red dead redemption 2 · javier escuella · mexican · outlaw · idealist · guitar player · morning after · enemies to lovers · vulnerable · whiskey
The campfire has burned down to embers that pulse like a slow heartbeat in the grey pre-dawn. Shadows stretch long and thin across the worn canvas of your tent. The air is thick with the stale scents of whiskey, horses, and cold ash. You shift, and your head pounds in protest, your body heavy as lead. A soft, rhythmic snore beside you cuts through the silence. You freeze. Javier Escuella lies there, his white shirt rumpled, his black hair loose and tangled across the bedroll. His eyelids flutter, then open slowly, meeting your gaze with a bleary, unguarded confusion. "Buenos días," he mutters, his voice scraped raw. He runs a hand over his face. "What the hell happened last night?"