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photo1030 · 1 year

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 15: Feelings Revealed

PART 1 - I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU

Summary: You finally confront Arthur about how you feel about him, and force him to make a decision, whether you are ready for the answer or not.

*This is a long one and will be broken up into multiple parts.

*Special thanks to the wonderfully talented @rivetingrosie4 for beta reading this for me.

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**This exquisite image comes from @kmartkiddieisle

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @plumbeeb @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

Arthur isn’t sure how it happened. He let his guard down, that’s for damn sure. Some bounty hunter had recognized him when you and Arthur were in Ourey last week. He had a tip that Arthur was in the area, but not sure exactly where. And as luck would have it, the hunter was in the saloon for a drink when he just happened to glance over his shoulder and see the very man he was looking for sitting at a table in the corner with a lady, chatting away without worry, like the world wasn't on his back.

Earlier this morning, Josiah Trelawny had come to the camp, asking if you could tend to one of the locals in need of medical attention. There still aren't too many doctors in this area, and this particular fellow is a friend of Josiah's. Dutch agreed to let you go, as long as you got paid for your trouble, of course. And, naturally, Arthur insisted that he be your escort.

After the two of you had made a brief stop in town for needed medical supplies, this bounty hunter spotted Arthur again. He followed the two of you at a distance, careful to not let Arthur catch on that he was being followed. The hunter patiently lingered in the woods that lined the house while you two tended to the sick individual. And once you had left the homestead, he tailed you and Arthur, waiting for the opportunity to take down one, Arthur Morgan.

And now, this bounty hunter has you as his hostage.

The clouds in the sky dance playfully around the sun, alternating sunlight and shadows upon the Earth's surface below as the three of you stand in the clearing. The bounty hunter pulls you tight against him as your hands clutch at his forearm, which has a vice-grip around your shoulders. He holds a well-used revolver to your head with the other. His hot breath carries across your neck and stinks of tooth-rot as his face hovers close to yours. You can feel his torso and hips dig into your backside and it makes your skin just crawl with repulsion.

But the hunter is not focused on you. He stares past your shoulder at the man who is his main target. A sneer of superiority crosses the hunter's lips, exposing his blackened and snaggled teeth. He triumphantly displays his upper hand to Arthur, elated that he has discovered the notorious outlaw's weakness. You.

You watch Arthur's expression turn from surprise at being snuck up on, to one of outrage. His jaw clenches, and you can see the muscles of his face twitch as he grits his teeth together. His beautiful blue eyes, always a beacon for you to stare into, have turned hard and icy gray. Arthur's shoulders square and set, seeming to add another few inches to his already intimidating stature. Although you have heard of how menacing Arthur Morgan can be, you have rarely seen it yourself in person. And it is a terrifying thing to witness. In fact, the last time you saw him this angry was the day the two of you met. And unfortunately, it was a similar scenario then, as well.

"Let her go," Arthur grits out in a low, calm voice. "She ain’t got nothing to do with this."

But the bounty hunter only laughs at Arthur's request, as if it is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "Since when do you give a damn about anyone else, Morgan? Hmmm?" And then the hunter's face changes to an exaggeratedly surprised expression as if he just had a profound realization. "Oooo, wait a minute now. You like this one, don’t you, Morgan?" He turns his face into yours just slightly, but keeps his steely eyes trained on Arthur. "I can see why. She’s real nice." He begins to rub his face along yours, taunting Arthur. "Nice and soft. Skin so pretty. It'd be a real shame if something were to happen to this face." His hand creeps up to cup under your chin, pulling your head back to him even tighter as he shoves the barrel of his gun harder into your temple, causing a quick and soft gasp to escape your dry lips.

Arthur's face contorts just slightly, breaking his cold exterior for just a fraction of a second. And in doing so, it reveals to the hunter that he has indeed hit a nerve, causing a smug smile to dance across his mouth.

"You best get your damn grimy hands off of her," Arthur threatens, his voice almost a growl now and his hands balling into fists of rage. "I ain't gonna tell you again." Arthur's warning sends shivers down your spine as you hear the words drop from his lips. His movements and tone are so slow and deliberate, with a menacing air that radiates off of his body so acutely that you almost do not recognize the man standing in front of you.

The bounty hunter just grins horribly and opens his mouth to drag his tongue along your cheek, further provoking Arthur. The act makes you close your eyes and whimper in disgust. You slowly open your eyes again and keep them on Arthur, not wavering from his gaze. You don’t cry or beg while being held by this pig, but remain perfectly still. The only thing that betrays your anxiety is how your body trembles ever so slightly from your broken breathing.

Arthur can clearly see the fear in your wide eyes. It makes him angry--both at this man, and at himself, for putting you in this situation. He will kill this man for his transgression. There is no doubt about that. It's not as if Arthur likes killing. But he has killed men for far less noble reasons than protecting you. So it stands to reason that this man's end is most certainly inevitable now.

As you stand there with the cold metal of a gun barrel digging into your temple, and with this horrible man pressed against you, you suddenly realize that the reason you are afraid is not so much that you could die right now, but that you could die without Arthur knowing that you love him. Before this moment, you have never divulged your heart's secret to him. And now, you may never get a chance to. You may never hold him or to ever know what it is like to properly kiss him. And worse yet, you'd never know if Arthur ever felt the same about you in return.

As the two men stare each other down, the air goes very still—as quiet as a cemetery at night. You can see Arthur's muscles tense like a spring ready to snap. Your chest begins to heave, drawing air into your lungs much faster now. Your heart races with anticipation. You watch Arthur like a hawk, your gaze never wavering from his. And then you see it. You see Arthur's eyes cast down ever so slightly. The hunter doesn't even notice, but you do. And your eyes go even wider with the recognition of it. It's a clear signal of which direction you will need to move.

Faster than what seems humanly possible, Arthur's body explodes into motion, pulling his gun from its holster. The mere second you see his muscles twitch, you let your body go absolutely limp like a wet string in the hunter's grasp. You slip through the man’s arms and drop down to his feet, crumpling hard to the ground. You cover your head with your hands and your knee knocks into your jaw as you curl into a ball as tightly as possible.

Three gunshots crack loudly through the air, echoing off of the treeline and ringing in your ears. You hear a loud, wet thud next to you, thick and heavy as a body hits the dirt. You are hesitant to look up, but you quickly realize that it can't be Arthur. The sound is too close in proximity to you to be him. You slowly lift your head and look over to see the bounty hunter lying motionless next to you. His eyes are wide open and still carrying the look of shock in them. You take quick note of the red weeping holes in his chest. Of the three shots that rang out, two were fired by Arthur, both hitting the hunter with deadly accuracy, with the third shot being a feeble attempt by the hunter to squeeze off a hit before bullets tore through his chest and he slumped to the ground.

