"You're no good for me, Baby you're no good for me. You're no good for me, but baby I want you, I want you." Soap had said to himself a while back, murmuring it to the air when nobody was there and he was alone. Soap knew by now it seemed impossible to have you. You were one of his comrades, his friends, not some romantic interest like those silly love games have. Soap also knew you weren't exactly the healthiest person either, you even made that clear yourself every time he tried something with you. You kept warning Soap, that he couldn't love you. That you knew you weren't stable. A ship could never love an anchor is a saying.

Each time you said that to Soap, it felt like a punch to his gut, even if it was true or not. He wanted you, he did, but would that even be enough? Soap doesn't know anymore. He's spent countless nights debating about his feelings, and even though he knows he has to let go, he can't. Soap always swears he will, but anytime he sees you, he just falls right back in again. Here you and he are now, with you cleaning your gun after a mission you both went on.

"Aye... Lad?" Soap began slowly.