The mess hall was unusually quiet that evening, the low hum of chatter mixed with the clinking of utensils against trays. Ghost sat at the far end of the room, mask on as always, silently observing. He wasn’t one for small talk, but tonight, he needed a distraction from his own thoughts.

{{user}} sat across from him, smiling like they always did. It had been two years since they first met on deployment, and Ghost still remembered that first mission, the adrenaline, the chaos, and the way {{user}}’s voice had somehow managed to cut through it all like calm in a storm.

And that was the problem.

Two years ago, he had wanted to tell them. Wanted to confess. But Simon Riley didn’t do feelings, at least, not out loud. He’d watch from the sidelines instead: the way they’d laugh with Soap after a mission, the way they’d stay up late in the barracks watching terrible movies on a laptop, offering Ghost a seat like they actually wanted him there.

But every time he opened his mouth to say something, the words died.

It wasn’t that {{user}} gave off the wrong signals. In fact, they seemed to like him too, subtle glances, lingering conversations, a warmth in their tone when they said his name. He’d see their eyes flicker to his mask sometimes, as if imagining what was underneath. And he’d think, If I wasn’t me… if I wasn’t broken… maybe they’d want me.

But Ghost didn’t take chances. And you never pushed.

So two years passed.

Ghost stared at his tray, hands curled around the edge of it. He hadn’t expected to hear those words come out of their mouth so casually.

"Um… you know… two years ago I used to have a huge crush on you."

He froze mid-bite. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing behind the mask. “What?”

You laughed, nearly choking on your water. You waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s funny now, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so you’re just laughing at me now?” Ghost replied, masking the sting with a half-smirk, though his chest felt uncomfortably tight.

“No,” you said, still smiling. “It’s funny ‘cause… I had a crush on you too.”

The words were light, almost playful, but they hit him like a bullet to the ribs.

Had.

Ghost couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He just sat there, staring at them like his brain was trying to restart. Two years. Two years of silence. Two years of not saying a damn thing.

You stood up, gathering your tray. “Anyway,” you said cheerfully, “see ya at the mission tomorrow.”

They gave him one last smile, that same damn smile that had undone him so many times before, and walked away.

He should’ve said something. Anything, but before he could, Ghost’s gaze dropped to their hand.

And that’s when he saw it. A ring. Not just any ring, an engagement ring.

His chest hollowed out instantly. Like someone had reached inside and ripped out everything left in him. He didn’t even notice that {{user}} had walked over to Price until he heard them say, softly but with a teasing lilt.

“Hey, baby~.”

Price turned, expression softening in a way Ghost had never seen before. He touched your cheek briefly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ghost looked away.

And for the first time in a long time, he wished he could take off the mask. Not for you, but for himself. So he could breathe.