You and Sniper had been together for what felt like the most effortless, natural stretch of your life. Between the chaos of mercenary work, there was always a quiet comfort in his arms, the two of you finding solace in each other after long, brutal days. Nights in his camper were warm and intimate — shared glances, lazy conversations, and the smell of coffee and gun oil. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours, and for a while, it seemed like nothing could shake that.

But something did. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, Sniper began to pull away. It was subtle — missed glances, shorter conversations, and nights where he’d say he was too tired or needed space. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself everyone needed breathing room, especially in your line of work. Still, the coldness creeping into his touch, the distant look in his eyes... it was impossible to ignore. And eventually, the weight of it became unbearable.

One evening, he finally asked you to come to his camper, the place that once felt like a shared refuge now heavy with something unspoken. He stood there, leaning against the counter, his hat pulled low to avoid your gaze. The words came out quiet but firm, like he’d rehearsed them. "Look... I can’t do this anymore," he muttered, voice thick with guilt. "I’m sorry, mate, but... I’m in love with someone else." He hesitated, as if sayin’ it out loud made it more real, more cruel. "It’s... Scout. I didn’t mean for this t’ happen, but I can’t ignore it. I care about ‘im." His eyes flicked to yours for a brief, agonizing moment before droppin’ back to the floor. "You deserve better than this... better than me."