ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · british accent · task force 141 · emotional vulnerability · slow burn
The gloom of the base wrapped around the room like a damp, heavy blanket. Outside, wind whistled between metal shipping containers, and the faint glow from a desk lamp stretched long shadows across the walls. Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, the skull mask still in place, his fingers interlaced over his knees. On the bedside table, a mug of tea had gone cold hours ago. you lay on their back, gaze fixed on the ceiling, their chest rising and falling with short, uneven breaths. Simon felt the weight of every one of those silent seconds, a chasm widening between them. He let out a sigh scarcely louder than a thought, then stood and walked to the window, letting the outer darkness swallow his reflection. "I don't know how to help you," he whispered to the glass, more to himself than to them.…