But it is silent once again, now. The only sound you hear is your own heavy, terrified breathing as the smell of gunpowder lingers in the air. You stare at the dead man, confirming that he will not be a threat to you any longer. Speechless, you then turn your wide and shining eyes up at Arthur, still trying to catch your breath. Arthur stands perfectly still, a calm now settling over him. This is not a new sight for him, but one that he has been forced to pursue repeatedly. While you are sitting in the dirt, stunned, Arthur seems unphased by the dead body lying ungracefully in a heap on the ground. Sighing, he holsters his gun and slowly walks over to you.

Arthur looks down at you, tilting his head slightly. "You ok?" His voice is soft and concerned. You can only nod silently as he extends his hand down to help you stand.

You place your trembling hand into his much larger one. And in this very moment, the strength that you find there provides a comfort to you that you could not have possibly imagined. His other hand slides under your elbow, providing extra support as he carefully assists you to stand, checking that you have not been harmed in any way.

Once you've come to your feet, you suddenly launch yourself into Arthur's chest, throwing your arms tightly around his neck before he can stop you. For you, it is the safest place to be right now. Your eyes screw shut as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms encircling his shoulders as you cling to him tightly. And instead of recoiling, Arthur evenly returns the gesture. A flood of relief washes over him, now that you are safe in his arms. You feel his strong arms circle around your waist and back, holding you securely to his broad chest as his chin drops to hover above your shoulder, his cheek pressed into your hair.

You still have yet to cry, but you are trembling terribly. And he holds you even closer, his hand sliding up to cradle your head now, in an effort to soothe your shaking. "It's alright," his voice floats from his lips as they hover next to your ear. "I got ya, girl. I always got you."

The two of you stay this way for several minutes, not another word spoken. You feel the nervous energy drain from you as Arthur holds you to him. His body pulls it from you and replaces it with his own body heat. Finally, you pull back from him and you gaze into each other's eyes. Your lids flutter at the wave of love you feel for him. Your gaze floats from his vividly blue eyes to his lips. You want so desperately to kiss him.

Arthur's breathing hitches slightly as he notices your chest beginning to float up and down as your heart rate speeds up at the thought of it. He catches you studying his face, your eyes lingering on his mouth. Your hands begin to slide from behind his neck, and across the plane of his shoulders, before gliding down along his arms. Your hands grasp slightly at the bulk of the muscles they find there as they travel. And suddenly, your fingers feel something wet. The quick change in sensation yanks you from your romantic reverie. You look away from his face and down to where your right hand lingers on his bicep and see bright crimson red seeping through the fabric of his green shirt.

"Your arm!" you gasp softly, blinking the fog away from your mind. The sight of Arthur's blood sharply startles you and quickly pulls your mind out of the clouds.

Confused, Arthur stares at you for a moment, not even paying attention to what you're saying, before looking down at himself. He sees the blood on his shirt from where the hunter's stray bullet cut across his arm, but quickly dismisses it. "It’s just a graze, I’m alright." He gives you a weak smile.

"We need to wrap this," you stutter, trying to collect your thoughts and pull yourself together. Looking around for your horse, you whistle for Blue as Arthur has taught you. The horse picks his head up at the sound and quickly comes trotting over to you from the bushes where he's been grazing. You hurry to get bandages out of your saddle bag and begin to wrap the cotton around Arthur's arm to quell the bleeding. Arthur says nothing, but simply watches your every move as you work. A grin pulls at his lips as he watches how you fuss over him, amused at how your attention has been drastically redirected. His eyes cascade from your beautiful hair, now a disheveled mess, and over your face before settling to your hands and delicate fingers, now painted red with his blood.

Suddenly, off in the distance, you begin to hear voices and hoofbeats. Arthur's head snaps up to attention, his eyes narrowing as he tries to focus on the direction it’s coming from. It could be colleagues of the bounty hunter, or it could simply be passers-by. But either way, the two of you should not be found with a dead man. As you tie-off the bandage around his bicep, Arthur sets his hands on both of your arms in urgency. "C'mon, we need to get out of here."

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Thankfully, you and Arthur make it back to camp with no more distractions after that. Once you arrive home, you quickly pull Arthur to your med tent to stitch up the gash in his arm from the bullet graze. With that properly taken care of, you split up and head to your own tents to get cleaned up and settle down after the afternoon's events. Eventually, you both wander back to join the rest of the gang who have gathered around the main fire, where you are met with curious faces when they notice Arthur's bandage and the exhausted expressions upon both your faces. With a cup of hot coffee in your hand (and a whiskey bottle in Arthur's) you begin to recount the day's events about the bounty hunter to your friends.

"It's a good thing Arthur was there, then," suggests Abigail when you finish speaking, her eyes dancing back and forth between you and Arthur with a soft approving smile on her face.

From where he sits perched upon an overturned crate, Micah snorts a laugh of disbelief at her statement. "Well, that’s one way to look at it." He leans over to spit dismissively into the grass at his feet. "The way I see it, that piece of shit was there for Arthur, not her," he emphasizes with a wave in your direction. "She wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place if it weren't for him. So it’s more like Arthur was damn lucky he was able to pull that off without getting either of their asses shot. No?"

Leave it to Micah Bell to try and stir things up. Especially when it comes to Arthur.

You pitch a heated glare at Micah over the plumes of smoke that dance in the air, one that matches the burning embers that you all are sitting around. "You have no idea what you're even talki-"

"He’s right," Arthur confesses, cutting you off mid-sentence before you can rant and tear into the weasley man sitting across from you. He takes another gulp from the whiskey bottle and casually stretches his leg out a bit and resettles his weight to get more comfortable. You snap your head to look from Micah to Arthur now, his statement halting you in your tracks. You simply stare incredulously at Arthur, eyes blinking in disbelief.

"I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you just said," the sarcasm dripping from your voice as you shake your head at this nonsense. "It sounds like you said that 'Micah Bell is right'?"

"If that guy hadn’t known me, he may have just passed us by." Arthur keeps his tone calm and stares into your eyes as if to drill this belief into your stubborn head.

"Or he would have just killed us both!" you interject, your voice getting more annoyed by the second as you ball the fabric of your skirt into your hands.

"I shouldn’t have taken you out of camp," he argues back stubbornly, his grip tightening on the neck of the whiskey bottle in his hand. "Should've had Charles do it."

"You always do th-!" your voice raises now as you start to get angry.

