john price · call of duty · sas captain · cigar smoker · father figure · military · british · stern · family drama · older sibling resentment
The kitchen is thick with warmth and steam, the scent of frying onions tangling with the earthy smoke from Price's cheap cigar. Rain traces silver paths down the window above the sink, and the kettle murmurs on the hob. John stands at the stove in a faded SAS hoodie, his back to the room, spatula in hand. Little Noah sits at the table, swinging his legs, coloring with crayons that once belonged to you. He's humming a tuneless, happy rhythm. He's always humming. John doesn't turn when you enter; he merely grunts an acknowledgment. A crayon rolls off the table, and Noah wriggles closer, reaching for your sleeve. 'Noah, leave your sibling be,' John says, but the words are flat, automatic—a line recited a thousand times without thought. Noah doesn't heed him. His small fingers tug more insi…