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It had been a hard few months. Tensions were high in the Gang and as a relatively new member you were finding it hard to hide that fact that you felt uncomfortable and out of place.
Most of your awkward feelings came from the seemingly unanimous contempt that had been placed upon you by most a large number of gang members. A strong dislike so thinly vailed that it hung in the air like a bad smell. It felt absolutely suffocating, intolerable at times.
But you couldn’t walk away now. Not after what you had done to cause this cloud of abhorrence that seemed to follow your every move. You’d made a commitment and you planned to stick it out until the heat died down.
If it did die down… You worried more than you cared to admit that you had made a name for yourself. That your time here would always be miserable.
You sat by yourself on a log near the fire. Having risen earlier than usual to try and avoid the bustle of the morning. Gang members arguing over who got the first cup of coffee and whining at the taste of left-over stew for breakfast.
Most people were still asleep. The sun had only just begun to peak its head over the mountains across the distant valley. You were enjoying your moment of silence, a second to yourself to catch your breath after a horrible night of restless sleep.
As if the universe itself was against you, an almighty shriek ripped through the camp, a sudden wind, unrelated to the noise jostled tent flaps and wiped your hair around your face. If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn the breeze was a shockwave from the force of Abigail’s wrath.
You exhaled slowly, turning to look in the direction of the disturbance but still trying to be discreet lest anyone was watching.
Abigail was berating John. Absolutely tearing shreds off him as he stared at her blankly like a startled deer. He had been on his way to the fire, empty coffee cup in hand when she had caught up with him. Her mannerisms telling anyone that was watching that she was finally at the end of her tether.
You pursed your lips, turning back to the fire quickly and trying to pretend you hadn’t heard. Couldn’t still hear, the screaming and cursing.
You couldn’t blame her. It was your fault she was so high strung lately.
You listened as John tried to defend himself meekly. His arguments palling in comparison to her accusations. She had every right to be as upset with him as she was. But you felt perhaps this discussion could have happened in private instead of airing your dirty laundry for the Gang to witness.
It had been a good 6 months now since they had broken up. Amicably at first with the intensions of working things out after a trial separation. John had needed space from her constant nagging and Abigail felt she needed time away from here ‘second child.’
They kept their separation to themselves. But due to the nature of their volatile relationship it wasn’t such a secret. Abigail and Jack moved out of John’s tent and Jack had spent days crying on his bedroll. Heartbroken over his parents splitting up.
This caused frequent quarrels. Abigail arguing that John didn’t care and wasn’t doing anything to try and console the boy that everything would be fine. John arguing right back that there was nothing he could do. Why give him hope for something that may never happen?
The fact that Abigail refused to leave him in peace after their separation just pushed him further away. Even if her arguments were valid and with good intension. John felt caged. Breaking up didn’t make her stop. He couldn’t catch a break. He felt trapped with the only option being to run again.
You bit at your bottom lip, taking a sip of your coffee to seem nonchalant as more and more gang members began to rise from their tents to see what all the commotion is about. A few were looking directly at you. Their eyes squinted and full of loathing. But most were looking at Abigail and John. Watching as she paced in front of him, ranting and raving about his lack of care.
It seemed she’d had a rough night. With Jack falling ill she’s not slept a wink. Between comforting him and cleaning him up after he’s been sick, she was awake the entire night. Resentment at John’s blissfully unaware state growing by the minute as he slept right through a few tents over.
He was arguing that he didn’t know. She should have told him he was sick. Asked for help and he would have been there. Abigail was screaming back that asking him for help has never done her any good in the past so why should she start now?
John was flailing, you could see it plainly as you chanced another glance around. She was too damn angry to hear anything he had to say. You felt for her. You really did. That was, until she noticed you.
She turned on you with the fury of 3 angry bulls. She screamed your name, pointing. All eyes were on you as she shouted.
“And you! You don’t help a damn thing you homewrecker!”
Your jaw droped, unable to speak as you blinked in disbelief. She’d not spoken a word to you in months. Of course now was the time she chose to hash it all out.
