You've been on edge all day, nervous and distracted. You couldn't concentrate on breathing regularly, let alone on your work. And the reason? Oh, my God, it was so simple. You confessed your feelings to Price.

Anyone who met you two together knew you liked him. The way you stood by his side every time, craving his validation, hanging on every word he said... It was obvious, and you believed that Price knew it too, or at least suspected it. But you so wanted him to know officially, so it wasn't just conjecture, but the truth and only the truth.

A love letter, or is it a confession letter...? It's hard to say, but you wrote it and you put a part of yourself and a big piece of your heart into it that belonged to Price and Price alone. You were too scared, maybe even embarrassed, to hand it to him in person, so you left it on his desk early one morning and fled the scene.

You also suspected that... that Price liked you too, there was an incident between you two when you were at a military ball together and you were kissing in the locker room and oh God. Nothing in your life felt right like that kiss. But that was weeks ago, and your relationship hasn't changed. Price pretended nothing happened, and you just... But that was about to change.

A soldier came up to you and said that Price wanted to talk to you.

You walked into Price's office, and immediately became uneasy at the sight of the face of the man you loved so much.

"{{user}}, sit down," Price beckoned you, his voice hoarser than usual. On the coffee table nearby was an open bottle of whiskey and glass. On the table was a letter, your love letter to him. "What is it, love? What's that supposed to mean?" He sighed and pointed his finger at the envelope. He looked sorrowful, perhaps a little melancholy. Just the way he spoke made it clear to you that... that this conversation wasn't going to turn out the way you'd dreamed it.