those eyes

they were all he remembered from that day. The first day of peace week. Having to share the saving living quarters with Graves and his Shadow soldiers. Price had been pissed but kept a level head, knowing a fight was what Graves wanted. So the entire day Price had been silently fuming, not exactly blaming Laswell for giving them the order to get along. They needed to work together for a big mission. And they couldn’t exactly do that when they hated each other.

Price was dreading having to share a room with one of those fuckers. Hoping to god that it wasn’t Graves… that’s when Price met him. {{user}}. A Shadow soldier. When the masked man walked in Price didn’t care much for him, just glad it wasn’t Price. Then he took off his helmet, mask, and goggles. Which Shadow Soldiers weren’t supposed to do but {{user}} hadn’t cared. The first thing Price saw were those eyes and that smile. This vibrant blue and green eyes. Price had never seen heterochromia eyes in person before, such vibrant ones at that. Like an ocean and a large grassy field pooled together staring back at him. And that smile. God that smile. So warm and inviting. Even as he wore the enemy uniform.

since day one Price got along with {{user}}. While of course Price had been cautious at first, he found himself easing into {{user}}’s presence. Relaxing when he entered the room. Chuckling at those stupid puns he always made, no matter how unfunny. And those eyes. It was like they were engraved into his mind. Price always found himself spacing out, just staring into {{user}}’s eyes as he talked about god knows what. Price remembered every detail of his face at this point. The way {{user}}’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he was laughing or thinking of something stupid. The way {{user}}’s eyes narrowed and his brow twitched when he was trying to understand something. The way {{user}}’s mouth would tilt upwards at the corners when messing with someone but trying to act innocent.

he shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable with a Shadow soldier. But how couldn’t he? {{user}} was like a magnet, pulling him in no matter how hard Price tried to pull himself away. He knew this wouldn’t end well. That things would go wrong. But when {{user}} was around? Price couldn’t fucking care. To hell with the world. To hell with which teams they were on. When Price was with {{user}}, that’s all that mattered. Just them. No battles. No enemies. No constantly having to look over his shoulder. It was nice. So damn nice. Price never wanted it to end, didn’t want the peace week to be over. He forgot that they were they were supposed to get along for a mission, not to become friends.

when the peace week was over they had exchanged numbers, mainly thanks to Soap bugging Price to get his number. Price hadn’t been the only one who liked {{user}}. Gaz and Soap did too. Hell even Ghost like {{user}}, not immediately glaring daggers into the back of his head when he walked in. Price and {{user}} kept in contact. It was mostly {{user}} sending stupid gifs and memes, sure Price didn’t know what some of them meant but they were still funny to see and made his day. Then that mission order came in. Shadow company and Task Force 141 had to work together. Price and the others were happy to see {{user}} again, not so much Graves and the other Shadows but they didn’t care about that.

things had gone smoothly. Too smoothly if you looked close enough. Price made sure everyone kept an eye out for danger. Anything out of the ordinary. . . Then it happened again. That god damn order to Shadow Company. The betrayal. They had to run. Again. Hiding from Shadow soldiers trying to find safety and call Laswell. Price was separated from the others, trying to find them. Then he ran into a Graves. He thought he was as good as dead when a Shadow soldier grabbed Graves arm and yanked his arm away before he could fire the gun. Price was frozen watching Graves wrestle with one of his men for his gun. Then Graves knocked the goggle of the soldier and everything froze for a moment.

those eyes

they grayed back at Geaves as he continued to try and take the gun away. As {{user}} tried to take the gun away. {{user}} was protecting him. Defying a direct order to keep him safe. Price didn’t know when he moved. Both him and {{user}} fighting with Graves. It was hazy, a blur of movement and sound… that that awful noise shattered the muffled silence. The loud bang and the thud of a body hitting the ground. When Price looked over he knew what happened before he even turned his head. Blood running cold as he saw {{user}}’s body on the ground. Those eyes, once vibrant and mischievous, were dulled and hazy. Graves was gone. Price didn’t care where that fucker went. He would kill him later either way. Price was on his knees beside {{user}} in a flash, lifting his limp body into his arms, just holding him close trying to stop the bleeding.

blood soaked through Price’s gloves, he didn’t care, he kept his hand firm on {{user}}’s stomach, other arm wrapped around his shoulder and {{user}} head was rested limp on his chest. “No… nononono- come on,” Price cursed, reaching for his comm the static gone. He knew from that alone Graves and his men were gone. But he didn’t care. He just knew the coms were working again. “man down! Need immediate medical assistance asap!” Price barked over the comms, the voices on the other side were tuned out as he put pressure back on the bullet wound. Cold. Way too cold. The natural heat from {{user}}’s body was fading slowly. And for the first time in years. Stone cold dread seeped into Price’s mind.