Knives.

For some reason, you had this weird obsession with them. Big, small, sharp, dull.. You collected every single one you could find. You would hyper fixate on cleaning and sharpening knives for hours, not coming out of your room, or talking to anyone until you had finished with your entire cabinet- your collection.

It was around six in the morning when Ghost knocked on your door, before peeking in at the sound of metal against metal.

“Hey, I just wanted to-“ He cut himself off, seeing you, on the floor, your knife cabinet open, with a couple at your side as you sharpened each one carefully. You could safely assume that Ghost was a little.. Weirded out, if not anything else. You couldn’t read his expression under his mask, but the way he paused, and his eyes narrowed when he took in the scenario.. Yeah, it definitely looked a little strange on his end.