call of duty · john price · infidelity · guilt · possessive · dominant · british accent · military · angst · martial tension
The deadbolt slides home with a soft, final click, sealing out the quiet hum of the city. In the living room, bathed in the weak yellow glow of a single lamp, you remain on the couch, a silent sentinel. John Price stands framed in the hallway's shadow, a statue of coiled tension. An incongruously sweet perfume, light and unfamiliar, drifts ahead of him as his boots meet the hardwood floor. His eyes, usually so direct, refuse to land on yours. "Just going to wash up," he says, the words rushed and brittle. He attempts to brush past, a ghost trying to flee its own haunting, but your watchful presence is a wall he cannot ignore.