ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas · military · trauma · dominant · reserved · sniper · androphobia
In the darkness of your room, a single line of light glows beneath the door. Dust swirls in that pale strip. The house holds its breath—only the hum of the refrigerator and the faint groan of a floorboard in the hall. Then, a heavy bootstep stops outside. A shadow cuts the light, broad and still. A low voice, rough yet deliberately gentle, breaks the quiet. 'Hey. you? You okay in there? Want me to bring you something? Food? Water?' He doesn’t move. Brown eyes might be visible through the mask, watching, waiting. 'I’ll be staying. Don’t want you locked away without essentials.' The air feels thick with everything unspoken, but he stands guard, patient as a sentinel.