before," he finally admitted, "I misremembered the recipe, is all".

Johnny resisted the urge to state something the likes of "that's why you keep the recipe open and within reach", deciding to play it safe. It was hilarious how spectacularly Ghost had messed up the execution. "Aw my," Johnny still chuckled, trying to compose himself as the muscles of his abdomen were starting to hurt from all the laughing, "it's gonna be so messed up..."

"Oh how bad can it get?! It'll be a bit wetter and wobbly, is all," Ghost defended himself. At this point, he found the situation as hilarious as Johnny did. "Have a seat, I'll make some tea while we wait," he invited Johnny, who politely accepted and sat down at the corner of the couch, interacting with Charlotte and the cats from time to time.

Their eyes met once again when the man brought Johnny the cup of tea; standing in front of him, he had the crazy idea for a second, only for a split second, to gently wrap his palms around Johnny's face and kiss the lad until their lips turned numb. But that was out of the question.
Maybe he could have asked what had happened - had him and his boyfriend had a fight? Had they broken up? Or was it something completely unrelated? He hesitated for an instant, seizing the moment to get lost in those beautiful blue eyes for a slong as he could, and Johnny seemed to do the same. Selfishly, Ghost wished that Johnny had the same desire to kiss each other numb, a wish that he was quick to stash in the back of his head. Eventually, he left the mug in the lad's hands and went back to his business clearing his throat; he was not the right person to have a talk about what brought Johnny to tears today, Ghost was positive that there were better suited people for that in Johnny's life - such as that gal who fiercely protected him outside the theater a while back. She hated Ghost's guts, and she had every reason for that.

The cake came out of the oven a little earlier than instructed by the recipe: the jam in the batter had caused it to overcook on the outer perimeter, which was almost burned, while the inner part was more wobbly like Ghost had predicted. Eh, not too terrible, but definitely one to forget.

"We should let it cool for a moment," Johnny pointed out. "Sounds right to me," confirmed Ghost, "I'll go get some things ready in the meantime, if you don't mind," he added while staring in the distance outside the window. Johnny was starting to feel all the exhaustion from the day, that monstrosity of a cake looked even funnier than he had imagined. He pulled out his phone and opened his camera to take a picture of the curious specimen: "Ghost?" he called before he could realize how daring that request was, "umh, can we take a picture?"
With us in it - he meant, to be precise. Johnny immediately realized how out of line that request was - he knew how badly Ghost disliked to be filmed or photographed or put in any spotlight at all, it was like the man actively wished to disappear sometimes. "You don't have to be in it, actually," he promptly corrected himself.

"Alright, let's do that," Ghost surprisingly conceded. He was definitely spoiling the scot in an effort to cheer him up.
And so Johnny flipped the camera to use the selfie one, he took aim and snapped a picture: the horrible cake sat on the counter under a rather professional warm light that hit it from above, a close-up of Johnny's face (or a fragment of it anyway) was on the lower left corner, his hand visibly pointing at the cake as if to say "check it out, we made this"; and on the other side, much to Johnny's surprise, was Ghost's arm, covered with that familiar tattoo sleeve, visible almost until his shoulder and posing with a thumb up next to the cake. That was alright, that was all Johnny needed to cherish that moment, he wasn't gonna ask for more.

"Thanks," Johnny said lowly, nearly blushing again. "Anytime, Captain," said Ghost before disappearing in the corridor.

Johnny sat back on the couch. And he woke up a while later in an empty apartment.

Oh God, had he passed out?!

He groaned and sat back up, only then realizing that he was lying down and that someone had placed a warm blanket on him. Shit, where did that come from? The room was faintly lit by a desk lamp in the corner, the pets were curled up against each other in their bed, Charlotte's tail began to wag timidly as she noticed Johnny was awake.

How long had he been asleep?
He turned on his phone screen and realized it was a little past 11 P.M. - oh fuck. Where's Ghost?

He ran his palms on his face in a bare attempt to wake up. He glanced at the kitchen counter and noticed a shopping bag - he walked closer and realized Ghost had cut roughly half the cake and placed it in a Tupperware box, and the box inside the bag; next to the bag was a handwritten note that said:

I walked and fed Charlotte for you.
Went to work, lest Price kills me. I cut some cake for you, take it with you if you want.
You can stay as long as you want, there is some tea bags in the drawer and more blankets in the bedroom if you need them.
Call if you need anything. Take care Johnny.

