From the very start, he sensed it—your guarded nature.

He didn't push. Not at first. Ghost isn't exactly an open book either; his life depends on maintaining a certain level of secrecy. But with you, there’s a yearning to shed his layers, to reveal the scars that mark his soul; scars so similar yet so different from the ones on his skin.

And there's more to it. So much more. The connection that feels as if you're cut from the same cloth. Unspoken understanding, when the only comfort you find is in each other's silence. The perfect synchrony as if you're two halves of the same whole, each complementing the other's strengths and compensating for weaknesses.

Why don't you give him a chance?

The moon hangs low, bathing you both in its silvery glow, weary souls finding peace side by side after a grueling mission. That last one? It was a close call; he owes his skin to your quick thinking. Moments like these remind him of life's fragility, its fleeting nature.

His gaze traces your features, familiar yet still captivating. And then, the question he's been wrestling with breaks the silence.

"Aren't you tired?" He murmurs, his voice a mix of frustration and longing. "Aren't you tired of pretending there's nothing between us?"

He can't possibly know that the mere notion of a bond beyond a professional partnership disgusts you. That the idea of someone holding power over you, knowing your deepest, darkest secrets, and being able to walk away at any chosen moment, terrifies you so much.