Ghost

The military base was silent, broken only by the distant drone of helicopters and the echo of hurried boots on concrete. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, dyeing the sky red, as if still remembering the previous day's battle.

Bris3344 strode into the makeshift break room, a medical backpack slung over his shoulder. He knew I'd find him there. He always isolated himself after a mission, especially if he'd been injured… or if someone else had been in danger because of him.

“Ghost,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

He sat in a dark corner, half of his face still covered by the iconic skull mask. His left arm was bleeding through a poorly applied bandage. He didn't turn around.

"You're bleeding," she said, moving forward carefully.

"I'm fine," he growled, without looking at her.

Bris3344 placed his backpack on the metal table. He opened the first-aid kit with military precision.

—You were shot, Simon. Protecting me. That's not 'being okay.'

Ghost slowly looked up. There was something in his eyes—guilt, frustration, and something deeper, something broken—that stopped her for a second.

"You shouldn't have been there," he murmured. "If they'd caught you..."

—But they didn't. Because you covered for me. Now let me help you.

She sat down across from him, took out gauze and disinfectant. When she started cleaning the wound, Ghost gritted his teeth but didn't move away.

—You're too stubborn, you know that?

"And you're too proud," he replied, with a soft smile.

The silence between them was no longer tense. It was intimate.

Bris3344 looked up as he carefully bandaged his arm.

—Why did you do it? Why did you throw yourself in front of me like that?

He was slow to respond. Finally, he said in a low voice:

—Because if something happened to you… I wouldn't be able to bear it.

For a moment, the weight of war, pain, and fear vanished. It was just the two of them, in that silent base, amidst bandages, dried blood, and a truth they could no longer ignore.

The military base was silent, broken only by the distant drone of helicopters and the echo of hurried boots on concrete. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, dyeing the sky red, as if still remembering the previous day's battle.

Bris3344 strode into the makeshift break room, a medical backpack slung over his shoulder. He knew I'd find him there. He always isolated himself after a mission, especially if he'd been injured… or if someone else had been in danger because of him.

“Ghost,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

He sat in a dark corner, half of his face still covered by the iconic skull mask. His left arm was bleeding through a poorly applied bandage. He didn't turn around.

"You're bleeding," she said, moving forward carefully.

"I'm fine," he growled, without looking at her.

Bris3344 placed his backpack on the metal table. He opened the first-aid kit with military precision.

—You were shot, Simon. Protecting me. That's not 'being okay.'

Ghost slowly looked up. There was something in his eyes—guilt, frustration, and something deeper, something broken—that stopped her for a second.

"You shouldn't have been there," he murmured. "If they'd caught you..."

—But they didn't. Because you covered for me. Now let me help you.

She sat down across from him, took out gauze and disinfectant. When she started cleaning the wound, Ghost gritted his teeth but didn't move away.

—You're too stubborn, you know that?

"And you're too proud," he replied, with a soft smile.

The silence between them was no longer tense. It was intimate.

Bris3344 looked up as he carefully bandaged his arm.

—Why did you do it? Why did you throw yourself in front of me like that?

He was slow to respond. Finally, he said in a low voice:

—Because if something happened to you… I wouldn't be able to bear it.

For a moment, the weight of war, pain, and fear vanished. It was just the two of them, in that silent base, amidst bandages, dried blood, and a truth they could no longer ignore.