Hello @annwritesallday I was your secret cupid for @rdr-secret-cupid:)
I apologise for the delay, my health kinda let me down and thus, I lost a lot of time.
I’m also more used to drawing, but your requests leaned more towards writing soooo… a chance to try something new, I guess? :)
English also isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry if there are mistakes!
Characters: Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan
Themes: Friendship, Emotional Comfort I guess?
Warnings: Hints at animal cruelty, emotional abuse and not so healthy drinking behavior
Summary: Arthur drinks a bit too much and tells Charles about his feelings (friendship)
———–
The sun had set hours ago at Clemens Point and by now, the lake was full of stars. It was a warm night, and in Charles opinion much more pleasent than the suffocating humid heat that lay over them during the days in this area.
He let out a sigh of relief as he sat down near the shore of the lake at the edge of camp. Drunken laughter and cheerful voices swept over to him, but they were dulled by the calm water in front of him.
Hosea had pulled of some kind of small scam today and had returned to camp with a crate of beer and a big smile on his face. One thing led to another and soon the overall interest in work and chores around camp had significantly lessened and rather turned towards storytelling, joking and singing.
And so, not much work got done that day, and though Charles did take over some of the other’s chores, there was still plenty to do. But that had to wait until tomorrow. It had been a long day and he was glad to finally have a quiet moment for himself.
He had considered joining Kieran at the scout fire, but the latter had also been doing more work around camp today than usual and not being the most outgoing person, he was probably grateful to have some time alone.
And so Charles had found himself this little spot at the shore, but after a few minutes, he heard footsteps approaching him.
The person stumbled a few times, clearly having had a bit too much whiskey, but Charles still recognized the man without having to turn around.
“Arthur.”
“Hello Charles”, Arthur greeted him and giggled as he struggled to keep his balance while trying to sit down next to him.
Arthur hadn’t been around camp for the past few days and had just come back this afternoon, a frown on his face and a distant look in his eyes. Something had definetly been on his mind and Charles wondered if Arthur had tried to wash it away with the alcohol. He hoped he was wrong.
His thoughts were interupted by Arthur’s slighty slurred voice.
“Really nice. The lake, it’s… is really nice. It’s… so much calm water. I like it. I feel…”
There was a shift in his voice and he paused.
Charles turned his head to look at Arthur, trying to figure out what was bothering him. But Arthur didn’t even seem to know himself as he gestured with his hands, triyng to find the right words, which appearently was made more difficult by the alcohol in his veins.
“I… I just… feel awful.”
It was a miserabel sight, really. Usually Arthur was well aware of the intimidating effect his size and appearance could have on others. He didn’t even have to do much, just stand tall, maybe cross his arms and put on a mean face.
But the man who now sat next to Charles on the dirty ground was nothing like that. He was slumped over, suddenly appearing much smaller than he actually was, not even trying to hide the emotions displayed on his face.
“Why? Arthur, did something happen?”
“Well, yeah… I think, I… There was this man and his - his horse… he said it died and he asked me to give him a ride.”
Arthur paused for a moment, letting out a defeated sigh, “I wanted to help him but it was a stupid… stupid trap an’ he’d killed the horse himself to make it look real and… and I jus’ wanted to help.”
He stopped once again, but this time, a small sob escaped Arthur. And Charles was glad the other man had to pause, as he himself also needed a moment to let it sink in.
It seemed so small and insignificant compared to other acts of violence he had witnessed over the years, and maybe that was why it wasn’t easy to understand. Killing a horse so you had the element of surprise while attempting to rob someone, not even knowing if they had any money at all? It didn’t make sense.
Next to him, Arthur was failing to keep his tears in check, so Charles carefully put his hand on his shoulder.
Arthur’s body tensed up for a moment and Charles felt a wave of disappointment rush through him, afraid that now Arthur would turn away and never open up to him ever again.
But after a few seconds, Arthur relaxed and continued to talk, “I thought I knew what I was doing. Jus’ wanted to do something right, as in… do the right thing. And I don’t know why it’s so… so hard for me.”
No matter how tough and dense Arthur sometimes acted, Charles knew there was more to him. He wasn’t quite sure yet what exactly, but people were complicated after all. However, some seemed to be more complicated than others. And seeing Arthur so hurt and confused? Somehow, it confused Charles too.
Arthur sniffed and finally turned his gaze to the younger outlaw, “It’s so easy for you and I just… don’t even understand what’s right and what’s wrong. Always have to think about it. I think I’m jealous… because you just… you just do what’s right without wondering what the right thing is. And I don’t even know what’s right. I don’t even know why I don’t know. No idea what I’m doing. I just - ”
“Arthur, stop that.”
“What?”
“Talking like that. It’s nonsense.”
While Arthur had been rambling on, Charles had recognized one of the emotions that was growing stronger within him right now. With every single word Arthur got out with shaky breaths, his anger grew. It wasn’t directed at Arthur, but rather at the situation. And he had to do something about it.
Arthur didn’t try to back away, his eyes were fixed on his face, probably stunned by his sudden change of tone.
With his hand still firmly on Arthur’s shoulder, Charles continued, “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from, but it’s not true.”
“I…”
“Arthur, I know you’ve probably had one or two beer too many. But don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re always putting yourself down, wether you’re sober or not.”
Arthur blinked a few times, looking almost offended, “I’m not drunk, just…”
“Just a little bit drunk, I know”, a small smile escaped him at Arthur’s blatant lie and his tone softened, “Can you just… listen to me for a moment?”
Arthur still looked somewhat unsure, but still gave him an hesitant nod.
“I don’t always know what’s right. And if there’s someone who claims they always do, they’re lying. And whoever put those ideas in your head is also a liar.”
