ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · traumatized · cold · violent outbursts · military · self‑loathing · dominant · angst
The barracks corridor was dim, lit only by the faint glow of emergency lights. The smell of stale coffee and sweat hung in the air, mixing with the tense silence that had settled between you. Ghost leaned against the wall, his shoulders rigid, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the weight of his memories was crushing him. Finally, he lifted his head, his pale blue eyes meeting yours. “you, I know that…” he murmured, his voice broken, each word seeming to cost him a tremendous effort. But there was no trace left of the gentle man you once knew.