keep me breathing - john price x oc

6. butterflies and hurricanes

Flashback

2021

Are you OK? Any new scars?

You hit send. You had received a simple message saying " Home. " a few minutes before. Nothing more, nothing less. It had become a routine: whenever you were apart, short and simple messages were sent just to make sure everything was okay. You knew John wasn't one for texting and would rather tell you everything in person. That was fine for you, but you still insisted he would at least send a short message whenever he got back. That, he could manage. In return, you promised you would do the same. Because even if he didn't say it, you knew he would appreciate it.

You'll have to see for yourself.

Looking down at your phone after it vibrated shortly to let you know you received another message, you smiled. You were suddenly very distracted from the tactics briefing you were in. It was about something about some mission happening the next day.

You were not fine, far from it, but tried to keep your emotions under control. The middle of a meeting was certainly not the place to show any signs of distress. It wasn't that you weren't ready to face whatever was thrown at you. The problem was the people you were supposed to trust. You weren't sure you could do that anymore, and that made everything complicated. If you were in any danger, how could you be sure that there would be help?

You were there to do your job, however, so you kept interacting with your teammates like a professional would, even if you got some side-eyes and your suggestions were quickly dismissed. The lies still tainted you, apparently. You could tell that the trust for you also wasn't there.

The only thing you were looking forward to about the mission was that it was the 141 you would assist, meaning you and John were going to leave together for once. Well, not physically leave together, but you were going to be in the same area. You didn't know any specifics about what was going to be happening, you only knew about your own mission brief. You had studied it a million times, making sure every single detail was burned into your brain.

Your fingers flew over the keyboard on your phone.

When?

You answered and saw the three dots appear immediately, as if he had been waiting for your message. You wondered where he was. "Home" could mean anything for this man, base or his house; the lines blurred sometimes.

Dinner, 7pm. Dress nicely. I'm driving.

You checked your watch. Three long hours until you got to see him again. Meanwhile, your instructor was arguing with someone from your team about something he would know if he had read the brief. You weren't listening to anything about it, even though you probably should. But all you could do is stare at the watch.

John and you both had the evening off, and of course you couldn't say no to a "normal life" date with your boyfriend.

Just three more hours to endure.

It was two minutes until 7pm and the doorbell to your flat rang. You were surprised for a second because it was your flat bell, not the one from the main house door - probably meaning someone left it open again or your neighbours were kind enough to let John in. Struggling to get your left foot into the shoe, you hopped to your door like a bunny while not trying to break the other leg wearing heels. As always, before opening the door, you peeked through the spy hole, just to be sure. But that face, you'd recognize everywhere. There was no mistaking it.

You finally managed to put the shoe in place as the door fully opened and revealed a man in a gray suit. Your man in a gray suit. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, while explaining, "The door was open. Thought I'd come straight up."