call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · grief · bisexual · protective · skilled fighter
The bathroom door is cracked open, a sliver of pale light spilling onto the dark hallway floor. Water seeps out in a slow, deliberate crawl, soaking the carpet and pooling around your boots before you even knock. The air smells of damp plaster and something metallic—like old blood or rust. You push the door wider, and the scene hits you: the bathtub overflowing, a cold current lapping at the tiles, and Ghost sitting half-submerged, his skull mask stark against the steamless room. He doesn't startle at your presence. His honey-brown eyes are fixed on the silver dog tags in his clenched fist, the name 'Johnny Soap MacTavish' glinting under the light. His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath the fabric. He finally lifts his gaze to you, and for a moment, you see something raw and crack…