𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒅 & 𝑰 - A Billy the Kid western romance

Septicity

His presence silences people. He brings on an image that is impossible to disrespect, yet the people in his proximity know not to fear him. He isn't a merciless, cold blooded killer. Unfortunate circumstances have pulled him deep into the criminal world, way further than he can force his way back out of. Certainly, it's far too late now, but it becomes of importance to recognize that he never asked for any of this, never wanted any of this. His father's mind gave in following his family's immigration from Ireland when he was young. Tracing behind this tragic death were months upon months of battling poverty and segregation. His mother fought, hard, to keep Billy and his brother afloat. His brother then abruptly fell ill, and soon succumbed to his sickness. Eventually his beautiful mother's eyes blinked for the last time, too. Billy never cared about his growing reputation, until it eventually overtook his life. People all across the country talked about him. People he had never met knew of the things he had been forced to do, the lives he had to take, before they laid their eyes on him. The posters speak, and the oh so horrible word of mouth. The immense power words hold is troublesome, but further so is the human credulousness. His life now lies at the very bottom of the deep well that has become of his pre-decided future. 

He houses an internal battle, that I noticed already the very moment we met. The look in his eyes I now know disclosed everything about this man that I needed them to. He was worried for my life, as an innocent. He wants to harm no one, and therefore he keeps pushing me away. The sentences he spoke ring in my head every night, hindering my sleep.

His presence has transformed beautifully from unsettling to making me feel safe in this uncertain world. His soul has a heat to it that I've never felt before. Never have I been so unsure of my own feelings, either, whether they are correct and okay to feel or not. But maybe, feelings are simply never correct. They were never meant to be. Feelings are sporadic and unpredictable.

And so is love.

I know far too little still about Billy to even consider the possibility of loving him of course, so I put that thought to rest. What I do know, however, is that there is a magnetic pull between us. Maybe it's the sheer knowledge that we will destroy each other that causes it. Forbidden fruit.

As an infamous criminal, he can under no circumstance allow weakness to shine through the gaps, out toward his enemy. Therefore he cannot love. He has to force himself incapable of love to protect everyone he cares about. Nonetheless today he stands securely before me, with his broad shoulders. We have allowed ourselves the pleasure of having conversations, marginally less restraint. Our souls have unlocked somewhat, too. They have begun to braid. 

We are gravely different within. He is an overly logical being, while I occasionally allow my emotions to overthrow my otherwise well-governing methodical thought processes. Hence, we periodically fail to interplay, but we fail harmonically and beautifully, like the waves and cracks of a marble pattern.

Overlooking recent mental falters, I have always been a strong-minded, unbreakable being. I've consistently been the fastest to put my foot down in difficult situations, and I am unafraid of harsh or challenging decisions. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my family, however, I have now knowingly let something come in between my priorities and I. If I am brought to choose, I will always choose Milo. Always and forever. Despite this fact, allowing a connection to form between Billy and I may come to blur my decision making just when it comes to weight as most important.

Until I met his eyes for the first time, 

I didn't think I had an hamartia.

Now however I know,

that he is mine, and I am his.