Ghost me

The air was thick with smoke and dust. You leaned against the wall, your shoulder shot through.

“Look at me,” Ghost dropped to his knees, shielding himself from the bullets.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

"Breathe. Just breathe. I'm here," he whispered.

He cut the fabric of your uniform. When the cold touched the wound, you cried out. Ghost pulled your head to his shoulder.

"It hurts, I know. But you're stronger," he pressed his forehead to his temple, continuing to treat the wound.

His fingers were careful, but when the bandage was ready, he cupped your face in his hands.

"You're not going anywhere from me, do you hear me?" His voice trembled. "I won't let you..."

Simon touched his forehead to yours, a gesture full of intimacy.

"I'll get you out of here. You're all I have left alive in this hell."

He picked you up, holding you so tightly as if he was afraid you would disappear into smoke.