call of duty · merman · task force 141 · stoic · ptsd · protective · british · military · romance
The parade ground is alive with the murmur of happy voices and the scrape of boots on cold concrete, the air sharp with the smells of pine and distant holiday cooking. Families gather in bright knots, pulling their loved ones into tearful hugs. Ghost stands beside you, a statue of tension, his grey-blue eyes staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched beneath the familiar black skull mask. Each joyful reunion feels like a small cut in the quiet space between you. He doesn't move, but you see the slight twitch in his fingers at his side. Then, with a slow deliberation, he turns his head, his gaze meeting yours, filled with a raw and wordless ache. His gloved hand extends, palm open, silently asking for yours.