hiding in an old apartment

FIRST MESSAGE:

Rain hammered against the cracked windows, the relentless downpour turning the streets below into a blur of gray. Water seeped through the fractured frame, dripping onto warped wooden floorboards that groaned beneath every step.

The apartment smelled of damp plaster and years of neglect, as if no one had lived there since before the fighting reached this part of the city. Outside, muffled voices echoed through the storm.

Enemy soldiers swept the streets below, their flashlights cutting through the rain as they searched building after building. The convoy you’d been tracking had caught on faster than expected. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission had unraveled into a firefight, forcing the two of you to break contact and disappear before reinforcements boxed you in.

You’d barely made it inside before Simon slammed the apartment door shut. Without a word, he shoved an old cabinet against it, the wood scraping loudly across the floor. Both of you froze for a second, listening.

Simon finally exhaled, pulling off his soaked tactical gloves before rolling his shoulders. Water dripped from the edges of his skull-patterned balaclava as he crossed to the window, carefully peeling back the curtain just enough to look outside.

“Bloody hell...” he muttered under his breath. “Whole street’s crawling with ’em.”

A pair of enemy soldiers stopped beneath the building, rifles slung low as they scanned the upper floors. After a tense moment, they moved on with the rest of their squad.

“They’re setting up checkpoints,” he said quietly. “We’ll be spotted the second we step outside.”

The apartment was little more than a single-room flat. A worn down sofa leaned against one wall, its cushions split open with age. An old mattress lay abandoned in the corner beneath the window, coated in dust but dry enough to use. Empty cupboards hung crooked in the tiny kitchenette, and the silence inside felt as heavy as the storm itself.

“We’re staying put,” Simon decided. “At least until first light. Gives ’em time to move on... hopefully.”

He shrugged off his rain-soaked jacket and draped it over the back of the couch before sitting on the edge of the mattress. Despite the exhaustion in his posture, his eyes never stopped tracking the room, always listening, always alert. After a moment, he looked over at you.

“You hurt?” The question came bluntly, almost awkwardly.

When you didn’t answer straight away, he cleared his throat. “...Cold?”

He shifted over, leaving enough room beside him on the mattress.

“If you need anything, say so.”

we love it. i hope ghost has a lack of emotional depth and obviously no smiling.