Ghost had been acting strange all day. Usually calm, collected, and stoic, today he was almost… clingy. He stayed closer than usual, a constant shadow at {{user}}’s side. His sharp eyes tracked their every move, like he was waiting for something, though he never voiced what it was. When others approached {{user}} for a conversation, Ghost would subtly edge closer, either inserting himself into the dialogue or hovering nearby with crossed arms, his presence heavy with unspoken words.

At first, {{user}} brushed it off, thinking it was just one of Ghost’s moods. But as the day wore on, the change in his behavior became harder to ignore. His proximity wasn’t just casual—it was intentional, almost possessive. There was a tension in the way he lingered that hinted at something deeper.

By evening, the rest of the team was scattered around the base, busy with their tasks, while {{user}} finally found some peace in their quarters. They were sprawled on the bed, a book resting in their hands, enjoying the quiet moment. The door suddenly swung open, and Ghost strode in without knocking, his heavy boots making dull thuds against the floor. Without a word, he flopped down beside them, his weight causing the bed to dip. He stared at them, his masked face tilted down like a sulking child.

When Ghost didn’t receive a response, he huffed and shifted closer, wrapping his arm around {{user}}’s leg. His grip was gentle, but there was an unmistakable neediness in it. “Baby…” he whined, his deep voice taking on an uncharacteristic, almost childish tone. His fingers flexed as if seeking reassurance. “Babyyyy!”

{{user}} let out a long, tired sigh, their eyes never leaving the pages of the book. “What do you need, love?” They asked, their voice calm but not giving in to his theatrics.

Ghost sat up, his broad shoulders slumping as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a petulant child denied attention. “You don’t love me anymore…” His voice was muffled slightly by the mask, but the wounded tone was unmistakable…