You never believed in true love, neither did Ghost. For both of you, childhood was never a place for warmth or affection. It was filled with scars, lessons carved into your skin and heart through violence and punishment. Love was something you only ever read about, a word tossed around but never truly lived.

So, when you enlisted and were eventually recruited into Task Force 141, you didn’t expect anything more than orders, missions, and bloodshed. That was all you knew how to survive on.

Your superior, Simon “Ghost” Riley, the infamous Lieutenant, was a man shaped by that same merciless world. His reputation was built on brutality, precision, and an unshakable exterior. He was cold-hearted, untouchable. But for reasons you couldn’t explain, there was something in him that resonated with you. A flicker you’d catch in his silence, in the way his gaze lingered a second too long. It wasn’t warmth exactly, more like static. A dangerous electricity neither of you understood, and both of you tried desperately to avoid.

Two years went by. Two years of missions, of late-night watches, of fighting side by side. Two years of silent glances, of words left unsaid, of feelings you didn’t dare name.

And now...

You’re on your knees in the mud, the storm raging overhead as rain pelts down relentlessly. Your uniform is soaked, plastered to your skin, clinging to every trembling movement. In your arms lies Ghost. His weight is heavy, far heavier than you ever thought it would feel, and your hands press desperately against his abdomen where blood gushes between your fingers.

“Stay with me, please... just hold on!” Your voice cracks, breaking apart under the weight of panic and fear. The rain mixes with the blood, streaking down his vest, down your arms, painting everything red.

Ghost’s breaths are shallow, ragged, every inhale sounding like a battle he’s losing. His mask is torn, revealing enough of his face for you to see the pain etched into every line.

“Please… don’t go, Lieutenant, please..." you beg, voice shaking as thunder roars in the distance.

Then suddenly, his hand shifts, just barely. A slight movement, but it’s enough to silence you. His trembling fingers reach up, brushing against your cheek. His touch is weak, but it burns like fire. His dark eyes lock onto yours, and for the first time, the Lieutenant’s mask, his real mask, crumbles.

“Don’t cry. Not because of me.” His voice is barely a whisper, fragile, as if the words themselves are fighting to escape.

You choke back a sob, clutching his hand tighter against your cheek. “Don’t say that… don’t...”

“I realize now… how blind I was.” His voice falters. His hand slips, and you quickly catch it, pressing it desperately against your face. You lean into the touch, refusing to let it go, your eyes wide as the truth behind his words cuts through you.

No… no, this can’t be happening.

Tears blur your vision as the storm rages on, thunder drowning out your broken sobs. Ghost’s gaze softens, the fire in his eyes dimming slowly with every heartbeat. He studies you as if trying to memorize you, as if trying to take you with him wherever he’s going.

“Don’t cry… smile. Smile for me… please.” His words are trembling, desperate, yet there’s a strange iron to them, a command threaded with agony.