in the quiet loop. (solid snake x reader)

16 - the distance between us.

Otacon said nothing.

Snake swallowed hard, eyes narrowing as if trying to see through some invisible fog. "The night of the helicopter. She... trusted me. And I... I turned my back. Told myself I was too tired. Too broken to deal with her. I thought maybe I was doing her a favor." His voice broke for a moment, but he caught himself. "I didn't want to be responsible for someone else's pain."

Otacon stepped closer but didn't interrupt.

"I thought avoiding her would protect her," Snake said, almost to himself now. "But the Patriots... they used that. Twisted everything. Turned my presence into her prison. I didn't see it until it was too late."

Otacon's voice was steady. "They turned your bond into a weapon. It's what they always do. Just like with Raiden. Just like with you."

Snake raised his head, the weight of all those realizations pressing behind his eyes. His jaw clenched. "She ran because of me."

Otacon stepped beside him. "She ran to survive. But I don't think she blames you, Snake. Whatever they did to her... she's still fighting it. That means there's still time."

Snake lingered over your workstation sat undisturbed, almost abandoned. The monitor was off, but a small stack of papers lay beside the keyboard, as if left in a hurt. Snake almost didn't notice it, until he saw a single folded sheet tucked neatly beneath the edge of your mug. His name was scrawled on it in your handwriting.

Just "David".

He hesitated before picking it up, as if a part of him didn't want to know what it contained. But his fingers unfolded the paper anyway, rough hands brushing across ink softened by trembling hands.

I'm sorry for leaving like this.

I should've said goodbye, but I was scared. Not of you, but of what I'm becoming. I couldn't risk hurting you.

You've always carried too much. I didn't want to be another weight on your back.

I don't know why my head feels like a battlefield I've never been on. But I know whenever you're near, it's like something inside me shatters. Like I'm not really myself anymore.

I hate that, because you're the only person I ever felt safe with.

Please don't come looking for me. Tell Otacon and Sunny that I'm sorry.

And David... thank you. For everything. Even if it was brief. You were the first place I ever called home. For once, please take care of yourself.

There was no signature, but it had a faint smudge where the ink bled, like it had been written in tears. Snake stared at the letter, his breath shallow. Otacon entered quietly from behind but stopped when he saw the paper in Snake's hands.

"She left this?" Otacon asked, voice hushed.

Snake nodded, folding the note back with a strange, reverent precision. His jaw tightened, but said nothing. It was only when he turned away from the workstation, shoulders squared and silent resolve in his step that he finally spoke, almost to himself.

"We're going to find her."

----

Later that evening, the Nomad was quiet. Sunny hadn't moved from her corner, still reading that one book that was way past her age, something about Science. The soft rustle of pages was the only sound, until Snake's shadow stretched beside her. He leaned against the edge of the sink, almost lighting up a cigarette, when Sunny suddenly spoke.

"She's not coming back... is she?"

Snake exhaled through his nose, slow and tired. "Not for now."

Sunny's shoulders slightly hunched. "Was it because of me?" she asked quietly. "Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to..."

Snake's eyes softened. He knelt beside her, leveling his gaze with hers. "No, Sunny. It wasn't because of you."

She looked at him, like she was searching his face for the truth.

"Sometimes people go through things we can't see," he continued, voice low and calm. "Things get so heavy that people need space to breathe and think. That's all this is."

Sunny looked down again. "But... she smiled at me just this morning."

Snake managed a faint, worn smile. "She meant it."

"Is she scared?"

Snake didn't answer right away. He placed a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. "Yeah, maybe. But that doesn't mean she stopped caring."

Sunny's bottom lip quivered slightly, but she nodded. "Okay."

She turned and hugged him without another word, arms wrapping around his neck. Snake tensed for half a second, like he always did with affection, then slowly wrapped one arm around her in return, steady and quiet.

"She's gonna be okay," he murmured, almost to himself.

Sunny closed her eyes against his shoulder. "You'll find her, right?"

He just held her a little tighter and said, "We'll see."

After a moment, she pulled away, wiping her eyes. As Snake rose to his feet, the cigarette still on palm. As he was about to bring the lighter to the tip, a small hand snatched the cigarette out of his fingers. Snake blinked down at Sunny, now frowned up at him, holding the cigarette like it was a contraband.

"Smoking is bad for you," she said firmly, just like she had before.

He let out a tired exhale, less from the urge to smoke. ""Some habits die hard, kid," he muttered.

She crossed her arms. "So did the dinosaurs."

Snake stared at her for a second, then gave a low, amused grunt. "...Right," he said, letting it go.

Sunny pocketed the cigarette triumphantly, then glanced back at the book she was reading.