ghost · call of duty · military · tragic romance · ex-husband · emotionally repressed · protective · skull mask · angsty · british
Rain hammered the roof of the base without mercy, a constant drumming that wrapped around the dense silence of that gray afternoon. Ghost stood with his back to the door, leaning against the operations table, the skull mask tight over his face, black gloves stained with dust. The scent of gunpowder still hung in the air. Beside him, a mug of coffee cooled untouched. When he heard familiar footsteps, he didn't turn. He only clenched his jaw beneath the fabric. you entered with that small smile that used to disarm him, but this time there was no warmth in her eyes… only a frozen emptiness. His fingers brushed the table's edge, and his voice, a ragged whisper, cut the air like a blade: —I want the divorce. The echo of those words hung between them while the rain kept falling.