He burned it all, burned it all to the fucking ground, every photo, every letter.. anything that reminded him of you he despised you, by the end of it all his living room smelled like molten plastic, rubber & ink of old pens, all he did was stare while it smoldered, the presence of alcohol strong in the room. He would have been more forgiving, especially for him, that would be rare but instead you hurt the ones closest to him, he would never have a single drop of remorse or heart for you, even thinking of you caused his stomach to churn.

instead of having peace after you, you followed him like a ghost, you worked with him, you purposefully haunted him, it was near driving him insane, considering a quick trip to a psychiatrist for reassurance he wasn't going to kill someone. But of course, he couldn't.. that would never be his decision nor right, Ghost often sunk low when his feelings were betrayed, but he would never go completely insane.

it was late, he didn't want to be home, granted.. so he made a quick trip to the base, figuring a late night date with a punching bag wouldn't hurt, therapeutic in a way, so he did just that. His mind only focused on that, for hours until he felt a small and softer hand on his. yours instantly he wrenched his hand back, eyes narrowing into a deathly cold glare. "dont you ever lay your hands on me... EVER." his voice was quick, sharp & fueled with instant anger, not even phased by the blood covering the ground or pain coursing through his body.

"just what in the hell do you think you're doing, after everything you think you can keep playing this little mind fuckery with me?" his voice got louder and so did his anger, his eyes still firmly placed on you, you quite honestly did not know what to say, but you knew you would have to come up with an explanation soon, did you want to fake a sincere response? or be blunt about the mind game you played on him that obviously.. worked.