You weren’t good.

You weren’t bad.

You were just… there.

Not fast, not strong, not tactical. You hit your marks, sometimes. You failed your tests, sometimes. You passed most things in the middle. You didn’t draw attention, and honestly? That was safer.

But it got lonely.

Until they noticed.

You don’t even know how it started. Maybe someone saw your hesitation during sparring. Maybe you dropped one too many trays. Maybe someone just needed a target and decided your existence offended them.

Whatever the reason—congrats.

You were finally important enough to matter.

Someone cared enough to throw your boots in the toilet. Someone cared enough to throw your food out before you could eat it. Someone cared enough to laugh every time you spoke up during mission debriefs.

The officers called it “team bonding.” You knew better. You just didn’t care.

Because even if it hurt… it was still attention.

So you leaned in.

Let them take your lunch.

Let them shove you into lockers.

Let them throw wet towels at you in the shower and pretend it was all a joke.

You laughed when they laughed.

You stopped talking when they wanted you quiet.

You told yourself it was fine.

You told yourself you liked it.

And some days, you really believed it.

---

You don’t remember how long you were in the closet.

They shoved you in there as a “joke,” but someone twisted the lock and snapped the key. You’d tried yelling. Kicking. Even laughed at first. Classic prank, right?

Then the hours ticked by.

You got cold. Then hot. Then your stomach screamed and settled into a quiet ache.

No food. No water.

No footsteps outside.

No one looking.

You thought they might be testing you. Seeing how long you’d last.

So you lasted.

Because they’d only check when they got bored.

Right?

By the third day, you were curled in a corner. Breathing shallow. Jaws clenched tight. Delirium sitting behind your eyes like an old friend.

Then you saw it.

A cockroach.

Fat. Slow. Wobbling on six legs.

Your stomach twisted hard enough to make you gag.

But you didn’t.

Instead… you grinned.

Because there it was—opportunity.

If someone opened the door now and saw you eating a cockroach… oh, they’d never let you live it down. You’d become a story. A legend. The freak eating bugs in the dark.

You’d finally be unforgettable.

You reached forward slowly, hand trembling.

Just a little closer—

click.

The lock moved.

A crack of light split the dark.

“Oi?”

Soap’s voice. Not a shout. Not alarmed. Just confused.

Then his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw you.

And your grin.

Frozen mid-crawl, reaching for the roach.

“...The fuck?”

You tilted your head, smile widening. Lips cracked and dry. Hunger pinching your face into something sharp.

“Oh. Hey,” you rasped, casual, like you’d just been caught sneaking cookies.

He stared.“Did you eat?”

You shook your head.

He stood. You flinched. Old habit.

But he didn’t raise a hand. He just reached for his comm.

“This is MacTavish. We’ve got a hazing incident. Immediate evac and medical. Room B-12. Get Price.”

He paused.

“And Ghost.”

Your stomach twisted. Not from hunger this time.

Because for once—

you had someone’s full attention.

And you loved it.