GR.

He didn't know how or why, but Johnny caught himself crying a couple more tears: slow, warm tears gently flowing down his cheeks and neck. He had never seen Ghost act so kindly and caringly towards him - he wasn't even sure what he had done to deserve such care.
It was so damn hard not to love that man with everything Johnny had.
He definitely shouldn't overstay his welcome, he thought with resolve - he had been way too much of a burden to Ghost until that point. As much as he would have loved to snuggle back under that blanket (had Ghost placed the blanket over him?!) and fall back into a comfortable slumber, he had to go.

He snuck Ghost's note inside his pocket, put his coat on and got Charlotte ready; he took the bag with the piece of cake and quietly headed out of the apartment, careful not to make a noise as if somebody was still sleeping inside, like he was a criminal who had to sneak out quietly.

He made his way outside the building and pulled out his phone to call a cab back home.

Chapter Text

The hours -the days- that followed that strange episode at Ghost's place were probably the most surreal of Johnny's entire life.

He spent all his days working on his final artefact, his bachelors thesis, trying his best to stay focused and present but often catching himself staring at an empty corner, lost in other thoughts. Avoiding contact with everyone from the study group as much as he could, using the thesis grind essentially as a half-excuse. Avoiding Farah, avoiding Gary, avoiding Ghost. He had also not called his mother back yet, unlike he had promised on that crazy day.

He was holding on to some memories, yet at the same time he wasn't sure which memories he wished to hold on to.
Surely he didn't want to hold on to that episode he had had on that day, that vertical outburst of anxiety and worry that came out of nowhere and knocked him off the horse; he was mature enough to admit that he was gonna have to examine the causes and implications of that episode sooner or later, but now was not the time. He seriously had to focus on his thesis report, it was not just an excuse to isolate himself from the rest of the gang and avoid the self-reflection: he had to finish and deliver the document pronto.

Of course the strangest thing was the one concerning Ghost and that absurd but beautiful time they had on that day. It felt so good, so natural to be there, to be like that, only now did Johnny realize that he hadn't worried for a second about how Ghost might have reacted at each word he spoke, and Ghost seemed to be just as laid-back and normal about everything. And yes, Johnny did feel guilty about the whole thing: deep down he knew perfectly well that what he had done was... strange, unorthodox, something that would have hurt someone else upon knowing - and if not hurt, surely it would have raised some questions and suspicions. Whether those suspicions were founded or not, Johnny refused to ask himself that question too for the time being.

He couldn't stop reminiscing and reveling in the memories, and he also felt guilty; guilty for reveling in the memories, guilty because the memories existed in the first place. He shouldn't have done that. And yet he had done that, and that had been perfect, and now things were all twisted. He didn't know what to think anymore, he didn't know what he wanted anymore, he was even more lost than he'd felt when he'd had that panic attack.

Every night, before he went to sleep, he would find himself staring at that clumsy photo - the cake, Ghost's arm posing with a thumb up - the evidence that that evening hadn't been a fever dream, that it had happened for real. He had also kept that paper note that Ghost had left him, tucked between the pages of an old Chem textbook. "It's nothing," he would stubbornly repeat to himself after he was done staring at the photo; he would turn off his phone and go to bed.

It was nothing. Ghost had been no more than polite to him.

He sighed and dragged his gaze back on the laptop screen, where the text cursor was blinking lazily, patiently waiting for him. Alright, back to it. He had made good progress so far, and his supervisor wasn't disappointed or concerned about the possibility of missing deadlines at all, but being in this limbo of thoughts wasn't fun and made Johnny feel like he was procrastinating way too much. The clock on the wall reported a time of 5:25 P.M.: the lab was going to close soon. The campus staff used to make frequent exceptions if one needed to stay past closing hours, but Johnny had regrettably found out that they had become more reluctant lately; unless it was a real emergency, you had to gather your things and step out.

He collected all the willpower he had left for the day and managed to place his hands back in position. He made the resolution that he was going to finish this paragraph and then call it a day - an achievable goal, considering he was one or two sentences away from closing it; he managed to regain focus with ease, started typing and met his goal in a matter of a few minutes, just in time to lift his gaze and notice the receptionist of the building peeking inside the room for his routine check. The man gave Johnny a small expressionless nod: time to evacuate the building. Johnny nodded back with a polite smile, switched off his laptop and collected his things. A fairly productive day, though he could have been way more productive had he not been busy thinking about 'the thing that is nothing' all day long.

