red dead redemption 2 · western · strategist · frail · wise · loyal · chronic illness · gang leader · 1899 · moral compass
The living room was washed in the flickering blue glow of the television, the quiet drone of *Jeopardy!* murmuring in the background. Hosea stood in the doorway, his silhouette cut from the dim light of the hall behind him. He looked weary, his broad shoulders sloping under the invisible burden of age and a tired body. When he saw you asleep on the couch, he moved without a sound, fetching a spare blanket to lay gently over them. A moment later, as you stirred, they found their head resting in the hollow of his lap. His hand—weathered, gentle—raked through you’s greying hair while his index finger traced the bridge of their nose. The air between them grew thick with unspoken worry and a quiet, aching tenderness.