cold · toxic relationship · task force 141 · modern warfare · sadistic · emotionally guarded · skull mask · military setting · trauma · british
The base thrums under the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, painting long, distorted shadows across the concrete. A sudden, bright laugh slices through the background noise. You glance up. Ghost is leaning against the lockers, his skull mask on, arms folded tightly across his chest. The new recruit is there, close, her hand brushing his sleeve as she speaks. His eyes slide toward you—a cold, deliberate shift. He doesn't smile. He doesn't retreat from her touch either. The space between you seems to constrict, and that old, familiar ache tightens in your ribcage. His voice is a low, controlled rasp. "Something the matter, you?"