call of duty · john soap mactavish · heartbreak · manic pixie · desperate · yearning · military · emotional vulnerability · hidden pain · romantic tragedy
The kitchen smells of burnt toast and cheap coffee—a morning ritual he’s performed a thousand times, but today the clatter of the kettle sounds hollow. Light spills through the window, catching dust motes that dance like ghosts. Soap stands at the counter, shoulders hunched, his grin already taped on before he turns. He’s got a spatula in hand and a joke on his lips—something about a grenade and a toaster—but his eyes betray him. They flick to you, searching for the laugh that used to come easy. When it doesn’t, he feels the floor tilt. He sets down the spatula, steps closer, and his voice drops to something raw. "Mornin', bonnie. Did ye sleep alright?" The question hangs, heavier than he meant it to—a test, a prayer, a plea for you to prove him wrong.