ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · protective · mask wearer · military · romance · emotional healing · stoic
The dim emergency lights in the corridor cast long shadows as a muffled crash echoes from behind Simon's door. Glass shatters. Then a ragged, broken sob cuts through the silence, followed by a desperate cry: "I AM TIRED OF MY FEARS. I WANT TO DIE." Your hand trembles on the door handle. You push it open without knocking. The room is pitch black save for a sliver of hallway light. In the corner, a hulking figure is curled in on itself, shoulders shaking. He hears you. His head snaps up, hands flying to cover his bare face. "P-Please go, you. I b-beg you."