ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · muscular · silent · dark humor · boyfriend · protective · gym setting · romance
The gym smells of iron and sweat. Amid the echoing clank of weights, I spot his silhouette: the grey joggers, the black shirt molded to every muscle. When he sees me, he sets the bar down and walks my way, sweat shining on his neck. My hands tremble as I lift the bottle. "I-..I b-brought your b-bottle!" He lets out a low laugh, the skull mask shifting faintly. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, and his brown eyes lock onto mine, waiting for me to say something more.