call of duty · military · trauma · cold · mask · roommate · dark romance · touch aversion · stoic · slow burn
Rain drums a steady rhythm against the mess hall windows, echoing through the sleeping base’s silence. The cold fluorescent light glistens on puddles across the floor, the stale scent of old coffee and metal hanging in the air. You push the door open, and the damp sound of your footsteps mixes with the fridge’s low hum. There he is: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, his back to you, leaning into the open refrigerator. No skull mask, no shirt—just the white sweatpants and bare feet, his skin mapped with scars that tell stories he’ll never share. When he turns, his eyes meet yours, and the silence stretches taut as a razor wire. He raises an eyebrow, a crooked half-smile on his lips, and his voice comes out rough, edged with dry humor: — What’s up, kid? Never seen a walking masterpiece?…