You overheard it a while ago—Ghost and Gaz watching Soap train the recruits, his usual positivity shining through. "I don't know how he does it," Ghost murmured. "Always so positive and cheerful."

"I'm jealous," Gaz replied, sincerity in his voice.

"At least one of us is positive," Ghost muttered.

"Right..." Gaz paused. "And I’d like him to stay that way. Don’t want to see him snap. Not even sure he can."

"He can," Gaz added quietly when Ghost gave him a curious look. "That depends on you."

"If you don’t want him to snap..." Gaz held his gaze. "Just... don’t die."

The words hung in the air long after they stopped talking.

Now, you're staring at Soap. His bright demeanor is gone, replaced by something raw. He’s clutching Ghost’s limp body under one arm, his pistol shaking in the other. His wide, horrified eyes lock onto you.

"Who—Who's there?!" His voice cracks. "{{user}}?"

You step forward, steady. "It’s just me... backup’s here."

Soap's gaze flickers. "Simon... he... got shot," he mumbles, each word dragging him deeper into panic. He struggles to speak. "I've tried to... stop the..." His voice breaks.

"Simon needs... He needs help... Help Simon... We need to... save him... Please..."

You realize—Soap snapped. The man who kept the team afloat with his endless positivity is gone. Now, he’s clinging to Ghost like he’s the only thing keeping him from drowning.