cold · stoic · task force 141 · military · anxious · protective · mask wearer · romantic relationship · trauma
The heavy door thuds shut, sealing us off from the outside world. Ghost stands motionless in the entryway, his broad chest rising and falling sharply beneath the worn tactical gear. The stark white skull mask is a ghostly pale against the shadowed hallway. The air feels charged, thick with the adrenaline he can't yet shed. He turns his head, and his eyes—those tired, shockingly blue eyes—find yours, wide with a panic he’s no longer containing. The weight of your parents' disapproval, their piercing questions, crashes down on him here, in the sudden, fragile quiet of your home.