An Unfortunate Face (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

(33.) Savior at the Rescue

You were silent for the most of the night, and Arthur had noticed.

"Come on y/n," he prodded as he nudged your leg with his. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head and rubbed your forehead. "I don't feel well," you said slowly, deliberately softening your words so they didn't come out harsh.

"You wanna head on to bed?" he smiled softly.

You felt your lip quiver at the sight of him. God, this was hard.

"You're right, I—yeah, I should," you said quietly with a sigh.

"I'll walk you to the tent," he said, offering you his hand.

"No, no, it's alright. You enjoy the fire," you smiled.

"You sure?" he asked, his eyebrows turning inward. The countdown until imminent tears started in your head.

"I'm sure," you said, getting choked up. "I love you."

You barely managed to get the last part out without crying, and just steps away from your tent you felt a tear fall.

You plopped down on your bed and covered your face with your hands, letting the tears fall freely.

You had to tell Arthur, and soon. While there was still time to prepare.

But every time you tried to picture it in your head, you just saw this heart breaking. And you just couldn't do it.

You turned over in your cot and scooted all the way to the edge so that you were facing away from the tent's opening.

Your tears soaked the pillow, and you tried to decide which would break your heart less: telling Arthur, or keeping this secret locked away forever.

***

When you woke up, Arthur wasn't next to you. It was definitely bright outside, so he shouldn't have still been by the fire.

You sat up and a wave of nausea came over you, causing you to put your head between your knees and try to ignore it.

"Please don't puke, please don't puke," you whispered to yourself, trying to talk yourself out of it.

After a minute or two, it seemed to pass. You breathed a sigh of relief and slowly moved off of the bed.

Once you stood up, you felt arguably better, and decided to get dressed.

You grabbed the first thing from your chest, which was one of your favorite pair of pants.

It went on smoothly at first, but when you tried to pull it above your waist it became harder. The pants were much tighter than they had used to be.

You sighed, looking around for something else to wear. It was becoming all too real; you really couldn't pretend this was a dream anymore.

You opted for a skirt and blouse, and styled your hair simply.

When you walked out of the tent, you felt like everyone was staring at you.

Nobody really was, of course, but your secret was eating away at you.

"This seems like suicide, Dutch, I mean—they need help, sure, but not this. You're going to kill their men and ours."

Hosea's voice was clear and nearby, and when you looked to your left, there he was. Charles, Dutch, Hosea and Arthur were all standing next to Dutch, hands in their hips and in deep conversation.