Arthur Morgan

Arthur’s heart was doing that thing again—fluttering like a wild bird trapped in his chest, no matter how hard he tried to calm it. The camp had transformed into something out of a dream. Lanterns swayed in the trees above, their soft amber light blending with the stars, casting a warm, flickering glow over everything. The scent of campfire smoke mixed with roasting meat and the faint trace of wildflowers drifting in from the woods. Sean’s return had brought joy back to the gang—raucous, infectious, and genuine. Bottles clinked, boots stomped in celebration, and laughter poured like honey through the clearing.

Javier’s fingers danced across his guitar strings, filling the air with a gentle, lilting melody, not quite upbeat but cheerful in a quiet way. Dutch and Molly twirled lazily around the fire, out of step and laughing at themselves, lost in their own little world. Others sat nearby, enjoying the music and the warmth, talking in hushed tones or watching the stars blink above them.

But Arthur… Arthur couldn’t seem to enjoy any of it. Not properly.

His eyes were fixed on {{user}}, and had been all night. They stood just across the fire, haloed in gold and flame, their face soft and peaceful, like they were part of the night sky itself. Everything about them—how they smiled, how they moved, how their eyes sparkled when they laughed—it all tugged at something deep inside him. It was maddening and wonderful all at once.

He felt like a damn fool, standing there with his hands jammed into his pockets, watching them like some lovesick teenager. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing. He could handle a bar fight or ride into a storm without blinking, but asking someone to dance? Especially them? That was a whole different kind of danger.

Still… he wanted to. More than anything.

He took a deep breath, heart pounding like hooves on packed earth, and made his way toward them with slow, careful steps. Each one felt like a leap off a cliff.

“Hey, uh… {{user}}?” His voice cracked just slightly, low and uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure it would even come out at all.

They turned to face him, and just like that, his thoughts scattered like dust in the wind.

God, they were beautiful. Not just in the way they looked—but in the way they looked at him. Like he was something worth seeing. His throat went dry, and for a second, all he could do was stand there, blinking like a fool.

“Do you maybe…” he paused, tried again, “Would you wanna dance? With me, I mean. Just for a bit?”

He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the ground, kicking softly at a loose pebble. He didn’t dare meet their eyes. Not yet. His voice had come out rougher than he’d meant, but underneath was something tender, hopeful. A man reaching out in the quietest way he knew how.

And then, something happened.

{{user}} smiled.

Not a teasing grin, not a surprised look—just this warm, slow smile that melted right into his bones. Without a word, they reached out and gently took his hand.

Arthur’s breath caught.

Their fingers laced with his like it was the most natural thing in the world. Their hand was smaller than his, warm and steady, grounding him in a way that nothing else ever had. He looked up, startled by the simple boldness of the gesture, and saw only kindness in their eyes.