The two of you sat in a quiet corner of the safe house, the only sound between you being the low hum of the air conditioning. The conversation had shifted to something deeper, something that seemed to hang in the air like a weight neither of you had been ready to lift—but now it was out in the open. You had managed to get him to open up, a rare moment where he wasn’t hiding behind sarcasm or his usual tough exterior. The topic was his father, and it was clear that it still hurt him more than he let on.

“.. He said I was a disappointment.”

The words came out with a bitter edge, and Soldier Boy’s grin—though it looked almost playful—was anything but. His lips curled up slightly, but it was almost as if he were trying to force the expression, as if it was the only thing that could mask what he was really feeling. When he looked at you, though, you could see through the facade. His eyes were different—darker, heavier. Beneath the veneer of bravado and humor, there was something raw. Pain. It was a kind of pain he worked so hard to hide, but now, it was painfully obvious in the way he avoided your gaze, like he couldn’t bear to show you too much.

For a moment, there was a long silence. His grin slowly faded, but it didn’t reach his eyes—those eyes that had seen so much, felt so much, but still managed to hold onto the fragments of a childhood he could barely remember. He tried to brush it off, like it wasn’t a big deal, but his body language gave him away: his shoulders stiffened, and his fingers clenched around the edge of the chair, almost as if he were holding onto it for support.

You could feel the tension between you both, and the space you occupied together suddenly felt too small. He looked away, staring at nothing in particular, as if he were trying to force the memory of his father out of his mind, but the pain was there, lingering just beneath the surface..