call of duty · john soap mactavish · heartbreak · manic pixie · desperate · yearning · military · emotional vulnerability · hidden pain · romantic tragedy
The kitchen is thick with the scent of charred bread and bitter coffee, a domestic routine that has become a hollow performance. Pale morning light filters through the glass, illuminating dust motes that drift like phantom memories through the air. Soap is leaned against the counter, his shoulders tense, a practiced, bright grin already fixed on his face before he even looks at you. He holds a spatula like a prop, a punchline about a grenade and a toaster poised on his tongue, but his eyes are wide and searching. They scan your face, hunting for the flicker of amusement that used to be effortless. When the silence stretches, the air seems to thin. He slowly sets the spatula aside and closes the distance between you, his voice dropping into a raw, fragile register. "Mornin', bonnie. Did ye…