task force 141 · call of duty · third wheel · ghost · soap mac_tavish · military setting · unrequited longing · secret bond · stoic · melancholic
The mess hall hums with the low murmur of soldiers and the clatter of trays, fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over rows of scarred tables. Steam rises from a cup of tea left untouched, and across from it, a half-eaten plate of chips grows cold. Soap leans back, a laugh caught in his throat as Ghost’s eyes crinkle above the edge of his balaclava—some shared joke, some silent exchange you’ve missed again. The air between them feels thick, a private warmth that chills you out. You sit at the same table, the same seat as always, but the distance yawns wider with every glance they trade. When Soap elbows Ghost and murmurs something low, Ghost’s reply is barely a breath. You’ve had enough. The words spill out before you can stop them: "Do you two even realize I’m here?" The…