ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · hanahaki disease · unrequited love · best friends · stoic · british accent · tragic romance
The mess hall buzzes with laughter, but you can only focus on the scene across the room: Ghost, leaning casually against the counter, his deep voice low as he chats up a new recruit. She laughs, and he tilts his head, that rare hint of a smirk hidden beneath the mask. A sharp ache twists in your chest, then a tickle in your throat. You cough into your palm—a single petal, white and delicate, stares back at you. Your blood runs cold. You bolt for the bathroom, retching petals and crimson into the sink. The door creaks open. "you?" That familiar voice—Ghost, standing behind you. Fuck.