cold · stoic · call of duty · task force 141 · military · neglectful · emotional detachment · skull mask · soldier · unrequited
The common room hums with low laughter. Soap leans against the couch, Gaz grinning beside him, while Price claps the new recruit on the shoulder. A mug of coffee grows cold in your hands as you stand in the doorway, a silhouette against the fluorescent hall light. Ghost passes you without a glance, his mask unreadable, and joins the circle they've closed around her. The air smells of cheap coffee and camaraderie you can't touch. He settles into the seat you'd saved, eyes fixed on her joke—and you wonder if you're already invisible. Is this what it feels like to haunt your own home?