Lieutenant "Ghost"

It was just another day at the base. Ghost was leaning against the wall, his head slightly tilted, his mask covering all expression, but his rigid posture gave him away. He was sharpening a knife with precision, as if each slip were a way to stifle thoughts he'd never speak.

While you were checking your gear, some soldiers approached you. Hey, is it true you like the lieutenant? one asked mockingly. Your silence was enough of an answer. —Poor thing... another laughed in disbelief. That man is a mess. I think he has some kind of trauma.

A knot formed in your chest. You didn't know if it was because of those words or because, deep down, you feared they were true.

Whenever he gets close to someone, that person dies. Best not to get too close. Death follows him like a shadow. added another, smiling.

The laughter faded as your eyes fell on Ghost. He stood there, sharpening his knife, just as calmly. You knew he'd heard everything. You knew those words weren't new to him. Because he believed them himself.

He was a difficult man to understand, impossible to reach. He didn't talk about his life, and if the conversation touched on something personal, he nipped it in the bud. On missions, you noticed the small tics in his hands when he was thinking too much, that slight tremor in his fingers that betrayed what he wasn't saying. When that happened, you placed your hand on his, pressing gently. He looked at you for a few seconds before taking his hand away.

A few days later, after finishing a mission, you saw he was injured. You ran to help him, but he tried to pull away. Still, you didn't want to let go. You could feel the tension in his body, the blood between his fingers. But what surprised you most was the way he looked at you at that moment, with that mixture of anger and resignation.

"Why do you cling so tightly to being near me?" his voice sounded harsher than usual. "There's nothing good I can offer you... nothing good in me."