"Either way, it’s done now," Dutch's deep voice booms sharply from where he’s sitting by the fire. His voice cuts through the mounting tension between you and Arthur, his hand slicing through the air in the finality of discussion. "No harm done. (Y/N)’s fine, that fella’s dead, Arthur is in one piece. It's over." Like a parent reprimanding his children, Dutch's tone is firm and unyielding in ending this argument before it can even begin. His dark eyes dart menacingly back and forth between you and Arthur, just waiting for any protest.

You bite your tongue as you hold Arthur's gaze with an unspoken irritation. After a moment of silence, Arthur abruptly gets up and storms off, intent on hiding away in his tent before he can say or do something stupid that he'll regret.

Your eyes follow him, glaring angrily out of frustration, desperately trying to ignore the stinging sensation of tears about to spill forth. The only sound to be heard is the crackling and popping of the fire in front of you.

From where she sits next to you, Abigail places a comforting hand upon your arm and sighs in disappointment. "Just let it go, (Y/N). Let him wallow."

------------------------

The next few days are odd, to say the least. Arthur isn't specifically ignoring you, but he is definitely distracted and in his own head. There is much work to do in camp, so the distraction is welcome, but he is certainly conflicted. A few days ago, he was finally ready to sit you down and profess his affections for you; to finally come clean and speak out loud what has been rolling around in his head and bubbling in his heart for quite some time. But now, that horrible self-doubt is creeping its way back in, like ivy that climbs up the garden wall. And he feels guilty about it, too. One minute you two are inseparable, the next he won't come near you with a ten-foot pole. It has to be confusing to you, he figures. It has to be, seeing as it confuses the hell out of him, too.

Today, Arthur and Micah are riding out to follow a lead on a job. Normally, Arthur does not care to work jobs with Micah. But with John and Javier out on another route, and Bill and Charles each following their own leads, these two men are left for Dutch to send out. The two set out and make their way over to the next town to meet a man about a tip on a supply run. And with Arthur being quieter than usual, it doesn't take long for Micah to start running his mouth.

"You still poutin' over that mess with the bounty hunter, Morgan?" Micah glances over at the other man and his horse, a merciless tease in his voice as he pokes at what he knows is still a sensitive subject.

Arthur gives no answer except more silence and a scowl that deepens as he sits stiffly in his saddle while they travel the dusty road.

Micah gives a slight shrug at Arthur's lack of response. "Maybe that was an eye-opening experience?"

"What in the hell are you going on about now, Micah?" the outlaw asks irritably, finally giving Micah a brief glance in acknowledgement.

"Oh I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud is all," he says, feigning innocence. "But I'm just wondering if (Y/N) is really meant for this kind of life."

Arthur says nothing, but his eyes shift from Micah back to the path ahead of them at the thought. Micah takes quick notice at how Arthur's shoulders tense and his eyes become harder.

"I'm starting to wonder if she'd be better off without you, Arthur. I mean, let's be honest, she really don't fit in too well with the likes of us, now does she?" Micah pauses to gauge the reaction. And he sneers to see he's succeeding in getting under Arthur's skin and decides to keep prodding. "If you really like (Y/N) that much, maybe you should just stay away from her. She'd be a hell of a lot safer that way, don't you think?" Micah smirks to himself as he plants the seed into Arthur's brain. But of course, he'd swoop in on you in a heartbeat if Arthur were out of the way. “It's kinda selfish if you ask me, cowpoke.”

"Yeah, well good thing I didn’t ask you!" Arthur shouts, finally tired of Micah's needling.

Micah drops the reins of his horse for a moment and holds his hands up in surrender. "Now hold on, I didn't mean anything by it. Like I said, I'm just talking out loud here. But one of these days, that woman is gonna realize she don’t belong here with us, Arthur. And you’ll wake up one morning, or come back to camp, and..." he makes a gesture with his hand like smoke dissipating into the air, "... she’ll be gone.”

This statement makes Arthur freeze in his tracks. Although this is an idea that has been festering in the back of his mind for a while now, it is something he is not prepared to hear out loud. And certainly not something to be pointed out by the likes of Micah Bell. "Can you just shut your mouth for one damn moment so we can get this job done?!" Arthur snaps.

Micah says nothing, but holds his hands up again with a shrug.

This conversation germinates in Arthur's mind and puts him in a foul mood for days afterwards. He keeps a distance from everyone, including you. You don’t take too much offense to it at first, since you understand that Arthur sometimes gets in his own head, often needing solitude for lengths of time. Especially after running a job with Micah Bell. In fact, the space is actually a bit convenient right now, since you're trying to keep away from Arthur as well.

The run-in with the bounty hunter has forced you to take a hard look at your situation. You need to decide if you should finally confront Arthur and tell him how you feel about him. The thought of losing him the other day was almost too much for you to bear. But you are also well aware of Arthur's misgivings about personal attachments. You do not want to force Arthur into a scenario that he is not comfortable with. And, while Arthur is worried about endangering you, you are worried about being his weakness, his liability. That bounty hunter was quick to realize that you were the way to get to Arthur. Fortunately, Arthur was more than capable of dealing with that idiot. But what if he wasn't? What if Arthur is ever put in danger because of his weakness for you?

The problem is, you don’t know how much longer you can try to hide your feelings. The girls in camp already know how you feel about Arthur, and it��s pretty obvious to everyone else, for sure. You're almost positive that he feels the same for you as well, so what’s the point in denying it? You thought he’d have made a move or at least said something to you by now. You have tried to leave some not-so-subtle hints, but every time you think something will happen between you two, he always pulls away, leaving you confused and lonely. You know Arthur doesn’t have a high opinion of himself, and that things would need to go slow if this is something that you should pursue. But how can he deny what is so obvious to everyone else?

One late afternoon you're sitting in your tent, restless from having this internal struggle yet again. So you decide to take matters into your own hands. You huff in frustration, launching yourself off of your cot, a look of resolution on your face as you smooth out your skirts. "OK, that’s it. It’s now or never.” And you burst forth out of your tent in search of Arthur.

You head out into the common area of the camp, surveying your surroundings. And of course, you spot him by the horses, brushing down Buck. He’s been stewing over there a lot, ever since that job with Micah.

You take a deep breath. "You can do this," you whisper to yourself. And you head over to the hitching posts. Your pace is hesitant at first, but the longer your gaze fixates on Arthur, the faster you walk with determination. As you get closer, you casually walk up next to your horse, Blue, rubbing his nose as he nickers at your approach.

“Hey, you,“ you say, giving Arthur a little grin along with your usual greeting for each other.

“Hey…” he grumbles out in reply. He lifts his face, but quickly averts his eyes, as if guilty of some act against you.

