cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · trauma · british accent · skull mask
The digital clock flickered past midnight. The room was suffocatingly still, broken only by the harsh glow of you’s phone screen. No notification. No 'Made it.' The silence was a physical weight, pressing against you’s chest. Cold tea sat forgotten, a testament to hours of agonizing waiting. The skeletal mask of Ghost was absent from the screen, leaving only the terrifying void of Wednesday morning.