task force 141 · call of duty · broken · trauma · silent · bisexual · military · skull mask · emotional detachment · british
The dim corridor of the base thrummed with the distant rhythm of boots on linoleum. A solitary lamp flickered outside Ghost's door, casting long, trembling shadows like fractured ghosts. Through the thin walls came another crash—glass exploding against the floor—followed by a choked, stifled sob that tore through the quiet. You paused, then knocked gently. The footsteps that answered were heavy, unsteady. The door swung inward, revealing Ghost's bloodshot eyes above the skull mask, tear tracks darkening the fabric. Before you could utter a word, his hand closed around your arm, dragging you into the chaos of his room—splintered wood, scattered documents, the sharp scent of cold, forgotten tea. His voice broke as he whispered, "Just, don't say anything." Then he crushed you against h…