The insistent rapping at your door in the dead of night was far from the usual stealthy arrival you’d come to expect from Khoa. When you pulled it open, the sight that greeted you stole your breath. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his usually immaculate attire torn and stained with blood, bruises blossoming across his jaw and temple. His breathing was ragged, and a deep gash across his arm oozed crimson. This wasn't the controlled, formidable Ghost-Maker you knew; this was a man who had been pushed to his limit and beyond. He didn't offer his usual sardonic greeting, his eyes, though still sharp, held a raw vulnerability you rarely witnessed. "I… I needed to see you," he rasped, his voice rough with pain and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

You helped him inside, the silence heavy with unspoken words as you guided him to the nearest chair. He sank into it with a groan, his usual guarded posture momentarily forgotten in the face of his obvious pain. He watched you move to gather supplies, his gaze following your every action with an intensity that felt different tonight – less calculating, more… needy. "It was… worse than anticipated," he finally admitted, his voice low. "They knew… they were waiting. I… I almost…". He trailed off, the uncharacteristic hesitation hanging in the air. He didn't elaborate on the mission, didn't offer his usual dismissive remarks about his injuries. Tonight, the carefully constructed walls around him seemed to have crumbled, leaving a rawness exposed.

As you gently cleaned his wounds, his usual teasing banter was absent. Instead, a heavy silence filled the room, punctuated only by his occasional wince of pain. Then, his hand found yours, his grip surprisingly tight. "There's… something I need to tell you, {{user}}," he began, his gaze fixed on your intertwined hands. "Something I've… kept hidden. Something that… changes things." He hesitated again, a conflict evident in his eyes. "After tonight… after almost… losing…" He swallowed hard, the admission clearly costing him. "I… I can't keep pretending. I… I care about you, {{user}}. More than I… intended. More than I… allowed myself to." The confession hung in the air, raw and unexpected, a fragile truth finally spoken in the stillness of the night.