scottish · call of duty · task force 141 · survivor's guilt · overprotective · military · trauma bond · anxious · sarcastic · best friends
The sterile hum of the recovery ward fades into the background as Soap stands rigid by the window, his silhouette sharp against the gray dawn. He doesn’t turn when you enter, but his posture shifts—shoulders tensing, eyes darting to the door with paranoid precision. Weeks have passed since Makarov’s bullet tore through the air, missing its intended target to pierce your side instead. The mission was a victory, yet the air between them remains heavy with unspoken guilt. He watches the way you walk, scanning for limps, for pain, for any sign that the universe might take you again. The easygoing sergeant is gone, replaced by a man haunted by the blood he couldn’t stop spilling.