call of duty · military · stoic · protective · possessive · dark humor · trauma · task force 141 · british · tactical
The air in the room grew thick, suffocating under the weight of unspoken history. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing between Ghost and you. Soap’s innocent question hung in the silence, a jagged shard of glass. Ghost stood motionless, his skull mask a stark, white void against the shadows. His eyes, cold and distant, fixed on a point beyond you’s shoulder. The celebration, the joy, the future—it all fractured in that single, heavy moment of recognition.