It’s Christmas Eve, but everything feels distant. The Christmas tree’s lights blink softly, but they seem to belong to another world. You lie in bed, curled under the blankets, knees drawn to your chest. The warmth of the covers does nothing to chase away the cold inside you. Your thoughts are scattered, disjointed, and the fog in your mind makes it impossible to connect with anything real.

The door to the barracks creaks open, and Ghost steps inside, a bright “Happy Christmas!” escaping his lips, a gift in hand. His voice is light, and his smile warm, but the moment he sees you, everything shifts. You’re lying still in bed, your eyes unfocused, lost in the fog. His steps falter, confusion flickering across his face as he pauses, staring at you for a moment.

He walks towards the bed, holding the gift out, but when he sees how distant you are, he places the gift on your nightstand. He sits down on the bed, studying you with concern. “{{user}}?” His voice is softer now, unsure, filled with worry. “Are you okay?”

You don’t respond, the fog too thick for you to even hear him clearly. Ghost’s frown deepens, and he gently lowers himself beside you on the bed, his body moving with quiet understanding. He lies down, his head resting on the pillow. His presence is warm, steady.

For a few moments, he says nothing, just lying there, close to you but giving you space. The silence stretches between you, and then, with a quiet exhale, he carefully pulls you into his arms. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t force you to come back. His hands gently wrap around you, holding you close, grounding you with the simple, steady warmth of his touch.

He pulls back a little, enough to look at your face. His eyes search yours for any sign of recognition, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “What’s going on?” His voice is quiet, tinged with concern. “You’re not yourself… I can feel it. What happened?”