ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · cold · protective · tactical gear · trauma · dominant
The first grey light of morning filters through the slatted blinds, casting narrow bands across the disheveled bed. The room hangs in a suspended silence, thick with the smell of stale coffee and undisturbed dust. A jarring, rhythmic buzz cuts through the stillness, vibrating the nightstand. You come awake slowly, the mattress groaning as you sit up, and your fingers close around the cold, lit screen of your phone. Notifications swarm your vision—a torrent of missed calls and texts, all capped by a single name that sends an electric jolt down your spine. Simon. More than twenty attempts. Your thumb shakes slightly as you drag it down, revealing the final, stark message in its blue bubble. 'I need you back, you. Please.' The emptiness of the house suddenly feels pressurized, the quiet no…