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unknownpisces002 · 1 year ago

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GREEN MILE.

“ Losing my mind, think I look good when I’m really just high. Scared of my life, can a bitch get by? Sick of listening to everyone else. Sick of my pride, sick of just saying shit, just to be nice. Sick of this world, how do I get by? Miles running wild in my head.”

Giovanna Ramos X Black Fem.

Summary

“Clarity is a state of mind. And freedom ain’t real either, so who’s sold you that lie?” A love story told in a therapy session, about two young girls that were once mad for one another. By a recovering drug addict, who’s life revolves entirely around the green mile of North Carolina.

That she so desperately wants to escape.

Word count: 2,259

Themes: friends to lovers, LGBT, derealization, coming out of the closet, growth, homophobia, substance abuse, summer, violence, mental health, religion, family problems and secrets, young adults, mature, self discovery, eventual fluff, eventual smut, therapy, North Carolina, countryside, poverty, trauma, urban romance, urban fiction, ghetto.

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Author’s Note

hi everyone! this is a story that i decided to transfer over from my wattpad account. that i recently just started at the end of december. because i felt the need to share it here, over on this platform as well.

so that all of you guys would also be able to read/ give me feedback on how it is, and what you’d like to see occur? as the story progresses on. so i hope that you all like it, and also feel free to follow me on wattpad as well! my username is supersensitivepisces on there 🧚🏽

also, inspiration to create this story? came from my love for Giovanna. ( she’s so aesthetically pleasing flf me.) as well as a movie that i had been watching, the day that i decided to publish this onto my account back in december.

PROLOGUE.

" I'll never meet a girl like you again. Out of everything I lost, I lost a friend. Tryna get over you, tryna convince myself every night. It's just another night, even though deep down I'm traumatized."

HASSAN

4 hassan

U r the omega of my heart. The foundation 4 my concept of love, when I think of what a black woman should be. It's you that I first think of.

_____________________________________________

U will never fully understand how deeply my heart feels for you. I worry that we'll grow apart, and I'll end up losing you.

____________________________________________

U bring me to a climax without sex, and u do it all with regal grace. U r my heart in human form, a friend I could never replace.

____________________________________________

– from gio.

___________

11/7/18

Oak City Therapy

Lillington, NC

" When I was younger, around like five or six years old? I used to bug my mom and tell her about how I wanted to be a firefighter. So I could save lies and put out fires? Like the people who I'd watch on tv would do."

Tapping the tips of her fingertips onto the dark oak wood coffee table, that was located in the center of the dim lit office room. Giovanna kept her head facing downwards.

Finding that, refusing to make direct eye contact with her therapist of 3 years, who was named Marsha? Was far more comfortable and peaceful for her nerves, as well as her emotional state.

That had so desperately wanted to crumble and falter, into tiny small pieces of despair. But you see, that was the one thing on this fucked up planet, we call earth? That Giovanna was against.

Showing emotions and allowing herself to be vulnerable? Were just two things she'd rather die over, before she'd allow them to be seen by the entire world.

Or in this specific case? Her friends, along with her father. Who had played a humongous part, in why she chose to be nonchalant while acting unfazed? About majority of the things that would occur inside of her life.

".. I too? Used to dream of being a firefighter myself. When I was around that exact age, but I'm assuming that specific dream of yours must've gotten lost. Somewhere down the line as you aged up? If you aren't uncomfortable telling me about why or how? That occurred.."

Marsha eased her way into questioning the young woman who sat before her, slowly and hesitantly. Making sure that each of the words she'd spoken? Came out soft, in a calm and delicate manner.

As she leaned her backside up against her office chair, with eyes full of hope and wonder. That held a bit of gloominess inside them as well too. Once she noticed the way that Giovanna's breathing had begun to pick up a bit.

Just as her short, but not too short fingernails, that were painted a matte black color? Had begun to dig into the surface of the desk she sat at. Almost as if she were trying to dig a deep hole into the center of it, that would allow her to shield and hide herself away?

From having to answer the difficult question? That had been asked of her.

" ..I wouldn't say that my passion to accomplish that specific dream? Got lost. Because even after my mom had passed away, from having cancer? Apart of me still wanted to pursue that goal. But at the same time? Another part of me, like the part that held high hopes and expectations for things? Had diminished inside of me completely, after I lost my mom.."

" ..And I'm not really sure that if me being an only child, plays a part in that? Because don't get me wrong, I was loved wholeheartedly? By both of my parents equally when I was younger. But I don't know...sometimes now? Like when I'm alone or high from being off pills or something? I start to realize that really? It was only my mom that had loved me wholeheartedly back then.."

