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In the middle of the night, you tossed and turned in your bed, pulling the blanket tightly over your shoulders to try and provide some comfort. Realizing it would be another sleepless night, you reluctantly crawled out of your tent and walked over to the edge of camp. Standing on the small beach at Clemens Point, feeling the chilly air hitting your face and heating the small waves crashing and breaking, you felt a sense of calm. The feeling was interrupted abruptly by the stinging sound of a sharp blade scraping against something. A rock probably.
You looked over at the source of the noise, seeing a figure leaning against a tree with a knife in one hand and a whetstone in the other, sliding the two against one another. It must've been Micah. He never slept, or at least, never slept at camp without getting black-out drunk first.
You decided to talk to him, not having any other options aside from being alone.
“Micah…“
You greet him and sit down on a box that was nearby.
“Hm…“ He grunts, strangely quiet. His white, wide brimmed Big Valley hat covered the top half of his face and cast a shadow over the rest, so you weren't sure what he was looking at or what exactly his expression was.
“You, uh… You doing alright?“ You usually wouldn't be bothered to ask about Micah's feelings, or even talk to him willingly, but you got the sense something was wrong tonight.
He didn't respond, but you noticed the grip on his knife handle got slightly tighter, and he started grinding the blade onto the smooth stone a little harder. He seemed to get more frustrated with each slice of the metal against the rock.
“I said, are you alright? What's wrong with you?" You raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you care?..” He sounded like he was trying to seem bored, but he was actually thinking about something. Either way, he probably didn't want to tell you.
“You seem quiet. What's up?"
“What business is it of yours, huh? Nothing's wrong." He suddenly sounded defensive, still not looking up at you.
You flinch slightly at his tone, remembering Micah was a dangerous man who hurt people with no remorse. It would be a bad idea to make him even more upset than he already was. However, you keep persisting.
“Just askin’. You don't have to be a dick…“
“What business is it of yours?" He repeated and looked up slightly, his icy blue eyes peeking out from under the brim of his hat. Those eyes usually held so much disdain and annoyance, but now they seemed a bit… Softer. More emotional. That couldn't be right…
You paused for a moment. Something was wrong. If he was feeling alright, he would've responded with some snarky, rude or creepy comment. You stood up and walked a bit closer, your eyes scanning his figure.
“What is it?.." You asked in a softer tone.
Again, he didn't respond, just freezing and staring at you for a moment. For a split second, his expression softened, but then just went back to somewhat aggressively sharpening his knife. After a moment, you sighed and gave up, figuring he wouldn't tell you no matter how much you tried.
You shrugged and stood up to walk away, but suddenly felt a large, weathered hand grabbing your bicep. Micah pulled you back towards him, his hat now tilted up so you could see his face. His expression told you he was almost on the verge of tears, deeply hurt by a thought or a memory. He pulled you to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. He smelt like whiskey, tobacco, and some kind of wood.
He didn't talk as he did this, and you didn't either. You simply stood there in shock, unable to comprehend that Micah Bell of all people was hugging you. His bottom lip quivered a bit, and he held you a bit tighter, although stiffly, like he wasn't sure how to do it properly. You didn't know what was causing him to act like this. For whatever reason though, he trusted you enough to be this… vulnerable… around you. That was not a word you would usually use to describe the outlaw usually, but right now, it seemed fitting.
You reached up and gently grabbed his hat, pulling it off his head and letting it fall to the ground. Micah tensed a bit but didn't protest, and when you began gently running your fingers through his blonde hair, he leaned into the touch ever so slightly. He still seemed hesitant to fully accept your comfort, like he wanted this but wasn't sure how to give in.
After a couple moments, you decided to speak up.
“What's wrong?..”
The outlaw hesitated, but eventually went through with his decision to tell you.
"I, uh… Got a letter from my brother… I'd rather not get into the details…”
He muttered. You nodded in understanding. Micah had spoken about his brother, Amos, before. He talked about how they used to run together as outlaws with their father, and about their eventual falling out. Apparently, the brothers were close, but after their father died, his brother left Micah to start a family and become a lawman.
“Been thinking about my daddy too… Him and all the cruel shit he did… Suppose it… rubbed off on me…”
Micah mumbled and you listened. He wasn't a man deserving of much sympathy, but you could see what he meant. Being an outlaw was all he ever knew, it would be hard for him to change.
“Hm… Well…” You were unsure of how to deal with this. You didn't wanna lie to him and say he was a good person despite all he went through, but you also didn't want to make him feel worse.
"You're here now… With us... We need everyone... Even you, Micah...”
He hugged you a bit tighter at that, closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a quiet sigh.
Despite knowing what kind of man Micah was, you couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic towards him at this moment. It was clear he was going through something, and he trusted you enough to let you comfort him somewhat.
He stayed silent for a little while longer, before finally pulling away. He cleared his throat and seemed to be going back to normal. If anything, he looked soothed and even a bit tired.
“Thanks…” He grumbled and looked down, picking up his hat and covering his face with it again. You smiled, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat. “It's nothing…”
Before you left to give him some space, you leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his cheek. You weren't sure of why you did that, but it felt right in the moment. It seemed to help put Micah at ease. It was only for a second, though, before you walked away back to your tent to attempt to get some rest.
You didn't stick around long enough to see, but under his hat, Micah's face grew a little more red. Thanks to you and your comforting words, he managed to get some proper sleep for the first time in a while.