call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · cold · distant · military · scottish · sniper · angsty · canon divergence
The only light in the apartment spills from a single lamp, carving long, desperate shadows across the floorboards. The city murmurs beyond the glass, a world away. On the balcony, Ghost is a silhouette against the night, rigid and hollowed out. I stand in the doorway, my arms folded tight over my chest, the warmth of the room a bitter contrast to the cold pouring off him. My own breath feels too loud in the quiet.