"Want to go out for a ride with me?" you ask, your voice hopeful. Your hand absentmindedly caresses Blue's muzzle as you gaze at Arthur, trying to pin him down.

His hands pause in their work, not sure how to answer. He really does want to go out and to be alone with you, but in light of recent events, he thinks twice about it.

You can see the gears turning in his mind to try to find an excuse when he averts his eyes and doesn't answer you.

"Come on, please?" you whine, adding a little childish stomp. "I’m getting restless just sitting around here."

Arthur takes a deep breath as he considers his answer. “Yeah, I don’t think it's…”

"Come on, if you don’t come with me, I’ll just head out on my own," you cut him off with your threat before he can say no. Your hands plant firmly on your hips as you stare him down. "You don’t want me going out by myself, do you?"

Damn it. You know he can never say 'no' to you.

With an eye roll and an exasperated sigh to match, he simply gives you an “Alright, fine.”

Smiling triumphantly with a look that could melt Arthur in moments should he look upon you for too long, you spin around and get Blue saddled up as quickly as you can before Arthur can change his mind.

The afternoon temperature has started to drop to a comfortable degree as you and Arthur head down the path and out of camp. There’s a pleasant breeze carrying the fragrance of autumn in the air. You travel fairly quietly through the woods, only making small talk here and there, before heading to one of the overlooks that you like to frequent. It's a pretty little spot, tucked up on a ridge looking down over the valley. It gives an unobstructed view of the horizon and expanse of the land before you.

The overlook itself is littered with the last bit of wildflowers for the season and is covered with lush grasses that sway with the wind. This place has always been a peaceful getaway for you, and you were so thankful when Arthur brought you here to show it to you. Ever since, this is where you come for clarity and peace of mind. And you couldn't think of a better place to finally tell Arthur of your feelings for him.

You pull your horse to a stop and eagerly hop down from Blue's saddle. Blue follows behind you like an overgrown dog as you wander through the tall grass. Arthur slowly drops down from his saddle, watching you from behind. The sun is in front and off to the left side of you, casting your face and body in a warm, golden glow. Arthur instantly takes notice of how angelic you are. Your billowy skirts unfurl as they catch on the grass and your white blouse soaks up the amber colors of the sun's rays like paint to a canvas. You are so beautiful in this moment that it makes Arthur's heart ache, knowing he’ll never have happiness with you. Micah’s words ring through his mind as he watches you and he has to remind himself that good things don’t happen to bad men.

After you wander to sit on one of the large boulders that jut out of the red soil, you bend over to pick one of the wild daisies growing at your feet. You twirl the bud absentmindedly between your fingertips as you look about at the glorious view. A calm begins to settle over you as the smooth, cold surface of the rock beneath you radiates through your body. Your eye catches a few hawks circling in the sky out over the field in front you. You watch as they magically hover in the air and a contented smile crosses your face. Blue wanders over past you, snorting and nuzzling into your back as he passes, sniffing to find treats in your pockets.

"Get out of here, Blue, I ain’t got nothing for you," you chuckle, pushing his nose away. You look over your shoulder when you notice that Arthur hasn’t followed you. "You gonna join me?" you ask, a smile gracing your features to match the twinkle in your eye.

Arthur stands next to Buck, silent and fiddling with the horse's reins as he shifts his weight. Reluctantly, he walks over and slowly sits down next to you.

The two of you sit quietly for a bit, enjoying the view, until you nervously clear your throat. "So, I'm afraid I haven't been completely truthful with you, Arthur. There’s something that I want to talk about with you." You look down at your hands in your lap as you speak, your fingers rolling over each other. "It’s something I’ve been thinking about for awhile now." Taking a brief pause, you swallow before you continue. "I’m not really sure how to tell you this, to be honest."

Arthur’s stomach drops and his breathing becomes shallow as he notes how uncomfortable you are all of a sudden. You won't look him in the eye, and you're fidgeting. Something has you all worked up. And then it hits him: You're leaving. He’s sure of it. After what happened with the bounty hunter, he can't really blame you. And you've brought him out here to tell him. What else could have you this anxious? Arthur can feel his spirit deflate in disappointment. Everyone leaves at some point. But at least you are kind enough to tell him personally after all this time. Micah was right.

"God, I didn’t think I’d be so nervous about this," you mumble to yourself, your hands sweating as they continue to roll over each other in your lap.

"Look, (Y/N)…you don’t have to…" Arthur tries to speak, tries to put your mind at ease, but you hold your hand up to shush him, interrupting before he can get too far.

“Arthur, please, just…let me get this out before I lose my nerve,” you say quietly.

So he sits quietly as he sets his hands upon his thighs, fingers nervously drumming. His mouth goes dry, eyes fixated on the tips of his boots, waiting with trepidation for you to say what you have brought him here to tell him.

You close your eyes and take a deep, steadying breath...

“Arthur, I’ve come to realize…that…I have feelings for you."

And there it is, finally out in the open. Your words hang in the air for him to hear and ingest. No going back now, no hiding it any longer. And with this revelation, a great weight is lifted off of your chest.

You stop, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, testing the waters to see his reaction. But he sits there, not moving, eyes still aimed at his feet. His head is spinning, as this is not the news he was expecting to hear. He’s elated that you're not leaving after all, and breathes an internal sigh of relief. Yet that feeling of happiness quickly turns to shock and concern, when he fully realizes what it is that you have just said to him.

“What did you say?” he whispers, his body rigid with tension.

Suddenly, you become very apprehensive at Arthur's response. You thought he’d be happier than this.

“I care for you, Arthur. Deeply," you say emphatically.

You gently reach over and place your hand over his that still rests on his thigh, and lean forward to try to peer into his face to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicker to your delicate hand on top of his own calloused one. He is frozen in this moment of time, paralyzed. He’s prayed to hear those very words from your lips for so, so long. Yet, he has also dreaded it. For Arthur truly believes that he could be the very end of you.

With a great pain in his chest, Arthur slowly withdrawals his hand from under yours. You look in confusion from where your hands were once folded together, to his face, but he still won’t look at you. Your heart begins to pound loudly in your ears.

"Arthur?" Your voice quakes with trepidation, yet he still sits there, not moving, not speaking.

"Say something. Please?" You sound so small as you beg for a response from him. This void of silence is crushing.

Arthur closes his eyes and winces, knowing the next thing he has to say is the most painful thing he’s had to do in a long time. "I….I can’t," his voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes shoot open wide. "What?" your voice cracks in disbelief.

"You don’t want me, (Y/N)" he says, shaking his head, his gaze still fixated on his boot-tips.

"Why on Earth not?"

