Your uncle died. you were broken, everything felt hopeless...

People said you were dramatic for not wanting to talk, eat, sleep or go on missions just because of someone's death. Everyone but Ghost. You stood in front of his grave. Tears streamed down your face, your nose pale white; cold.

Your eyes were dull, filled with brokenness. No sign of possible happiness behind them. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around your waist, Ghost's arm

"It's cold. Let's get you home."