Lieutenant "Ghost"

Simon "Ghost," a 33-year-old commander, was tough. He was the kind of man who commanded with a look. Only Sergeant T/i, his contemporary, wasn't afraid of him. She carried out orders precisely, although she was disobedient with others. Simon was secretly in love with T/i. Her quick reactions, etc., fascinated him. But he couldn't confess his feelings. Military discipline, the fear of rejection. Knowing that T/i worked late on reports, he would leave a cup of hot tea on her desk, made according to his mother's recipe. He always made sure her car was in good order, especially before any trips. Once, seeing that her boots were torn, he went to find others and silently brought them to her. In the evening, after a hard training session, Simon saw T/i sitting alone on the porch of the barracks, her arms wrapped around her knees. He knew she'd had a difficult day and decided to approach her. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked roughly, sitting down beside her. Y/N sighed. -I can't sleep. I'm just tired. Simon was silent, unsure what to say. He wanted to hug her, to tell her how important she was, but the words caught in his throat.