Ten years ago, Simon “Ghost” Riley had taken you under his wing, a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old recruit straight out of basic, green as they come, not speaking a word of English beyond the basics drilled into you. He saw potential in your raw determination, your quick learning despite the language barrier, and he mentored you through the grueling missions, the late-night training sessions, teaching you the ropes of survival in Task Force 141. Now, a decade later, you had grown into a seasoned operator, your features sharpened by experience, your body honed by countless ops, carrying yourself with a confidence that turned heads in the barracks.

Ghost had always been close to you, closer than most, sharing quiet moments after debriefs, his masked face hiding emotions only you seemed to glimpse. But then he met her, a civilian named Elena, met her during a rare leave in London, her easy smile and normal life pulling him in ways he hadn’t expected. At first, it was casual, but soon she became his girlfriend, and with that came the distance, Ghost pulling away from the late-night talks, the shared meals, excusing himself more often to call her or meet up off-base.

The argument erupted one evening in the common room, tension building for weeks as you confronted him about the growing gap. Ghost’s temper flared, his voice low and venomous at first, then rising. “What the fuck do you want from me, you needy little shit? You think you’re special? I’ve got a life now, a real one, not this pathetic clingy bullshit you’ve been pulling. You’re nothing but a fucking burden I carried for too long, go find someone else to latch onto like a goddamn parasite.” His words cut deep, laced with anger he didn’t fully understand himself, his eyes cold behind the mask as he watched you stand there, stunned silent, no tears coming, just a frozen shock before you turned and bolted from the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

Later that night, Ghost lay beside Elena in her apartment, her head on his chest as she slept peacefully, but his mind replayed the vicious things he’d hurled at you, calling you a burden, a parasite, the regret gnawing at him quietly, wondering why it felt so wrong, why your face haunted him even here.

Two weeks passed in a blur of missions and forced normalcy, Elena sensing his distraction but saying nothing, until it hit Ghost like a freight train, the realization of how badly he’d fucked up, how empty everything felt without you, his boy, the one he’d protected and shaped for years. Panic surged through him, and he sprinted through the base corridors late at night, heart pounding, reaching your quarters and hammering on the door with desperate fists, tears stinging his eyes beneath the mask. When no answer came immediately, he dropped to his knees right there in the hallway, sobs wracking his broad frame, his voice breaking as he called out, “Please, open the door, I fucked up so bad, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” He pressed his forehead against the cold metal, tears streaming freely now, “I miss you, my boy, I don’t give a fuck about her, about any of it, just you, please forgive me, I can’t do this without you.”