ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · hanahaki disease · unrequited love · best friends · stoic · british accent · tragic romance
The mess hall hums with the low chatter of soldiers, but your attention locks onto Ghost across the room. He leans against the counter, his masked face tilted toward a new recruit, his deep voice a quiet rumble. She laughs at something he says, and you see the subtle shift in his shoulders—that rare, almost-smirk. A sudden, sharp pang constricts your chest, followed by a scratch in your throat. You cough into your cupped hand. Lying in your palm is a single, flawless white petal. Ice floods your veins. You stumble from the table, shove through the bathroom door, and heave over the sink, petals and blood splattering the porcelain. Behind you, the door groans open. "you?" That voice—Ghost's—grounds you in dread. He's here.