#you call it projecting i call it kinnie credentials

[anothercrisis]

Most people, upon first glance, will believe that Simon “Ghost” Riley is incapable of love. That assumption is based on multiple factors, such as his mask, his stoic demeanor, his dry tone of voice, but the main reason is the distance he maintains from others.

People assume this distance is because he doesn’t know how to get close anymore, doesn’t know how to care anymore, doesn’t know how to love anymore.

The opposite is true. Simon’s heart bends to love far too easily for his liking. It has been void of the warmth for so long that it craves it like an addict in withdrawal.

It’s simply because of his own design that love is scarcely acknowledged or reciprocated, that wariness is the main emotion others feel towards him. That distance that he creates between himself and others is intentional, a moat meant to protect both parties from the inevitable pain that comes with love—the inevitable pain that clings to him like a shadow with all the intent to hurt the bright spots in his life and in himself.

So at the end of the day, there is a conflict of interest. Simon may love easily, but Ghost does not trust quickly. Simon may want and yearn and hope, but Ghost is hesitant and doubtful and mistrusting. Simon may crave the warmth of affection like a dying man would crave breath, but Ghost must stand vigilant to ensure survival, no matter what the cost.

[anothercrisis]

In every situation and circumstance, Ghost looked after his own. It was something he’d originally been trained to do, keeping track of his soldiers in the field, but the instinct had long since bled into his everyday life.

Ghost didn’t think it was obvious that he kept rigorous tabs on the people around him, especially those who mattered to him. To some extent, it was expected because of that wired part of his soldier’s brain that couldn’t be turned off that easily, but his compulsive need to be monitoring his own had branched far beyond that the moment he’d unlocked the space in his heart for these few men.

If it was possible, he kept his friends within his sight whenever they weren’t in a secure location, which was more often than not. Ghost chose to walk at the back of the group in more civilian settings when it was less likely to be dangerous. During missions, he took point whenever he could, keeping his soldiers behind him and listening to their footsteps to mark their locations. When they were stationary, he chose a place to settle at the fringes of the group or room where he could keep as many of them within sight as possible.

The one thing Ghost never tried to keep track of was how many times he ran silent head-counts, as he made a new one every handful of minutes. He could use a sight, a sound, a smell, or a touch of them to freshen their marker on his mental map.

Here, Johnny’s smile, and there, Gaz’s voice. There was Price’s distinct cigar smell. There were clips of Spanish phrases he could only understand a word or two of. Here was Johnny’s elbow, his thigh, just within touching range. A mohawk, two different hats. A smug smirk and its softer counterpart.

If anyone noticed that Ghost kept diligent tabs on everyone, they never said anything about it. Which he was grateful for, because it felt obsessive. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t trust them—that he was never settling completely because he was nervous around them—when the opposite was true. He did trust them, all of them, with his life.

The reason Ghost didn’t stop updating their location marks in his mind was because he didn’t want to lose them, not even for a second. They were his own, his to watch over, and if something happened, it was on him. By remaining diligent in his counting and monitoring, he could lower the risk.

At least, that’s what he told himself to stay sane.

[anothercrisis]

Thinking about Price and Ghost.

Thinking about how Price is Ghost’s superior, even when they feel more like peers. About how when Ghost screws up (because he does and he will; he’s still human) it’s Price who has to deal with it.

Thinking about how when Ghost messes up, he knows he did and does what he can to fix it and Price doesn’t often have to do anything but acknowledge it, give some sort of authoritative comment, and move on.

Thinking about a time when Ghost screws up enough that he doesn’t just get a side comment from Price. About how Price turns into Captain, crosses his arms, and puts on his serious face. How Price doesn’t need to shout to get his point across to Ghost, because it won’t take that for Ghost to understand what he says.

Thinking about Ghost, never feeling smaller than he does when Price talks to him like that; it’s the only time he ever feels inexperienced about anything. About how Ghost would go quiet, listening to Price, but also tucking part of himself away unconsciously, a defense mechanism. About how he shuts down all functions that aren’t immediately necessary and about the isolation that follows.

Thinking about how Price knows the way Ghost responds to him having to be Captain to him and how he doesn’t like to do it even less because of it.