“Hey!” John interjected, grabbing Abigail by the arm and spinning her back in his direction. “You leave her out of this!” He warned, eyes stern as she reeled around, hand clapping hard against the side of his face and making him falter. He let go of her, staring with wounded eyes as she took a step back. Realising what she’d just done and clearing her throat.
She opened her mouth to apologise. Her own disbelief greater than that of anybody watching. It had been a reflex. Muscle memory from her days as a prostitute. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.
John turned away, standing there for a second longer before walking away in the direction of the horses.
You watched in stunned silence as she let him go. Even the birds seemingly invested in the situation as an awry stillness descended on the whole area. The only sound the crunching of John’s boots as he stomped towards Old Boy.
He mounted up and left. Forgoing a saddle or any other tack. Hands holding tight on to Old Boy’s mane as he dug his heels into the horse’s ribs and directed him away from camp.
It took a few minutes and Abigail retreating to her lean-to to check on Jack before anyone dared to make a move. Gang members slowly exiting their respective tents and going about their business quietly. None of them bold enough to mention what had just happened for fear of Abigail over-hearing.
You stood slowly, knowing people were going to be looking in your direction regardless. They knew where you were going. What your plan was. There was no point in sitting around any longer in an attempt to try and hide it.
You moved towards your horse. Taking your time to saddle up and make sure he/she was ready for the ride before mounting up and spurring them into a trot along the path out of camp.
~~~~
You didn’t have to ride long. Knowing in your heart where John would be you had ridden towards that area, following along the fresh hoof-prints in the loose red dirt.
You turned off the beaten path, your horse whinnying in annoyance at having to walk through the brush. You petted them on the neck, promising a treat for following your direction. You know they couldn’t understand you but smiled non-the-less as they seemed to calm at the idea.
You could have left them hitched to a tree near the main road. But you ran the risk of another gang member noticing them and walking through the forest to find you.
You spotted John and Old Boy up ahead. The large Hungarian Half-bred munching happily on some greenery about 10 metres from the edge of a large cliff overlooking the valley below. John was sitting near the edge. Face in his hands as he contemplated his life thus far, oblivious to your approach.
You hitched Y/HN next to Old Boy and called out softly to alert John to your presence. He jumped slightly. Looking over his shoulder briefly before wiping at his face and letting his hands fall to his lap.
You sat down beside him, placing a familiar hand on his upper back and rubbing small, comforting circles as he glared at the ground in front of him. A large, angry mark flaring up on his cheek where Abigail had hit him.
It had been about 4 months since you’d officially started dating. Four months of absolute hell if you were being honest. But when you were alone like this, in your special spot away from camp, it was absolute bliss.
This specific situation wasn’t ideal. But you had been yearning for some alone time away from prying eyes.
Eyes that seemed to never stop watching. It was taking its toll on you. Making you regret things you shouldn’t be regretting. Questioning things, you didn’t want to be questioning.
Like was he worth it?
John seemed to follow your train of thought. Side-eying you silently as he rubbed at his cheek.
“You can go.” He said weakly. “If you want.” A long exhale following his words as he licked his lips and fell silent once more.
“I just got here.” You laughed, hand falling from its place on his back. You placed it on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly and watching as his jaw tensed. Seemingly gritting his teeth.
“No... I know.” He said softly, struggling to find the words. “I mean… You can leave. If you want to.” He paused, finally turning to look at you and realising his point had not been made. “The Gang.” He clarified. Making your brows shoot upwards in surprise.
He turned back to his hands in his lap and closed his eyes for a moment. You suspected he was waiting for your confirmation on the subject but it didn’t come.
You had been enjoying your time in the Gang up until recently. Having worked hard every day for a week to pull a con on two men you’d met in the saloon nearby. It turned out those men were actually trying to con you as well. When the truth was realised you had all had a good laugh. Dutch and Arthur inviting you to join them for a drink and upon realising you currently didn’t have a stable home, the Gang.
Everything was fantastic for a few months. You felt at home almost instantly. You made new friends, new family. You were welcomed with open arms and you had never felt so secure in your lifetime.
