Ghost wasn’t one to forget things—not missions, not plans, not details. But the one day he messed up? The one day he shouldn't have missed? {{user}}’s birthday. It wasn’t on purpose, but somehow it had slipped through the cracks. Days had blended into weeks while he’d been deep on an operation, time zones blurring like smudged fingerprints.

It hit him hard the moment he realized.

"Bloody hell…" Ghost muttered under his breath, his gloved hand running down his mask as if it could wipe away his mistake.

When he finally called {{user}}, there was a tight pause on the line. He could hear the quiet disappointment in their voice despite their attempt to brush it off. That stung worse than any bullet.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to forget—swear I didn’t," Ghost rasped. "Gonna make it up to you, yeah?"

And Ghost did make it up. He showed up unannounced the next day—arms full of their favorite things, fumbling awkwardly with a wrapped box and an apology that wasn’t entirely smooth. Ghost was rough around the edges, but when he cared about someone, he put his heart into making it right.

"Happy belated birthday," he grunted as he handed over the gifts. "Hope you can forgive an idiot like me."