It was a quiet evening, with Ghost sitting at his desk, his screen angled slightly upward as he joined a call with his teammates—Soap, Price, Gaz, and Roach. The faint sound of their voices carried through the room, but you were focused elsewhere, comfortably lounging on the couch nearby, playing a video game. From your position, you could catch a glimpse of Ghost’s screen, just a sliver from the corner of your eye.

His deep voice rumbled softly in the background, casually engaging with his squadmates. They were discussing tactics, missions, and the usual banter, but Ghost, as always, remained reserved—his focus split between the conversation and the sound of you pressing buttons on your controller.

You caught him stealing a glance your way, a quick, subtle shift of his eyes, but he said nothing about it, maintaining his stoic front in front of the others. Every now and then, you’d hear Soap making a joke, trying to get Ghost to laugh or even crack a smile, but you knew better—Ghost wasn’t the type to break his calm so easily.

But you also knew something else—beneath that mask and cool exterior, Ghost was entirely aware of your presence. You could feel it. Even when his attention seemed locked on the call, his awareness of you, of the comforting closeness, was unmistakable.