When you’d met John, the chemistry had been instantaneous on your part. Finding him attractive, friendly and useful to boot. You had caught him staring more than once and were relatively sure he returned your feelings. But something was off about the way he acted towards you. He had been skittish. Dancing around your attraction to him and outright avoiding any chance you’d had to be alone. It wasn’t until you’d cornered him after a night of drinking that he finally admitted he did feel something for you as well.
He was very guilty about his admission. Explaining that he was supposed to be trying to work on things with Abigail. He was struggling hard with the feeling that he knew deep down their relationship was a dead-end. Every time they were supposed to try and talk it out it ended in a fight. Abigail becoming increasingly impatient that he wasn’t ready to recommit himself to her.
He had word-vomited his darkest thoughts to you that night. Slurring about how he wanted to run away again and saw no way out. His attraction to you was the straw that broke the camels back. The last nail in the coffin of his resolve to fix things with his wife. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. But that didn’t mean he could ignore it.
He wanted to tell Abigail it was over for good. He wasn’t interested in fixing things and he felt they parented better separately anyway. She was always going on about Jack. What about Jack? How will this affect Jack? He was scared to tell her it wouldn’t. To seem callous towards his son and his feelings. He felt he was a better Father without her hanging over his shoulder.
Somewhere in the middle of his rant he had begun to cry. Head heavy with the drink, he hadn’t been able to stop his usual stoic core from breaking. Mortified by the turn of events he’d tried to pretend as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just spent half an hour rambling his sorrows to a relative stranger.
He shut himself down. Locking away his feelings and refusing to acknowledge them even after you’d both bitten the bullet and started to date a few weeks later.
He’d had to tell Abigail first. Before he could in good conscience being seeing you in earnest. He had been too afraid before your drunken talk. Terrified of ending things and risking everything he had for the sake of your rejection. But after the conformation he had been looking for, he’d found a renewed sense of courage. Letting Abigail know he was done with their romantic relationship but that didn’t mean he was walking away from Jack.
To say she hadn’t taken it well was an understatement. You had learnt swear words that day that you hadn’t previously known the existence of. She had been absolutely furious at your betrayal. Having gotten along fine before that. She’d never expected that you would pounce on her husband.
You’d both argued that had they been an item you would never had made your feelings known. But as John was for all intents and purposes, single, you felt it was alright to proposition him.
You understood where she was coming from. She had been blindsided by your interest in him. Having had it set in her mind that they would work things out and become that happy family she had always dreamed she’d have.
For the most part, the gang agreed with your argument. Tiptoeing around Abigail and letting you know that you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t until rumour started to spread about the night you confessed your feelings that things started to take a turn. It spread like wildfire and although you were both pretty confident of its origin, you couldn’t prove it anymore than you could prove you hadn’t slept together that night.
The general consensus of ‘You’ve done no wrong’ quickly changed to ‘How could you do that?’ after rumour spread that you had slept together before John had officially ended things with Abigail.
Looking back, you feared you had worsened the situation by buying into it. Telling people that even if it were true, they were still separated; had led people to believe it was true. You regretted it, more for John’s sake than your own. You thought of these people as your family. But these people were his family and had been for over half his life. The damage done by the entire situation was breaking him. You could see it in the way he looked at you. Hear it in the way he spoke.
You hated to admit it. But this morning part of you was worried you would find Old Boy hitched on the edge of the cliff and John’s mangled body at the bottom.
You looked at him now, your own teeth clenched as you tried to find the words to let him know you weren’t going anywhere. That he hadn’t risked all for nothing. You would stay and you would listen. You would wear the criticism and backhanded comments with an air of pride as long as you were making him happy.
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You whispered, shuffling closer so your sides were touching.
John jumped at the initial contact, head snapping back to look at where you’d bumped against him before he seemed to relax, turning his gaze back to the ground.
“I understand if you want to, deep down.” He mumbled, not really moving his lips as he spoke. “You wouldn’t be the only one.”
You winced at that, hand on his thigh squeezing once more as you leaned in to kiss the mark on his cheek. He jolted away out of reflex before settling himself down and letting his forehead rest on your own cheek.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re feelin’?” You asked quietly, hand coming up to run through his long hair and massage his scalp. He moaned against you softly, shuddering at the feeling.
