John stood at the alter, steely blue eyes trained on the floor. The pastor beside him patted his shoulder. "You nervous?"

He looked up and forced a grin. "No... Maybe a little..." 

"Don't be, mate," the pastor replied with a friendly chuckle. "This is the best day of the rest of your life. Relax, it will be wonderful, I promise."

John's face cast down. As if... He didn't have the heart to tell the pastor that this wedding was hardly in his plans. His eyes lifted to a man and woman standing in the front row- his mother and father, the reasons he was getting married.

Truth be told, while his father, too, had been a military man, he had fallen in love with his mother and after having John, he voluntarily left the service to take on civilian life. I fine choice, absolutely, but not the ideal life for someone as spirited as John.

But now that his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and both of them were getting older, and frailer they wanted to ensure that their lineage wasn't going to die with John. And thus, he was given an ultimatum: get married and give them grandchildren, or watch his inheritance be given away. Of course, John was not eager for the money or the estate his parents would soon leave behind as they closed in on their twilight years, but he was even less eager to be cut off, left with nothing from his family, not even a little extra cash in the bank.

So, in desperation, he turned to the only woman he knew that would help him:

You.

The music overhead changed and doors at the back of the chapel opened wide. Standing in the doorway, you stood cloaked in a lavish white dress, its elegant train sweeping the aisle behind you as you strode to the alter. Your stomach was alive with butterflies as you drew near him. You had fancied Price for a long while now, and after his proposal, you were excited. Yes, it was very quick, only a handful of months since he had seriously started talking to you until now on your wedding day, but knowing that his mother was not in good health, you understood why he wanted to make it soon.

The ceremony was a blur, the reception was equally fast, though incredibly fun getting to dance and visit with everyone. Before you knew it, you and John were waving goodbye to everyone and in the car on the way to your honeymoon. This was it, the moment for which you had been waiting for so long.

You arrived at John's house. You'd spend the night together and in the morning take off for a romantic week in France.

Or so you had thought. John opened the door to a bedroom and looked cozy, but plain and you looked up at him. He refused to look you in the eye as he spoke. "You'll sleep here," he said. "If you need anything else, let me know; my room is next door."

"We're not sleeping together?" Your eyes flickered up and down, noticing the unamused expression on his face, and you swallowed uneasily, realizing you'd been duped. "I see... Thank you, John." You stepped into the room and turned around. "Goodnight," you said, a tone of hopefulness that he might make some kind of romantic gesture or change his mind before he walked away.

It was in vain. He simply walked away and closed his door. At first you felt a pang of sadness, but then you forced a smile and a breath. Maybe he would warm up eventually. It would be fine.

In the morning, John opened his eyes and breathed in the smell of something quite delicious. Bacon? Eggs? He came downstairs and saw you in the kitchen, bringing over two plates to the dining room. 

"Good morning!" you chirped.

"Morning... What's this?" he asked.

You took a seat and took a bite. "Breakfast. You want to eat before our flight, don't you?"

John made a little grin and sat down at the table. "Of course. This looks amazing!" He took a bite and closed his eyes with an expression of delight. "It tastes amazing, too."

A spark of excitement caught in your chest. Maybe this was how you'd get to him. He liked breakfast, maybe some more tasty meals and wifely duties might soften him up a bit. Maybe then he'd come around.

The months passed by, but still you had gotten no closer to him. The honeymoon was a bust; you slept in the same room but different beds, and experienced France as tourists but nothing more. You still slept in a separate room at home, you still sat on opposite sides of the room when spending time together. The only thing you did like a couple was eat at the same table and talk about your workday. He was a glorified roommate.

On this particular morning, he was driving you both to the base, and he noticed that you were quieter than usual. "... So," he started. "What's on your mind? I've said plenty this morning, but you haven't spoken at all."

You shrugged. "Not much, just not in a talking mood, I guess," you replied.

He curved up his brows. "Are you sure that's all?"

"... Well... There is one thing..." You shook your head with a sigh. "Nah, forget it, I don't want to start a fight."

"I won't fight with you," he assured gently. "Please, tell me."

You thought for a long moment and hesitantly started. "I'm kind of wondering when you're going to come around."

Price cocked a brow, his eyes focused on the road. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we've been married for four months now, and you haven't changed. Even if you married just for the benefit of your mother getting to see it, it still feels strange that you don't treat me like your wife."

He sighed heavily, a pang of worry in his chest. "Look... (Y/N), you're very nice, and I enjoy being around you, but I've got my own reasons for being distant."

"What reason?"

John looked more uncomfortable when you turned your face to see him. "Just... Reasons..." You didn't seem satisfied with that answer and it felt like your gaze was burning his flesh. "Listen, my parents thought I wouldn't ever give them grandchildren and as their only child, that scared them, so they pressured me to get married or they'd cut me from the will; I never intended to get married and now I'm suddenly thrown into it-"

Your brows settled low on your eyes as you looked at him. "Why? What's wrong with being married?"

"N-nothing... I mean... I-I've seen other people and their problems, and I just don't want to gamble that I'll have to deal with them, too."

