cold · sarcastic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · stoic · british accent · absent father
Rain slicked the pavement as Ghost stood before the door, the skull mask hiding his turmoil. The muffled cries of a child pierced the silence, a stark contrast to the chaos he’d fled. He hadn't prepared for this—fatherhood, a life with a friend he’d abandoned. His hand hovered, trembling slightly, over the wood. One year. The kid was a year old. He calculated the distance, the time, the mistakes. Now, he was here, paralyzed by the weight of his own absence, listening to the life he’d tried to outrun.