There was a flash of realization in the teary eyes of the older outlaw and he slowly turned his head away. Someone had obviously come to Arthur’s mind.
Charles had a feeling who it was and maybe Arthur was even thinking of more than one person.
But whatever the case was, given Arthur’s reaction, Charles had definetly hit a nerve.
Now that he had, Charles almost felt a bit guilty. Almost.
He pushed those feelings away and instead focused on Arthur again, gesturing towards the camp behind them with his free hand, “Look, all those people… The girls all had their share of… bad experiences, and they trust you. They’re not naïve.”
“I would never-”
“No, of course not, because you know it’s wrong and given your reaction, you never even thought of it in the first place.”
Arthur shook his head, a grossed out expression all over his face.
“I’ve seen the way you laugh together. They care about you”, Charles paused at the disbelieving look Arthur gave him and rolled his eyes in response, “Don’t look at me like that, they DO. You’re like… this grumpy, big brother. If you don’t belive me, I’ll go and get them to come over so they can tell you yourself. You want me to do that?”
It was an attempt at humor, but it completly went over Arthur’s head, “No, I don’t want them to see me like… well…”
He tried to wipe the tears from his face, but his red eyes and nose were not easy to miss, even though the only source of light were the fires and lanterns from the nearby camp and the moon in the night sky above them.
Charles moved his hand from Arthur’s shoulder to his back, carefully patting him as the other man continued to rub at his face, “It’s okay Arthur. It’s alright. Nothing wrong with having emotions.”
He could have sworn to have heard a soft laugh from Arthur at that, and as he looked a bit closer, there actually seemed to be a genuine smile on his face.
“I mean it. There are people who go through life and don’t seem to think about how what they’re doing affects others at all. Like that guy who killed his horse. And even if they do, I doubt they care to much. But you obviously do care. That’s a good thing.”
“But?”
“But please… stop comparing yourself to me as if I’d know everything and never make mistakes. You have to think and decide for yourself.”
“Hosea told me the same”, there was a smile in Arthu’s voice now and this time, it was mirrored by his face. Charles returned the smile, but raised his eyebrows in a manner of faked disbelief.
Arthur laughed at that and raised his finger in a scolding gesture, “Oh don’t you look at me that. I’m afraid I’m not drunk enough to forget about this conversation once I’m sober again… I’m sorry, I… I guess the drink loosened the tongue… damn…”
“Well, I sure am glad it did. Someone had to… well, at least try to talk some sense into you.”
But Arthur didn’t respond to the teasing this time, and instead seemed to struggle to find the right words once again.
“I’m…”, Arthur paused, then laid his hand on Charle’s shoulder the same way the younger outlaw had done before, “Thank you. For… this, for beeing honest and… listening and… For beeing my friend.”
Charles nodded, glad that he appearently had gotten through some of the self-doubt that occupied Arthur’s mind.
“Charles, if… if there’s ever something you’d like to talk about… I care about you, too. And if you need to talk, I’ll be there too, okay?”
Arthur doesn’t notice it at first, there were so many bullets flying. Every sound had run together, one discharge over the next. They were all too busy checking themselves over to notice Charles hadn’t gotten to his feet and joined them in the center of that burned out town outside of Horseshoe.
Arthur goes looking, panic mounting when Charles doesn’t answer his calls. Its behind a burned out husk of a wagon that Arthur finds him. He’s leaning against the charred wood, hand pressed over a bloody hole in his gut. The sight of it turns Arthur’s blood to ice.
“Charles! Char– No, no, no, please no. Look at me, Charles, look at me!”
Arthur cups Charles’ face in his hands and feels his own gut twist when he sees how pale the other man already is. The puddle of blood is only growing, spreading steady and staining the nearby flowers.
Charles, with no small amount ofeffort, focuses on Arthur. His eyes are glassy, but staring at Arthur with that warm fondness, sadness intermingled as well.
“Just stay with me. Stay awake, Charles, just stay awake. We ain’t far from camp. We’ll get you back and-”
Charles’ trembling hand raising to cup Arthur’s own cheek stops his rambling. Charles stares at Arthur as if he’s the center of the spinning world, the source of everything good in this crooked, bloody existence.
There’s a slow shake of Charles’ head and Arhur moans, deep and ragged in his chest. It’s a sound he hasnt made since Isaac and it cuts clean through him.
He scoots nearer to Charles, easing the other man into his arms as carefully as he can. The shifting causes a fresh burst of bright red blood, it drips onto Arthur’s shirt, his pants.
“I can get you back in time, Reverend–Susan can fix you up. I can. Just please, please Charles, don’t. Don’t go. Don’t go leavin’ me alone.”
His voice breaks on the last word. Somewhere far away, he hears Bill, young Lenny and finally John’s rasping voice near his ear. None of it registers. All Arthur can hear is Charles’ breating turn labored, wet in a horrible way Arthur recognizes as a death rattle.
“I need you, Charles. Please, I-I ain’t got nothin’ if j don’t got you.” Charles raises his hand to Arthur’s cheek on last time, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. When he opens his mouth to speak, he only coughs. Bubbles of hot blood ooze out of his mouth and he gasps, eyes locked on Arthur all the while.
Before Arthur can finish that last, desperate plea, Charles’ chest falls, stilling with shattering fanality. The warm light in those dark eyes dims, the hand cupping Arthur’s face slips and thuds softly in the grass.
When asked about it by Abigail later that night, John will say that he’s never heard a man scream that way. That it was like the wail of a wounded animal, and he’ll never forget the sound of it so long as he lives.
Charles 100% wanted Arthur to be the last thing he saw.
Now if you excuse me, I’m putting myself in time out.