"Like what problems?" you probed, a mark of irritation in your voice.

John looked away from you hearing the ire in your tone, turning the steering wheel. "It doesn't matter..."

"What problems, John?"

"Like all of my friends and even my parents have had; my father told me once in a fit of anger that if I was a smart man, I would never get married because it wasn't worth the torment of a woman, being deprived of sex or verbally ripped apart because she was in a bad mood, and having to just bear up under it. I wanted to be a smart man, but I need the inheritance, and my parents want grandchildren, so here I am..."

You gritted your teeth furiously. "You really think that little of me?" you growled. "How dare you assume the worst of me without even talking to me about it first!"

He abruptly parked the car and shot a glare at you from the corner of his eye. "We might be married, and we may live together, but don't forget that you're raising your voice to your captain," he rumbled. "Mind your tone."

With those words, you closed your mouth and settled back in your seat, arms folded, realizing there was no persuading him. "... I told you I didn't want to start a fight..."

He snarled up his mouth and stepped out of the car, the door closing heavily behind him. You were going to wait for him to walk some distance away so you could shed a tear without him seeing how badly what he had said hurt you. But then your door opened and you looked up at John, who was looking away from you.

"Come on, we need to go to work..." he said quietly, offering you his hand to help you out of the car.

You took it and stood, avoiding his eyes. "Yes, sir..."

At the end of the workday, John walked beside you to the parking lot where the car was and sent you a confused look when you continued in a straight line past him. "You coming?" he asked.

You stopped, head hanging lower than usual. "... I think I'm going to walk home. I'm needing the fresh air."

"... Okay," he said slowly. "I'll see you at home then..."

He started the car and drove away, and you continued your walk. You barely paid any mind to where you were going; you just didn't want to be home. Your feet felt heavy like cement blocks, and your shoulders were weighted down. How could he honestly believe that you would be unkind to him? Of course, every couple had disagreements and hangups, but surely he had seen in the last few months just how patient and caring you were? How much you loved him, and how you always thought of him first? 

The street lights were coming on and you realized just how dark it was getting. You still didn't want to go home, but you definitely didn't want to be walking around in the dark. With a heavy sigh, you turned in the direction of the house.

Strange. A car drove a bit ahead of you, and it looked a lot like Price's. You looked at your watch. Hell. In the summertime, with how long the days were, it didn't seem like it should already have been 21:00. You hurried your pace and were soon on the front porch, unlocking the front door.

Only the kitchen light was on, everything else was dark in the house, and you sighed. John must have already been in bed. Thank God. You really hadn't wanted to talk to him again.

"Where were you?" came a low growl from the shadows.

You lurched back and stifled a yelp. "God, John! What the hell-"

"You were gone for three and a half hours, where were you?" he repeated stiffly.

"Just walking around. I'm allowed to do that."

"You don't just disappear for that long and not tell me."

You glared at him but didn't say anything, placing your house key in the bowl by the door. "I don't have to tell you anything; you didn't even want to be married, remember?"

His hand shot out in front of you and pressed against the wall, and you looked at him. "You scared the hell out of me; I thought something bad happened to you," he said, more slowly this time.

"Why would you be scared?" you asked, slipping under his arm. "It's not like you're losing anything; I'm just a glorified housemate."

He furrowed his brows. "Come on, (Y/N)," he said. "I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

He froze, unsure of how to answer you and you turned away shaking your head. "Wait, come on, talk to me..."

"About what?!" you exclaimed, turning on your heel so you were inches from his nose. "I've wanted to be with you for more than a year, I finally get your attention, get exactly what I wanted, and it just turns out to be a cruel trick because you don't even care!" You couldn't fight the tears that bit your eyes and there was a hitch in your throat. "I keep trying to show you that I'm a good wife, and you take it for granted. I keep waiting for the night I don't have to sleep alone anymore, but you never change your mind. I love you so much and it makes no sense because you feel nothing back." You covered your eyes, tears falling; you didn't want him to see them. "... This is getting to be too hard... The only reason I won't file for divorce is because I know how much you need your parents' estate, and I couldn't be that selfish."

John's eyes were filled with tears and his chest was heaving. "(Y/N), I'm sorry..." he whispered. You let out a sob and he reached out for you, feeling an ache in his bones, a weakness in his heart. He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head, and a tear trickled down his cheek to your scalp. "I do care, but... To tell you the truth, I was scared to death of marrying you because I knew if I got attached and something went wrong, you might leave or we'd make each other miserable." A painful chuckle rattled in his ribs. "But my stupid self thought that if I kept you at arm's length it wouldn't hurt so bad if that did happen, and I was wrong."

The silence that followed felt like a fever breaking. Finally. You let out a deep, slow breath and closed your eyes. "I wish you had told me this from the beginning," you said softly. "Because then I never would have mentioned divorce... I wouldn't want to use something like that against you."

He rested his cheek on your head, heaving in another breath. "So what now?"

You slipped out of his hug and took his hand. "How about we go to bed and talk everything out there? Maybe a more... Intimate connection might help us."

John felt a brief pulse of excitement and followed you up the stairs. "Alright. Lead the way."