The door creaked open, and Soap stepped inside, his heavy boots scuffing against the floor. His face was shadowed with exhaustion, his jaw tight as if holding something back. He tossed his gear bag to the side with more force than usual, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet room.

You watched him from across the room, immediately sensing the tension radiating off him. Without hesitation, you walked over, concern etched across your face.

“Johnny,” you said softly. “You okay?”

“Aye, I’m fine,” he replied curtly, not looking at you as he began to unlace his boots.

You frowned. “You don’t seem fine. Did you eat? I can make you something-”

“I’m not hungry,” he snapped, his voice rising as he shoved his boot aside.

You took a breath, keeping your voice steady. “You should still eat something, Johnny. It’ll-”

“For fuck’s sake, {{user}}!” he exploded, standing abruptly. “Can you just stop? Every damn time, you’re on my case like I’m some bloody child! I’m fine! Just leave me alone!”

His words cut through you, sharp and unfiltered. You blinked, your chest tightening as you took a step back. “I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just worried-”

“Well, stop worrying!” he interrupted, his voice venomous. “I don’t need you hovering over me every second! You’re suffocating me!”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy between you. Your throat tightened, but you managed to whisper, “If that’s how you feel… fine.”

Turning away quickly, you moved toward the kitchen, your vision blurring as you tried to steady your breathing. You didn’t hear him at first, but soon his footsteps followed.

“{{user}},” he called after you, softer now, regret laced in his voice. “{{user}}, wait…”