" Instead of it being my dad."

" And why is it, that you feel as if your father doesn't love you Giovanna?" Marsha continued to ask all the questions, that were written down onto her clipboard hesitantly.

Feeling an unsettling sensation begin to wash over her slowly. When Giovanna had taken it upon herself to shift around inside her seat. Which allowed the left sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt to rise. And give Marsha the opportunity, to catch a glimpse of all the fresh and faded scar markings that were present there.

From Giovanna, inflicting a significant amount of self harm unto herself.

" I know that he doesn't love me? Because he's voiced that statement every single day. Over the last twelve years? Repeatedly." Giovanna chuckled bitterly, all while gnawing on the inside of her jaw using her teeth.

" Me being a lesbian? Probably is another one of the reasons why he hates me too. But all in all? He just doesn't love or care for me period? In the way that a normal father would love their child."

And that fact alone? Was sadly true.

" Him not loving me or treating me properly? Doesn't bother me at all though. Because I'm used to it now, and I know that me saying that? Probably sounds stupid right? And it might also make you assume that I may or may not have Stockholm syndrome? Being that I'm okay with the fact that my father's been treating me like shit, while sometimes abusing me and more? For over twelve years."

" Yes, the way that you are going on about how his lack of love and affection, doesn't bother you? Does raise a few red flags for me. As far as you possibly being a victim of having Stockholm syndrome? But it also makes me worry more about your emotional and mental state? Even more. Being that when you really sit and sum up the timeframe, of you losing your mother? Down to your father's continuous abuse?"

" It seems that through all of that? You haven't been able to feel any of the proper care, love or attention? That a person who's endured losing a parent at a young age? Should get to feel. And that may also be another reason, as to why you feel the need to be so distant. While hiding away your true feelings, because honestly Giovanna? I'm gonna tell you something from my own personal experiences with life."

"..That have helped me find closure and peace? Within myself. After being a victim of my own? To some of the same exact problems that you've been having."

Sitting her clipboard aside, after grabbing a few tissues out of the box that was towards her right. Marsha had begun opening up about her past life, to Giovanna. As a way to encourage the younger woman and try to get through to her in a way, that talking and asking simple therapy questions? Couldn't do.

But of course? As always, Giovanna didn't care to hear any of it. Which allowed every word that left from out of Marsha's mouth, to enter inside of one ear, and come floating directly through the other.

Just as she found herself beginning to grow a bit offended, once Marsha had begun to talk about love and relationships. And how someone in Giovanna's state, didn't really need to engage in any form of romantic or sexual interactions? With another person.

Due to the lack of her father not showing her enough love or care properly? When she was a young age.

" I've been in love before." Were the first few words that left from out of Giovanna's mouth. As she cut into the middle of Marsha's speech, not really caring or giving a fuck if she had come off rude or not? After doing so.

" I'm actually in love right now? If you want me to be honest. I'm just not on speaking terms with the person? Who owns the other half of my heart right now."

" Really?" Marsha questioned slowly, sounding a bit shocked and caught off guard by Giovanna's statement.

" Mm-hm." Giovanna nodded her head slowly, feeling a small smile begin to form at the corners of her lips. Once the thought of her distant and angelic lover? Had begun to enter inside of her mind slowly.

" And why aren't the two of you on speaking terms? If you don't mind me asking."

" Because I'm..." Trailing off at the end of her sentence, Giovanna had begun to still her breathing. Just as her dark brown eyes started to glisten, and blur her vision up with tears.

" Because you're what, Giovanna?" Marsha pressed her for an answer, knowing almost immediately? What the younger girls response would've been like, once she re-opened up her mouth to speak.

" ..I'm damaged goods, Miss Marsha.."

" Like I have a heart, of course? And I know how to love and treat someone properly, even though I myself? Never got to receive that same exact treatment, from the people I deserved it from. I still know how to love and treat someone good? Despite that. But I just..."

" You're just a product of your environment. And even though treating someone kindly and loving them correctly? Doesn't come difficult. Sometimes accepting back that same love and energy? Can be a bit difficult. When all you've ever known was toxicity and dysfunction."

" But see, the thing about me accepting it back? Wasn't the problem Miss Marsha. The problem was my self esteem and my communication. Because there were times when I said things out of anger or out of being afraid? That had drove Hassan away from me too."

" Hassan?" Marsha repeated the name of Giovanna's lover slowly. " Hassan is such a pretty name, and I'm sure that she must be a pretty girl too? With how emotional and vulnerable you're getting while talking about her."

