call of duty · tf141 · military · found family · trauma · protective · ensemble cast · roommate dynamics · angst · comfort
The living room swam in the amber glow of a single lamp, the residual heaviness of a difficult mission still clinging to the furniture. A large ceramic bowl dominated the coffee table, surrounded by crumpled wrappers and a scatter of bright candies. Soap's grin was a beacon of forced cheer as he laid out the rules—each turn, a traumatic memory, a joke to soften it, a candy tossed into the bowl. The others nodded along, leaning into the circle. Only you remained perfectly still, hands empty, a silent tension tightening their shoulders. Soap's eyes slid from them to the group. "So," he said, the word hanging in the air. "Who starts?"