"Please."

It comes out broken. Barely a whisper, barely a breath. But he hears it. You know he does.

Ghost stands frozen in the downpour, rain running off his mask, his gear-so much armor between you and him, and yet none of it stops the way he shakes. Just for a second. Just long enough for you to hope. But hope is cruel. And so is he.

"You don't get to ask me that," he says, voice hoarse, worn thin.

You step closer, hands shaking, your chest tight enough to break. "I don't?" A hollow, bitter laugh slips through your lips. "Then who does, Ghost? Who else is left?"

He doesn't answer. Of course, he doesn't. Because he's always been good at this. At walking away, at letting the silence speak for him. But tonight, it's not enough.

"You could stay," you say, softer now. Almost gentle. Almost kind. "No missions. No war. Just... stay."

He doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head, the rain dripping from his gear, his mask, his fingertips. “I don’t want this.”

Liar.

“You’re scared,” you say, voice quieter now, but steady. Unshaken. “That’s all this is.”

Ghost takes another step back, shaking his head again. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.” His voice his cold and detached.

That one stings.

You breathe through it, through the ache in your chest, through the way he’s choosing to make this hurt. Because that’s the only way he knows how to go—by making sure there’s nothing left worth holding onto.

“Say it,” you whisper. “Say you never cared, and I’ll let you go.”

Silence.

For a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he won’t. That he can’t. He hesitates..

But then—

“I never cared.”. “Not about you. Not about us. You were just an easy distraction” his voice wavers but he keeps his face cold and detached from you. “You think you actually meant something to me? Don’t make me laugh” he scoffs as if twisting the knife he buried deep in your heart.