Wow lol this is so sad. Angst asf. Charthur asf. There's so many spelling errors plz don't hate me it's 2 in the morning lol
"you know he-" John began as he walked next to Charles along the pavements of Saint Denis.
"yeah" Charles nodded, his eyes avoiding contact with the smaller man's as they walked.
"I went back and buried him and miss grimshaw after the pinkertons left, he where he'd want to be" Charles smiled shortly, his mind casting back to the moment he thought about so very often.
Many years had past since the passing of Arthur Morgan. A man Charles hadn't known for long but had instantly bonded with. The memories he had of Arthur were sweet.
The two would share hunting trips together, Charles teaching Arthur how to better his bow skills, arthur failing at using a bow and questioning why he could just use a shotgun.
Charles was extremely fond of Arthur. The way he cared for his horse, how he helped others. He never failed to bring a smile to Charles face.
Arthur would often find himself lost in thought whilst with Charles. Hed taken to sketching Charles whilst they were both alone. Charles pretended not to notice, but it wsd hard not to laugh when Arthur began avoiding eyecontact everytime Charles caught him looking.
The first time it happened, neither of the pair were expecting it. They found themselves sharing a tent, which wasn't unusual as such, but it was something about Arthur that night, the way his long blonde hair was swept back and running down the nape of his neck, or maybe the way he lay close to Charles, his eyes wondering over the bigger man's face.
Neither of them could resist.
Theyd been awkwardly flirting before hand, but both men were to shy to admit the feelings that had formed.
"I'm sick Charles. It's. It's real bad." Arthur wheezed. His chest tight and his face pale as he rode alongside his secret lover. Charles looked over to Arthur. He'd suspected it. Arthur was losing strength by the day. His face paling, his eyes sinking. He looked tired.
Charles had tried to care for him. Telling him to sleep in whilst he'd bring him stew and tend to him, but Arthur had prioritys he needed to see to, and Charles respected that.
After rescuing Eagle flies, Charles decided to stay behind, leaving the gang. Arthur wanted to stay with him. But deep down he knew what had to be done.
In their final moments together, prying eyes fell apon them as they stood in the middle of wapiti.
There was nothing more they could have done.
Charles drew Arthur into a hug, trying not to look suspicious. Arthur wrapped an arm around Charles shoulder as he inhaled slowly, taking in the familiar scent of the man he loved so very much.
"I love you, arthur" Charles whispered, his lips ghosting over Arthur's ear.
A rouge tear rolled down Arthur pale skin as he nodded. "love you too, Charles" he whispered back, followed by a cough.
He rode off. He didn't look back. He couldnt. There was so much more he wanted to say, wanted to do.
The two had often spoke of their future together, leaving the gang and running away together, living the rest of their days in a small cabin somewhere. Both of them knew it was a low chance. But. They hoped.
Even after Arthur became ill, Charles assured him he'd never stop caring for him.
Arthur lay on the mountain side. The sun rise stinging his eyes but, he didn't seem to mind. It was beautiful. The way the clouds contrasted with the orange sun.
His mind began to wonder. Wonder back to the time him and Charles first layed eyes apon one another. To the time he first joined the gang. To the time he used to take baths with his dog Cooper, the time issac died, the first bank robbery, the time him and Charles went hunting, Pearsons god awful stew, Sean's questionable sense of humour, rescuing John off the mountain, the time he 360 no scoped Mary Linton and sent her flying off a fucking cliff as she plummeted to her well deserved death, getting boadicea and riding her for the first time, the wise words of the nun he'd helped, the photographer who'd nearly gotten himself killed by every animal imaginable, a war veteran hamish, hosea teaching him to hunt, young Jack and the flower crowns he used to make him.
The sick man smiled softly.
He took his last breath, and closed his tired eyes.
"I still think about him, yanno" Charles laughed, the drink beginning to talk as he sat on the newly placed steps of bleachers hope, uncle and John listening to him, both of them judt as drunk.
"there's not a day that goes by where I don't miss the dumb bastard" Charles said, a tear forming in his eyes despite the smile on his face.
"I buried him. I did. Carried his body. He was so, lifeless yet, that was my Arthur"
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
