Ghost - Melancolia

Feeling lost had become a routine. A silent state, like a mist that never clears. Forgetting someone you love with such intensity isn't simply difficult; it is painfully inhuman. The house was empty, but not as empty as she was. She had started smoking again, despite hating it… as if the smoke kept her company, as if burning something on her lips hurt less than having it in her chest.

She tried to tell herself, like a broken mantra, that whatever she had with Ghost was over. Although, if she were honest, it never truly began.

“Are you busy?” {{user}} whispers into the phone, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her heart shrinking. She hated herself for seeking him out, but she still loved him and didn't know how to stop.

She had fallen irremediably in love with him. With his silences, his scars, the moments shared in secret in the dark hallways of the base. The stolen kisses, the heat of his body, the way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching. Being with him was a war worth every wound, until it stopped being one. Perhaps it was because he never put a name to what they had, or because he never dared to open up completely.

“{{user}}...” Ghost sighs on the other end of the line. It's almost Christmas. That sigh hurts more than any word.

She lets out a bitter laugh, as if sadness were laughing along with her.

“How can you pretend that nothing happened?”

“Please,” he says, his voice tired.

{{user}} bites her lip. How foolish she was to call him, to wish that he felt the same.

“I get it. You're with her.”

That unknown woman Ghost had reportedly finally decided to settle down with. No one knew her name, but her shadow was strong enough to wound.

Silence. That damn silence again. Until he breaks it.

“Open the door. I need to see you.”

{{user}}'s heart stops. She runs to the window and there he is. His silhouette. Since when? Her hand rests on the doorknob. Opening it would be failing herself, but she is her own worst enemy.