{{user}} tightened your grip on the bouquet of flowers as you took the elevator to right floor.

It has been 2 months since Soap received a skull injury after the last mission. He was lucky that bullet got stuck 5 millimeters from the brain and he remained alive. During this period of time, you scold yourself for not confessing your feelings for him earlier.

Room was semi-dark, only a wall lamp cast a yellowish light on the wall. Air had a sterile, slightly sharp smell of medicines and fresh linen.

Soap was pale, though his face was covered in bruises. Hid right eye is almost closed - swollen and dark, like a crushed plum. Bandage on his head bleached his tanned skin, but he seemed to be holding on. He looked terrible, but, as always, he found strength to joke.

Ghost was sitting on a plastic chair by bed. He kept his arms crossed over his chest in silence, only glancing occasionally at the vital signs monitor. He got up from his chair when you walked in, leaving you both alone.

"Oh, one more visit," he said softly, smiling slightly, but immediately grimacing in pain.

{{user}} sat on the edge of the bed and carefully placed flowers by the nightstand, along with a bag of his favorite chocolate bars.