The dark empty corridor welcomed Johnny like an accomplice; much to his surprise, he found himself comforted by the quiet hallway - there's no better place than a deserted one if one wants to think in peace, away from prying eyes and judgemental (but reasonable) opinions.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair with a touch of frustration: he was not happy with the person he was, with how things were going.

"There you are," Johnny heard Gary's voice the moment he stepped out of the main building. Geez, almost an ambush. He turned around and met his boyfriend's eyes, they were staring back at him with the same pure enthusiasm as usual. He is so happy to see you, and all you can think of is that he ambushed you. God, you're awful. "I was beginning to fear that they actually kidnapped you," Gary added as he began to walk by Johnny's side and took a gentle hold of his hand. Awful, you're awful, Johnny thought to himself again. "Aye," Johnny tried to wear his best smile, "I'm just busy with the papers," he reassured Gary. It's not like he was lying, but he obviously wasn't being the most transparent either.

Gary offered to go get some dinner, Johnny accepted with an absent mind.
As they walked along, the thought began to finally form inside Johnny's mind: this had to stop. Avoiding Gary all day, feeling ambushed when they met, spending all the time they spent together yearning to part ways so that he could be alone with himself again - that was no way to be in a relationship. Johnny had to fix his shit and he had to do it ASAP. Gary Sanderson did not deserve this.

He could barely stare at Gary and the ever-present excited look on his face by now.

In hindsight, maybe the small "gallery accident" was sent by the universe, a catalyst for a reaction that was already bound to happen; it's not like Johnny had forgotten about that photo, he was simply not expecting Gary to find it nor to think anything of it - after all, it was nothing but a picture of a cake of pretty bad quality. But Gary and Johnny happened to choose a little tapas bar that night, a tapas bar which happened to have QR codes to scan for menus; Johnny happened to scan the QR code first, and he happened to pass his phone to Gary to look at the menu together, and in the general passing of the phone they happened to misclick back to the camera app and into the gallery of most recent pictures. That's how, Johnny figured, Gary happened to come to know about the cake.

"When was this?" was all that Gary asked. Not "what was this?", just "when". A lump immediately formed inside Johnny's throat, a lump of shame and guilt; to make things worse, Gary didn't sound accusing or offended at all, he was not interrogating him out of jealousy or suspect - he was only awfully curious, unaware that Johnny had had a bad episode not too long ago and that he had deliberately chosen not to seek Gary's help but some other lad's, a lad he used to crush his heart out on. Gary had no idea about any of that, and Johnny was to blame abundantly for it.

"Ah... A couple of days ago," Johnny admitted, feeling his heart rate speed up as if he had been just caught stealing chewing gums from a minimarket. "A friend of mine was having a bad day so we baked a cake to cheer him up," he lied. God, why did he do that? Weren't relationships supposed to be about trust and openness and all that crap? Johnny wanted to slap himself in the face. "Well I was having a bad day, actually," he admitted almost too hastily, "I was having a bad day and so we baked a cake to cheer me up."

He braced himself for Gary's reaction, but Gary's reaction didn't really come. Johnny was expecting him to get mad, jealous or disappointed, to feel hurt and betrayed and neglected; instead, Gary only appeared to be bummed. He had that slight frown on his face and kept staring at the picture intently, so much that Johnny supposed that he was trying to figure out who the bloke was based on the tattoos on his arm. Once he was done staring at the photo, he chuckled and commented: "No offense, love, but that cake looks kind of bad," Johnny could tell that Gary meant no offense, he was simply trying to joke around - he was right anyway, that cake looked anything but nice. Johnny smiled at his own failure, or rather Ghost's, "none taken, it was quite bad," he confirmed.

Gary stayed silent for a bit, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, the frown still on his face. "Johnny," he eventually broke the silence, "How come did we not bake a cake?" he asked adding emphasis on 'We'. Good question, Johnny thought, there is no reason in particular, technically. Johnny opened his mouth to answer the question, but words struggled to come out for a second. "Well... No reason," he confirmed his own thought, "In fact we could bake one! Whenever you want," he offered. Did he sound artificially enthusiastic or did he imagine it?

