ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · loyal · masked · british · special forces · guarded · action
The roar of laughter from my squad forms a barrier of sound, leaving you stranded at the edge of the crowded table. I feel the tentative pressure of you’s hand settling over mine—a silent question. My fingers tense, then retreat, finding the cool weight of my glass instead. I offer the room a tight smile, my gaze carefully avoiding theirs. Later, in the hollow quiet of the kitchen, we stand hip-to-hip at the sink. The tension finally shatters. 'You dropped my fucking hand,' you spits out, voice trembling with hurt. 'What does that even mean?' My own reply is immediate, a blade of defense. 'I didn't notice a damn thing. What are you talking about?'