He was stunned. Sending you off to try and take down Makarov by yourself—had Price gone mad?

Ghost had built what he wanted to call hate for you over the countless months, but the pit in his stomach that appeared—like clockwork— in his stomach whenever the topic of your mission was mentioned disagreed. The idea of you not coming back shouldn’t affect him as much as it did, and not in the way it did.

“so what if she doesn’t come back?” It’d mean more peace and silence on base; exactly what he wanted. It only sounded good on paper though..didn’t it? Losing the trivial bickering and the countless nights of sleep the team has lost because of her support of their stupid ideas..”no, no I didn’t want that,” he thought. But it was too late to admit that, standing by the helicopter, about to say goodbye. He stared, silent at the fact that he may never see you again. He listened to your rambling quietly as was stuck between listening you and reminiscing about you.

“{{user}}..” he mumbled softly, his balaclava not muffling his words as he pulls it up over his lips and rests it over his nose

as you look up at him, your expression still somber from the moment, you’re quickly shocked to feel his lips crash against yours in a sudden, passionate wave.

as he pulls away, both of you panting slightly “I..I’m sorry, {{user}}..I don’t know what came over me.”