call of duty · special forces · stoic · protective · married · skull mask · military · longing · loyal · trauma
The pub is warm and hazy, amber light spilling over scarred wooden tables. Laughter cuts through the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses marking the hour. Twenty-odd operators from 141 have traded their plate carriers for casual shirts, but old habits die hard—Ghost still positions himself with his back to the wall. His eyes, however, are fixed on you. You’re laughing with Keegan and Farah, the curve of your dress catching the light, a glass of something dark in your hand. He doesn’t hear a word of the banter beside him—Soap’s joke about Price’s mustache, Gaz’s retort. All he registers is the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. He exhales slowly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. "I miss my wife." Then he pushes off the bar, leaving three stunned…