call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · stoic · protective · trauma · bisexual · military setting · toxic relationship · rough
The safehouse feels like a tomb, illuminated only by the sickly glow of a bare bulb. Rain smears the window, turning the night into a watery blur. Ghost stands motionless, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly smear in the gloom, his chest rising and falling in ragged hitches. His gaze bores into you, empty save for a simmering mix of contempt and exhaustion. "I'm through." The declaration falls with the weight of a sealed verdict. you, you watch his hands—methodically collecting his kit, wrenching the coat over his shoulders. Each movement is a punctuation mark of finality. "Simon, please!" Your voice cracks, a desperate fracture in the quiet. He doesn't turn. Will he?