"I'm not a good man. You deserve better in this life, and so much better than me.” Arthur's answer is so simple in its delivery, as if this is something that you should have known all along.

You are stunned into silence for a few minutes, processing what he’s just said to you, desperately trying not to get upset. "Don’t I get a say in what’s best for me?" you challenge back.

“No, not in this case." Arthur still won't look at you, and his voice maintains a sad and low tone. His calmness over such a thing is almost maddening to you.

"Look at me, Arthur," you demand desperately. "Look at me!" He turns just enough to give you a side glance before guiltily averting his eyes again when he sees the tears starting to gather around your irises. "Can you really sit there and tell me you feel nothing for me?" you ask incredulously.

“It's not a matter of what I want, (Y/N)." He tries to speak calmly to you, hoping to make you understand and trying not to upset you any more than he already has. But you are not having any of it. Your emotions are a churning sea right now; intense and uncontrollable.

"Like hell it’s not!" your voice is starting to rise now. "Your wants, your dreams, they matter, Arthur. You matter. I know you don’t see that, but I see you, Arthur. I see you." You begin to rapidly blink back the tears forming in your eyes, desperate to get through to him.

"I tell my dreams to ghosts at this point," he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. His eyes dart around rapidly, trying to look anywhere but at your face right now. He abruptly stands up, pacing a few steps. He draws his hand over his mouth, wishing this conversation was not happening.

"It’s OK to give everything you got, Arthur, but you have to keep something for yourself too,” you implore as you watch him pace in front of you.

“Not this time," he says sternly, finally looking at you with such intensity. "What the hell do you want with someone like me, anyways?!" his own voice now rising to meet yours. "I’m old, I’m ugly, I’m mean…”

“Jesus, you really are broken aren’t you?" you ask in wonder as you take in the sight of him, watching him nervously unravel before your eyes.

“Bah…” he grunts angrily, waving you off. He turns away from you to face the horizon line again, getting more annoyed by the second. But still, you keep pushing.

“Why are you making this so hard, Arthur?!”

“Because!" he spins back to face you again. "It’s only a matter of time before you figure out what a piece of shit I am, (Y/N)! I can’t go through that again. Not again. Not with you.” He waves his arm to decisively make his point. And it is now that you fully understand his greatest fear and worry.

“You don’t know that!“ you beg.

“Yes, I do!" he shouts angrily at you, his volume startling the horses grazing nearby. He is now past his breaking point, his chest heaving with the battle of emotions within him. "Why can’t you just leave things as they are, (Y/N)?!”

“Because that’s not good enough!" you holler back, not willing to give up on him. "Is that what you really want, Arthur?”

“That’s how it has to be. You shouldn’t even be here!” He throws that bomb back in your face, unaware at the severity of its delivery.

The statement cuts you like a knife, twisting into your heart so deep that it makes you gasp and your eyes go wide. And the moment it escapes Arthur's lips, the look of shock on your face makes him regret saying it. Aside from your feelings, Arthur is your best friend. He is the one who brought you here. How could he really think that? It is a blow that he meant to end this argument, but he severely underestimated the damage it would do in its wake.

You are shaken to your core. This is certainly not how you thought this conversation was going to go when you imagined it in your head. You can feel your fingertips and toes go numb, your nerves alight.

You simply stare at him, speechless, before you lean forward and bury your face into your hands, trying to comprehend this nonsense. This lovely moment that you envisioned has gone so horribly wrong. You were so sure that Arthur would fold you up into his massive arms upon your revelation. This adolescent awkwardness that the two of you have danced around for so long could finally be put behind you and you could move on together. You could put an end to the shared notion of loneliness that sits deep within you both. It was a gamble. You would expose the delicate nerves of your heart in hopes that he would accept it. But you sorely miscalculated. Maybe you are too naive? Maybe this romantic notion of loving an outlaw is just a silly idea after all?

You sniffle back the tears that still threaten to spill forth, determined to keep yourself together. Defeated, you slowly stand up, avoiding his watchful gaze, and turn to head back to the horses. Arthur's chest is heavy with guilt from having to hurt you like this. He gingerly reaches out and catches your elbow before you walk away from him.

“Please, (Y/N)," his voice quiet again, pleading for forgiveness. "This is for your own good.” His blue eyes implore you to understand his reasoning.

"Right, Arthur. My own good."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2

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aviawrites · 5 months

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lucy gray is not okay (tbosas)

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳!𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺!𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘴

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘥, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘺 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺’𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘚𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵 12 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘺 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴. (4.5𝘬)

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘵𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘳𝘢🤯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘭𝘺<3

𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘺𝘯 𝘪𝘴: 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘥

“I know you miss me, Lucy Gray-“

“Get your hand off me right now.” Your sister demands, pulling her dress from Billy Taupe’s grasp.

The blonde that you’ve kept an eye on all night finally abandons his spot, beelining straight toward Lucy Gray’s crazed ex boyfriend. She stumbles back as he lands three thumping punches, seemingly prepared to do worse before his peacekeeping brother pulls him away.

You ignore them both as you head straight to the stage. Billy Taupe hasn’t even found his footing again by the time you’re by your sister’s side, pulling her down and out of The Hob.

The cloud-filled rainty streets hit you in the face as you drag your sister through the door, resting her back on the brick of the building. You hunch over, placing your hands on your knees in attempts to catch your breath.

“He’s insane, Lucy Gray. Insane.” You pant.

“I know.” She throws her head back against the wall, “Billy Taupe just can’t take no.”

Your head tilts to an angle as you look up at her. “No, I mean the leech.” You specify, pointing vaguely in the direction of blue uniformed men.

“Coriolanus? He’s not a leech, Laney, and I wish you’d stop calling him that.”

“He is. He’s wriggling his way into your life and sucking up everything you’ve got.”

She rolls her eyes, “And what could he possibly get from me?”

“I don’t know, maybe you in his corner when he inevitably screws up?”

“He’s got people in his corner, Laney. He don’t need me.”

“He wouldn’t be down here if that was true.” You urge, desperately seeking her understanding. “You’re not listening to me.”

“That’s enough, Laney Rose.” She holds a firm hand up. “You can’t keep attacking his character every chance you-“

“Lucy Gray!”

Both you and your sister’s head jerk, squinting through the smog to see a soldiers frame come into view. Coriolanus nears, cupping Lucy Gray’s face.

“Are you alright? I- I was going to come check right away but Sejanus-“

“I’m alright. I’m okay.” She assures him. She looks back at your unamused expression one more time. “Get home. Now, Laney Rose.”

Coriolanus looks at you too, only making you angrier at the fact that she’d bark orders like that in front of an outsider. Nevertheless, you comply, spinning on your heels and heading toward your homestead.

