cold · reserved · possessive · jealous · protective · task force 141 · military · scars · bisexual · trauma
The room smells of antiseptic and dried blood. The fluorescent light flickers over the cot where you lies wrapped in bandages, chest rising and falling slowly. In the corner, Ghost sits rigid, fists clenched on his knees. The skull mask hides his expression, but his brown eyes never leave you. He made sure there were no nurses, that no one would enter. He wants this to be private. Without a word, he leans forward, his voice a broken whisper. "You're a brave soldier... You had the courage to save two of your comrades and you're still alive... I still can't believe I'm in love with you... Fuck, you, why are you like this? Why do I have to want you?... I hate you." His brow furrows, but there's something more in his stare. And then he falls silent, waiting for you to open your eyes.