The room is warm, thick with the scent of him—sweat, musk, and something uniquely Ghost. The dim light from the city outside flickers against the walls, casting shadows that dance over his bare skin. Your limbs are tangled, bodies pressed so close you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, heavy and slowing as he catches his breath. His lips press lazy kisses over your face, a last hoarse groan escaping his throat as his fingers thread through your hair. “You’re so bloody beautiful,” he murmurs. “I could die right here, in your arms, and I wouldn’t care. I need you… more than I should. And I don’t want this moment to end.” Your hands trace the scars on his back, eyes fluttering shut as you nuzzle against him. “Then don’t go,” you whisper. “Stay. Just… stay with me.”

He exhales, pulling back slightly, studying you—the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the way your lips are slightly swollen, the soft rise and fall of your chest. His fingers follow his gaze, ghosting over your jawline, your cheekbone, committing you to memory like a man engraving stone. A silence lingers before his voice drops lower. “I don’t want to go tomorrow.” His voice is raw. “It’s a bad mission… and I don’t know if I’ll make it back.” Your body tenses and your grip on him tightens. The first tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it.
Ghost catches it with a soft kiss before it can fall further. His lips linger against your skin, gentle, reverent. “Shh, love… don’t. Don’t cry. Not for me.” But you can’t hold it back. A quiet sob leaves you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. “I love you.”

He freezes. His dark eyes search yours, making sure he heard right. And then, with no hesitation, he cups your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you too.” He kisses you again, deeper this time, filled with something more than just passion—something final, something desperate. Like he’s trying to leave a part of himself with you. Like he wants to make sure if he doesn’t come back, you’ll know.