Better Not Look Down - Red Dead Redemption II

Part 10 - You coming with John and I, blondie?

Javi lay beside the fire, it was him and only him. Everyone else was still dead asleep besides John, who sat by the congregation of horses with a rifle wedged between his knees and an oil-soaked cloth stroking the barrel. Much as Arthur had stroked himself the night before. Had John seen? Had everyone seen what Arthur did? Was it all a sick joke?

The sun was just barely above the trees when Arthur awoke. Usually, Javi would be sleeping beside Sean, but Sean was nowhere in sight. The brunette was alone beside the dead fire. The thought of Javi being single sent a chill down Arthur's spine. He thought: He's alone... Ripe for the picking.

"Have you seen Sean around?" Arthur asked John, trying to sound nonchalant. It worked.
"He and Karen left last night. You can connect the dots about what they were up to," John explained, not taking his eyes off the gun he polished so carefully.
"I can guess," Arthur shifted his gaze over to Javi, still sleeping. The urge to get closer was stronger than ever. "You really think Sean and Karen got together? Karen's one hell of a woman, I wouldn't think Sean would be able t' handle allat."

"They were about an inch away from ripping each other apart by the fire. Well actually, Karen was gonna rip him apart. He seemed real happy with that idea though," John chuckled. "Makes me feel bad for Javi. Usually, he and Sean are inseparable."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Do you think Sean and Javi are bedfellows?" the words made the blonde's heart pound hard. The thought of Javi with someone else was intolerable. No matter how stupid Arthur found his annoyance.
"If they are, it's over now I reckon."
"Maybe. Javi and Sean do spend an awful lot of time together. They must be close."
"Why do you care, don't you hate Garcia's guts?"
"I do hate him. He's loud and he's annoying," Arthur looked away, his mind still ravaged by thoughts of Javi.

John looked up and immediately stopped dead in his tracks.
"Oh. Wow, someone had a good night," Marston scoffed, pointing to Arthur's jeans. On them was the dried residue from his alley venture. White and crusted like dried blood, there to remind him of how far he had fallen into Javi. Red blossomed on his cheeks, staring at the stain as if his gaze would make it go away.

He prided himself on his privacy, never before had Arthur ever even alluded to his sexual desires or rarely, his escapades. It had no basis. There was no need to be so secretive about himself, but he was. It started when he was young and first coming into the throes of manhood. Every boy his age spoke of women. Of their breasts, their vaginas, their lips, and their legs on rare occasion.

It was strange to him—to feel so disconnected from those he should have the most commonalities with. Was there something wrong with him? Was he abnormal for his lack of overt sexuality?

Arthur had never even enunciated he was desiring someone, he was never able to make the first move. Mary had to tell him to take her to dinner, and even then she had to repeat it. Arthur told himself: You're a coward, you ugly bastard.
He held a gun with ease, and he had shot enough men to fill the Grand Canyon; Yet, he lacked the confidence to do something as simple as asking for someone's hand.

So, there he sat. No more confident of his sexual desire than before, covering stains that ripped his privacy from his throat. He found himself trying to play it off, and unlike his casual demeanor prior to the stain, he failed.
"I just... spilled something. It's nothing," Arthur sputtered as his heartbeat quickened, fear and embarrassment flooding his mind. John could not know the truth, no one in camp could ever know.
"Uh huh, go change. Jack doesn't need to see ol' Uncle Arthur with come stains," John sighed. The usual attitude in his tone. The blonde walked off, embarrassed and exposed. His mind was a blur of conflicting emotions. Everything was everywhere all at once.

As if things could not get any more convoluted, he found a letter beside his cot.

Dear Arthur,