➵ ➵ ➵

Your tongue meets the blood from your pricked finger before continuing to re-embroider the ruffles on your mother’s dress. Aside from a few rips, tears, and dirt stains, Lucy Gray kept it in nice shape throughout the games. Though of course, the dress is the last thing you were thinking about when you were glued to the screen.

The comfortable ambient sounds of insects buzzing and light breezes flowing through your wind chimes is interrupted by the shaking of your door as two damp girls rush through.

Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray are in a burst of giggles, leaning on each other with wide smiles as they walk into the old wooden cottage. Not wanting the dress to get trampled, you quickly rise and place it on the kitchen counter.

“I did a flip into the water, Delaney Rose!” Your cousin laughs, “It was too much fun, you should’ve come!”

You turn your head to look back at the two. “I’m glad you- Shoes.”

Maude Ivory quickly backtracks, leaving her muddy sandals on the porch before crossing the house and entering the bathroom.

“I’m glad you had fun. I had to work on stuff here.”

Lucy Gray plops down in the dining room chair across the room, lying back on it with a worn out grin spreading across her face.

“It feels so damn good to be back, you know that?” She asks, almost to herself. You just nod as you knot the thread, finishing the corset.

Maude Ivory exits the bathroom, a dry towel now around her body as she passes you and your sister.

“I’ll see y’all.”

“We’ll see you, Maude Ivory.” The two of you say simultaneously.

The door creeks shut, leaving you, Lucy Gray, and the throat squeezing anxiety that’s risen in you.

“You invited him.” You state, your back faced your sister.

You hear her sigh, “Don’t start this, Delaney Rose.”

“You did.”

“So what? We had a good day, leave it at that, would you?”

“Before now you’d never have a ‘good day’ with a peacekeeper.”

“He’s only a peacekeeper because he decided to save my life.”

“By cheating.” You remind her.

“Would you have rather him let me die?”

You spin around, your full attention now being on her. “Obviously not, Lucy Gray. But it’s about the principle. It shows that he’s willing to play dirty, don’t you see? A cheater is a cheater.”

“Yea, a cheater who risked his life to save mine. A person who actually wants to spend time with me.”

“I want to spend time with you! Not the leech-“

Her chair loudly screeches against the floor, startling you and she rushes in your direction.

“You stop calling him that.” She gets in your face, pointing a finger at you. “You stop it right now.”

The black of your eyes tread on hers, only being able to stare at who’s supposed to be your sister. Only, a sister doesn’t act this way. Not yours.

You nod, knowingly. “He’s changing you.”

“Jesus.” She walks away, huffing.

“He is, Lucy Gray.”

“Maybe it’s for the better!” She turns back around, “Maybe it’s time for a change!”

“We were fine before him, Lucy Gray! Just fine!” You raise your voice to match hers.

“Right, barely getting by and having our people hunted is just fine.”

“You think he’s going to change any of that? You really think he cares?”

“He has the hope! He has the courage, unlike some of us!”

“Don’t even, Lucy Gray, I have every right to lose hope! I just don’t live in a fantasy land where I believe in heroes because they do not exist. No matter what you think.”

She scoffs, sitting back down at the table. “I don’t think he’s a hero, Delaney Rose. I just think he’s a good thing in my life, is that so bad?”

“He’s not trustworthy, Lucy Gray. What is it you always told me, huh? Trust is everything.”

“You don’t have to trust him. I do.” She states firmly.

“Lucy, I saw him leave The Hob when you were preforming two nights ago. The same night Mayfair and Billy Taupe are suspected-“

“Don’t.”

“I am just saying, Lucy Gray. I wouldn’t put it past him, you’d be a fool if you did.”

“Do you even know anything about what happened to Mayfair and Billy Taupe? Has anyone told you anything?” She asks, doubtfully.

You pause, not having anything but an accusation.

“Well, no.” You admit, “But who else is new, angry, and murderous in this district? It makes sense Lucy-“

“Delaney Rose, stop!” She stands again, “You are being ridiculous and I honestly can’t stand to hear it anymore. Did you ever stop to think maybe Coriolanus and I just met in the right place at the right time? That maybe, just maybe, he’s a good man who likes be because I am me?” She inquires.

You place your hands on your hips, tilting your head, “Now Lucy Gray, why would that be the case?”

Her eyes change, a hurt expression quickly replacing her previously determined one. You cover your mouth, instantly realizing how terrible and misconstrued your sentence came out. Lucy Gray’s mouth hangs open before she slowly backs away from you, turning and heading for her room.

“Wait- Lucy Gray.” You follow after her. She only speeds up. “That’s not what I meant, I swear! I meant to say-“

“Do not talk to me.” She looks back, rushing into her bedroom.

“Lucy Gra-“

Your sister slams the door on you, the force vibrating through the house. You stand defeated, your shoulders down and brain scrambled as you try to collect what just occurred.

Your head aches.

➵ ➵ ➵

“Mama! Mama! Mama!’

The boy from the Hanging Tree echoes through your thoughts over and over, along with the image of a stone faced Coriolanus plastered in your mind. Who the boy was, you don’t know. But you were sure he was Coriolanus’ friend, he stood in the back of the venue watching your sister on many occasions. However, Coriolanus didn’t so much as attempt to stop the murder of his brother.

Lucy Gray didn’t arrive to the tree with you but you know she was there, and you know she heard the same jabberjay tape you did. Chills ran through your body the minute the Jay’s went from his plan to save District 12’s to his last breaths calling for his mother. If your sister can’t admit that Coryo set his best friend up, she’s lying to herself.

Now, you aimlessly walk through 12, the shining lights and dancing steps of The Hob faintly illuminating the night through the door. They all intensify, the smell of home flooding your sense as you push it open. Maude Ivory and her band play their violins and sing their songs as you walk over to the bar. The same bar your sister has forbidden you from.

On the wall behind the counter, stapled on the top of dozens of other posters, was Mayfair Lipp. The smirk that you hated so much almost made you sad now, redirecting your hatred toward the blonde haired leech instead.

‘Any information, any guns, any suspects, $500.’

The cash prize does little to sway you, knowing your sister would never speak to you again if you actually reported Coriolanus. But let him give you solid reason and he’d better pray.

You rest your elbows on the bar, seeing the woman you grew up knowing looking back at you.

“A little white liquor, Mrs. Sherwood.” You request.

She deadpans, giving you the exact look you expected. “You know your sister wouldn’t like me giving this to you.”

“My sister isn’t here though, is she?”

Mrs. Sherwood smirks, “Y’all are one and the same, Delaney Rose.” She remarks before grabbing the bottle.

