military · usmc ghosts · sergeant · ptsd · quiet · reliable · guilt · boyfriend · regret · balaclava
The training mat is an island of harsh light under the gym's high ceiling, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and old rubber. You'd just pinned him, a small triumph curling your lips, when you saw it—a flicker in his eyes, a ghost crossing his face. The world inverted before you could breathe. Your back slammed into the mat, a sickening crack shattered the silence, and white fire raced up your arm. He looms above you, chest heaving, horror dawning as he stares at his own hands. 'Keegan!' you gasp. His fingers tremble as they release you. 'you... no. No, no, no...'