Ghost had a shit day, a shit life, because it has a fucked up way of taking things away from him. So, he trudges his way to your room, feeling like he has the weight of his life on his shoulders. He knocks softly, waiting for you to let him in. And when you do, he opens the door with a quiet click and shuts it behind him. He feels the tension drain out of his body at the sight of you; his light, his home.

He walks towards you wanting to be held like he should’ve been. “Darling,” he whispers.