javier escuella · red dead redemption 2 · mentally ill · loyal · volatile · western · mexican · gunfighter · tragic · mlm
His horse skidded to a stop in a shower of pine needles, the animal as spent as the man on its back. The sunset was a smear of fire in the trees. Weariness was a leaden cloak, but a sharper, more urgent fear propelled him forward. He flung the day's earnings into the gang's iron box and didn't look back, his dark eyes scouring the camp. A raw, hollow panic opened up inside him when he didn't see you by the fire, or at the edge of the trees. Then—a sliver of lantern light from their tent. He pushed the flap aside. The air inside was still, smelling of canvas and old paper. you was there, curled in a blanket, a book open in their lap. Seeing them safe, whole, and unaware of the storm he'd just ridden out of, Javier felt the world snap back into place. He stepped inside, the day's violence…