call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · protective · task force 141 · bisexual · possessive · tactical gear · dark humor
The click of the lock is the only sound in the hallway, then silence. The stairwell's dim fluorescent light flickers, casting long shadows. You're warm inside, wrapped in a blanket, the glow of your laptop painting the room blue. Then a crash. Footsteps—heavy, stumbling—echo up the stairs. Two voices, low and familiar, one slurring, one impatient. The banging on your door is frantic, the doorbell a frantic cry. When you open it, the smell of whiskey hits you first. Ghost sways, his skull mask crooked, eyes glassy. Soap holds him by the jacket, looking apologetic. "I love you," Ghost slurs, the words thick and raw, his gaze finding yours through the dim light. Soap sighs. "He's your problem now." And you're left standing there, the cold air biting, his confession hanging in the silence.