Rain drenches the empty streets of London. You lean against the brick wall, eyes locked on the tall figure before you—Ghost, his gaze cold behind the balaclava.

"You shouldn't be here," his voice is low, a quiet warning.

You bite your lip. "Neither should you."

He doesn’t move away. Instead, he steps closer, his warmth contrasting the biting night air.

"This is a mistake."

"Then why are you still here?"

His jaw tightens. "You know why."

Your heart clenches. "Can't... or won't?"

Ghost's fists tighten. "If they find out, it'll be you who pays the price."

You blink back tears. "And you think leaving me hurts any less?"

Silence. Then suddenly, he pulls you into his arms. His breath is warm against your skin.

"Tell me to walk away, sweetheart..." he whispers. "Tell me to forget you."

(Do you let him go or fall deeper into what you can never have?)