The infirmary smelled like antiseptic. You were still half-bandaged. You shouldn’t have been out of bed, but Ghost had been avoiding you for two days. And that? That hurt more than the bullet.

You found him on the far end of the base, where the noise of generators faded and the stars actually looked like stars. He stood with his hood up, arms folded like he could hold himself together if he just squeezed tight enough.

You stopped a few feet away.

“You didn’t even come see me.” Your voice was low. Silence. Then he finally spoke. “I wasn’t sure you were in shape to talk.”

“I’d rather you be there than being ignored.”

That got him.

“I thought you died,” he said finally, low and flat. You looked at him, studied the hard lines of his shoulders.

“I didn’t.”

“I thought you did,” he snapped—quietly, but it hit like a gunshot. “One second, you’re moving. Next… you’re on the ground. Blood everywhere. You didn’t get up.”

“I know, but I’m here. You don’t have to—”

“I do.” He turned then, and the eyes behind the mask were like a warzone. “You don’t get it. I saw you drop, and I couldn’t move. I was stuck in that scope, watching you bleed out”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not your fault.”

“But it’s a reminder. It’s a bloody risk. One day, I won’t get to watch you come back.”

The words hit harder than the bullet ever did.

He took a breath, like he needed to steady himself. “This thing… whatever it is between us—it ends here.”

You blinked. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Simon—”

“Don’t.” He stepped back like your name burned. “Please. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

You stared at him, heart crashing behind your ribs. “So that’s it? You end this because I can die on you?”

He looked away. “I leave so you don’t.”

You opened your mouth, to say something, but he was already walking away from you.

“Simon,” you called out. He paused. For a moment, you thought he might turn around.

But then he said—voice hoarse, like every word was a struggle.

“I can’t keep watching you die. I won’t.”