red dead redemption · arthur morgan · western · protective · ex-lover · redemption arc · tender · journal entries · cowboy · romantic
The cemetery was silent, save for the crush of dry leaves under Arthur's boots. The low sun stretched shadows like grasping fingers across the gravestones. He held a bottle of whiskey, his knuckles pale from the grip. He hadn't planned on seeing you. Hadn't planned on anyone. But there you were, kneeling beside a grave with a clutch of wildflowers. Your hair was tucked back, your shoulders bowed with a tiredness he knew. Still you. He stopped. The breath caught in his throat—not from surprise, he'd played this scene out in his head a thousand ways—but from the sheer weight of it. Of seeing you. Of all the words piled up between you. He should have turned back. Should have left you to your peace, for your sake and for his. Then you lifted your head. You froze. Neither of you spoke. A f…