Chapter Text
"Anddd another letter for you, Mic!" chirped a cheerful Soap, sliding an envelope underneath Microphone's hotel room door. Mic sighed. This had to be at least the 5th one in a row. She got up from her bed and picked up the envelope from the floor, tossing it on her nightstand. She never bothered to actually read them.
Mic sat back down on her bed; the silence was deafening. That was, until unfortunately it was broken by the sound of someone lightly rapping on the door. "Come in," Mic called out. In came Soap, scanning the room cautiously for anything that might be out of place before deeming it safe to come in, closing the door behind her.
"So.." Soap started, sitting herself down on the bed next to Mic. "Whats with all the letters?"
Mic shrugged lightly, swinging her legs back and forth. "I dunno. I've never really been interested in reading them."
Soap let out a small "hmph" and sighed. She noticed the small tower of envelopes, just.. sitting there. She was slowly becoming entranced, her mind brainstorming ways to find out what was inside. Soap glanced at Mic, who was doom-scrolling on her phone. Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flicked on in her brain.
Soap slowly turned to Mic and took her phone, who responded by calling her unfortunate names. She ignored it.
"Oh shut up!" Soap exclaimed, stopping Mic in the middle of her name-calling spree. "I have an idea."
Mic's eyes widened slightly, eyeing her best friend. "And what is your idea?" she asked in response.
"Maybe we could.." Soap hesitated, a wide smile plastered on her face - A smile too wide for Mic's liking. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, unsure of where the germaphobe was trying to go with this.
"Maybe we could read the letters.. together?" Soap asked, obviously very giddy about this plan. Mic groaned. "But I'm not really-" she began, but turned to look at the stack of envelopes. It was taking up space on her nightstand. She finally figured that reading the letters would clear up space, and she caved in. "Fine. We can read them." she muttered hesitantly, receiving a squeal of excitement from the latter.
"Alright, Mic," Soap said, "Let's read some letters!"
Soap placed the envelopes in order, from the oldest to the recents. The older ones came first. Mic grabbed the first envelope, analyzing the handwriting carefully. She traced over Taco’s handwriting with her index finger.
She slowly opened it, Soap practically breathing down her neck in anticipation. Mic pulled the slip of folded paper out with a shaky hand, undoing and smoothing out the creases. She skimmed through the letter before reading it out loud:
"Dear Mic, can we talk? It's been a while since out last conversation."
“Oh.” was all Soap could mutter. She raised her eyebrows, surprised that it was short and simple — it was very blunt. Mic glanced at her and giggled. “Do you wanna read the next one?” she asked, gesturing to the next envelope. Soap nodded.
(too lazy to write allat soo moving on !!)
Soap and Mic had finally reached the last letter. Soap had suggested that Mic read the letter, because it was for her, anyway. Mic had insisted Soap to read it, but eventually caved in (as usual). She grabbed the last envelope, hands shaking with nervousness, bracing herself for whatever the British gal left for her in the folded piece of paper. She carefully unfolded it, treating it as if it were a fragile piece of glass. Soap leaned in closer, bouncing excitedly, waiting. Mic read the paper silently to herself, her eyes never missing a beat.
Unfortunately, this certain letter hit too close to home. As Mic read the letter, she felt a knot form in her throat. Her vision blurred from the tears that clouded her eyes, and she set the paper down to wipe them away.
“What happened?” Soap kept asking her, but she couldn’t answer. The lump in Mic’s throat was overpowering, choking her up while she broke down in tears. Soap grabbed the letter and read it to herself:
“Mic, it’s been so long. I’m truly sorry for hurting you; and I’m sorry for not having the heart to tell you this. I miss you so much, M. When can we talk? Yours Truly, T.”
Soap glanced at Mic, who was trying to regain her composure. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided it was best to let Mic get herself together first.
At last, Mic had recollected herself, wiping her nose and sitting still on the bed, not saying a word. Soap was worried for her best friend, yet she wanted to give Mic time to herself. “Would you like to talk about it later?” Soap asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mic nodded, smiling sadly. She grabbed the paper and refolded it, placing it in her back pocket. Soap got up and walked to the door, looking back one more time at Mic.
"Call me when you're ready."
And she walked out of the room, letting the door shut behind her.