You place the little money you have on the counter, blurting out a thank you before pushing through the crowd. The same old bare and dark table that you always sit at is just as bare and dark. Though, now surrounded by one less peacekeeper. You sit in your regular seat, paying no mind to the man in blue who stands annoyingly close to your spot.

The Hob isn’t the same without Lucy Gray. Your cousin’s band was good without a doubt, but the lack of Lucy Gray’s singing made the air in the room feel different. Barb Azure spins her bass as Maude Ivory steps up to the mic, the crowd still rowdy from the song.

Everyone applauds, smiles on their faces even in the absence of your sister. You grab your mug, smiling as you raise it high in commending. Your cheers are short lived as you hear a clunk. Looking over, you see a peacekeeper holding his head from the impact of your cup. You hop down from your seat, setting the drink down and rushing in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, mister!” You cautiously reach for his shaved head, “I was being mindless with my cup, I-“

“No, no. It’s alright.” He holds an assuring hand up. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could…”

The man gains his footing back, standing up to reveal who he truly is. You don’t have the urge to apologize anymore as you see the same blonde that you see every night watching Lucy Gray. The same scarily piercing blue eyes that your sister somehow thinks are pretty are staring down at you.

“Oh…” You murmur, involuntarily.

“Oh, um-“ He straightens up, rubbing his head and squinting his eye in pain one last time before holding a hand out to shake yours. “Delaney, right? I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Coriolanus Snow.”

“I know.” You jeer, wondering if he thinks saying his full name will intimidate you.

It won’t.

He softly chuckles, “You know, Lucy Gray said you didn’t like me very much. It seems you’re sticking to your word.” Coriolanus smiles, talking loudly over the song Maude Ivory wrote.

You just stare at him, tension filling the space between you two. However, you have no intention of breaking it.

“Uh,” He continues, clearing his throat. “I really like your dress. My cousin back home makes clothes as well, she’s fantastic.”

“I know that too.” You state truthfully, Lucy Gray having told you about how some of Coriolanus’ pieces were made by Tigris.

“You know, I was hoping we could maybe be-“

“No.”

“Okay.” He nods, slightly taken aback.

You sit back in your seat that is now uncomfortably close to Coriolanus’ body. He’s still just as close to you as he was when you were standing in front of him. He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, seemingly wondering what to say next. If he could take any kind of hint, he’d realize you do not want to speak to him any longer.

“But you know,” He ignores said hint, leaning toward you, “If I’m going to be with Lucy Gray-“

“You’re not going to be with Lucy Gray.”

His eyes search yours, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

“I- I am…” He reveals, quietly.

You glance over at him, taking one more sip to push you through this conversation.

“What do you mean ‘you are?’”

“I mean I am with Lucy Gray.” Coriolanus speaks timidly now, as if you were already meant to know this. “It’s not official or anything but ever since the lake-“

“What happened at the lake? You inquire anxiously.

A frog must about to crawl out of his throat with how pale he turns. Granted, you may be putting on a slightly scarier front than usual.

“At the lake we…” He trails off.

Your eyes widen, a pit forming in your stomach. How could she not tell you?

“You’re lying.” You say almost immediately, his face quickly changes.

“No, no, no! Not that.” He holds a steady hand out, back tracking. “We just kissed, that’s it.”

A small breath of relief escapes you, even if you are still a little bitter that your sister didn’t tell you about it.

“When we kissed she asked me to stay.” He goes on, “She wants us to live here forever. A quiet little life.”

“Are you gonna do it?” You ask nonchalantly, praying inside that the answer is hell no.

He pauses, wondering himself what the answer is.

“…Probably not.” He admits, “I have commitments, you know? Mistakes that need correcting. I can’t do that here.”

“Mistakes like cheating the games?” You look over to him.

His expression proves that he wasn’t expecting that, though, you can’t read him any further.

“…That I wouldn’t take back. And I hope you wouldn’t either.” He eyes you.

Coriolanus doesn’t understand the principle, just like Lucy Gray.

“I’m not angry that you saved my sister, Coriolanus snow. I’m happy you did it.” You lean into him, “But I know who you are and what you do. And I know that saving ain’t coming free.”

You can’t tell if the confusion on his face is genuine. Regardless, you’re only telling him what he already knows deep down.

“Free? Wh- What are you-“

“She’s going to pay for it. Sooner or later a time will come when you think that she owes you. That she can’t leave you because of what you’ve done for her- And when that time comes, I want you to remember this conversation and remember me telling you my sister doesn’t owe you a damn thing for what you did in that arena.” You nod, your voice lowering.

Coriolanus’ wide azure eyes only gawk at you, “Owe me? Delaney-“ He shakes his head, “I don’t think she owes me anything.”

You hop down from your seat, leaving your mug as it is.

“Whatever you say, Coriolanus.”

His gaze lingers as you depart, pushing through the heavy crowd and heading toward the door.

…

You quickly realize that shutting the front door doesn’t help combat the cold as you arrive home. You abandon your shoes there, dropping your coat and hat in the dining room before turning the corner toward your sister’s room.

Still sitting outside of it lays your newly sewed pair of apology pants, your note, and her dinner, untouched. Lucy Gray seemingly hasn’t come out of her room all day and it only makes you feel worse for what you said to her. You kneel down, placing your back on the frame of her door. Your head rests on the wall as you pull your knees to your chest, thinking of the right words to say.

You softly knock 3 times with your knuckle.

“Lucy Gray?”

No answer.

You continue anyway, just wanting to feel that connection that the two of you used to have before The Hunger Games.

“I saw the lee-“ You stop yourself, considering time and place. “I saw Coriolanus at The Hob. He was just…exactly how I expected him to be.” You hope she can’t hear the spite in your voice as you say it.

She doesn’t utilize the pause you give her to speak, so you go on.

“I know you asked him to stay, Lucy Gray.” You admit. “I’m not mad, I swear. I just want to talk to you.” Tears threaten to fill your eyes, forcing your head into your hands as you fight to hold them back. “Please, Luce.”

Silent sobs escape you, your body slightly quivering. The lack of relatedness that you feel to her right now isn’t something you’ve felt in your life. For as long as you can remember it’s been you and Lucy Gray against the world. Now, you don’t know how to go one day without her. A million thought race through your mind, though, all of them are silenced when you hear her door click open. You swiftly wipe your face before looking up. She’s in a bad state, her pajamas unwashed and her hair unkept. She hasn’t been out of bed at all today.

You can’t get in a word before she closes the door behind her and slides your gifts to the side, not that you’d even know what to say. She mimics your position, sitting in front of the door and softly laying her head on your shoulder. The silent communication tells you enough. You bring a hand to her hair, stroking it as her own tears fall into the ground. What she’s crying over, you couldn’t know for sure. But the both of you are hurting, and the both of you know it.