And that? She was indeed.

But of course, pretty? Wouldn't even be a suitable word to describe her at all. Because you see, Hassan? Was angelic. Just like everything else about her personality and character? Was too.

" Experiencing her love and even the attention she gave to me, before we ever became a thing? Was a privilege I wish that I never took for granted." Giovanna answered quietly, picking with the bracelet on her arm, that was giving to her by Hassan herself.

" And I know before, when I had first gotten here? I told you about how growing up as a child, with both of my parents while my mom was still alive? Was the time period where my want to do lots of things? Had been very strong."

" But even when she died and my dad became more hostile towards me? I still craved to be something or let alone somebody? Who'd be great. I just didn't know how or where to start first? For me to be able to accomplish any of those things period? Until I met Hassan.."

"..And she came into my world, allowing everything that once looked black and white? Turn colorful and vibrant. So that I could be guided out of my selfish, stuck up ways, and be the person who she swore up above to God and the heavens? That I was created to be."

" And what kind of person was that?" Marsha found herself growing a bit emotional as time passed, as she sat with her arms folded tightly. Trying not to make a fool out of herself, for crying and weeping over her client's newfound vulnerability and bravery.

That she had gained out of the blue, due to talking about her past. Or in this case? Still present lover. Who she wholeheartedly still loved very deeply, to this day.

" The kind of person who always showed patience and kindness, despite being robbed of all their goodness and purity? Far too early than I should've been. That's the kind of person? She saw me as. Even through the good, the bad and the ugly? She always looked at me, with eyes that held so much love and adoration. That at often times? I'd get scared."

" While wondering how a person like me? Could win over the heart of someone like her, you know? But even then after everything that's happened and changed over the years? I'd never stop loving her ever."

" And why is that Giovanna?"

" Because finding someone who'd love you through any and everything, despite the fact that you might not even deserve it at all? Is very fucking rare these days."

" And I have Hassan's heart? In the same exact way she has mine. So why would I ever let go or move onto someone else? When I know for certain that we'll find our way back to one another. Just like we always have? During the past."

" And you're willing to wait however long it may take, until that day ends up coming?"

" Oh? Absolutely." Giovanna's head nodded up and down quickly. " If I had to wait another year or even ten more? I'd do it without question."

" Because Hassan is worth the wait. And if I ended up having to grow old and wrinkly, just for that day to come back to me? I wouldn't have a problem with it at all."

" ..I'd just accept her back into my life fully, with open arms. Because that's all I've been wanting again and looking forward to? For the last two years."

if you’d like to be tagged in the next part? just comment below. & also feel free to leave thoughts down there as well too!

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rennorthernlights · 1 year ago

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The World We Knew

Chapter 1, Chapter 2: Take a Trip Down The Lane, Chapter 3,

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, Zombies, Zombie Death, mentions of family death

August ish, 2023. Time??? Location: outskirts of Navasota, Texas.

“Gaz, you almost got it fixed, yeah?” The voice calls out making Gaz jolt. Too lost in his world to realize that his Captain was peering over his shoulder. Gaz has been working on it since Soap managed to nab it back when they were passing College Station. Soap got a massive earful from Ghost and Price considering he almost become zombie fodder.

“Aye, sir, almost got it.” It’s been driving Gaz mad for the last couple of days. The man has nearly lost his patience on it more times than he can count and that’s saying something considering he has the patience of a mountain… sometimes. “Bugger just won’t—“

A muffled voice that slowly becomes clearer as the radio tunes into the signal. “Oh and you won’t believe what I did today,” Gaz and Price freezes as they hear a woman’s voice on the radio. They share eye contact as they listen in. Hoping that it’s not a hoax or a figment of their imagination. “Managed to nab a blanket for once. Sometimes Texas is warm and other times is— BZZZ”

“No, no, no,” Gaz says as he angles the radio to try and listen to her speak again. Price sighs and claps a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. A firm squeeze as he looks at his Sergeant. “It works, Gaz,” he says as he looks at Gaz frantically trying to get it back. “Gaz, hey,” Price says as he tries to get him to look at him. “Kyle!” He yells and Gaz’s shoulders slump.

“Gaz, you got it to work. We’ve had it for weeks now without a single peep but you got it to work. That’s all that matters.” Cupping the back of Gaz’s head with a light squeeze. “Go help Soap with a perimeter check. Let me see if I can take a crack at it, yeah?” He offers as he knows Gaz needs a break, giving him a tender kiss on the forehead. Gaz’s shoulders relax and he mutters some reluctance before he stands and leaves. Price takes his spot and he rolls his shoulders. The stress of it all weighing just a bit more now that he knows the radio works. It’s gonna plague Gaz for a while and Price needs his head on straight.

