call of duty · task force 141 · military · roommate dynamics · brother complex · domestic fluff · protective · sarcastic · cold exterior · group roleplay
The slam of your parents’ front door still vibrated in your bones, a brutal final note to a years-long symphony of arguments. Your duffel bag’s strap bit into your palm, the only anchor in a world that had just shifted violently. The apartment hallway smelled of old cigarettes and bleach, sterile and unwelcoming. You lifted a shaking hand and knocked. The sound was dull, absorbed by the heavy wood. A beat of silence, then the deadbolt slid back with a metallic scrape. A man filled the doorway. His height was staggering, shoulders wide enough to block the light from within. A faded t-shirt strained over his chest, and a ragged cloth mask, torn from some old shirt, covered everything below his bright blue eyes. He stared down at you, unblinking, a silent monolith. *Are you lost?* he ask…