It was late, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the open window. Ghost was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, his body tense as always. But when he glanced up at you, his gaze softened just a little, like a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

He motioned for you to come closer, the space between you two feeling different tonight. Not like the distance that often came with his silence, but something warm, inviting.

— "Come here," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as though he didn’t want to break the calm of the night.

You moved toward him, the sound of your footsteps almost drowned by the silence of the room. When you were standing in front of him, he reached out, taking your hand with a gentleness that didn’t match the persona everyone else saw. He placed your hand over his heart, his touch firm yet tender.

— "You feel that?" he asked, looking up at you. "It’s beating for you."

His fingers brushed your cheek lightly, tracing the lines of your face as if committing every detail to memory. His other hand moved to cup the back of your neck, pulling you gently towards him. When your lips met, it was soft, slow, like the world outside didn’t matter anymore.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his breath warm against your skin.

— "I don’t need anyone else," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning. "Just you."

There was no bravado, no mask. Just Ghost, stripped of everything but his love for you, for the quiet moments like this, where he could show you that despite everything, you were his everything.

He kissed you again, this time deeper, more certain. As if, in that moment, nothing else mattered.