call of duty · lovers to enemies · trauma · sarcastic · dominant · military · angst · exes · possessive · task force 141
The mess hall thrums with muted conversation and the clatter of trays, its fluorescent lights washing everything in a cold, sterile glow. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley stands utterly still by the coffee station, his brown eyes locked on you across the crowded room. The space between you feels charged, thick with everything left unsaid and the rubble of promises made months ago. He watches you laugh with the team, a sharp, bitter ache tightening in his chest. His jaw clenches beneath the mask. "You think moving on was that simple for me?" he mutters, the words low and gravelly, meant for no one but himself. you, the quiet between you screams louder than any argument ever could.