You were a hard worker. Active, helpful, always open for new opportunities. Someone's sick? You gladly took their place.

Day after day, you pushed down your own needs, to take care of others. But who's going to take care of you? Who will show you the love you so clearly shower others in?

Who sees you?

Working yourself to a brim, just to make others happy. Sacrificing sleep, food, your own health, and it all went unappreciated. The words 'thank you' were foreign, like a myth.

But Ghost noticed. He always did. The way you masked that tired expression on your face with a smile, hid your pain behind hugs; anything to keep others from worrying, right?

It was late at night; you were sat in the armory, cleaning weapons. Weapons that weren't even yours. Ghost had stood in the doorway and watched for a while, noting the furrow of your brows, the tired look in your eyes.

"They're using you, ya know that?" He finally spoke up, watching you jump from the shock. His boots echoed the room, as he made his way towards you. Lowering to your level, the beautiful brown hue of his eyes met your gaze.

One of his gloved hands tucked some of your hair behind your ear, "You deserve rest, {{user}}. The world won't collapse if you take care of yourself for once."