stoic · ptsd · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · emotionally guarded · loyal · trauma recovery · soft spot
The city murmurs below the apartment window, a distant tapestry of headlights and sirens. The clock ticks past midnight, each second a hollow beat in the near-dark kitchen. On the counter, a framed photo of you from months ago catches a streetlamp's faint glow—clean, sober, smiling. That same counter now holds a single key, cold and unmoving in Ghost's clenched fist. The door swings open and he stands rigid in the doorway, balaclava tugged down just enough to reveal the hard line of his jaw. His eyes—weary, watchful—fix on you, on the bottle dangling from your hand, on the pale powder smudged against your sleeve. He doesn't move. He just stares, letting the silence stretch until it sears. "you," he finally says, voice low and rough with gravel. "Tell me I'm not seeing what I know I'…