Perhaps he did. Perhaps Gary caught that.
Because Gary was many things: polite, kind, sweet, caring, many things he was. Stupid was not one of them. Perhaps he had caught not only that nuance, but many more in the past weeks he had spent with Johnny. Perhaps he had chosen to overlook them because he trusted that Johnny would have told him if he didn't feel so sure about their relationship; he trusted that Johnny would've owned up to his feelings and lack thereof. Perhaps.

Perhaps everyone has a breaking point, sooner or later down the line. A point where one stops trusting the other blindly and starts listening to his guts.

In fact, the frown never left Gary's face for the remainder of the evening; it followed the two outside the bar and down the streets of the city.
"So when are you down for some baking?", Gary asked Johnny at some point, and Johnny should have figured out that it was a test, one that he failed when he replied for the hundredth time with "Sure! Whenever you'd like." An answer that lacked the enthusiasm that Gary was hoping to hear, an answer that simply agreed, just like Johnny had done so far, even when they got together Johnny simply agreed to be Gary's boyfriend. There is a difference between wishing for a thing and agreeing to it, not a subtle one, and Gary was not blind to it.

"Johnny." Gary finally stopped walking and called him out. Johnny turned around and saw Gary wearing a strange frown, one that carried... sorrow, it seemed. "Do you love me?" he asked out of the blue, "or us, do you love us?"

Johnny felt a hole being punched in his chest, right below his sternum. A part of him was wondering frantically what that was about, a part of him already knew. "I-..." he tried to give Gary a good answer, but he lingered a little too long.
"I know you feel like it's too soon for such a thing," resumed Gary, taking the non-answer for an answer, "and I respect that, but honestly, Jo, I don't think that things are going to change. So let me try to rephrase that," Johnny's heart was beating like a piston in a race car, "do you think things are ever going to change in that regard?"

"I-..." Gary's gaze wasn't one of anger or condemn, he was simply and understandably too tired. Johnny couldn't blame the man, amidst the panic he was experiencing right now. He had immediately figured out what was happening, and while he couldn't really blame Gary he was desperate for a way to rewind the tape and fix the terrible boyfriend he had been all along. But the truth was that the tape couldn't be rewound; the truth was that even if he had another chance, he would blow it just as badly.

The answer to Gary's question was no. Things were not going to change. Johnny felt like he was caught in a tornado, pins and needles taking over his hands.

Gary sighed and shrugged with a smile that looked as sincere as it looked defeated. "Then what are we doing?"

"I-... I don't know..." Johnny was still somehow desperate for an explanation to give. "It's just... With my thesis and everything, it's been..."
...Busy? Focused? Maybe it was time to be honest, with himself and with Gary too - he didn't deserve anything else. "I don't know, I'm sorry," was all he could gather as a response. "I'm sorry."

Gary gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Jo, it's fine, the world is not gonna crumble," he rested his hands on Johnny's shoulders, "perhaps I got carried away and pressured you more than I should have all along," he added.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," Johnny quickly objected, feeling all kinds of heartbreak at once. It felt unfair under every possible aspect: he had found an amazing boyfriend and now he was losing him for no explanable reason, it was all his own fault and it had been all along. Hell, the guy even thought he had something to do with this outcome, as if someone like Gary could have done anything wrong.

"Well, still," Gary cut to the point, "I think it's time we face the facts. You don't belong with me, as much as I wish you did."
It hurt like hell, but it was also so relieving, to lay the fact out on the table at last. "I'm sorry," Johnny repeated, feeling a pair of tears departing from his eyes. "I know, it's okay," Gary reassured him again, "we'll be okay. You will always be a friend for me," he served Johnny the infamous line with a sincere smile, "Just... Just give me some time, I need to..." ...I need to digest and get over this pain and disappointment, Johnny did the courtesy of finishing that lingering sentence in his head. "Aye, aye of course, take all the time you need," he confirmed, like a perfect coward. He did not object to the whole break-up argument, he nearly did not object at all. Truthfully, there was little to object, deep down he knew that Gary was perfectly right, he was such a wholesome guy and he deserved better.

