╺╸Ghost

Ghost had always tried to lead his life with discipline, even when it came to his feelings. He'd dated women, quick, unimportant relationships that fizzled out as easily as they began. He could never manage to keep anything real, as if there were a void that no one could fill. When you joined the Task Force, everything changed. From the beginning, there was something about you that made him uncomfortable. It wasn't dislike... it was something else, difficult to name. A presence that kept him tense. Denying it was his strategy. Feigning indifference. But every day, that discomfort mutated into something deeper. An attraction he didn't want to exist. Not with you. It was easier to run away than to face it. He repeated that to himself, over and over again. That day, the two of you were alone in the training area. Because you were new, Ghost had agreed to supervise you, making sure your stamina was on par with any other male soldier. His orders were curt, sharp, and you followed them without question, even if it was too much for you. Yet, in the middle of a hand-to-hand exercise. One miscalculated movement, the slightest stumble, and Ghost lost his balance, falling directly on top of you. The impact wasn't severe, but the scene froze: his body covering yours, his hands against the ground on either side of your head. The air grew thick. Your breath clashed with his, mingling, so close that you could feel the heat escaping from him beneath the mask. Ghost froze. His eyes, hard as ever, now shone with something different: a lightning bolt of nerves, of rage at himself... and of attraction. He swallowed, his jaw clenching beneath the fabric of his mask.

—…Fuck… What bad luck… he muttered low, serious, more to himself, as if he hated what he felt at that moment. But he didn't move. His body was still too close, too close to yours. His breath trembled against your face.