“Alright, let’s try it,” Price cracks his knuckles and works on it. Been almost a year since the world went to shit. Last year he was getting Soap and Ghost out of the military base in Las Almas and now he’s somewhere in Texas. They tried to convince Rudy and Ale to get on board with going with them to Fort Sam Houston. The Mexican Colonel was vehemently against leaving Las Almas even Rudy didn’t think it’d be a good idea. Took Soap speaking to them and then finally Ghost putting his two cents in to convince. “Safer in numbers,” He remembers Ghost grunting out only for Ale to argue that he and Rudy are needed with the Los Vaqueros. As he works on the radio, he thinks back on what eventually set them down the path they are in.

————————————————————

“I’m not leaving my men, not after what that cabrón did.” Spitting on the ground as the fire from the tank that Graves was in is still going. It’s been a couple days and there’s already been reports of this disease. At first Price didn’t want to believe it, hell, no one wanted to believe it. Man eating disease? Sounds like something out of a horror novel. “Colonel Vargas, the sooner we get to that Fort the sooner we can bring back whatever cure they have to your men.” Price steps forward, eye level with Vargas, as his arms cross over his chest. Beard crinkling as his lip twitches.

“We need all the help we can get and you and your Sergeant Major would expedite the process of that.” Vargas sighs, his hands on his hips as he turns to Rudy whose been silently listening. They speak fast in Spanish, both have different expressions as they talk it over to each other. Vargas mutter a curse, that one Price can understand, and Rudy then steps forward. “We are needed here. We can’t let Las Almas suffer, this is our home and we will stay. With or without a cure.” Rudy states and Vargas nods in agreement. Price sighs and a faint smile graces his face as Soap clasps a hand on Rudy’s shoulder with a “be safe, hermanos” in his Scottish accent.

Took a days time to gear up and pack the necessary essentials they’d need. The whole world has been put on a pause and no planes go in and out especially when news came around that the President of the United State’s plane had sick people get on board. Secret service is still trying to find the rest of the plane since it nose dived somewhere in Philadelphia. Price only knew about the Fort from Laswell when she gave him a call. She didn’t have much time to speak on the phone before it blacked out with the insistent beep of the call disconnecting. Didn’t matter how many times he tried to call back.

When she last called she sounded out of breath like she’d been running a marathon. Speaking fast with her words, “M’glad you’re safe, John. It’s been hell here.” Shots firing in the background as he can hear screams, “Place is a lil crowded for me right now but listen!” She pants as sends him the information to his phone with shaky hands. “Fort Sam Houston is researching and performing experiments for a cure. Get there and keep the scientist safe. Fuck!” She curses as she now sounds far away. Someone is shooting again. He calls her name urgently but the phone disconnects as he punches the wall with a yell.

That phone call was 2 days ago. Soap still tried to convince Ale and Rudy but they held firm to their decision. The most Colonel Vargas could do was gift them a military vehicle and a decent number of guns, supplies, and preserves. A month. Should just take a week to get up there anyways. Provide protection for the scientists. Once they’ve made a cure then they can head back and then everything will hopefully go back to normal. That should be enough time to get up to the base and back. If everything goes smoothly that is.

Even though Price wanted to believe it even back then he knew that it would take more than a miracle for this to actually work but… He trusted Laswell, trusted her judgment with these things. He just wishes he could hear her speak again. He knows she’s resourceful, she’s probably with her wife right now hunkered down somewhere safe… hopefully.

“Are we ready?” Gaz calls out as Ghost loads up the last bag. Vargas was overseeing the load out to make sure they had everything for their mission, he even triple checked for them. Few sightings of the sick people have been roaming the streets. Mexico City is going dark as they get ready to head out as they speak. The Mexican military is deploying every able-bodied soldier at the moment and yet it isn’t enough. Too many have gone radio silent. Vargas and some of the Los Vaqueros plan on scouting there to see what’s going on as soon as the 141 leave. “Let’s load up!” Vargas yells as he hands Price a couple CD’s for the music player. Vargas may or may not have had that installed when he was tinkering with the vehicle weeks ago…

“Figured you Brit’s—,” a quick Oi from Soap, “AND Scot,” an amused glint in his eyes as he winks, “would prefer if I left some CD’s, si? Gives Soap enough time to work on his Spanish.” A Cheshire grin on the man as he leans an elbow against the door.

