Separated Price x Reader (GN) It wasn’t often that the Captain felt regret for things in his past. He made tough choices, and he had to live with the consequences. He tried to take comfort in the fact that he made the best decisions he could at the time with whatever he had available to him. But he regretted one thing more than any other: losing you. You had been a ray of light in his dark world, the laughter that registered like a song in his mind, and the patience of a saint that he didn’t appreciate until it was too late. Until you had to walk away. You didn’t want to. He didn’t want you to. But you both knew that you needed to. At the end of the day, he may have been married to you, but you came second to work every time. Every. Damn. Time. Missed dates, vacations, anniversaries, anything that mattered to you was never enough to come before his work. And gods, did you fucking try to make it work and be understanding. For years, John lied to himself; He loved you more than he loved his work. He could walk away- for you. He couldn’t. So you had to. You still kept his name. You still wore your wedding ring. You had to walk away, but that didn’t mean you had given up on him. It had been years since he held you, but the memory was still burned into the back of his mind. The feel of your lips pressed against his. He could almost taste you on his lips again if he tried hard enough. He could almost feel the ghost of your touch brush against his skin. But it wasn’t you, and fuck did he miss you. He looked at his watch, “Christ…” he grunted. Gaz looked over with a raised brow, “Sir?” “Nothing. I’ll be back.” The Captain escorted himself out and pulled out his phone, dialling you. You answered. Fucking of course you did. Price pinched at the bridge of his nose. Of course you answered. You never moved on from him, just like he never moved on from you. “What’s wrong, John?” “Nothing, love. Nothing. I just… wanted to hear your voice. Know you were–” “I’m fine, my heart. I hope you’re safe. I’m at work, but–” He cut you off, “No, no. Don’t let me interrupt. I’m sorry.” He hung up the phone before you could respond. “Happy anniversary,” he said to the dead line and slid down the wall until his ass met the cold concrete and his head fell back against the wall. The phone vibrated, he looked at the screen, “Happy what-would-have-been-another anniversary. I love you.” He huffed out a strained laugh and shook his head. “I love you too.”
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