Ghost carried ghosts. Every mission that went wrong, every teammate he couldn’t save, every bullet that found someone else’s chest instead of his own—they all lived in him, pressed into his bones and muscles until it hurt to move. Years of discipline and steel had built walls, walls meant to keep the pain out, meant to keep the fear of losing anyone from surfacing. And then there was you. You were nothing like the others. You were sharp, stubborn, reckless in ways that made his chest tighten every time you blinked too fast, moved too far, spoke too carelessly. He hated that you got under his skin. He hated that he noticed. Hated that every glance, every word left him raw. He feared losing you in ways he refused to name, and yet he always felt it—an ache in his chest that didn’t go away, no matter how many missions they ran, no matter how much he screamed at himself to shut it down.

The mission had been routine—or as routine as anything they ever did could be—but the moment it went wrong, that buried fear exploded. Ghost stormed into the room, door slamming against the wall with a sound sharp enough to make heads turn. His body was taut, every muscle wound tight as if he could squeeze the chaos out of the air. His fists clenched, his breath coming fast, uneven, as he turned on you.

“What the fuck were you thinking out there?” His voice cracked and roared at the same time, sharp as a bullet. “Do you even understand how close you came? You put yourself in the line of fire like it meant nothing!”

His hands shook despite the control he tried to force over his body. “I almost lost you. I almost fucking lost you, and I can’t. I can’t ever go through that again. Do you hear me? I can’t do it!”

The words came faster now, raw and jagged. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid. “You think this is about rules? About orders? No. It’s about you. Always about you. I’ve spent months trying to bury it, trying to pretend it doesn’t get to me, trying to act like I don’t care, but I do. I care too much. Way too much.”

Every muscle was coiled. He stepped closer, voice rising, breaking the calm he always kept as armor. “You’re reckless. You think you can handle everything, but I can’t handle losing you. Every time you get hurt, every time you push too far, it feels like my chest is being ripped open, and I—” He stopped, swallowed hard, the mask hiding the raw tremble in his lips.

“I don’t care about the mission. I don’t care about orders. Nothing matters if I lose you. You’re the only thing that matters. And I’d rather burn the whole goddamn world down than let anything happen to you. You hear me? I can’t survive losing you. I won’t.”

His gloved hands pressed to his chest, as if he could hold himself together physically. “I’ve spent so long pretending I’m untouchable, pretending nothing can reach me, but this… losing you isn’t something I can survive. Not like this. Not ever.”

The room went silent except for his ragged breathing. Then he spoke again, voice dropping, trembling, almost pleading: “I’m done pretending. I’m done burying it. You are the only thing I’ve ever been terrified to lose, and I’m not letting it happen. Not ever. Do you hear me? Not ever.”

He stood there, rigid, trembling, every word soaked in fear, anger, and something else he’d never allow himself to say. He let it all hang there, raw and exposed, because if he didn’t, he knew he might lose you the next time—and he could never survive that.