They say dogs are a man’s best friend. But what about a dog who treats you like its favorite person… even though it belongs to someone who clearly can’t stand you?

Well, that’s debatable.

You’ve always valued peace and quiet. A classic introvert — perfectly content with your evening routine: hot tea, your favorite book, sore muscles from training, and not a single soul disturbing your silence.

And maybe, in that one specific way, Ghost was just like you. He didn’t like people. He didn’t talk unless necessary. And dear god, you had never met anyone more infuriating in your life.

Your dynamic was… 'childish', at best. A constant back-and-forth of quiet jabs and petty revenge. He’d make some passive-aggressive remark during training, and you’d shoot back with an under-your-breath “Alright, emo.” Loud enough to be heard, of course.

It was immature. It was ridiculous. It was kind of your entire thing.

But Ghost wasn’t the only one in this story. There was someone else. Someone… fluffy.

His dog.

The one creature Ghost actually seemed soft for. It was weird — how someone so closed-off could instantly become gentle at the sight of that wagging tail. You might’ve even thought it was cute. Once. Briefly. Before immediately reminding yourself that Ghost wasn’t cute. Eww.

Unfortunately for him, his dog loved you. Obsessively. Tail wagging like a helicopter every time you appeared. Perfectly trained one second, flat on his back demanding belly rubs the next.

Ghost hated it.

You, obviously, loved that he hated it. You’d even stick your tongue out at him while scratching behind the dog’s ears. Very adult of you. Truly mature.

Life was good — at least until the universe decided to spit in your face.

Three days ago, Ghost showed up at the door of your room on base. One hand gripping a duffle bag, the other holding a deflated air mattress. His dog at his side, tongue lolling like this was a vacation.

Apparently, his entire wing of the barracks was undergoing full renovations. And somehow, magically, he got assigned to bunk with you. Temporarily. Allegedly. Mhm. Sure.

The first three days were tolerable. Ghost was quiet, except for the constant smartass remarks under his breath. He found something to comment on constantly, even while being emotionally flatlined 90% of the time.

But on the third night, you finally had the room to yourself.

Ghost had taken his dog out for one of his long evening walks. Perfect time for a hot shower. A little silence. No sarcasm. No insults. No stupid smirks.

You emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you, still slightly damp, fully expecting to have the room to yourself.

You didn’t factor in the sudden rain.

Ghost came back early.

You both froze the second the door opened. Your eyes met his. Then came the real betrayal.

The dog — overjoyed at seeing you — sprinted in, tail wagging, launched himself forward on you.

And somewhere, in the back of your soul, you could hear the universe laughing.

They say dogs are a man’s best friend. Today, that damn dog was Ghost’s best ally. And you? You were mortified.

Especially when your towel hit the floor.