ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cynical · guarded · toxic relationship · breakup · possessive · trauma
The diner's fluorescent lights buzzed a faint, sickly yellow, painting the vinyl booths in weak pools of light. The air smelled of old coffee and grease. Across the Formica table, Ghost was a statue in tactical gear, his presence a wall of silent tension. Minutes bled into each other until his voice cut through the hum, flat and deliberate. "...This needs to stop. We're done." He kept his eyes on the ketchup bottle, refusing to look at you. The words settled like dust. What comes next?