For a moment, they stood in front of each other in awkward silence, perhaps enjoying each other's company as boyfriends for just one more moment. "I better go," Gary finally said, and Johnny felt a little knot of sadness form into his stomach, one that he could also see in Gary's eyes now. "Take care, you can always count on me," he finally dismissed Johnny. "You too," echoed the scot, finally without hesitation, "I really am sorry."

They smiled at each other and they parted ways.

It didn't take much long for Johnny to accept how right breaking up was. He felt sad and heartbroken and scared to be by himself again, but only for a short while. By the time he reached his headquarters and greeted Charlotte the Spaniel, he had made good peace with the epilogue of his and Gary's short story: dragging it on wouldn't have been fair, it was only making both of them unhappy when it was supposed to do the exact opposite. Farah was right, Johnny was barely okay. Farah was right as usual.

Johnny let the cold breeze of the night cradle him as he walk with Charlotte in the park; the wind caressed him in a new refreshing way, almost wiping those few tears from his cheeks and reassuring him that it was for the best, that both of them were going to be alright in the end. The bittersweet feeling reminded Johnny of leaving high school or moving from an apartment to another - a situation where you are not attached enough to actually feel sad that you're leaving, but you are attached enough not to be entirely relieved.

It was never going to properly work out between Gary and him.

Johnny was never going to be able to love Gary anywhere near the way he loved Ghost, after all.

Chapter Text

The breakup with Gary was one of the strangest experiences Johnny had had in the recent times; it's like he felt everything and the opposite of everything - sadness, indifference, guilt, angst, relief, maybe even joy, all at once. On the night they parted ways, he had felt all kinds of scared and mortified, but by the time the next morning rolled around he already felt as if nothing had happened. It had been like ripping off an oddly painless band-aid that revealed barely any scar tissue underneath. That did not prevent an overthinker like Johnny from overthinking, however, so he began ruminating incessantly on the outcome of that sad relationship and the implications that came with it. The first elephant in the queue of elephants in the room was obviously just how generally wrong it had been to get into that relationship, and how bad it had predictably turned out: only now did it dawn on Johnny that he had never really been into Gary, and that that was in large part the reason why he had been such a mediocre boyfriend to him - barely listening, barely being interested in anything, barely agreeing to hang out, not reaching out to him when he needed help, the list could go on and on. Johnny had been a crappy boyfriend to Gary, simply because he had never really seen Gary as his boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself.

It's not like the Scot hated Gary's guts, far from it, he was just completely romantically indifferent to him. In hindsight, Gary had been nothing more than a friend, just like before they'd gotten together - the only perceived difference was that sometimes they would hold hands and cuddle, apart from that it was friendship at best. This realisation begged a more fundamental and uncomfortable question: why then? Why did Johnny agree to start this relationship in the first place if he didn't feel invested in that sense?
For no reason, perhaps. Perhaps he should have declined, instead of accepting in the spirit of 'eh, let's see where this goes' knowing full well that he wasn't wishing to go anywhere in particular.

It made Johnny feel like crap, to think that he had toyed with the lad's heart in vain. What a selfish ass.

But, then again, he didn't feel entirely at fault for giving that thing a try. How else was he supposed to know if he didn't try? Gary was a nice, friendly, cute and caring guy; he liked Johnny and Johnny kinda liked him, aren't these all the ingredients for a successful relationship?
Johnny had really hoped so. After the disastrous few recent months, he had really hoped that his love life was gonna get a turn for the better - to finally experience the sweetness, the affection, the warmth and relief of being cared for without the walking on eggshells. It was perhaps due to that kind of desperation that Johnny made an evaluation mistake: believing that he had moved on and that he was ready to date someone. Okay, maybe he hadn't really moved on, but he truly wished he had, he had done all that he could to get out and back into the world, leaving the past in the past with all its delusions and heartbreak. He had moved on because he'd forcefully told himself he had, but that -turns out- does not do the trick. Oh well, the fact that he hadn't truly moved on was something Johnny was definitely not ready to deal with now; even less, the thought of whom he was having so much trouble forgetting.

It sucked, the way things had ended. He wasn't heartbroken about no longer being with Gary, to be perfectly fair; in fact, he adjusted to the life-with-no-Gary in no time, going on about his business with uni, Charlotte and all his other endeavours. What made him feel some sort of actual grief was perhaps the fact that if this haunting was not going to ever let go of him, then he was condemned to stay single forever: he was going to be forever haunted by one person whom he couldn't have, meanwhile everyone else was going to pass him by, either crossing his path for a short while or not at all. Just like that, goodbye sweet boyfriend life.

