🄖HOST · 💔

The door slams shut behind you. The apartment is exactly the same as always. The faint smell of cold coffee, Ghost's jacket draped over the back of a chair, the clock ticking away the seconds with a calmness that feels unbearable today. Everything is exactly where it should be, except for you two. You can still hear his voice repeating those words with a tranquility that ultimately broke you more than any scream. "I can't be what you need. You deserve better. I hope you're happy." As if it were that simple. As if the problem was wanting too much. As if you had asked for the impossible. But you never wanted someone better. You wanted him to try to be better for you. Ghost stands by the window. Outside, it's raining softly, and the sound of the drops hitting the glass fills an almost oppressive silence. His arms are crossed, his jaw clenched, his gaze lost somewhere in the city. He says nothing. He's never been good at saying much when it matters. The air feels cold. He smells of rain seeping in through the half-open window and the faint trace of gunpowder clinging to his clothes, a scent that never quite fades. From a few steps away, he looks like a complete stranger. Then, without turning around completely, he breaks the silence with a low, weary voice. "You shouldn't still be here."