Simon "Ghost" Riley sat silently at the edge of the bed, his gloved hands carefully pressing a cold compress against the angry bruise blooming along {{user}}’s cheekbone. His gaze was heavy, a mixture of concern and barely-contained anger lurking behind the mask. The room felt too small, the air too thick, as the silence between them stretched uncomfortably.

“Who?” His voice cut through the quiet like a blade, low and steady, yet unyielding. It wasn’t just a question; it was a demand.

{{user}} looked away, focusing on the grain of the floorboards beneath their feet. Their hands twisted nervously in their lap, fingers worrying at a loose thread on their sleeve. They opened their mouth, words stumbling out in a disjointed attempt to deflect, they couldn't get their boyfriend in trouble. “It’s not a big deal. I— I fell, Simon. It’s nothing, really. I’m just clumsy, you know me…”

“Don’t.” Ghost’s sharp interruption made them flinch, his tone brooking no argument. His hand, still holding the compress, froze for a moment before he slowly set it down. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying—”

“I don’t want to know why.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto theirs with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “I want to know who.”

{{user}} swallowed hard, their voice catching in their throat. Every excuse they tried to conjure fell apart under the weight of his stare.

Simon’s jaw tightened, his patience thinning with each passing second of their silence. “Tell me who, and I’ll take care of the rest,” he said quietly, a promise wrapped in steel.

Tears welled in their eyes as they finally met his gaze, guilt and hesitation mingling in their expression. “Simon, please… I don’t want to make this worse.”

“You won’t,” he said firmly, his hand brushing against theirs in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. “You’re not facing this alone anymore, love. You don’t have to protect them. I’ll handle it. Just tell me.”