“Fine by me, s’long as Ghost ain’t driving and Soap can fix up on his Spanish,” Gaz remarks and Ghost levels him with a glare. “Gonna tell me I’m wrong, Ghost? Soap told me how you drove getting out of Las Almas.”

“My bad, next time I’ll put my blinker on,” Ghost grunts out sarcastically as Soap clasps a hand on Ghost shoulder with a belch of a laugh. Bantering back and forth as Price and Gaz sit in the front. Gaz acting as the map since the wifi has been acting stranger and stranger. A wave goodbye from the Colonel and the Sergeant Major as they drive off. A month. That’s all they’ll need and it’ll go back to normal.

The days quickly turned into months. Barely crossing the border of Mexico into the US it started becoming one shit show after another. Far too many close calls that definitely made Price age more than he already is. The main roads were clogged with people trying to get in and out of of major cities. It was madness, the people were everywhere. Screams and yelling as people tried surviving. Rudy kept talking with the men from where he was in Las Almas. Their radio working pretty well considering the long distance. Rudy and Ale would talk and give regular updates day in and day out until it stopped. Soap tried everything to get the radio working, thinking that the wires were crossed or something but… to no avail. They couldn’t even turn back considering how far they were, all they could do is push forward.

Ghost and Soap went through a rough patch, arguments and spitting curses in left and right. Ghost saying that they shouldn’t go back because “choices have consequences” only for Soap to angrily disagree. It took Gaz stepping in to act as a buffer while Price had to put his foot down on the matter.

“We can’t go back. We gotta keep moving, Johnny.” A sad look on Price as he places a hand on the Scott’s shoulder. He’s knows Johnny will take the blame and guilt himself into thinking it’s his fault for not convincing Ale and Rudy better. Didn’t help that when they stayed at an apartment complex someone stole their vehicle when they got pass Laredo, Texas. At least they had the weapons and supplies that Ale gave them in the apartment they’re hunkering down in, small mercies.

Derailing most of the plan and making tensions so high that Ghost could’ve cut it with one of his knives. It got even worse when Gaz couldn’t contact his mother anymore, barely a month in as the group walked more on foot from place to place. Gaz shut off completely for a week, not even Soap could ease him out of it. Took Ghost sitting next to Gaz on a warm night in an abandoned gas station for Gaz to finally cry it out. Ghost, never being one for soft words, held Gaz close to him, not saying a word but just being a comforting embrace for Gaz to fall into.

When they finally got a car it went a little smoother, Price scouted it at a JoeVs. He won’t talk about how he knows how to hotwire a car much to everyone’s annoyance and amusement. Soap was able to get a few phone calls from his family until it just stopped coming altogether. Phone calls making a “We’re sorry, the person you have dialed is not able to come to the…” Soap could only hear it so many times before he threw his phone against the wall causing it to crack and break.

Soap leaned more on Gaz for help since he understands more about it. A silent comfort that they had each other to work through it. Ghost took on more of the load since he knew that Price couldn’t carry all the weight. Especially since their Sergeants were going through it emotionally. Ghost’s only family was the men in the car so he didn’t have much to worry or cry about. Price was an only kid and with parents already in the grave. They really only had each other to lean into, all of them did.

The team went through a list of names to call the sick during the quiet nights they had. It all came down to a vote for “Z-Fuckers” since it was funnier hearing Soap call’em that in his Scottish accent.

“Z-Fuckers!” Soap said it experimentally and Gaz has to cover his mouth as he nearly choked on some beans. Ghost having to aggressively pat his back as even he started laughing. Price tried to be stern about being quiet but even he gave into it when Soap kept saying it. A lil calm in their storm, for once the night feels normal.

“It’s like that Romero movie, m’serious Gaz.” Soap grins as they sit next to each other in an office building they’re hiding in. The other in different spots of the room as they chatter back and forth like it’s a normal 141 mission. The Z-fuckers, as Soap so lovingly calls them, are outside on the streets. Moaning and groaning as they search for something breathing and living to sink their nasty teeth into. As they were looking for a place to stay earlier, Ghost narrowly got bit when he pulled Price back from the exit only for Price to punch the shit out of the dead woman making her stumble. Gaz was quicker with stabbing her in the head and then the zombie went limp.

When they finally settled for the night Soap spoke up again to Gaz and then to the rest of the group. “It’s the brains. I dinnae think it’d be but it is.” Soap says outloud and Ghost agreed to it, “Aim for the head.” Become the motto of the group.

