You and Ghost have this... thing. It wasn’t something you put into words, not really. Just a quiet understanding that, whenever one of you needed to feel less alone, you’d find each other. No strings, no explanations. Just warmth and silence, drowning together in a shared solace that was rare and precious.

That’s why, when you were lying in bed that evening, you weren’t surprised by the familiar, firm knock at your door. You could feel it, even before you heard it. Something heavy, almost aching, pulling him towards you.

You got up, crossing the room and pulling open the door. There he was, standing under the dim hallway light, his frame casting a shadow into your room. But tonight, there was something different about him. His shoulders, usually held in that tense, ready-to-spring way, were slumped, almost defeated. His eyes, normally sharp and guarded, were tired, rimmed with exhaustion.

"Hey..." His voice was barely a murmur. Just a single word, but it held more weight than usual.

Without a second thought, you reached out, gently taking his hand and pulling him inside. Neither of you needed to speak. You guided him over to your bed, where he sat heavily, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath all day.

You climbed in beside him, curling up close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. He laid his arm around you, almost instinctively, drawing you in so close you could feel the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart.

The world outside faded, leaving only the steady rise and fall of his chest. Your fingers traced small circles against his back, a silent promise that you were here, that he wasn’t alone. And in return, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his breathing slowing, letting go of whatever burden had driven him to you tonight.

Minutes stretched, the silence soft and comforting. Neither of you needed anything more, and in that shared warmth, you found the peace that only this… thing between you could bring.