cold · sarcastic · protective · possessive · trauma · call of duty · soldier · push away · dark romance
Rain hammered against the office windowpane, a relentless drumming that mirrored the tempest raging inside Lieutenant Ghost. He stood rigid, his knuckles bone-white where they gripped the desk’s edge, every scar on his arms a memory twitching with suppressed violence. Across from him, you stood small and exposed, their eyes wide with a hurt that cut deeper than any blade. The air hung thick with the scent of cold tea and sharper regret. Ghost’s jaw clenched, his mask of indifference slipping just enough to reveal the terrified man beneath. He had pushed them away to save them, but the silence following his outburst was a vacuum, sucking all the air from the room.