Took 5 months in total, a few near misses, a couple of shit shows after the other, and finally they’ve made it to Fort Sam Houston.

“Jesus Christ.” Gaz whistles out as he looks on the binoculars. “Sore sight that’s for damn sure.” Soap makes a grabby hand motion and Gaz obliges him. Blue eyes widening as he looks to Price.

“You’re out ya damn mind if ya think anyones livin.” It’s definitely not a pretty sight. Too many deads, blood smeared on the outside walls of the building. Body parts on the ground. “Pretty sure that’s guts on a car…” Like a horror show from the looks of it. Especially with the broken glass and some of the cars in the parking lot being overturned.

Arms crossed and jacket pulled tight as Price levels him with a look. “We’ve a mission, Sunshine. Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” Soap snorts and keeps looking through the binoculars. “Ghost, you see anything?” Turning to look up as Ghost is laying on a rundown car. His rifle in hand as he looks through the scope. His eyes flickering as he searches and looks for movement.

Price tilts his head expectantly, and finally Ghost speaks, “I see lot of z-fuckers roamin. There’s movement in the building, too fast for a Z so it’s possible but I can’t get a clear view.” The older man nods and rolls his shoulders.

“Alright, let’s gear up.” A circle movement of the arm as he’s as satisfied as he can be with that answer. Not like they have a choice anyways.

They, thankfully, still have their comms and good enough gear on hand. It’s not the best and Price would’ve definitely lectured all of them if they were on a mission, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Soap and I will take the first. You two will take second. Comm for assistance.” His voice naturally moving into the tone that’s been honed over the years as Captain. “Don’t get hurt and don’t get killed.” He pats on Gaz’s chest since he’s the closest. “Don’t become a meal either.” Simple enough as is. Get in, find the scientists, and get out. Pretty clear cut. What could go wrong?

“Price you’re gonna have to think of something! Gaz and I are about to get cornered!” Ghost yells into the comm as he quickly tries to find a room to try and hide him and Gaz in.

Ghost slams against the door and throws Gaz inside. Shutting it quickly as the screech of a dead alerts more to where they are. “Fuck,” Ghost curses as he grabs whatever is heavy enough and barricades the door. The wood of the door being slammed against by the mindless drone of the zombies. He pants hard as presses a hand on the back of his head. His fingers flexing against his mask. His mind working overtime to think of a way out for the both of them.

His eyes searching for an exit as he spots a closet and windows. “Can’t break it. Might be more out there..” muttering as he taps once and then twice on his comms but it’s no use. He slammed too hard against the door, it probably messed with his comms somehow. At least they’re on the first floor. Far too many zombies on second that they had to turn back. Tapping the back of his head with his fist as he thinks of a strategy.

He pauses as he hears anxious muttering. Turning his head a lil he notices his Sergeant gripping his head. He takes a step closer, worried when he finally hears what Gaz is saying,” We’re not gonna make it.” Gaz repeats it again and again.

“Gaz” he says softly, trying to get his attention.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He’s spiraling as he tries to breath. Tries to keep calm, he’s been trained for torture, trained to handle the extreme but this is different. It’s a hopeless feeling being trapped in a room with no way out. He lost his gun when he tripped down the stairs. Ghost probably only has a clip left. It’s hopeless.

“Garrick listen to m-“

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to John or Johnny.” His hands shake as he tries and tries to breath. To calm down but he can’t focus. His ankle hurts, it’s definitely sprained from when he fell down the stairs. He didn’t mean to fall but a crippled zombie reached its hand through the bars of the rail and grabbed him. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ghost so… scared when he called his name out as he killed the zombie when it crawled on him.

“Kyle!”

His name being yelled is what pulls Kyle out of his spiral. The shuffling of fabric is heard as Kyle breaths in and out. The throb of his ankle momentarily fading as he turns and looks at Ghost. His eyes widen as Ghost isn’t wearing his mask anymore. It’s clenched in his gloved hand as he comes to Kyle.

“You’re not gonna die. Its not gonna happen.” Ghost says it so sternly, so assuredly that Kyle stammers a response back.

“There’s too many outside the door. They’re clawing to get in, Gh-“

“Simon.”

“W-what?”

“Want you to call me, Simon.” The bigger man says as he steps closer. His gloved hand reaching out and cupping his face as Kyle looks dumbfounded and confused. His breath hitching as he stares into Gho- no Simon’s eyes. Lost in thought as he looks at every crease, every little scar that Simon has. Has he always had such pretty brown eyes? “You’re gonna hide in the closet and I’ll give’em something to chew on.” He murmurs softly.