“Not feelin’ anything.” He said against your shoulder, eyes staring blankly at the stitching on your collar.
Your lips tightened, eyes flicking towards him as you removed your hand from his head and waited. It took a few seconds before he realised you were done. Sitting back to look at you sadly as you raised your brows in question.
“What?” He asked, looking away. You could tell he wanted you to drop it. To just pretend it hadn’t happened and move on like you’d done that first night.
“What was all that about?” You asked, gesturing back in the direction of camp, his eyes rolling at your question.
“Just drop it will ya?” He asked, annoyance in his tone as he stared out over the valley. The sun now having fully risen above the mountain was tingling their skin with warmth as it worked to rise enough to shade them under the trees above.
You stayed silent, feeling the mood shift. His demeanour hadn’t changed but something was different. You didn’t want to push him too hard, lest he fling himself over the cliff in front of your eyes.
“It’s just…” He started, crossing his arms and huffing indignantly. “It’s… dumb.” He said weakly, trailing off from his train of thought.
You watched on sadly. Brows furrowed as he sniffed audibly. Shoulders shuddering momentarily before he managed to compose himself enough to stop them.
His eyes were squinting in the morning sun. Face scrunched into a scowl as he blinked back his emotions.
He obviously wanted to talk. Not sure how to go about it or if he would be judged for what he was going to say. Perhaps he stopped himself because he felt you would be offended by his statement.
“I’m sure it’s not.” You probed. Deciding that if he truly wanted you to drop it, he wouldn’t have spoken.
“I’m just…” He paused, questioning if he really had the emotional stability he would need to talk about his feelings without breaking down. He swallowed, taking a calming breath before continuing. “I’m really trying.” He said simply, voice cracking on the last word as his face crumpled and he brought his hands up to cover it.
You made a sound of acknowledgement, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing his opposite arm tightly.
He let you, too busy in his own mind to push you away. He admonished himself harshly for thinking he could vent a little bit without opening the gates entirely. It had been such a long time since he’d cried, properly cried and not just let a few tears slip when he was heavy on the drink. He’d been holding in years of unpleasant feelings and lately he’d been struggling. Feeling particularly vulnerable at inopportune times and taking playful jabs way too seriously.
He choked on his words of apology. Mumbling nonsense into his palms as he finally began to let it all out.
“I… I been tryin’ so…” He paused, stumbling over his wording. “So… hard.” He stuttered, shaking uncontrollably under the weight of his own words.
You shushed him lightly, hand squeezing soothingly as you gently pulled him towards you. He let himself fall, head resting on your chest as he huffed quietly, his breathing uneven.
Once he was resting his weight against you, you moved your hand to his back. Running the pads of your fingers lightly up and down his spine and encouraging him to breath in the same slow pattern. He obliged, slowly but surely calming as his breathing began to return to normal. His leaking eyes burning as he struggled to stop the flow of tears he regretted letting go of.
“I don’t… I don…” He stammered, cutting himself off. He already felt so damn weak. Nerves grating on the feeling of helplessness.
You shook your head, other hand coming up to run through his hair once more and then down against his unmarred cheek. You pressed lightly, encouraging him to look at you. He reluctantly did so, red rimmed eyes sheepishly averting as he caught your look of sympathy.
You could tell he was on the verge of shutting down. Composing himself and bottling it all back up until the next time, whenever that may be. All of the thoughts and feelings would come back twice as hard. Knocking against him when he least expects it and finally pushing him off the precipice he had so delicately been balancing on since long before you met him.
Since Jack was born.
“It’s okay.” You cooed, holding him tighter in an effort to make him feel safe. “You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” You whispered gently, the feeling of him slowly coming undone almost physical as his dam-wall broke apart in your arms.
He stuttered uncontrollably, breath hitching almost constantly as he tried his hardest to tell you how he was feeling. Words broken and slurred as he let you in on his darkest thoughts. His deepest fears.
“I been tryin’ so… so hard with Jack.” He cried against your breast. Pressing himself closer to you as if he could hide from your judgement. “She… she told me… I…” He stammered, cutting himself off as deep, wracking sobs overtook his ability to speak.
