The Haunting (Or: Ghost Is Literally A Ghost)

Night Seven

Simon agreed with you, calling Johnny seemed like an easy solution to his misery.

He wanted to hear his voice, wanted to know if it was actually him or if you maybe had made that up to make him feel better. No, you were the last person to do such a thing and it had been your idea to call him after all.

It must have been him.

If his skin would have been able to produce sweat, it would now. He watched you unlock his phone and scroll through his contacts.

"Under Soap. His callsign."

The name was familiar to you, and you quickly found it, including a soap emoji behind it. You smiled.

"You didn't strike me as an emoji guy."

"I'm full of surprises", he chuckled.

You looked up at him with adoration in your eyes, and he looked back confusedly.

"That sounds nice", you whispered, the darkness hiding a slight blush creeping on your cheeks, "Your laugh, I mean", you added when he didn't reply.

Oh, did he do that? Seemed so.

Quickly, your eyes darted back to the phone. Just as your finger hovered above the call button, the doorbell startled the two of you.

With furrowed brows, you checked the time. Half eight, an unusual time for a visitor, unless...

"Ah shit, that can only be my mum or Sheila!"

Either way, Simon had to hide. Sheila you could maybe convince that the masked stranger in your house was not a real threat but a real ghost, but your mum would call the police immediately.

"Got it", Simon said to your relief, retreating into the nearest shadow.

As if you had been relaxing, you stood up from the couch and walked towards the front door, after checking yourself out in the hallway mirror.

You put on a nonchalant smile that immediately turned into a surprised expression when you opened the door to reveal neither your mum nor Sheila.

"Oh, Johnny– "

That was all you could say, both of you staring at each other.

"[Name], right?"

You nodded absentmindedly. Soap looked a little dishevelled as if he spent the last hours tormenting his brain into oblivion. Maybe he did, otherwise you couldn't explain his appearance on your doorstep unannounced.

"How did you find my address?"

He cleared his throat, "I tracked Ghost's phone."

"Who?", you said, tilting your head in confusion.

Shouldn't it be the ghost's phone, if even? you thought with knitted brows.

"Simon's callsign? You knew about a private conversation between Price and Ghost but nothing about his callsign?"

Fucker didn't even tell me, you thought, but what you mumbled instead just came out as "he didn't tell me."

Johnny seemed to ponder for a moment. The silence was becoming uncomfortable, but he spoke up before you could.

"So you're still adamant that my dead Lieutenant is in your house? And you can talk to him?"

"Yes", you answered without skipping a beat, "and you do too, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that", he replied, pursing his lips.

"Look", he started when you didn't offer him entrance, "sorry for earlier today. Price is more of a realistic kinda guy and he's still blaming himself for Ghost's death. He just didn't know how to handle it."