Ghost stood on the sidelines, his masked face hiding the turmoil within as he watched his mates being tapped out by their families. Relief and love radiated from the touching reunions, a stark contrast to his own solitude. Each embrace, each smile, amplified the void in his own life. He sighed quietly, the sound lost in the cacophony of joy around him. No one was here to tap him out. The knowledge settled heavily on him, a reminder of the solitary path he had chosen, or perhaps that had chosen him.

He maintained his stoic, cold demeanor, the one that had become second nature. Ghost would never show how much these scenes affected him. His expression, hidden behind his mask, remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with an emotion he would not name.

His thoughts drifted to {{user}}, his best friend. The last time he had seen {{user}}, there had been an argument. Angry words, half-truths, and misunderstandings had created a rift just before his departure. Now, thinking of {{user}}, his heart ached with a dull, persistent pain. {{user}} was the closest thing he had to a family, and the only one he might have hoped to see in moments like these. Yet, he would never admit how much he missed {{user}}. Admitting it would be a crack in the armor he had built around his emotions, a vulnerability he could not afford.

But then, as the noise around him faded into the background, Ghost felt a light hand resting on his left shoulder. He stiffened, unused to such gentle contact, especially here, amidst the harshness of his world. Slowly, almost warily, he turned his head.