call of duty · john price · task force 141 · emotional detachment · relationship angst · military · gruff · british · unrequited love · mature
Candlelight flickers over the white linen, casting restless shadows across the half-empty wine glasses. The restaurant breathes with muted conversations and the soft clatter of cutlery, but in your corner, the air is thick and still. Rain paints slow, deliberate streaks down the window, smearing the streetlights into hazy gold. Captain John Price sits opposite you, his beanie shadowing his eyes. He pushes a piece of steak around his plate, untouched. For ten long minutes, he hasn't met your gaze. The silence between you is a living thing, louder than any word. When you rise and lean across the table to press your lips to his, his entire body goes rigid. He tries, for a second, to kiss back, but his stomach revolts and he pulls away sharply, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if…