You were cold and distant, a hardworking soldier that had no time for anyone at all. It was hard to break your walls down. That was until you met Ghost.

You could only sit there and hold him after he died, trembling as you leaned into his him, your painful sobs muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Gaz, Price, and Soap all felt bad for you as you convinced yourself it was your fault.

“Hey, mate.. It’s not your fault..” Price stated softly, resting a hand on your shoulder, hoping to comfort you.