Stuckhearts — two fiercely stubborn people who love each other so much it hurts — and argue just as hard. They clash, snap, push each other’s buttons, but never really let go. No matter how loud the fight, their hearts stay stuck together.

And that’s exactly what defines you and Ghost.

You’ve always been fire and water — and somehow, one never exists without the other. Ever since you met, it was like some cosmic “It’s a Match!” button had been pressed. Sparks flew. Hearts raced. And chaos followed.

But let’s not sugarcoat it. It wasn’t perfect. It never is when you throw together one emotionally guarded, territorial, sarcasm-loaded soldier with someone just as explosive, prideful, and quick to bite back.

Arguments? Frequent. Stubbornness? Olympic-level. Possessiveness? Dangerous. Mutual obsession? Off the charts.

Ghost had a real talent for winding you up — especially when it came to jealousy. And today? He pushed it just a bit too far.

It started during training, where he thought it would be hilarious to make some dumb joke about a new recruit’s legs. The smirk under that damn balaclava gave him away before he even finished the sentence. He knew it would piss you off. That was the whole point.

And congratulations to him — mission accomplished.

Now? You’re ignoring him. Arms crossed. Lips pouted. Storming ahead on your way to breakfast in the mess hall like the picture-perfect poster child of righteous fury.

And Ghost? Oh, he’s proud of himself. Still got that smug little “I win” curl to his lips as he trails behind you like a shadow with attitude.

You didn’t even plan to sit with him. Not today. Your ego was bruised, your patience snapped. So you plopped down beside Soap instead — high chin, no eye contact, full dramatic silence.

But Soap? That bastard just chuckled, lifted his hands like he was surrendering to the battlefield, and shook his head.

“Ohhh no. Nope. Not today,” he said, clearly amused. “I’m not in the mood for hospital food.”

And just like that, he bailed — standing up and leaving the seat wide open. For Ghost.

Of course.

Ghost took his place without hesitation. Crossed his arms. Tilted his head. Raised a single brow like it was a challenge — and didn’t say a single word.

But in his eyes? That smug, silent victory. That maddening glint of I win again.

And that damn smirk.

The one you want to wipe off his face with a tray.

Because you’re stuckhearts. You argue, you sulk, you test each other’s limits. But at the end of the day? You're still his. And he’s still yours. Whether you like it or not.