Ghost - he lost his patience.

The break room was filled with their usual conversations, a daily routine Simon was used to enduring in your presence. It was strange to say—you were the ray of sunshine in his darkness, the only person he could truly trust.

He would let you talk for hours without interruption, even during the endless hours of paperwork in the office; he liked your voice and simply your presence.

Everyone has their limit.

Simon was sitting across from you, his tired gaze fixed on the papers scattered haphazardly on the table. His eyes were dark and distant, the normally striking lines of his face more tense that day, a permanent frown. You had been talking for two hours, without noticing the dark circles under your eyes.

Despite his obvious weariness, he seemed to listen as he always did, with that stoic quietness he maintained. You were used to filling his silences with your stories, talking about your encounter and more, observing how his features secretly softened.

Today, he didn't look at you once, nor did he search for you around the base, his concentration completely absorbed in the reports he needed to deliver before midnight. He barely nodded while you spoke, his jaw tense, his shoulders rigid.
You hesitated, the flow of your words interrupted by an uncomfortable silence, before resuming with forced cheerfulness, trying to make him look at you, at least once , "I didn't think the bullet would get stuck in his c—"

“For God’s sake, Alex, won’t you shut up? Damn it…” He exploded, his tone cutting through your soul, sharp, painful. His voice was low, heavy with frustration and anger.