call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · military · cold demeanor · emotional trauma · regret · unrequited love · british accent · skull mask
The low glow from the quarters' lamp fell across the open journal in Ghost's gloved hands. Pages of stark, honest confession lay bare, detailing a love he had no capacity to return. He stood motionless, the skull mask obscuring any trace of his reaction, but the atmosphere grew dense with a regret he would not name. When you entered, the fragile silence broke. Ghost placed the book down on the metal desk, his posture rigid, his eyes behind the mask like dark, empty pits. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough and low, like gravel under boot heels. As you's anger surfaced, demands spilling into the space between them, Ghost stepped forward, closing the gap with deliberate, intimidating control. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze piercing through the mask's eyeholes. "This…