It was not fair. What else was he supposed to do? Why the fuck was he unable to give up on Ghost, even after all that back-and-forth the man did on him, as well as an open rejection to his confession?! How stupid can you be to still chase and long for a person who so clearly refuses you?

And so Johnny came to the sad conclusion that there was no way out. He was forever cursed - haunted, how ironic. Trapped in a cage that he had built all by himself.

Oh well, forever-single life couldn't be so terrible, right? There are people who chose to live like that and do so happily.

Naturally, he had told Farah about the breakup as soon as he felt sociable enough to talk about it: Farah had taken it fairly well, though Johnny couldn't shake the feeling that she was disappointed in him. She knew he wasn't too happy with Gary, she probably also knew where his heart still lay, with whom - that was the source of her disappointment, he figured. After everything, it's still him that haunts you, huh. But she was as powerless as Johnny was. In fact, she knew that Johnny had listened to her good advice; he was fully committed to listening to her with his mind, but it was his heart that was lost. There was no reasoning against that.

Therefore, she ultimately understood and simply offered him her support, as patiently as she ever so often did.
Johnny felt once again grateful for having such a wonderful friend: if he were to be forever cursed, at least he wouldn't have been completely alone in it.

"I just wish for your happiness, Jo," she had told him, and that had stuck with him for days. She was such a precious one, it made Johnny feel even more mortified to have her always putting up with his bullshit.

Amidst this whole stupid mess of hauntings and breakups, somehow, Johnny delivered his thesis.

It happened on a very normal Tuesday morning, after a very normal coffee with Farah and a very normal walk to campus; he had prepared a very normal slideshow to present his work -the objectives, the method, the data, the conclusion and future works- and gave a very normal presentation, followed by some questions, answers and silent nods of approval. The commission gave him a very normal top mark, and that concluded his very normal bachelor's program.

He was done with his studies for the time being, he had made it.

As he chewed on that thought (he was going to graduate...?!!), he looked around at the campus courtyard only to realize that even the courtyard looked incredibly very normal: students walking around, sitting on a bench with a book, drinking takeaway coffee, texting on their phones. Even Johnny himself felt very normal. He literally had just finished shaking the hands that were going to graduate him in a couple of weeks, and he felt just like the day before. He had always imagined that he would feel so relieved, thrilled and proud of his accomplishment, he had thought that the final discussion was going to make him feel so nervous... None of that. Only very normal.

Hell, he had come a long way from a few months prior, back then he could have had a panic attack simply by standing near a textbook, he couldn't even set foot on academic ground; and here he was now, standing in the courtyard, virtually graduated and in his own element again. If you put it under that perspective, he felt more proud than just very normal.

And also, sure, there was still the question of what he was going to do next, a question he had panicked about not too long ago, but he was happy to realize that he wasn't feeling too panicky about it anymore - it was scary to start another chapter, whatever its nature may be, but he was going to be okay one way or another.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and bit his lip ring: he supposed it was time to tell his friends and family that a graduation ceremony and potential party were going to take place soon. He mentally made a (rather short) mailing list of people to inform and he promised himself that he was going to make a call and send a couple of texts later, before the shift at the library.

Though there was someone he was especially looking forward to informing, even though he was not going to admit it to himself. He pulled out his phone and stared at the lit-up display where a playful Charlotte stared at him from one of her strange poses, he lingered for a while like an idiot as usual until he finally told himself fuck it, I'm graduate bachelor doctor* Johnny MacTavish today, I don't have to make perfect sense.
*A/N: I have no idea what one's title is after getting a bachelor diploma, you do become Doctor of (subject) after your bachelor where I am from, but that doesn't hold everywhere the same, turns out, oh well

With surprising resolve, he went straight to open the semi-dead chat with Ghost, typed in a whimsical and kinda-full-of-himself 'Tango down, tango down, I'm graduating :DD✌', pressed Enter and shoved his phone away at lightning speed, YOLO, we're sending unsolicited texts to people we have embarrassing history with and we're doing so before we can regret it.

