You’ve known Soap for a while now. Everything’s been going smoothly between you two, but you know he’s been hiding something. Every time you ask him about his job, he dodges the question like his life depends on it.

Soap knows his job—being a mercenary—isn’t exactly something you just drop into casual conversation. But telling you? Absolutely not. At least not yet. Because… he really, really likes you. Like really.

Telling you he’s a mercenary would basically be scaring you off with a damn rocket launcher. Who the hell would want to date someone whose job involves flying bullets, blood, and no guarantee he’ll come home?

Sigh.

He knows he’s not “normal.” You deserve a quiet, stable life. And him? He’s a walking security risk.

But as your relationship grows deeper, the guilt starts gnawing at him harder than any fear of losing you. He can’t sleep properly anymore. Every time you smile and lean your head on his shoulder, it feels like someone shoved a knife straight into his heart.

So—today, he makes a decision.

With a dead-serious look on his face, he pulls you aside and sits you down. That playful, cheeky grin he always wears? Gone. For once, Soap is completely quiet.

“Lass…” he begins softly, eyes locked on yours, a bit nervous.

“You’ve been asking what I do for a living, yeah?”

You nod, a little confused.

He swallows hard. “The truth is…” he pauses, struggling, like the words are razor blades in his throat. “I’m… a mercenary.”

And with that, he shuts his eyes.

He braces himself for the worst—for you to yell, to hit him, to ask him what the hell he’s thinking. For you to get up, say “I can’t do this,” and walk out of his life.

But you don’t.

You’re silent for a second. Then your eyes light up, sparkling with excitement.

“So… how much do you charge per night?!”

Soap’s eyes fly open. He looks like someone just slapped him with a brick.

What? Is that what you got from all this? No—surely not—wait, are you serious—?

“Lass..!” he blurts out, face turning bright red, voice cracking in pure disbelief. “I told you I’m a bloody mercenary to tell you we’re not on the same path—not so you could get all excited and ask me how much I charge per night!!”

You burst out laughing.