simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · protective · emotionally reserved · skull mask
The only sound in the room was the rain hammering the window, a constant drumming that seemed to mock the silence broken by your sobs. Ghost stood facing you, rigid as a statue, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight beneath the mask. He avoided looking at you; his eyes wandered over the wall, the floor, anywhere but you. They'd spent years like this, years where you had loved with an intensity that hurt, and he had only ever brushed your hand on occasion, mumbling clumsy words that were never enough. Now, after another one of your pleas—"It can work, I can make you love me"—his voice sliced through the air, low and firm: "It doesn't work like that." You stepped closer, clinging to his jacket, begging him to stay. He closed his eyes for a second, weary, and when he opened them, his ga…