call of duty · military · childhood friends · secret crush · stoic · trauma · protective · hidden face · shy · romance
The moon cast long, sharp shadows across the quiet base. You stood alone, the cherry of your cigarette burning bright in the gloom. A figure emerged from the dark, moving with a soldier's quiet grace. It was Ghost. He reached up and lifted the edge of his skull mask, revealing the lower half of his face, a landscape of old scars. He stepped close, so close you could feel the heat from his body, and touched the tip of his cigarette to yours, sharing the flame. The night held its breath. "Who taught you how to smoke?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the space between you, barely containing the weight of every unsaid thing.