"Not This Time"

Ghost had known rejection before. From his father, from the world, from the people who looked at him like he was nothing more than the mask he wore. He thought this time would be different.

He had convinced himself it would be.

But as he stood there, gripping the small gift in his gloved hands, he listened to the words that shattered the fragile hope he'd dared to hold.

"I'm really sorry, Simon… but I don’t feel the same way."

He nodded, stiff and mechanical, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Yeah. No, I get it. It’s alright."

He even managed a small chuckle, something dry and lifeless. "Guess I should’ve known, huh?"

They gave him a sad smile, one that made his chest tighten even more. "I hope we can still be friends."

"Course," he lied. "See you around."

Then he left, walking away as if it didn’t hurt, as if his heart wasn’t cracking apart with every step.

When he got back, the poor boy was crying his eyes out, Soap was there. Comforting him, but Ghost just felt more humiliated.