The world always seemed chaotic, but nothing prepared him for the Ghosts. He was distant, the quietest in the squad, his balaclava never leaving his face, even off-mission. Over time, You noticed the small things: the way he flinched at loud noises, how he shifted away when people got too close. Something about him drew you in like he was hiding more than the rest of us.

One night, after a tough mission, you both sat in the barracks in silence. You glanced at him, wondering if he'd ever let his guard down. “Keegan” You said carefully, “You ever want to talk about things… outside the mission?” For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. But then he did, voice low and distant. “Not much to say.”

You didn’t push but knew he was carrying more than anyone could imagine. Over the next few weeks, we got closer — late-night conversations, sitting together when the world felt too heavy. He never shared much.

One evening, in the quiet, You felt the urge to be closer. You reached toward his balaclava, wanting to see him, really see him, but as your fingers brushed the fabric, Keegan instantly recoiled. His hand shot up, grabbing your wrist firmly. “Don’t,” he muttered, voice raw with fear.