Well his phone buzzed back way sooner than he had anticipated, so he immediately began to regret it. He felt a knot in his throat as he checked his inbox and sure as hell, Ghost had texted back just as quickly as Johnny had typed a moment ago:

[1:21 P.M.] Ghost 👻: Congratulations! :)

Johnny's eyes landed on that playful ghost icon '👻' he had added to Ghost's contact back then and his heart sank for the billionth time: damn, how he missed those days full of banter and normalcy - if one could ever talk about normalcy when it came to Ghost and him. He missed his friend, the Grumpy Lion and his shenanigans, all swept away by Johnny's selfishness and lack of judgement. Ehh, it was a grief he had to grieve alone as part of his haunting.

And then, for whatever fucking reason, Johnny felt the urge to add another completely unrelated text:

[1:26 P.M.] You: btw
[1:26 P.M.] You: we broke up

Oh, my, fucking, God. What did he just do. What the fuck was that. Why the fuck would he text that oh God oh steamin' Jesus. He thought he was graduating in Chemistry, not in "Elite Science of Being a superior cringeworthy Eejit who should Dig their own Grave now seriously right now byebye". That title would have fit him well. It was too late to delete the text, for not only did Ghost already read the message but he was also typing one back right away, making those fifteen seconds some of the most embarrassing of Johnny's whole life.

[1:27 P.M.] Ghost 👻: oh

"Oh". Of course he said just "oh", what the fuck more was he supposed to say, eh? 'Finally, my love'? Johnny was very busy scolding himself to oblivion when his phone rang again, and again:

[1:29 P.M.] Ghost 👻: sorry to hear it lad
[1:30 P.M.] Ghost 👻: are you alright?

Yeah, there was that. Johnny had to admit, if there was one thing Ghost kinda really never stopped doing, it was caring for Johnny. Johnny had sent him a dumb ass text and now Ghost was concerned for him. What a pea-sized brain moment, oh God, please let's never pull this stunt again. He quickly responded, making sure to dissipate any and all worries on Ghost's side:

[1:30 P.M.] You: aye, aye, I'm alright, it was for the best really

Hopefully that'll do, Johnny prayed. Carefully and intentionally suppressing the voice inside of him that reminded him of the real, painfully obvious reason why he had broken up and why that was 'for the best really'.

Chapter Text

btw
we broke up

They broke up.

it was for the best really

Fuck, stop it.

Ghost let out a loud groan of frustration upon realizing that he was once again staring at his phone like he was hypnotized. In the heart of the night, only the silent walls of the vet clinic could witness that bittersweet spectacle; perhaps he had waited until late in the night for that exact reason, unknowingly, just so that nobody would see his utmost weakness in action, sneak up on him and catch him red-handed.

He could not stop re-reading those texts from Johnny, and as he often did, he despised himself for that. Up until that point, carrying on had been paradoxically easy: Johnny was with someone else, Ghost was grumpy and frustrated about it, he regularly pictured Johnny as a lovebird happy and in love and his partner as a complete arsehole (he didn't know this person, picturing them as an arsehole was simply necessary to justify his frustration), and he made sure that all this rumination and frustration happened in great secret. Yearning in secret and being grumpy about scenarios he had mostly made up in his head, that was an easy script to follow; but now Johnny's partner was out of the picture and the easy script had flown out the window, leaving Ghost without a fucking clue how to feel and what to do.

God, was he relieved that they had broken up. It made his heart do all sorts of jumps and pirouettes.
And that was no good.

And you know what else was no good? The fact that Ghost was now speculating, and he couldn't stop himself from doing so: had Johnny told him about the breakup for a reason? If so, what was the reason? One doesn't randomly hit you with that information unless they think it may be relevant to you, right? Could it be that maybe he was still hoping for something to happen between the two of them and he fired that little dart as if to say 'now would be a good time to make a move'?

Ah, fucking hell, who was he kidding. There was no way he was going to make a move on Johnny, he simply could not. There was still a good part of Ghost that pulled back and away from Johnny, away from the unreachable dream of holding him close and caring for him until the end of time, letting down the guard and enjoying the company of his most cherished person; a part of him wanted to reach for that dream more than anything else, but there was also the other part, the one that yanked at those chains and held back so tight, making him ache unbearably for a chance at what was denied to him. As hard as it was to admit, it was getting more and more difficult to stay tied to those chains, more difficult than it had ever been before.