Something to chew on? What does that mean? Wait… he can’t possibly be meaning what he thinks he’s meaning. That makes him tense as he shakes his head. “No, no-“

“Kyle,” he starts but he gets cut off fast.

“No! I’m not… I can’t just… no!” He steps back but Simons hand grips him a bit harder. Months ago he wouldn’t even think about yelling back to him but he doesn’t care. He’s not going to let Simon die. Not because of him. A battle of wills while the zombies growl outside the door.

“I love you.”

Kyles shoulders slack, his mouth parted slightly as his heart pounds from adrenaline and fear. Eyes glassing over as he says, “y-you what?”

“I know it’s taking me a while to say it. I’m sorry but I do. I love you” Simon looks down as he says it, like it’s a secret that wasn’t supposed to be said but also a yearning to be spoken about. “I’ve lost a lot. I’ve buried too many.” He laughs sadly, “Maybe Johnny was right that I’d need to be put in these types of situations to say it.”

“But Johnny, you love Johnny.”

“I do. Figured it out in Las Almas. Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel for you or… John.” Slowly pressing his forehead to Gaz. Ignoring the pounding hands of the dead on the door that could break at any minute if it wasn’t for the desks in front of it. Simon looks at Gaz like he’s the only thing here. The only important thing in this room right here and now. “The dead outside this door isn’t gonna stop me from protecting what’s mine.”

“We can both hide. We can…” he tries to offer, tries to think through the emotions bubbling up in his chest.

“Kyle, you’ve a brilliant mind. Best on par with John but you know as well as I that the dead won’t stop till they have something to sink their teeth into.”

“No, no you can’t just confess. You can’t just tell me you love me and then die!” He yells and something fierce is in Gaz’s eyes. “You don’t get to leave.” Hands reaching out and grips the collar of Simon’s shirt. The one that Johnny got for him when they were running through a Walmart. A determined look in his eyes and something even more as he glares at his Lieutenant, his Simon, his.

Planting his feet as he ignores the pain in his sprain. “You don’t get to die on me Simon Riley. Not now. Not ever.” Leaning up and kissing him as Simon’s eyes widen. Shaken up as he clearly wasn’t expecting Kyle to kiss him or even reciprocate it. Maybe he also needed to be put in this situation to realize it as well that he loves Simon too.

“Dead’s be damned,” he breathes out as he knocks his forehead to Simon’s. “Our guys will get us. You know they will, don’t try and die on me.” Nose brushing against each other. The cracking of the wooden door pulls them out of the moment. Simon stepping in front of Gaz fast as he widens his stance and grabs his gun. The barricade in front of the door won’t last long. Simon eyes the closet door and then behind him to Gaz.

“I have a clip left. I ca-“ a loud sound outside makes the building shake and he can think of only one person that would make such a loud noise. Just as he’s about to laugh about the odds of who it is. A buzzing noise on Gaz’s comm comes to life as Johnny is speaking hurriedly, like he’s running. Telling them that he and Price are making noise on the east side of the building and to head towards the exit.

“Come on, Kyle,” He places his mask in his pocket, moving the barricade from the door away. Quickly surveying the hallway before he moves and hauls Gaz’s arm over his shoulder. “Our guys got us after all, huh?” His other hand gripping his gun as he keeps a constant watch. Determined to not let anything harm the two of them.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Kyle grunts out when some of his weight is on his sprained ankle. Ghost noticing as he nearly lifts him off the floor as his hand grips at his waist. Shouldering the weight of Gaz as they get out.

“Maybe a lil,” he grins and Kyle finds that he likes the way Simon grins. All teeth in it as he helps him out. Price is already providing cover fire as soon as they both make it to the exit. Soap coming around and helping Gaz so they can get away faster. The building becomes a distant dot and blur of a memory months later, maybe even a laugh at the odds and luck that Gaz has.

————————————————————

Back to the present day as Price smiles softly while working on the radio. From that point on everyone’s been closer, nearly losing Gaz and Ghost was a wakeup call that they all desperately needed. They’ve had near misses but never like that. Never to the point where it felt like the end. Now no one goes anywhere without letting the group know and they have to have a buddy with them at all times. It’s typically; Price and Gaz. Ghost and Soap. Sometimes they’ll switch up but they’re always communicating. Hell, there communicating better than when they did when they were on mission.

