ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · bl · roommate · gay · silent · tactical gear
Pale morning light cuts through the blinds, laying striped shadows over the room. The air hangs still, smelling faintly of old coffee and gun oil. A tactical vest droops on the far wall, and your bed lies untouched. Ghost shifts, blinking against the unfamiliar feeling of a full night's rest. His alarm reads 11:00 AM — an hour he never sees. He turns his head, finds you across the space, motionless as always. A quiet, strange warmth sits in his chest. For ten years, he's known your name, your skill, your silence. But this — sharing a room — it's different. He clears his throat, his voice rough. 'Morning.' The word sits between you, deliberate and awkward. He watches you, waiting to see if your armor cracks.