The Haunting (Or: Ghost Is Literally A Ghost)

Night Six (II)

He stared at your hands that were holding his, and the human, positive feelings inside of him intensified. Shocked, he pulled his hand away from you, startling you just like the time before.

As soon as your warmth left his cold hands, the positive feelings subsided, leaving him as empty as he was used to. He wanted to like this state of himself better, after almost two years of pretending it protected him, but feeling was too beautiful.

Scary, but beautiful. Slowly, his hand snaked back into yours.

It was a nice change, some positivity after being deprived of it for too long.

"Are you okay?", you asked again, and this time he nodded, "tell me about your friend."

"He was like a brother to me, not just in arms. His name was Johnny. A fucking stupid joke ready at all times, but always the best at keeping the team spirit up. Trusted him with my life, always. He trusted me with his, I was responsible for him... I failed."

You looked down to the soft cushion of the sofa, the image of two hands intertwined above. His poor soul. In no way, shape or form you could relate to the pain he must have been tormenting himself with, but it wasn't hard to imagine.

There was no need to ask how it had happened, because it had, and that was more than enough, the undeniable truth.

"I killed him, [name]."

Of course he didn't, but telling him that wouldn't have helped in the slightest. His heart was rotten with guilt.

"I can't apologise to him. But maybe to his family, or my team... But I don't know how, I can't leave this place and they'd never come here, they– "

"Simon", you interrupted him softly before he could stumble over his words.

You pulled out the phone that was safely stored in your back pocket and held it in front of him. There was no particular plan you had in mind, but it could possibly help contacting people.

"This was in the basement, but I couldn't get in."

His eyes flickered from yours, to the phone and back.

"Seven, six, two, seven."

You typed in the code and the phone unlocked. You smirked at his home screen showing the same simple default wallpaper as the lock screen, anything else would have seemed slightly off for him anyways as far as you were concerned.

"What are we going to do with it?", you inquired.

It took him a second to answer, because he wasn't sure himself.

"Call my Captain. Price. Tell him you found my phone and my dog tag. You want to give them back and his number was the last one I called."

"We should be glad that you're a 21st century ghost, otherwise this would have been very hard to do."

He didn't laugh, but the little huff that left his lips was enough for the moment. It was better than nothing, right?

You sent him a small smile before opening the contacts with your free hand to look for Captain Price's number.

Suddenly, your hands felt sweaty, but you didn't let go of his. As if you could anyway, because he was clutching down on it so hard while he was basking in his re-found feelings under your touch.

"Do you think he will answer? It's the middle of the night."

"Trust me, he will. If he asks, just tell him it's urgent."

"Okay...", you mumbled, putting the phone on speaker so Simon could hear, "whatever you do, stay quiet, otherwise he'll think I'm playing with him or something."