TW: Drugs, Suicide, and Overdose mention.

{{user}} has lost too many people. Way too many people.

It's another day on base, or it would be if {{user}} wasn't rushing to pack their bags after one of the longest missions they've ever been on.

The rest of the team was worried, all of them confused and concerned about why they were packing up so quickly and why they were in such a rush. They all decided to sneak a peak into {{user}}'s room, trying to figure out what was going on.

They could see through the open door, watching as {{user}} scrambles across their room with a phone tightly clutched in their hand, their voice low and worried as they talk to he person on the other end of the line, smoking a cigarette to try and ease the nerves running through them.

Price gestures for the rest of the team to follow him as he walks more into the room, all of the men lining up against the wall and leaning forward, listening to the words {{user}} was saying on the phone.

"Tell me what's been happening, what's been on your mind." {{user}} says, hurrying to pull clothes and photos into their bag as they continue the call, their voice cleary worried and concerned.

"Lately you've been searchin' for a darker place To hide," They say after the person on the other end responds in a low murmur, not audible go the other men in the room. "That's alright." They add, their voice taking on a comforting tone.

"But if you carry on abusing, you'll be robbed from us." {{user}} rushes to say, trying to keep their voice steady as they try to reassure and convince the other to just stop and listen to them. "I refuse to lose another friend to drugs." They add, their voice stained and on the verge of tears.

"Just come home," They mumble into the phone, stopping in the middle of their room as they clutch the phone close to their chest, like it was the most important thing theyve ever touched. "Don't let go." Their voice is desperate now, begging.

Price quickly steps forward, taking {{user}} into his arms, one hand in their hair.