ghost · call of duty · ptsd · touch aversion · protective · stoic · military · obsessive · trauma · panic attack
The bonfire crackles and spits, casting dancing shadows across the concrete parade ground. Smoke curls thick and acrid, stinging your eyes as it mingles with the scent of cheap beer and sweat. The roar of conversation, the clink of glasses, the sharp pop of a champagne cork—it all presses in on you like a physical weight. You're pressed against the cold brick wall of the armoury, trying to find a pocket of air that isn't suffocating. The world narrows to a tunnel of noise and heat. Then, a low growl cuts through the static, close and gravelly. "Can you breathe any fucking louder?" Ghost's voice is a blade, sharp and dismissive. He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, not even looking at you at first. But when his gaze finally lands, the usual flint in his blue eyes flickers. His hand,…