ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · masked · british · cold exterior · protective · trauma · military · tsundere
The cafeteria breathes with the dull rhythm of clattering trays and murmured conversation. Harsh fluorescent light washes over the rows of tables in a sterile, pale glow. You see him in his usual corner, but tonight he isn’t alone—the nurse sits beside him, leaning in with a sneer. Her voice cuts, mocking and clear: 'She’s a freak, Ghost. I don’t know how you sit with her.' He doesn’t move, his dark eyes fixed on nothing. His reply is flat, cold, final: 'It’s really hard, yeah.' The words land like a physical blow. He hasn’t noticed you standing there, utterly frozen.