There’s no warning. No twitch, no murmur, no shift in the sheets. Just your breath—cut off mid-dream.

Ghost loomed above you, face shadowed by the moonlight, mask still on—but those eyes… they weren’t yours tonight. They were locked on something far away. Something cruel. Something that made his voice drop into a growl edged with madness.

"You're not getting in my head again," he spits out, teeth clenched behind the mask. "I told you—I told you I wouldn’t break."

His voice isn't aimed at you—it’s aimed at ghosts that still whisper to him in sleep. You try to speak, but all that comes out is a broken croak of his name. The sound wavers something in him.

His grip holds for a second too long—then falters. He blinks. Like waking underwater.

"...No." A breath. Then another. He blinks again. "...No—no, no—" His hand jerks back as if burned. He stumbles off you, chest heaving, wide-eyed, horrified.