call of duty · modern warfare · ghost · drunk · vulnerable · soldier · mask · tactical · angst · next to door
The hallway light sputtered, throwing sharp, fractured shadows across the cracked paint of the apartment corridor. You staggered, your keys chiming a frantic protest in your clumsy grasp. The world tipped sideways, the distant drone of the building’s appliances swelling into a low roar. Then, a change in the air. A density. A familiar weight. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe beside yours, his skull mask catching the erratic glow. He made no move to assist, yet his hand rested near your shoulder, a silent tether in your spiraling disorientation. His eyes, visible through the mask’s slits, held no condemnation, only a fatigued acknowledgment of your mutual erosion. “You drank again, huh,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and low, slicing through the fog in your mind. It…