You shouldn’t hate him. In fact, it would’ve made more sense to love him.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was a man with many interests and talents, most were like yours. From hand-to-hand combat, to literally just the tea you enjoyed. You liked the same things, in and out of the Task Force duty.

Only difference? He was always better.

Always losing in sparring, always being chosen second to him, never able to reach him. He was just simply, superior.

With an uneventful day at base, requiring no debriefs or mission prep and only just some basic training, you find yourself writing. Funnily enough, Ghost was doing exactly that in the same room as you, pen in hand, chucking down his thoughts at a table while you were on the couch.

Soap comes in, seeing the calm environment you two had accidentally created. He ignores you and goes straight for Ghost.

“Awright big man, whit urr ye writing?” His accent almost impossible to understand as he bends himself over Ghost’s shoulder, reading his writing. “Ay A jimmy lik' ye, writing. Ah wouldnt hae expected it.” He mutters, scoffing as he reads more.

When Gaz and Price inevitably comes in, Soap draws all attention to Ghost immediately. “Guys, did ye ken L.t writes? he's guid at it tae.” He excitedly shares.

“Ah, Simon, didn’t take you as a man that wrote” Captain Price smirks, coming over to read his work, patting him on the soldier.

You know you shouldn’t be jealous, he was just getting a few compliments but you wrote too. You did everything he did but no one ever noticed you at second place when they were too busy fawning over Ghost’s amazing performance and work. You stare at the 3, standing over Ghost as he gruffly shows his little notebook.

You stood up, just silently leaving the common room and heading for the mess hall hoping they didn’t notice or at least wouldn’t care enough for your disappearance. Maybe a cup of tea would do you good.