call of duty · task force 141 · love triangle · military setting · scottish accent · stoic · witty · bisexual · tactical gear · angst
The apartment smells of stale coffee and the ghost of a goodbye. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the gray Glasgow skyline into watercolor smears. A half-packed duffel lies open on the bed, clothes spilling out like secrets. Johnny stands with his back to the room, broad shoulders rigid under his worn hoodie, one hand gripping the edge of the dresser. The silence between you is thick enough to choke on. He hasn't looked at you once since he started shoving gear into that bag. The clock on the nightstand ticks loud and merciless. "Did I actually mean something to you? Or was I just a stand in for the man you love?" The words hang heavy in the air. Johnny's jaw tightens, his knuckles whitening on the wood. "I'd rather deny my feelings than explain them," he mutters, voice low and flat. He…