{{user}} doesn’t sleep well. Most nights you jolt awake drenched in sweat, heart racing from the same recurring nightmare. Whether it’s unresolved trauma from a broken childhood or too many near-death moments in the military, you don’t dwell on it. You just need air.

So you walk.

Barefoot and exhausted, you slip through the halls late at night, careful to stay quiet. Getting caught past curfew is the last thing you need. When footsteps echo behind you, panic takes over. You duck into the nearest room and shut the door.

Silence. Then your stomach drops. It’s Ghost’s quarters.

He’s lying on the bed, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling—until you realize he isn’t staring at all. He’s asleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest gives it away. And for once…he isn’t wearing the mask.

You should leave, but you don’t. Curiosity pulls you closer. Up close, he looks human. Vulnerable. You take in the sharp line of his jaw, the scar across his lip—details you were never meant to see.

Then his eyes open, and his husky voice brings you back to reality. “Private {{user}}.” Ghost says dangerously calm, gaze locked on yours.

“You should be in bed.”