The minutes morph into hours of your sister and yourself embracing, not saying a word. You drift in and out of sleep, eventually surrendering to it.

➵ ➵ ➵

The sun peeks in through the windows parallel to you, tinting your eyelids and forcing them open. Through your drowsy squint, you search for your sister. The things you made seem to be gone and as your eyes widen, you realize she is too. A smile grows on your face, happy that she took the pants and note into her bedroom for the night. Though, she could’ve at least woken you up to relocate to your own bed.

You rise to your feet, groggily knocking before pushing your way in, barely being able too from how bright her window-filled room is.

There’s no Lucy Gray.

In place of her lies a small peice of paper in the center of her bed. You trudge toward it, plopping yourself on the comforter before yawning your way into reading the note.

‘Don’t worry, I am safe. We had to leave to protect all of you. I may not be back. Take care of The Covey. I love you, Laney Rose.’ - Lucy Gray B.

Your somnolent state is now gone as you jump up, rereading the note repeatedly. A few minutes pass before you finally reach somewhat of a conclusion.

‘We’ is Coriolanus Snow and your sister. ‘I may not be back,’ is fuel for a heart attack. And ‘we had to leave,’ is bullshit.

You pocket the note before running toward the door, your body almost on autopilot as you throw on the same shoes that you left last night.

The two of you have fought before, plenty. But never in her life would she leave you, not if she knew anything. You don’t know the full of it, but you know enough about Coriolanus Snow to know he convinced her into doing something crazy. And you’ll be damned to just let her go like that.

You rush out of the house, not bothering to lock the door behind you as you sprint toward town.

“Have you seen Lucy Gray?” You ask a family settled on the concrete outside of The Hob. They all shake their heads.

You move on, circling the entire building and asking each and every person you see.

Inside, you do the same. Asking all of The Covey if they’d seen anything in the multiple hours of the night that you didn’t have eyes on your sister.

“Please, Mrs. Sherwood, I’m begging you.”

“Darling, I haven’t seen her?” She says regretfully.

You sigh, fighting tears once again as you feel a nightmare beginning.

“Can I?” You look down at the glass of wine behind the counter.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” She hands it to you. “It’s on me.”

You down it, unfortunately not instantly feeling the effects, regardless of how early in the morning it is. You blab a fast thank you before returning to your mission.

Every person you see on the way back home, peacekeeper or not, you ask about your sister. From your description of her, even a blind man could recognize if he’d come into contact with Lucy Gray.

All you got were weird looks and half assed answers, angering you further as you felt they weren’t taking her disappearance seriously. Regardless, you were far from done searching.

➵ ➵ ➵

The rain comes down so hard that it stings your skin. In the time it took you to make posters and find someone willing to print them for you, the sun had gone down and the rain has gotten worse. Nevertheless, you throw on your beaten down raincoat and boots and grab a stapler.

Each and every surface you see, you put up a poster. They’re practically disintegrating in your hands due to the rain, but it’ll dry. Everywhere you look there are flashes of white and red with a grinning Lucy Gray in the middle.

The Hob has her flyers covering each exterior wall before you finally make it to the inside, the same bartender there who never seems to leave.

Soaked and heaving, you lean on the counter, planting a few posters on it for her to hang up.

“One mug of whatever you have, please.” You request, your head down as you fight to catch your breath.

Mrs. Sherwood looks at you worriedly, barely being able to see your face under your large coat.

“Delaney Rose? Honey, are you okay?”

“I don’t have money right now, I’ll pay you back tomorrow I promise.” You sigh.

“Baby, is there anything-“

“Please, just-“ You hold out a hand, “Just give it to me.”

She continues to try to see your face, the anxiety of the entire day beginning to spill over inside you.

“Delaney, what’s wrong-“

“I can’t find her!” You slam the table, “I can’t fuckin-“

Your head continues to pound the more you rub it, a quivering breath escaping you. “I don’t know where my sister is, Mrs. Sherwood. I need her here and I can’t find her.” You explain as calmly as you can.

She looks at you solemnly, “Oh, Delaney…”

“I love you, Mrs. Sherwood. But if you can’t give me a clue as to where she is and you’re not going to get me that drink then I think I’ll be going.”

“No, no. Here.”

She quickly pours up the fullest glass you’ve ever seen. Even so, you chug it down as if it were a shot before handing it back to her. The look on her face is nothing short of absolute worry. You’re sure it seems as though you’ve lost your mind in a day to anyone looking in. Frankly, you don’t care what it seems like.

You leave The Hob the emptiest you’ve ever felt. Out of flyers and out of options, you begin toward the lake, a last and final resort.

Along the lake and through the forest you shout your sister’s name, every variation you can think of. At some point, you yell for Coriolanus. You tell him it’s okay whatever he did, genuinely believing he may have done an irreversible thing to her. If anyone could hear you, especially Lucy Gray, she too would think you’re insane.

Eventually your voice becomes hoarse and your headache turns into a migraine.

It’s a quiet trek home, only crickets and insects filling the silence.

You lock the door behind you, robotically leaving your shoes at the door and sliding down it, burying your head in your knees.

Your sobs aren’t silent this time, not in the slightest. They’re loud, weeps some might call them as the weight of the day finally rains down on you. You speak aloud, begging for your sister to return to you, apologizing as if she could come back at the sound of it.

She doesn’t come back. Your empty weeps are just empty weeps. The thought of Lucy Gray being gone with Coriolanus for good makes your heart feel funny, like it’s being squeezed on the inside. With all that you’ve done, all that you’ve said to avoid this very thing, she still chose him.

You’re not angry at her, not even a little. You spoke to the man yourself, you saw how he manipulated people. All of Panem was manipulated by Coriolanus and his ‘songbird.’

If you could go back, you would’ve reported him when you had the chance.

A knock at the door interrupts your cries and for a split second, you feel embarrassed of what the person on the other side must’ve heard. You wipe your tears, sniffling in attempts to pull yourself together for what you assume is a peacekeeper at the door. You take one last breath before unlocking and twisting the handle.

The heavy rain and everlasting fog couldn’t stop you from seeing what you see. You squint, wanting to make sure you’re viewing it correctly. Alhough, the embroidered bodice and rainbow dye isn’t something you could mistake.

Lucy Gray.

Her hair is soaked and chest is heaving, similarly to yours. She stares at you, disheveled as your mouth hangs open, not believing the end to your nightmare is in front of you right now. Because you can’t seem to force words out, she goes first.

“You were right, Laney Rose.”

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