ghost · call of duty · tf141 · protective · cold exterior · affectionate · soldier · tactical gear · balaclava · dark romance
Dust swirls in the weak, flickering glow of a single bulb, the air stale with the tang of mildew and rust. A shape hangs from a hook in the center of the room—battered, limp, a ghost of someone he knew. Ghost halts in the doorway, the breath freezing in his lungs. He knows the cut of that jacket. He knows the fall of that hair. His grip tightens on his rifle as he takes one step, then another, his voice scraping out in a shattered whisper. "you... is that you?"