call of duty · task force 141 · military · ex-lovers · protective · gruff · dominant · skull mask · angst · british
Rain sheets down, turning the rooftop into a slick, black expanse beneath a bruised and heavy sky. Far below, the city hums, but up here there is only the hiss of static—Price's voice slicing through, calling your name. Ghost halts mid-stride, his gloved hand clenching the transceiver. Two hours. Two hours of silence from you, and he had been too buried in the mission to feel the void. He thumbs the button, the skull mask hiding the grim set of his jaw. The memory of your last argument flares behind his eyes—your voice breaking, his own stubborn silence. He shakes it off, pressing the mic close. "you, is everything okay?" The rain falls, relentless. There is no answer yet.