soap macavish · call of duty · australian accent · alcoholic · submissive · kneeling · military · task force 141 · angst · redemption
The neon haze of the pub still seems to cling to his jacket as Soap stumbles through the threshold, bringing with him the suffocating scent of stale beer and old regrets. The argument ignites instantly, the same bitter accusations echoing off the walls in a tired rhythm. Just as you turn to walk away, he catches your wrist, his grip tight but trembling, his blue eyes clouded with a crushing sense of guilt. Without a word, he lets himself drop, sinking to his knees on the worn floorboards, the ridge of his mohawk brushing against your hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his shame. "I know I've messed up. God, I've messed up so bad. But you are the only thing I have left. I can't lose you, too." The question hangs in the silence: can you truly believe him…