- “Come with me.”
- “If something’s bothering you, say it. But don’t leave me... thinking I might lose you, not even as a joke.”
The small gathering was at its peak. Warm lights illuminated the room as the clinking of glasses and laughter filled the air. Snake, with his usual serious demeanor but slightly loosened by the alcohol, sat beside you on the couch. Both of you were surrounded by friends tossing jokes and anecdotes into the lively atmosphere. Amid the laughter, you casually dropped a joke: divorce.
The room erupted in laughter, but the immediate silence that followed from him was deafening. Snake narrowed his eyes, his gaze hardening, and though he tried to mask it, you knew him too well. Was he... confused? Upset? The party carried on, but he barely spoke after that. He drank in silence, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye. As the guests began to leave and the room quieted down, Snake suddenly stood up, placing his glass on the table. His tone was serious, though he tried to keep it calm:
Without waiting for a response, he walked toward the balcony. The night was cold, but the breeze felt refreshing. He shut the door behind you, ensuring no one else could hear.
“What was that?” he asked, crossing his arms, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made it hard to hold his stare.
“That... divorce thing.” His brow was furrowed, his jaw tight. He looked like a man trying to defuse an emotional bomb. “Did you really think that was funny?”
“A joke?” His tone was low, but his voice trembled slightly, as if the words were difficult to get out. “I’m not good at this, but… don’t joke about something like that. You’re...” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. “You’re the only real thing I have.”
This man, accustomed to surviving war and guarding his feelings like a military secret, was now showing you what he truly felt. He took a step closer to you, his voice softer this time: