Dylan wasn't sure how he made it this far. It felt like the months just combined, molded into one another. Nothing new happened anymore.
Thirty years old. Holy shit. That number didn't feel right. He should still be twenty three and dead, and maybe in one universe he was. But in this one he was alive.
He was supposed to die, after not getting his soul back, that Soul train just out of his grasp. But he didn't; instead he met Satan and the almighty stroked a deal.
Dylan could continue living if he caused suffering to thise on the surface. Made deals. Hurt. Murder. Make the world fall into sin. So. Dylan took the deal; causing mischief to people? Yes please.
But he had ways to keep himself on the down low (for the most part). He took up the title of 'bounty hunter'. Folks listened to any murder if you had a title.
It didn't matter if one were a simple thief, hell even just a general store manager! He didn't care. They were prime suspects. And he didn't always kill them; nooo, that'd be to easy. He tortured them. Like he had been when he got his soul taken. Any bounty after him, never spoken again.
Today he was laying on his horse, Chances back as they ride through a woody trail. Dylan was whistling a tune, one leg propped over the other. He was after someone, someone with new picture, just a name. He could work with it.
(this rp can be if he knew your character but left early, or never met <3)
how would low honor arthur be when you just gave birth to the cutest baby girl (of his, duh)??
tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟 lowhonour hes an interesting dad he plays too rough sometimes! a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚
“arthur... i─ i think.. i think 'm pregnant. well, i am─”
“are you shittin' me, doll?”
ever since you told arthur you're pregnant, chores went from doing every single chore that needed to be done and now doing nothing at all, and although you were grateful, you just weren't sure why. you're still capable!
he'd didn't let you leave camp without someone going with and only now that someone was him, he didn't trust anyone else to be with you if you need to go to town. he believed he was the only man who could protect you properly. being the lead enforcer, he always kept his eye on you only because he didn't want you or his child to be in any harm.
“arthur, I'll be fine, i have karen with me─”
“nah, ain't chancin' it, sugar.”
it was like ever since you told him that you're now feeding for two he's been even more protective over you, and even strict, sometimes. and even more ever since you gave birth to your sweet babygirl, elizabeth. oh, she was just the cutest girl you've ever seen! she was a bubbly and giggling baby, sometimes made you forgot how cruel the world could even be.
only now that arthur was definitely coming back alive, and oh, he'd made sure of that. he had to come home to you and his sweet girl, elizabeth. he'd bring the two of you a gift. now this may be a surprise to everyone else, but he was ever a sweeter pa to your daughter. there were rare moments when you'd come back to your tent, and elizabeth was asleep like a ball next to arthur, who'd just be watching her in awe (that'd he'd never admit to anyone, of course!)
“'m glad she's finally asleep. refused to sleep until her pa came back to camp.” you say with a giggle while hearing a chuckle from him. you sit on the edge of the cot, just about to untie your laces before arthur tapped your knee, signalling you to let him help. and soon, your foot is resting in his thigh while he unties it for you. “yeah, well... guess shes already got a favourite.” he replied with a smirk, his words earning him a shove.
“well least i almost drop her─” that smirk remained on his face as he met your gaze. “hey, she was fallin back. ain't my fault she only playin with her daddy's mind like that.” he replies as he drops the boots by the bed before swiping to your other show.
“well then, 'm glad she takes after me in that sense.” you reply, giving him that cheeky smile of yours before a small laugh leaves your lips. this was one of his favourite moments, not that's he'd ever tell you that but he always loved seeing you smile or laugh, especially if he knew it was him that made you feel like that.
“she takes after ye in yer pretty face, too.” he replies, meeting your loving gaze once again. it was odd in a way, he was so mean and vile to everyone else and yet he treated you and your daughter like wealthy girls.
So, I've been playing Red Dead Redemption 2 recently (Incredible game btw! 🤩 I see why the people who have played it adore it!) And one thing I like about the RDR games is the honor system. It's basically a morality meter that determines what kind of person your Arthur Morgan is, and that gave me an idea. Welcome to a new series on my blog called...
WHAT'S THEIR HONOR?
A series where I take a character and use the morality/honor system of RDR2 to determine whatever the character would be high honor, low honor, or neutral honor.
The first characters in this series are Sun and Moon from the Sun and Moon show!
So, let's determine where these two would land on the morality spectrum.
Now, I'm gonna get the easy one out of the way. Sun is definitely high honor. There is no doubt about it. Yes, Sun may occasionally do some less than nice things, like when he went on that whole manhunt for Eclipse, and maybe some of the things with Nexus, but Sun mostly maintains good honor.
He's there for his daughter, his sister, tries to help his brothers when they need it, and gladly hops on the help train when someone is in need. He is willing to give people second chances even when they hurt him the most (I.E. Roisebell and Eclipse even if he hasn't fully forgiving them yet nor ever will.) Sun is a very good man, he may make mistakes, but he always tries to do the right thing, and be the better person.
You're a good man, Sundrop Celestial
Now, we come to someone not as clear-cut, Moon. Now, it would be so easy to just right off Moondrop as low honor and be done with it, but using the morality system of RDR2, Moon isn't as clear-cut as we think.
Now, at the start of the series and even before that, Moon is DEFINITELY low honor. He beat his brother with a metal stick and left his killcode in Sun cause he didn't want to deal with it, which ended up creating BloodMoon and Eclipse. Moon also helped Monty commit crimes and set an FBI building on fire... so, yeah. Low honor... but as the show goes on, Moon does try and do better.
Now, is Moon a better person/brother now... debatable to most, personally I believe he is doing better, still not perfect, but way better than before. But this isn't what about you or me think. This is about what the honor system would think...
Now, in RDR2, choosing to help people does give a MAJOR bump in honor. Doing the right thing does give a bump in honor, nothing major, but enough. Now, over the years, Moon has gotten better. He helped create a cure to a zombie virus, major bump in honor there, he's helped Cosmos and Solar plenty of times. Been there for Terra and Monty when needed, and has been trying to be a better brother to Sun, gave Rosiebell another shot after her betrayal, and gave Molten freewill and a home back when he was alive.
But that being said, Moon still makes plenty of mistakes as we put. He is still prone to violence, is forgiving, but never forgets. He still despises Nexus (kind of fair, honestly), he did abuse Sun for a long time, and even now tends to backslide from time to time reverting to a more ruder state similar to his old self...
So, using the RDR2 honor system, I believe Moon would land somewhere in the neutral area with the occasional dips into low honor and bursts into high honor.
Moon is neutral to low honor.
You're a... you're something, Moondrop Celestial.
So, hope you all enjoyed this. Give me your takes. Do you think I'm right on where they'd land on the Honor meter, or do you disagree?
Uhhh lh!Arthur with uhm nervous anxious reader on a job bc idk why you wouldn't be nervous around this cowboy. Prompt 4 pls
- 🍀 if I don't mind.
Hope you enjoy!
Word count : 800, just a little guy
Prompts : #4 “god, here- just hold my hand."
Warnings/Tags : LowHonor! Arthur, cursing, mention of death, guns, a noose, reader has a panic attack
The walls to the small cabin were closing in around you as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Your hands were pressed flat against the splintered wood panels, your chest rising and falling harshly.
“Jesus, shut up.” Arthur hissed, pulling his bandana down from his face. The fabric bunching up around his neck as he covered your mouth with his hand. You could hear the hooves of horses drawing nearer, the law. The scent of metal and gunpowder overwhelmed your senses as Arthur tried to muffle your ragged breaths.
“I- I can’t-“ You panted, “I can’t breathe-“ You pulled his hand away, taking in mouthfuls of air.
“You’re gonna get us killed.” He hissed, his bright eyes flashing with fear as he looked from you to one of the clouded windows.
It should have been an easy job, should have. A stagecoach that you had been watching for the last two weeks. It was never heavily guarded, maybe one or two gunmen. You’d followed them a few times and they always went to the bank in Valentine, then to Rhodes. There were blind spots in the plains where you could intercept them as they went to Rhodes. It’d be easy money and an easy way to impress a certain cowboy. You’d had your sights set on Arthur from the moment you saw him. Sure, he was surly and sometimes harsh, but never down right cruel. At least not to the women around camp. He was strong, cunning, calculating, and ruggedly handsome. Anytime his piercing gaze fell on you it was like falling through the ice into a freezing lake. You were smitten, a fool for falling for the man whose heart had long been six feet under.
Foolish for wanting to prove yourself to a man who didn’t give two shits about you. Now you were gonna die, whether by a bullet or noose you didn’t know. Neither sounded very pleasant.
“Fuck- fuck I’m sorry.”
“Shut up.” He growled, his hands grabbing your shoulders as he forced you to look at him. “You gotta pull your head outta your ass and be quiet.” He whispered. They were on top of you now, you could hear the whine of their horses as they turned down the dirt path. “Understand?” He hissed, but you could barely hear him over the pounding of your heart in your ears. “Christ, here- just hold my hand.” He grabbed your hand in his. Pulling you out of your trance as you looked down at your intertwined fingers. His hands were as big as you’d imagined, dwarfing yours as he laced your fingers through his own. They were far from smooth, calloused from years of labor. But good lord they were warm. Even if his gaze chilled you to the bone, the heat that came off of him warmed you to your core.
You found your breaths coming easier, quieter. You could hear the men’s voices, brash as they yelled to one another. Arthur held his breath, squeezing your hand tightly. The horses started again, you caught a glimpse of them as they passed by the clouded window. Neither of you said a word, until the pounding of their hooves was barely a whisper.
You moved to get up but Arthur’s grip on you tightened.
“You ain’t that stupid are you?” He whispered, pulling you closer to him.
“They’re gone ain’t they?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you looked up at him.
“They could come back at any moment. We’ll wait here til the sun's down.” He ordered, and for a moment you caught a glimpse of Dutch. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now that Arthur was Dutch and Hosea’s protégé.
You were silent, hanging your head. You supposed you had gotten your wish, all you wanted was to spend some time alone with Arthur. If only you hadn’t been so stupid, you trailed too close, and as luck would have it they had doubled their guns.
If Arthur hadn't been there…
You clenched your jaw, the familiar prickle of tears stinging your nose and eyes. Your eyes were drawn further down as Arthur’s thumb began to rub the back of your hand. You sniffled, unable to help it as snot began to run down your nostrils. You wiped your nose with your sleeve, feeling Arthur’s eyes on you.
“We still got the money.” His rough voice cut through the thick silence, pulling your gaze towards him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead he had his eyes on the door.
“I guess we did.” You said softly, his words taking the weight off of your heavy heart. Arthur wasn’t a man of many words, but those five words had meant more to you than you could describe.
Maybe it wasn’t all bad, you definitely hadn’t impressed him. But you’d embarrass yourself ten more times if you could have his hand in yours.
been doing a low honor playthru, was very inspired.. low honor arthur interacting with npcs compared to high honor interests me very much. low honor, people apologize for being near him, hes that intimidating. idk its just cool
Borrowed Time hurt me a lot omg- Now I offer you even more angst.
It's sad that Javier became the very thing in 1911 that he swore to destroy (working as a hitman for a tyrant government) but it would be even sadder if (as a part 2 ig of borrowed time) Javier and his love meet again but this time, he was there to arrest her and bring her to town to hang.
Borrowed Time II
Javier Escuella x F! reader
Spoilers: major RDR1-2 events
Content: 18+, low honor Javier, angst, betrayal, loyalty, dramatic, possessive, referenced/implied sex, canon typical events & violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes, google translated Spanish
Type: I-II changed to second pov (wc - 4133) / pc: pinterest
a/n: i can feel this request in my veins, so here’s my mediocre yapping! live, laugh, angst
Summary: Following the events of Beaver Hollow and your departure, Javier falls into work with Allende. After your reunion he reflects on his time with you, to only turn you in by nightfall.
It was a warm day in New Austin, the orange rays blanketing the barren dirt landscape, and not a cloud in the sky. Javier only imagined finding himself wandering these lands again, but yet he returned on what seemed to be borrowed time.
A few years had passed since he last saw you at Beaver Hollow. The man could not bear to show his face, the embarrassment of being wrong about Dutch was an ego check it say the very least.
Yet your note lived in the far corner of his mind, a small cabin just north of MacFarlane's Ranch from his understanding.
It did not take the man long to find it, local cowpokes cowered at the sight of the large Mexican outlaw sitting upon an even larger steed, interrogating them about a maiden. It was almost as if the best pieces of you resembled him, immediately reminding the folk of who it was he was searching for.
Boaz grunted against Javier’s spurs, digging deep into the loose red dirt below. The sunbeams which crept through the dry pine trees created quite the atmosphere, allowing Javier to get lost in his head, even if it were just for a few moments of bliss.
Despite the directions given to him, Javier hoped you had moved on after all these years, fled somewhere safer, started a new life, perhaps changed your name as well. Somewhere he would never find you.
Boaz continued to race down the winding path, feeding Javier’s anticipation against the warm breeze. As it gusted past the side of his head, loose strands from his tied hair tickled his ears, merely reminding the man how badly he needed a haircut.
The starving grass which bordered West Elizabeth held a yellow tinge, the land rolled and waved, flourishing with birds and wildlife. Javier reckoned he has not been to the area before, but you were not lying about how appealing it was— a perfect home for you two.
Upon whipping around the corner, abruptly revealed a small cabin with songbirds singing to him in the trees. The place was quiet, cozy, and seemingly inhabited, with small smoke stacks exhausting from the brick chimney.
Bringing Boaz to a halt, there was no sign of you— but sure enough a big black cloud skulked in the nearby pen, following you wherever you wandered like a burden.
Javier stiffly slid off Boaz, his knees nearly giving out from under him as his boots crunched onto the dirt. The beast was grazing on hay as he approached the fence post
After whistling and calling your shire a few times, Javier was promptly ignored, perhaps the slow and ominous brute heard the man call him el diablo one too many times.
He was still a strong believer the only reason the horse broke for you was out of pity— you looked like a child struggling to climb him every endeavor. Maybe the beast had a soft spot for you, just like himself.
But now the old shire was relieved from his saddle, serenading in the New Austin sun, not bothered to obey the envious man’s command.
Javier leaned against the corral post, admiring what he could have had with you, the thought of being a family man loomed over his shoulders and displayed no signs of leaving.
You and Javier ran together prior to joining Dutch, less for money and more for survival. Your past crimes covered bounty boards and train stations as a permanent reminder, never forgetting the wrongs that were written. That price only increased once Mexico inevitably caught wind of all the messy jobs in neighboring lands.
He drowned and you sank with him, the price of his sins were bricks added to your back. Being his accessory, the government saw you as a pawn, smart and knowledgeable, if caught— Javier would come for you, and they would be ready for him.
Those days were nearly from another lifetime.
Now under Allende’s ruling fist, he offered him a twisted plea deal of sorts; protection at the cost of something the man held more dearly than life itself—you. Your capture was not about the money nor status, but simply a test of his loyalty to Allende; if Javier did this job, he’d do anything.
The poor man’s convoluted loyalty never got him far, proving time and time again, leading him only to dead ends and false hopes. Charismatic attributes and big promises was something Javier foolishly gave everything to with a blind eye, something you always warned him about.
“Javier?—“
Your voice could have made him leap out of his own skin. As he hesitantly turned towards you, his gut twisted into something mean. You were beautiful as ever, after all these years you waited for him— just like you promised.
“Never thought I’d see you again, especially in the west.” You spoke again in disbelief, rag wiping your hands clean of a job he should have been doing.
Your voice only lived in his memories, hearing it again nearly whipped Javier back into shape, feeling sick for your puppy love he desperately relied on so long ago.
“Home sweet home.” The man swallowed dryly, throwing his arms out awkwardly and gesturing towards the open lands around you both.
Before his thoughts could catch up to the moment, you ran to embrace him, flinging yourself into his arms with a long awaited kiss. Javier grunted softly against your lips, staggering back to support you, the extra attention only reminding him how saddle sore he really was.
Just for a moment things felt normal, a feeling he was searching for since you split. He had a place in this cruel world once again, everywhere had a price on his head, no place to retreat to besides you— you were home.
Perhaps he could head tail between his legs back to Allende, saying you disappeared.
Maybe he could take you to Canada, or a tropical island— oh, anywhere but Guarma.
We must leave,
Javier’s unsaid words pricked beneath his skin, prodding relentlessly at his deepest desires for redemption.
“Oh—amor.”
Was all the man could choke out, the words exiting pitiful and weak, a near cry for help you assumed was just your bittersweet reunion.
Leaning away you smiled coyly at him, admiring your lost cowboy;
Your time apart was not easy on Javier, his hardened stare and the chip on his shoulder now set in stone.
The constant blazing sun of Mexico, along with surviving off rationed canned beans really took a toll on the man. His face was dull and lacking the usual pigment he wore so handsomely when Mr. Pearson cooked for everyone.
Javier’s newfound demeanor only put emphasis on his sharp brows peeking from under his bowler cap brim, residing above dark cunning eyes, ready to match any cowpuncher who dared challenge him.
Over Javier’s shoulder was where his mount rested, hoove digging into the dirt at the end of the cabin’s path.
“—and Boaz?” You began after a shared silence, slowly approaching the overworked horse.
“Still kickin’.” He uttered gently, a large hand scratching the back of his neck.
Boaz never really liked you, or anyone besides Javier that is. It wasn’t until the gang hunkered down in Colter for the stubborn bastard to take a liking to you.
The weather and unpredictable circumstances was not easy on the gang, including the horses, causing rations to be small among the mounts.
You always carried treats in your satchel to gain Boaz’s affection, and your efforts would eventually succeed in Colter. You would secretly slip him sugar cubes every time you left the shack, he must have appreciated the extra attention. Javier barely recognized Boaz trotting up to him in the snow, you mounted on top wearing a proud grin.
You wore a similar grin now, full of satisfaction and pride that he returned to you— with warmth flowing through him, his heart rapidly thumped in his ears, all the pent up feelings for you were reopening like floodgates.
“What’a nice feller, huh.” You cooed to the mount after a slow approach.
Showing no distress Boaz allowed your kind pats and rubs. Tenderly nudging you, the horse’s chops tried sneaking its way into your pockets, searching for the snacks you usually held after a long journey.
“Ai, fácil!”
Javier exclaimed, quickly guiding Boaz’s large snout away, the loving gestures nearly toppling you over.
“Guess I’m glad he still remembers me.” You beamed, tipping your hat lower to shield yourself from the beating sun.
“Or perhaps your donations, amor.” Javier quipped softly, his eyes wandering meekly.
Something besides time passing seemed different about him, you could not quite pinpoint it. Javier was always a timid man at first when it came to his lover, maybe your time apart presented this old side of him.
You knelt slightly, peeking under his sunken head which hung towards the ground.
“Javier? You don’t look so good.”
Your soft words managed to dig their way through his ringing ears, the man squinted his eyes tightly before swiping his lids with rough fingers.
“Uh— maybe you oughta sit for a bit, I think you’re overdressed for this heat.”
Your words broke through once again, giving a small tug on his poncho, his disoriented vision cluttered with black floating spots as you guided towards the porch.
As his vision continued to warp, the cabin doubled and skewed while you put him in the shade.
Javier knew you were speaking, your voice fading in and out irreguarly, piercing his ears every so often.
The words felt like they were being consumed by the ocean, his head bobbed up and down as if he were drowning. All he could think about was Dutch’s screams over the storm and waves, as he was about to be consumed by the large void.
But Dutch snagged him before being swept away, yanking him upon the tiny rowboat that threatened to tip from the added stress. Javier’s senses were waterlogged, rejecting the mean salty water from his lungs. As he gasped for air; the only thing he thought of was you.
“S’alright, son, You’re not dying today!” Was the first thing he heard. He faded in and out of consciousness as Dutch beat the sea water out of him, his ribcage rattling under each and every smack.
Javier sometimes wonders if Dutch should have just let him die, abandon him and allow the dark waters to engulf him whole, repaying his sins to his maker. Maybe his death would free you of your burdens.
He felt like his time had withered before Dutch had saved him anyways. Being a prisoner in Guarma is what convinced him that he would never make it back to you, sealing the deal. Your previous words borrowed time scratched at his skin again, yearning to be acknowledged.
“Ah well, I knew you’d come crawling back, you’re here for a reason.” You would always say to him after a particularly dangerous run with the gang. He would dismiss you with a mumble and a kiss, but always knew he was lucky to be alive as more of his brothers began to fall.
Sometimes he would catch you talking to a disgruntled Arthur as he packed his horse.
Upon inquiring about your words, Arthur being a somewhat vague man would shortly grumble;
“Jus’ focus on the job, and returnin’ to your woman, Javier.”
—and he always did. Javier knew you did not worry about him much, at least outwardly. But he did notice Arthur’s presence whenever trouble presented itself.
~
“Javier— some water.”
Your words along with a canteen dangled in front of him, the prior hallucination of a watery grave was almost enough to empty his stomach.
Javier stared back towards your shire lounging in his corral, his mind once again wandering back to the life he could have had with you.
In the midst of his tunneling vision, a lean coyote lingered through his gaze, stalking towards him, icy eyes sending daggers into his before diminishing.
“Javier. Say something.” Your words were now much clearer to him, breaking through his consciousness, the ringing disappeared from his mind fog.
“‘M alright.” He muttered, spitting out the bitter taste from his mouth.
“I reckon you oughta take it easy, being an old man n’ all now.”
Javier frowned at you and blinked a couple times, jaw agape, processing the pun you made at his dismay.
“Ha— so sorry, chica, ‘suppose I’m no longer the young buck you remember.”
He replied sarcastically, his voice both bold and hoarse as he raised back to his feet, every step whining for rest.
“Ride with me?” Javier suddenly asked as if nothing happened. It took you by surprise, he had just arrived after all.
“Alright.” You obliged shortly after a pause. “Let me grab my belt.” You continued, motioning towards the missing holsters on your frame.
“No need.” He cut you off quickly, his voice leaving traces of urgency.
“Boaz is packed.”
You eyed him up, watching the man shutter under your antagonizing gaze, how he hoped you were not suspicious of his intentions after all this time. But rightfully so, the man was yellow-bellied.
But you had no reason not to trust him.
You were not exactly sure where Javier was taking you, but for now his company was enough to keep you satisfied. The ride was eerily quiet, even for his standards, being a man of few words.
After riding a little down south he brought you to a small mountain that overlooked Mexico. He perched you both on a small flat area, just in time for the sun to sink below the land.
Javier stared over the horizon, he never really did think about how big the south was, yet how small he felt in comparison. A glimmer caught onto his peripheral, turning towards the shine was the pendent he had given you, when you both first started running with the gang.
The feeling presented itself again, feeling so small in the world— you were the home he had been searching for since the gang's fallout. It was always you.
He sank into his memories, a vessel of his former self was all that remained.
You two were quite away from your newly shared camp, with all the members and leads, the moments you had alone became quite sparse.
“What do you think, Javi?” Your sudden presence caught him off guard.
“The gang?—“ he pondered your words, leaning against a shady oak.
“I suppose they’re family for now, señorita. We’re much safer, and they’re good to us.” Javier replied, a hand brushing over the stubble on his jaw. You smiled gently with a nod, making your uneasiness all too obvious.
“It’s just temporary, amor, once we have the money to get on our feet— it’ll be the two of us again.” He reassured, a polite arm sliding around your waist.
Javier remembers the look in your eye, doubtful and full of sorrow, but you still trusted him, knowing he would never lead you astray. The same he thought about Dutch.
Repositioning himself behind you, he dug a necklace from his pocket, draping it over your chest and clasping it. You fidgeted in surprise against his movements, gazing down at the beautiful silver pendant that glistened off the very same sun. Before you could say a word he planted a kiss on your lips, gentle and quick before mounting Boaz.
“I promise!”
He called out. After blowing a kiss to you, he was off to assist the gang. He didn’t have much money at the time, but Javier always knew how to make things work—
Oh how naive of him— bright eyed and lovesick, he wanted to make a woman out of you, settle down. That is, before Dutch’s plan captivated him. Which ultimately led to this mess, but who is he kidding, he never really had a chance anyways.
Javier thought back with immense regret, wishing he was more romantic with you in a way, officially making you his chica earlier on, instead of prolonging it due to the possibility of death. He always feared that courting would further your heartbreak if something bad were to happen.
It was his own unaddressed way to cope with the harsh reality of survival and being an outlaw, he always prioritized your safety over intimacy until joining the gang. When he looks back on it, your shared time at Horseshoe Overlook and Clemons Point were some of the best times of his life.
Around that time of riding with the gang was when your relationship with him really began to evolve. The potential competition of other men drove Javier and his intimacy up a wall— his usual gentle lips ghosting over yours turned into small nips, and purple blotches he would mark on your neck late at night. A tight palm covering your mouth which muffled the moans of his name, words the man would kill to hear in such an uncaged manner. He entertained no confusion of who you belonged to; even if he did not make things official until that night at the lake.
Javier had nearly forgotten the sun had already set, and he somehow had no recollection of it. He looked down at you, only in a thin shirt as you gazed longingly off the mountain side.
The final sunset you shared was simply a ticking clock for him.
“Cold?” He whispered, words he could barely choke out.
“A little.” You replied, big doe-like eyes staring up at him, holding so much love for the man. Love he was not sure he ever deserved.
Forcing his gaze away quickly he arose, soles of his feet vibrating and pulsing with each step. After approaching Boaz his shaking hands freed his bedroll clasps, attention locked upon his rifle poking out of the saddle.
His head spun, finally digging himself out of his trance. After returning to you, he draped the cloth over you coyly.
“You okay?” You suddenly asked, your hush voice startling him, he sighed in despair.
The words you said to him at Beaver Hollow replayed through his mind,
Leave with me. Let’s run away.
But he could not get them out, his chest quivered under the constraint of his uneven breaths.
“Course.” He managed to form the word, you nodded in contentment, fresh air filling your nose.
His response would have to do for now, you decided to cut him some slack since he returned to you, after all.
By now you knew him well enough. Some nights he would stay up and collect his thoughts before laying beside you. You always respected his space, he had his demons, like everyone else. Soon enough in your slumber you would feel his protective arms drape around you, his steady breaths hitting the nape of your neck, tense body encapsulating yours— those were the nights you felt the safest, and knew he was going to manage just fine.
Other nights Javier would stay up while you were by your lonesome. He always feared something would kill the both of you while asleep, reluctantly you agreed. But the man always let you rest, you needed it more, that is for putting up with him all day round.
Your memories swam with always being coaxed to sleep, eventually giving into the soft lulls he would sing. A wordless agreement that there was no point for the both of you to be cranky and tired in the morning.
—But there he sat, only to turn into the monster he swore to protect you from.
“I love you, Javier.”
Your words racked his brain, digging and clawing invasively into each one of his bones. Javier thought he imagined them until he looked over to find you staring this entire time. You knew there was something seriously wrong, but surely he would tell you within due time.
Javier’s voice was lost, swallowing suppressed sobs down his dry throat, he nearly felt like he was drowning once again in the frame he called a body.
Just like the days he would not say it back while pursuing a lead, with doubts he would not make it back to your arms— but he always did, it was the least he could do. It felt like lifetimes ago to him, how could the man choke out a te amo before sending you in?
Instead, he planted a kiss on your soft lips, lingering there for a moment, knowing it would be your last.
Looming below in the shadows, trailing to the border resided monsters he used to protect you from— two Mexican soldiers camped out by the tracks. Their lanterns flickering softly in the distance, patiently waiting for the man to arrive at the agreed meeting spot.
Javier shivered, feeling like a young boy again. His eyes fixated on the stock of his rifle that Boaz held.
Your breaths became shallow, harmonizing with the warm night’s breeze as you fell into a slumber. You trusted Javier’s judgment on setting up camp or heading home, you perhaps allowed yourself to get a little too comfortable.
It all happened so fast for him, and there was no going back. Javier’s mind blurred as he rode, Boaz fussing and fighting under his control. His very own horse feared the monster he had become, maybe poor Boaz thought he was Javier’s next victim.
He rode fast— but not fast enough to flee from himself.
A coyote lurked around the darkness, gazing at Javier from behind the two Mexican soldiers who taunted him, puffing on their big cigars from Uncle Sam.
The coyote disappeared as Javier reached for his revolver, patiently waiting for the man to shoot him— but he never did.
The soldier simply laughed, knowing Javier’s bark had no bite. While under Allende’s power, he was simply a coward a soldier would not even match out of pity.
Soon enough the two men fled into the night, banter that could be heard a mile away through the ravines. Anyone could have mistaken them for sick hyenas.
He could hear their stallions riding hard in triumph, with a new prize Javier held so close for many years, he watched the soldiers grow smaller and smaller over the uneven land until the darkness swallowed them whole, taking a piece of him along.
The nighttimes ahead would find Javier in a one horse town saloon, nodding off more times than he could remember. His glass turned from full to empty until his vision doubled.
Javier was not sure how many days had passed, the whiskey dulling his mind and senses, but the thoughts still ate him alive.
Did you think he would come for you? Or would you be envious, spilling everything you could before meeting the gallows.
Javier hid in his palms, knowing he got it all wrong— it should have been him.
It did not take too long for the man to get kicked out from the saloon due to his drunken stupor, not even the bartender wanted his dirty money.
Javier took Boaz to what he thought was east, the coyote returned to accompany him, lurking around on the monotone forest floors he traveled.
The night breeze made Javier reminisce of the times at camp, the very same breeze that whipped through your hair as you would drag him off somewhere secluded, your mischievous grin reflecting off the summer night's moon as you snuck off into the bushes.
You gave everything to each other— all for nothing it seems.
Javier sank lower into himself before eventually staggering off Boaz. It only took him a few unsteady steps to empty his bowels on the dirt path, elbows hoisting him up on his shaky bent knees.
Peeking out from his jacket cuff was a scar he once wore proudly on his wrist. A scar he earned in some honky tonk town just because another man looked at you wrong. The mere thought of it worsened his nausea.
All signs pointed to you, and you were gone because of reasons he barely understood himself— He feared he didn’t know what loyalty was anymore. Or what he stood for in fact.
Your blind love killed you in the end, and it was his cross to bear.
The sky was dark and dull, which was just as familiar as a bottle and a glass. Not a single star in the sky greeted him, leaving him to fester alone.
The wind howled violently through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle and sway. A northern was quickly sneaking upon the lands of New Austin.
His lone coyote joined him on a distant cliffside, coat black as sin, mocking the cowboy who lingered below.