And that, in summary, was the reason why he kept staring at his phone in the middle of the night, halfway through inventory duty. The book of 'Oliver Twist' sat closed on the desk, reminding him that he still had that whole reading list to read through and he was making very slow progress on it; the portrait sketch of Charlotte that he had drawn at the library not too long ago, he still kept it at home even though he had decided to gift it to Johnny. He felt like he had barely moved an inch over the course of the last few weeks, and only now was he truly feeling the quicksand engulfing him: in fact, even though he had received those texts hours ago and he had spent hours just looking at those motionless pixels, he had not texted Johnny back yet. Not because he had nothing to say, no, he had about three billion different things to say, and they were all swirling at the same time in his head; it was rather because out of those three billion different things he wanted to say to Johnny, there wasn't one he wasn't afraid of.

And so Johnny graduated for real. His first degree in Chemistry. Everyone gave him their congratulations: his family that came to the city to assist to the ceremony, Farah, Alex, Bear Guy and the study group he had found and helped during the final stretch - even Phillip Graves, not without a cocky smirk, had placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded in approval, as if to say 'at long last you woke the fuck up, good job I guess'. Johnny hoped that this would be the end of Graves' incessant picking at him, but he knew that it was probably just wishful thinking. Gary had also sent him sincere congratulations, but he politely declined Johnny's invitation to the little graduation party, admitting that he was not ready for that yet. There was no doubt in his heart that they were going to be good friends again - just not yet. Johnny understood his position and did not insist any further. It felt nice to receive the congratulations from his professors too, especially since some of them knew just how hard it had been for him to overcome that little hiccup along the journey; it didn't need no mention, their gaze as they shook Johnny's hand clearly said 'I am proud that you made it despite all'. And he was proud too.

Ghost had also politely rejected Johnny's invitation to the party. Johnny didn't take it too badly, he was actually not expecting anything different. "Ah, a party... with people..." he had chuckled nervously while scratching the back of his neck after receiving the invitation from Johnny the other day at the clinic, "I'm not the biggest fan of a crowd," he had admitted. There was no surprise in that, Johnny knew perfectly well how little a fan Ghost was of people and crowds. But the man had managed to take Johnny by surprise with a counteroffer: "...but we could go somewhere another time."

Implying, just the two of them.

At that counteroffer, ten evil little gnomes began to hop in all directions in Johnny's head, chanting It's a date, it's a date, Ghost is taking you on a date, on a date, just the two of you on a date, date with candles and red roses and hand-holding!!!
He swept the little gnomes away from his thoughts as fast as he could, hoping and praying that their suggestions didn't make him blush in front of Ghost once again.

"Sure," he managed to accept wearing his best most casual smile, "I'd be happy to."

A few days went by, Johnny had his little graduation party with friends and family - it was a nice party, nobody pulled out vicious pranks or embarrassing photo reels to display on the pub's projector, much to Johnny's gratitude.

It was during those days as a freshly graduate student that Johnny developed a theory as to why he was having such a hard time letting go and moving on from Ghost: perhaps what he really needed was closure - actual proper closure. A good thorough talk to clear all the doubts once and for all, to explain all the things that were in need of an explanation. No more tiptoeing, no more speculating, just questions and answers. So that no little gnome could possibly take the stage in Johnny's mind again, suggesting a romantic date when all that Ghost was implying was only a hangout between two friends to celebrate his graduation.

The upcoming hangout, speaking of which, was going to be the perfect occasion for that.
Ghost had texted him the location of a steakhouse, though Johnny was not sure that the pin was meant to be at the exact location that Ghost had in mind - because man, that steakhouse looked pretty fancy. If Ghost actually meant that exact location, and if Johnny were delusional, he would have seriously suspected the possibility of a date. Because yeah, that place didn't look like a place you take some whatever friend to, but rather... a place for special occasions with special people. With a cute little private garden, string lights, dim and cozy lighting at every table, white cloths and champagne on ice, that kind of package.
But yeah, enough with the fantasizing, for all he knew they were actually headed to the pizzeria around the corner or the coffee lounge opposite the steakhouse.

Johnny sighed and put his phone away, allowing himself to stare at the ceiling as he lay on the couch. He turned his gaze to the side, catching Charlotte staring at him from her bed; her tail immediately started to wag placidly as soon as their eyes met. "Don't give me that look, you," Johnny teased her, "we both know it's not a date."