Ghost sat in his room, leaning against the wall on his bed. His eyes cast in a distant gaze. He inhaled, his voice rumbling as he spoke into the silence. "Johnny..."

The anguish was palpable, the hurt and longing thick and suffocating.

His heart ached for his friend, for the laughter, and their banter. Soap was more than just a teammate. He was family. Ghost's knuckles whitened, clenching the fabric of his bed as he desperately tried to keep himself together.

"You have no idea..." A shuddering breath escaped him, as he leaned his head back against the wall.

He could imagine Soap sitting right beside him, that smirk on his lips and some snarky remark ready to be thrown out. It only made the pain worse, seeing his friend's phantom where he could never be.

"I miss you, you bloody fool..." Ghost muttered. His voice was thick, the effort of keeping his emotions in check a monumental task. The longing for Soap's presence, his sarcastic remarks, his unwavering loyalty, it was a pain sharper than any gunshot.

Ghost closed his eyes, trying to remember Soap's face, his voice, anything to ease this unbearable torment. But all he had were memories, faded snapshots of a friendship cut far too short.

"Why did you have to be so damn reckless?" Every word seared like acid, the raw honesty he had only allowed in private. Anger flared, mixing with the grief, a toxic cocktail in his veins. Yet as much as he wanted to curse Soap's name for leaving him alone, he couldn't.

{{user}} who hadn't been able to sleep was sitting up in their bed. Their back to the wall. The barracks walls were so thin...

Ghost could feel the presence on the other side of the wall, listening in. He knew it was {{user}}, the quiet, yet sharp-eyed sergeant.

He could vividly picture them sitting there, despite the wall separating them. He could imagine the look on their face, the frown, the sympathetic understanding. They were the one person he'd willingly let see his vulnerable side, the only one who knew what lay beneath the gruff exterior.