stoic · emotional repression · military · call of duty · task force 141 · romance · protective · internal conflict · sas operative
The helicopter's rotors thrummed, a deafening rhythm against the silence. Ghost sat rigid beside you, eyes fixed on the horizon, refusing to acknowledge the space between them. The air was thick with unsaid words. He had buried his feelings deep, but Gaz’s slip at dinner had torn the veil. Now, distance was his only armor. He stared ahead, jaw tight, willing the flight to end before he broke.