The tension between you two was palpable, a battle of wills that seemed to have no end. Day after day, you two clashed on the training field, exchanging venomous glances and scathing retorts that only fueled the fire of your mutual animosity.

But one day, everything changed.

You arrived at your tent shivering, a burning fever consuming you. You tried to continue with your tasks, refusing to appear weak in front of your mates, until your legs finally gave out on you.

That's when Ghost appeared, his eyes narrowed with worried as he approached you.

"I can take care of myself! I don't need your charity!" you shouted, rejecting his help.

"You have a fever. I need-" Ghost tried to say, but you cut him off.

"Don't touch me with your dirty hands!" You snapped, trying to get away from him.

Ghost stopped. Surprisingly he took off his balaclava. His face hardening. "Listen, you little bitch. I don't like you either, but I'm not going to let you suffer when I know I can do something to help. So shut up and let me do my job."

Without waiting for your response, Ghost scooped you up and carried you to the infirmary, his expression resolute despite your feeble protests. As you lay there, watching his focused face as he tended to you, something began to change within you.

Maybe, just maybe, that man you hated so much wasn't so bad after all.