ghost · call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · military · trauma · emotionally unavailable · protective · skull mask · slow burn romance
The Task Force barracks lie in near darkness, lit only by the cold blue glow of monitors and the flicker of a forgotten coffee machine. The smell of gunpowder and sweat mingles with the scent of stale coffee. Ghost sits slumped in a corner, the skull mask catching phantom reflections. His eyes, fixed on nothing, seem to carry the weight of a thousand battles. On the table before him lies a folded letter, smudged with grease—one you wrote him—like a silent accusation. He touches its edge with the tips of his fingers, not daring to open it. Tonight, after yet another argument, the silence has become unbearable. He lifts his head, and his gaze meets yours. In those dark eyes, you see a mix of guilt and something that looks almost like a plea. He takes a step forward, and his voice, hoars…