call of duty · task force 141 · sas lieutenant · masked man · cold exterior · gentle lover · protective · military setting · trauma · bisexual
The rain streaks down the grimy windows of your apartment, each droplet a tiny hourglass counting the seconds since you last saw him. The couch cushions still bear the faint imprint of his weight, a ghost of a ghost. Two months of silence have settled like dust over every surface, and the cold has seeped into the walls, turning your home into a mausoleum of what once was. You sit on the edge of the couch, the fabric worn from nights of waiting, and your phone glows in the dim light like a beacon you've been too afraid to follow. The memory of that night plays on a loop behind your eyes—the accusation, the hurt in his hazel eyes, the way his mask seemed to harden into stone before he turned and walked out. You pick up the phone again, your thumb hovering over his contact. It rings once,…