Bzzzz… Crchhhh “-nally saw a deer again. That was nice. Last one I saw had bite marks on it. Really, really, hope it was a dog and not a dead fucker.” The mystery woman chuckles, and Price can’t believe his luck. He calls hurriedly to the other men to come over as the woman keeps speaking. “Would kill for a burger from Whataburger, you think they’ll have the ingredients there? Man o man-“

“The radios working?“ Ghost says, stunned that it’s actually working. The radio keeps going as the woman keeps talking unaware of her listeners. “Gaz and you finally got it to work. Guess I can stop railing on Soap for grabbing it.”

“Knew it’d work, ya just dinnae believe me, Si.” Elbowing the big man as Soap steps closer, “Sounds like pretty lil ‘o bird. Gonna speak back, Captain?” Soap inquired as Price holds his finger over the button to speak. For once Price feels… nervous. The first human voice in nearly a year and he’s unsure about it. The number of pros and cons already playing out in his head.

“It might scare her off.” He moves his finger away as they listen to her speak about something that sounds mundane but is everything to the men in the room. It feels normal. “Let’s wait it out a bit. See where this goes. Don’t speak on the radio unless necessary, got it?” Price orders and they all agree. As much as Price wants to speak to the lady… he also wants to protect his men and keep them safe. Who knows who she is or if she’s even alone? The risks outweighs the benefits of a potential alliance for now.

Listening to her on the radio has slowly become a part of their routine. Sometimes in the morning or afternoon she’ll speak. Talk about her day, what she had to eat, commenting on her place of choice for the night, etc. The men would huddle around the radio so they could hear her and her “Talkshows” as they’d call it. Some of them wonder what she’d look like, what she’d sound like in person, how old she was, Soap even placing a bet that she wore glasses while Gaz placed a bet that she didn’t. It became part of their routine to check the radio everyday for her voice until one day…. She went silent.

She didn’t say anything in the morning and then the afternoon rolled by and no response. “We need to reach out and talk to’er.” Gaz said almost insistently when the second day rolled around and still no voice from her. The feeling that she could be a dead becoming ever present on their minds. Price holds the radio in hand, a crease of his brows as he thinks it over.

“Lemme speak to’er, doubt she’ll be spooked if she hears a ‘funny’ accent, yeah? Might make’er talk a bit since I sound like Shrek.” Soap says and holds his hand out. Price takes a second before handing it to him. An encouraging nod from him as Soap breaths in and says, “This is Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Taskforce 141 operative. I’m trying to get in touch with the woman that regularly speaks on this line.” different murmurs from the men as they hope and beg that their lady is around to hear them.

Bzzzz… crchhhhh… He tries again, a worried feeling creeping up in his chest. His words more insistent. “This is Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacT-“

“H-Hello?” She says softly. A nervousness in her voice and the men all sigh in relief.

“You had us worried, Bonnie.” Soap says as he breaths out a low sigh. His hand unclenching since he had it balled from how nervous he was feeling.

“Us?”

Their eyes widen as they hear the fear in her voice. A curse from Ghost as Soap scrambles to speak, “Me and some of my group have been listening to your talks. We… We just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” The silence on the other radio is deafening and they all suck in a breath. Soap tries to coax some words out of her but to no avail.

She didn’t speak on the line anymore, but they held out hope. Johnny and Kyle started taking turns speaking on the line, talking about their day as the 141 sat around waiting for her to say something back. They were about to give up since a couple weeks go by with no response. And then finally, the static on the other side comes to life.

“… Hi,” the radio crinkles and buzzes with a soft noise, “I’m not going to give you my name or location but I..” the radio shorts out and the men wait on bated breath for her to speak again. “But I want to talk. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to speak to you.”

“We’re here, Sunshine,” Gaz says softly as he takes the radio, “This is Kyle, do you remember me? I’d’ve spoken more to you whenever, Johnny,” glaring lightheartedly at the Scot, “would stop hogging the radio.” He chuckles softly. “We’re glad that you’ve decided to speak again. We want to talk to you as well, if you’ll let us.”

“I want to talk but… don’t tell me your name anymore, please.”

“…Alright,” he murmurs softly, “we won’t say our names anymore.” The men in the room all look confused about her request but they don’t say anything else about it to keep her talking. “Call me whatever you’d like, Sunshine.”

———

TAGLIST TWWK: @wrathofcats

#the world we knew #TWWK #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick #john price #poly 141 #poly141 x reader #cannon typical violence #zombie #minor deaths #Simon was definitely gonna knock Kyle out and forcibly put him in the closet #guns #blood #call of duty #zombie au #Simon took off his mask because he wanted to die as Simon not Ghost #a slight bit of angst #a slight bit of happy sappy stuff

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