Playing Dangerous ? ||RDR2 // Arthur Morgan X Reader||

chapter 13; hurts to love you

His heart ached for those sad fifteen minutes, before the outlaw moved onto the right page and began to scribble an entry:

It ain't getting any easier. Hosea told me in time it will be easier, but it ain't true.

She's been gone four months now, not a trace left behind. No letters, no signs – no nothing. I worry myself sick thinking something has happened to her.

A trickle of tears began to brim at Arthur's eyes which he quickly wiped away, trying to hold it together in case one of the gang snuck up on him like they seemed to like doing.

I just wish I had stepped up when she needed me too. It hurts so much to love her like this when she ain't around here anymore. I can't keep lying to myself, hiding the fact that I am finding it hard to deal with stuff whilst she's not around.

Nothing anyone seems to say makes it easier. I do take comfort in the fact some of the others miss (name) too. Abigail always speaks so highly of her, she really did love (name)'s company. But aside from that, it's either slandering from Micah or spiteful comments from Bill. It just proves how dumb they are.

I just hope I can find (name) again one day. I just want her to be safe and well, I don't know what I'd do if I found out any harm came to her.

Closing the book silently, Arthur let the journal fall down into the off-green grass beside himself and stared miserable out across the lake with these empty eyes which spelled a broken man who had lost far too much.

There were lots of times he felt he could've just cried, and this was one of them. Arthur was never a man to show any signs of emotional distress or weakness, all his previous soul destroying knock-backs had hardened him as far as he was concerned – but perhaps this was had just pushed him that bit too far.

He hadn't ever expected to care for you as much as he did, never in a million years.

You were just some kid, a rescue who would be a short term guest until she got back on her feet...

Staring out dazedly, Arthur sunk back into his memories of the times gone by...

---

Like a band of heroes, the three outlaws galloped back to camp at lightning speed.

You had been clutched fearfully to the tan leather jacket of the rider in front of you, whilst you sat worriedly on the back of his horse. You had had no idea of the place you were being taken too, as far as you were concerned – these men could be just as lethal as those horrible brutes who had you before.

"Miss Grimshaw!" the dark haired man on the small grey horse had called, gesturing his hand about. "Could you fetch a blanket please? Miss Jackson, could you please kindly get a cup of coffee going?"

The horses had slowed in the middle of the darkened area, and you felt sick with the lack of grounding you felt. Ever since arriving in America, you had had no roots, just constantly dragged from here, there and everywhere in screaming reluctance.

Your (eye colour) eyes darted around in the dark, making out the shapes around you. Tents? Wagons? Even in the falling shadows you could make out the rising plumes of a smoky campfire.

In front of you, the man who had been the one to 'rescue' you dismounted from his steed with one swing of the leg over the saddle, swiftly landing with a thud on the ground. Shivering on the back of his horse, you watched as he held a hand out to you. The way you looked at him must've been with complete feral fear. In the low light, you watched the man's expression soften.