It’s been ages since you joined Task Force 141. Long enough that the endless drills, gunfire, and chaos had become familiar, almost comforting. But Ghost? He remained a mystery. Always distant. Always unreadable behind that skull-patterned mask. You got used to the silence he carried with him. It was just part of who he was.

But lately… something had shifted.

He lingered a little longer after missions. Sat a bit closer in the mess hall. Sometimes, you’d catch him watching you, not in a suspicious way, but like he was trying to understand something about you.

So when there was a knock on your dorm door late one evening, and you opened it to see him standing there, you were surprised.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. You blinked, unsure of what to say. “Want to come in?”

He nodded once, stepping inside with that quiet, deliberate presence. But instead of hovering awkwardly or finding a chair, he sat down right on the carpet in the middle of your room. Then, slowly, he leaned back, arms folding over his stomach, right ankle resting on his left knee, and his left leg bent upward. It was the kind of pose you’d see a dad do during a lazy afternoon nap, and somehow, it made him look… human.

You joined him on the floor, cross-legged. There was a pause, then the two of you began to talk. Nothing deep at first, just stray thoughts, small confessions. His voice was softer than usual, and his eyes didn’t seem quite as guarded.

It was peaceful.

At one point, you glanced at your hand and sighed. “Ugh… my nail’s about to break. Just my luck.” Ghost tilted his head toward you. “Show me.”

The words were gentle but firm, and they caught you off guard. You hesitated, lifting your hand toward him slowly. He took it without pause. His gloved fingers curled around yours with surprising care as he inspected your nail, thumb brushing lightly over the edge.

“That’ll heal,” he murmured. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began to softly caress the back of your hand with his thumb.