Javier's Chico

9.

John always wondered what was going on inside Javier's head. Easily, he was the quietest of the gang, even now that he knew enough English to have a conversation with others, he still preferred to sit alone with his son beside him, exchanging words in Spanish. John wondered what the two talked about, what Mateo said that made him smile, or what Javier said that made Mateo laugh so hard his cheeks would hurt.

John would be lying if he said he didn't feel anything for the other man. He was so beautiful and mesmerising to watch, he loved hearing Javier talk to his son in his native tongue or sing away to himself while he worked, John had no idea what he was saying but that's what made it so amazing. And he always noticed how he prioritised Mateo over anything, he was such a good person, he couldn't imagine why he was so hated in his country fighting for what was right.

"Quit your staring, creep." Arthur came from nowhere, hitting John's hat off his head as he walked past. Javier was sitting alone, Mateo fast asleep in his tent. He trusted the gang enough to let Mateo nap on his own, that boy was extremely clingy. Javier just...sat there, not doing anything, looking out across the water with his legs crossed.

"Quiet feller, ain't he?" John nodded in Javier's direction to gesture at him. He pulled out a box of cigarettes with just four remaining, flicking a match against his boot to light one. His lungs dragged in a mouthful of smoke, coughing a little as he breathed it back out.

"Sure. I get it. He ain't had no one to speak to for a long time." The young man's shoulders raised and lowered as he sighed, grabbing a rock and skimming it across the water. He'd been there for an hour or so after putting Mateo down for a nap, he hadn't moved since.

John was itching to sit with him, wether he wanted to sit in silence or have a conversation. It didn't feel like the right time though, if he wanted a conversation, he wouldn't be sat alone. Still, he had to wonder what Javier was thinking about. Home, for sure, he said many times already that he missed his home and his family, perhaps he was thinking about his wife, Mateo's mother. Or even small things about his country; the people there, his house, his village. He was in a country that didn't want him there, where he didn't understand anyone while trying to take care of an infant boy. Shit, that guy had it rough. But he still laughed and smiled and put his child first, and he never showed his vulnerability around his son, he kept a smile on his face and put one on Mateo's too.

"Why don't you take a beer over? I don't think I seen him drink, hell, he needs one." Arthur suggested, it wasn't a bad idea. John found himself drinking when things were hard yet he too couldn't recall a time he saw alcohol touch Javier's lips.

"I don't think disturbing him is such a good idea. Leave him be."

"Little Johnny Marston," Arthur scoffed, earning a harsh look from his younger brother, "Since when did you care about this kinda stuff?"

His face turned red, those thoughts rushing back to his head again. Javier's face, his smile, those big, sorrowful eyes. He just wanted to hold and—no, he didn't want that. Javier was a man, it was plain wrong, these disgusting thoughts would pass soon enough. "Don't want the guy to punch me, is all. I'd punch me if I disturbed myself." He spat out rather abruptly.

"...Alright. Just quit starin' at him so much, it's creepy." And with that, Arthur left.

John felt sick. He was not supposed to feel this way. And he wanted to go over to Javier, get to know him a little more, but he would say the wrong things. What do you say to a man who lost everything? Who was exiled from his home and stuck where no one wanted him? He would only make things worse.

What if he said the wrong things and Javier ran off? Where would he even go? Dutch was the only man who respected Javier, who picked him up and fed and clothed him when everyone else just walked past. Where would he take Mateo? He wouldn't be safe out there. They'd be robbed or killed just like Isaac and Eliza, only this time, John would be the one to blame. He was thinking too much, bad thoughts flooding his brain. He turned to walk away when he heard a quiet sob from Javier's tent.

He walked over, looking back at Javier who hadn't heard Mateo, before he decided to enter. It was warm in the tent, the blankets strewn all over the place with Mateo in the centre of them. His big sad eyes looked up at John, not like they had a few weeks ago when Mateo was afraid, but he looked at John differently now.

He put his arms in the air, reaching out for the man to hold him. "Ah, kid...This ain't really my.." His words trailed off, Mateo whined and cried even more the longer John took. "Alright, c'mere then." He wasn't a very heavy kid, sweaty, that was for sure. His curly hair flattened against John's shoulder, while sucking on his thumb to soothe himself while John did his best. He did what he saw Javier do; cradle the boy, pat his back, hum to him. He didn't know what the hell to do.

"Estoy cansado.." When Mateo was too tired, he'd slip back into Spanish, thankfully he'd said that phrase enough for John to understand what he was saying.

"Cansado..." He muttered back, "You're tired. Why'd you wake up if you're tired?"

"I not...no sé como decirlo.."  Mateo let out a tired yawn, curling his tiny body against John's chest. "Stay, John..?"

A clingy kid he was. Anywhere Javier went, Mateo was not far behind. He never slept away from Javier for more than an hour before somehow, even in unconsciousness, he'd know Javier wasn't with him. Who could blame him though? But for some reason, he didn't cry out for Javier, he stayed perfectly relaxed in John's arms. He had no idea what he was doing—was there a certain way he should be holding him?

"Ay, Mateo.." Javier came over quietly, finally noticing what was going on. He went straight to his papá, whining at the movement but near enough falling asleep as soon as Javier held him, his fingers in his son's curly hair, and his other arm holding all of his weight. "Sorry, John. I was distracted."

"No, it's okay.." He softly laughed, his hand touching Mateo's back. The sleepy boy looked up at both men. "I was just worried when he was cryin'."

"He wakes up sometimes...Bad dreams. It happened many times." One more sleepy whine from Mateo and Javier had walked off to his tent, "Back to sleep, cariño."

"¿Papá, cantar Cielito Lindo?"

"You will sleep if I sing?" The boy nodded.

Javier lay his boy back in the mound of blankets, picking up his guitar and testing each string before he started to play. John hadn't heard him play very much, most of the time Dutch had John on guard duty and by the time he was retired of it, Javier had too gone to bed. He knew he made a good move buying him that guitar.

"De la Sierra Morena, Cielito lindo, vienen bajando.." His voice...John could only describe as angelic. He'd heard this song a few times while he was guarding camp, but this time, Javier added a certain softness to it to lull Mateo to sleep.

"Ay, ay, ay, ay, Canta y no llores.." Within just a minute of Javier's song, Mateo was fast asleep, curled up under a blanket with his thumb still in his mouth. It grossed Javier out but he never tried to stop it. His voice reduced to a hum as his hand stroked over Mateo's sleeping body, finally nestling once again in his hair.

"Wow. You have a really nice voice." John's face turned red as he said that, looking away from Javier's gaze instantly.

The younger man laughed quietly at John's awkwardness. He never really struck Javier as an awkward or nervous guy. "Thank you. This song is very...what's the word? That everybody sings. Mateo heard it one time, in the plaza back home, and he loved it. We sing it together every night when we left Mexico."

"Your English is gettin' better. You been practicing?"

"Ah, yes. With Hosea and Dutch. And Hosea says he will teach Mateo to read soon. I would teach him...but I can't read well."

"You can read?"

"Yes, just very bad."

John looked back at Javier, he had to say something. These feelings were wrong. He shouldn't be looking at Javier and feeling these things, but he couldn't help it. And even if Javier did say yes to what would be a very awkward conversation, what about Mateo? John wasn't ready for that sort of responsibility.

But that day wouldn't come, because these thoughts felt so wrong. Javier had a wife, he had a son. John felt like such a fool, but still, he couldn't shake these sinful thoughts from his head.