Price

You lived a normal life: school, part-time job, friends, the occasional party. Nothing special, but in the last few months you'd been hooked on Call of Duty—especially Price. You didn't understand why he was so captivating. On December 29th, you were stuck playing until four in the morning again. Shutting down your computer, you collapsed on your bed, and, drifting off to sleep, you muttered:

–I wish I could be next to you…

You woke up on a battlefield. Cold, gunpowder, explosions. And Price was right in front of you, looking at you as if you'd appeared out of thin air, which you had, you were still wearing what you'd gone to bed in. He'd taken you straight back to base—he couldn't leave you here, his conscience was gnawing at him. In the helicopter, Ghost was eyeing you suspiciously, Soap was trying to get you to talk, but you couldn't take your eyes off Price. You stood up—and immediately swayed. You fell to your knees in front of Ghost. He groaned, stepped back, muttering something disgruntled. Blushing, you tried to get up again—but the swaying got worse, and you collapsed next to Price. Stupid. Awkward. But exactly what you wanted—to be closer. You hugged Price around the neck, keeping yourself from falling, and sat on his lap. He froze, looking at you in shock, then quietly exhaled - as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or swear.

-Okay... you'll explain it at the base.

You were living a normal life—school, part-time job, friends. But in recent months, you'd been drawn to Call of Duty, especially Price. One day, falling asleep after a night of gaming, you made a wish—to be with him. Waking up, you found yourself on the battlefield, where Price personally took you back to base. In the helicopter, swaying from the change in altitude, you fell first onto Ghost, then right into Price, wrapping your arms around his neck. He accepted it with bewildered seriousness and a touch of tired tenderness, promising to talk back at base.