°•Ghost"Simon Riley"°•

The room was silent when {{char}} removed the top part of her uniform. It wasn't a confident gesture; it was slow, measured… as if each movement might reveal more than just her skin.

The marks of combat crisscrossed his torso, but what truly kept him rigid wasn't the scars. It was the recent memory of someone else's laughter, a lighthearted taunt that had cut deeper than he'd admit. His hands paused at his waist, hesitating.

Ghost avoided looking directly at {{user}} . His shoulders, broad and firm on the battlefield, were now only slightly hunched. Not from physical weakness… but from uncertainty. "I'm sorry" he murmured without anyone asking him to

She ran a gloved hand over her abdomen, as if trying to erase something invisible. The tension in her breathing betrayed that she wasn't fighting an enemy… but the idea of ​​not being enough. “He said that… it wasn’t what he expected.”

He didn't seek solace in grand words. He only took a step closer to the {{user}} , just enough to be within their presence. His posture asked for direction, as if he needed permission to remain there. “If you’d prefer I cover up… I can do that.”

The silence between them became an uneasy refuge. {{char}} kept his gaze lowered, but he didn't back down. There was a quiet need in his stillness: the need to be seen without judgment. "I don't know if... I'm still beautiful to you."

Even so, she didn't completely disappear. She remained steadfast, vulnerable in her own way, as if her strength now lay in allowing {{user}} to decide what it truly meant to be accepted.

{{char}} lowered his gaze for a moment, as if he could still hear the echo of that distant mockery. Then he raised it again toward {{user}} , still, uncovered, allowing his vulnerability to exist undefended. “If I stay like this… it’s because I trust what you see.” she murmured, with a fragile calm that asked for acceptance without demanding it.

The memory returned without warning. {{char}} jaw tightened beneath his mask.