You shushed him lightly. Making sure to let him know it wasn’t his words you were trying to stop. You wanted to hear it all. Wanted him to let it out and get it in the open so you could calm his tears and all his insecurities.
He was mortified, you could tell by the way he kept trying to hide his face. Wiping at it irately as if being annoyed with his tears would stop them.
You supposed you would be embarrassed too if the situations were reversed. Your relationship was relatively new, even if it had already felt like a lifetime. He was scared of your judgement. Afraid you were going to leave once you’d seen what a wimp he really was.
You reassured him once more that you weren’t leaving. Making it clear you were staying put without his prompting. Hoping it felt more genuine that way.
He seemed to calm down a little after you spoke. Sobs turning to uneven breaths as you resumed running your hand up and down his back at a slow pace.
He followed your movements, long soothing breaths making him weary after his emotional collapse.
“She told me… I weren’t tryin’ hard enough with Jack.” He said finally, nearly getting through the entire sentence without a hitch. His arms wrapped around your waist loosened, falling slack as he took a deep breath and pushed himself to sit up.
You took in his dishevelled appearance, feeling a pang to your heart at the sight of him. Your hand came up automatically to brush his hair behind his ear as he turned to look at you with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.
“She said I ruined his life breakin’ up his parents. Said he’d never be happy again.” He elaborated, barely above a whisper. You smiled sympathetically, hands cupping his cheeks as you leaned into brush your lips against his. He let you, not closing his eyes as you kissed him. Wanting to see as well as feel you.
“You know that ain’t true.” You said against his lips, thumbs swiping under his eyes to wipe away some of the wetness. He paused, nodding hesitantly as if he didn’t really believe it but felt he had to agree for your sake.
“She hurt my feelings.” He admitted quietly. Voice so small you weren’t sure you had actually heard it. He looked away, pulling his face from your grip and you knew then that he had said what you thought. “I been tryin’ so hard.” He repeated for the third time. Driving home how much she had hurt him with her words and making your heart ache. You felt for him. You knew too well the pain of truly trying your hardest only to be shot down and slapped with a punishment for not putting in any effort.
“I know. I’ve seen you.” You stated as a conformation, smiling fondly to yourself at the memory him playing swords with Jack earlier in the week.
“I don’t know how to fix it.” He said simply, hands ringing together unconsciously as he worried his lip between his teeth. You frowned, taking his hands in yours and turning to face him fully.
“You don’t need to.” You stated firmly. “Jack is happy. Ain’t you heard the phrase don’t fix what’s not broke?”
John’s lips twitched at your wording. It was one of the things he loved about you. Your subtle wording that changed a common phrase ever so slightly to your own version.
“I meant… with Abigail.” He shifted uncomfortably at the admission. Your hands letting go of his as you looked at him in surprise. He grabbed at your hands frantically. Scrambling to correct himself and clarify. “Not… romantically.” He pressed. “Just… in general.”
You breathed a small sigh of relief. Closing your eyes for a second before focusing on his statement.
“You don’t have to hon.” You said softly. “You’ve been tryin’. I’ve seen you. It’s up to her to make things civil.”
John furrowed his brows. That didn’t seem quite right. He was sure it was his responsibility. She had made that clear from the start.
“I ended it. I hurt her.” He said blatantly, his tone questioning. “I have to make things right.”
You sighed, squeezing his hands tightly as you replied.
“There will be no right as long as you’re with me.”
John looked at you for a long moment. Eyes flicking between yours as he waited for more.
You watched as the realisation hit him. His red rimmed eyes beginning to water as he tensed his jaw once more. He stared at you, hurt plain as day across his face as he assessed your meaning.
“Can you live with that?” He asked, voice thick with emotion.
You took a moment to reflect. Really think about what you were going to say before you responded. To make sure you really meant it.
“Yes.” You smiled. “You’re worth it.” You said, taking his face in your hands once more and pressing your forehead against his.
You felt his cheeks rise. Teeth bumping against your lips as he attempted to kiss you through his smile.
“So are you.” He whispered.