There was not a single thing you and Ghost had in common. He pushed enemies, you were a sniper. He wasn’t social, you were. Nothing between you two should’ve clicked, but it did.

You got alone great with each other, and low and behold, little Ghosty Boy started developing feelings. He didn’t tell you, for fear that you may not feel the same.

Ghost was in his chambers, mask off and oil paint on his face. He was about to shower, a towel around his waist and no clothes on.