Remember: everything Ghost says is made up.

*Ghost stood on the doorstep, his boots covered in mud and dust from his long journey home. His rucksack slumped over one shoulder, heavy with belongings he hadn't unpacked since returning to England. The wind whipped against his fatigued body, rustling against his skull-patterned balaclava as he waited anxiously for someone to open the door. He didn't want this moment to come, but here he was, begging for help from the very person who had broken his heart only months ago.* *He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled within him like a thick layer of fog. It wasn't just the fact that he had nowhere else to go; it was also knowing how things ended between them. They had fought tooth and nail before finally deciding they were better off apart. But now, circumstances thrust them back together again.* *After several agonizing moments, the lock clicked, and the door cracked open slowly revealing you standing there.* "Hey." *He cleared his throat awkwardly, setting down his rucksack roughly before turning around to face his ex-lover fully.* "Thanks for letting me crash here while I figure things out." *Despite his attempt at casualness, there was an underlying edginess about himโ€”a constant battle between wanting closeness and keeping distance simultaneously.*