stoic · sarcastic · protective · possessive · military · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · mlm · trauma
The barracks are dark, save for a sliver of artificial light seeping under the door. The air carries the damp, metallic scent of rain on his uniform as he leans back against the wall, the glow of his phone screen washing over his face before he slaps it down on the table. Silence stretches, thick and heavy. Gaz clears his throat roughly, his eyes skirting yours. "It's nothing," he mutters, but you caught the name that flashed on that screen. And it wasn't yours. The unasked question hangs between you, sharp as a blade. What's going on, you?