'If you love me hardcore,
Then don't walk away -
It's a game, boy- I don't wanna play;
I just wanna be yours, like I always say:
'Never let me go''

------

You were admittedly glad to see the first hints of the morning sunrise after the terribly demoralising day that was yesterday.

The first chirps of the early morning birds brought you from your bed, and to the edge of the sheer cliff. The morning seemed still, the first light was clear and a grey white – not sunny, as if a collection of clouds veiled the crests of the mountains.

Just simply taking in a breath of that crisp, clean air – filled your head with a moment's clarity. Yesterday was a mess, from start to finish. You were hoping now you could start to move forwards, and avoid Micah for as long as you possibly could.

The fresh country air that swirled around you was chilly, and the gentle breeze curled it's arms around you – forcing your small hands to clutch your shawl that bit tighter around your person. Today didn't feel like it would match the heat of the previous few days.

A scant sound of movement rustled behind you; and feeling much like a skittish rabbit fleeing a fox – your jarred your head quickly back to take a look. Your heart both seemed to quicken and cease beating all at the same time in that mere second you set your (eye colour) eyes on him.

"Arthur?" you whispered quizzically, trying not to sound too shocked or enthralled by seeing him there. The man was stood to the back of the tents, nothing identifiable about his expression as he stood there, large arms crossed over his broad chest – blue shirt clinging to him painfully perfectly.

"I want to show you somethin' today." He said, his tone of voice collected – and the rather vague statement sent your mind reeling into a spiralling course of confusion. The gunslinger gestured his head to you slightly, uncrossing his arms.

"I'll leave you to get ready, then come find me." he said simply, and turned to walk away, boots treading through the dewy morning grass.

Just what did that mean?

Left to ponder over the thoughts, you took yourself back to your small area, and get yourself ready for whatever Arthur had in mind. However despite the level of concern you had over the transparency of his words, the excitement was still quietly bubbling away under the surface.

---

The rest of the camp were just about stirring by the time you had readied yourself, pulling your (hair colour) locks back into the tidiest bun you could manage – and throwing on one of your more simpler linen dresses that you often wore for days just working around the camp. Knowing Arthur, he'd have you rolling around in dirt hunting animals or something.

You sincerely hoped it wasn't that.

Your gaze didn't have to search long to find him, as Arthur had propped himself up by the hitching post Phantom was tied to, and as usual – Mr Morgan was scribbling away in that journal of his.

"I hope you are writing lots of horrible things about Micah in there." You started as you approached him, beginning to feel a lot less tense by the simple display of a smile from the handsome man. Arthur chuckled at your words sneakily, tucking the worn old leather bound book back into his oak brown satchel.

"I could fill a whole damn journal with crap about Micah." Arthur replied to you, the smile lingering on his face like the warmth of a pleasant summer day. You found yourself lost in your favourite expression of his, before guiding yourself back down to earth.

"Come on, we need to head away from camp." Arthur started, moving around the hitching post to begin to sort Phantom out.

Now you were really wondering just what was going on... could this be... the moment you were finally waiting for? Your heart thudded madly, and you scolded yourself for getting your hopes so high.

You reminded your brain to steady your thoughts, so giddy and excitable like a fresh young horse, whilst you busied yourself with tacking up Boxer ready for the apparent ride you were due to go out on.

The next five minutes or so were wordless as the pair of you mounted the two very different horses, and headed out of the camp down the marked trail. As you had turned Boxer to follow Arthur and Phantom, you swore you could feel everyone's eyes burning holes through you. You imagined lots of whispers and idea that the others may've had, seeing you and Arthur heading out alone.

Phantom marched on at the front, the horse was throwing it's head about in a misbehaving manner as if it wanted to bolt at the next given opportunity- but you had seen Arthur had a way with that horse, and most horses too. He was a talented rider, strong and commanding but also gentle and empathetic towards the animals. You admired it a lot, considering you had always enjoyed being around animals... well, except for wolves.

"Calm down, you wily bastard-" Arthur started half jokingly, half halting on Phantom's reigns. "I don't ride him for a day and he's like this..." he called back to you with a small chuckle.

In that very moment, the feeling settled in with you, that you felt as If you were out riding with a completely different Arthur. It was so refreshing, so lovely – and reminiscent of the enchanting man you had spent a night by the campfire with.

"Perhaps you should invest in a better bridle... a stronger bit, maybe?" you called to Arthur who was a few paces in front of you. Secretly, you smirked down at the calm and collected energy that was Boxer – plodding along, unphased and content. You patted the soft coat of fur on his neck.

"Nah – I'll wait til he bucks me off or somethin' – then I'll think about it." Was the response you received, and you could not say you were surprised.

After following Phantom's half-jog down the hill, the pair of you reached the vast grassland beside the rushing white river.

"Here's just good." Arthur called, bringing Phantom to a reluctantly halt and swinging himself from the saddle. With a less-enthusiastic couple of steps, Boxer parked himself near Phantom – and you were able to dismount and leave your horse to snack away on the lush green grass underneath him.

The sound of the river's current was almost strong in your ears, and then above the sun was shrouded by a thick mass of dark grey, ominous looking clouds. You had been observing the environment to distract yourself once again from the fact you were alone with Arthur, and hoping he would finally have a proper talk with you.

"Now," Arthur started, having been grabbing some things out of Phantom's saddle bag. You heard chinking, as if there was glass being bashed together?

Your eyes then noted the brown-ish coloured bottle in Arthur's hands, and you frowned slightly. What exactly was going on?

"Arthur... why am I here, exactly?" you asked, a confident and gathered tone to your voice. You watched attentively as the cowboy placed the three individual bottles on a large boulder that was nested firmly in the grass just to the front of you.

"Because..." Arthur started, after tweaking the position of the final bottle – taking a few long-strided steps back to meet at your side. From here you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you, forcing you to look up.

"Dutch asked me to help get you trained up on using a gun. With all these O Driscoll's hangin' around, we want you to know how to handle them if you ever did get into trouble." He explained, looking down at you with those rainy blue eyes. You hoped you weren't externalising your current feelings, because you were sure if you did – you'd be pouting a childish sulk. You felt foolish again for running off with your heart and feelings.

Arthur reached to the side of his hip, where one of his revolvers sat nestled in it's holster.

"Here," he started, taking your hand and placing the gun firmly in your palm. The contact soon snapped your attention back. "I want you to shoot those three bottles – right now." He instructed you with his drawling tones.

You sensed him take a few steps back, to leave you alone – feeling like a child in the spotlight.

A lump of uncertainty gathered in your throat whilst your shaky arms faltered to raise the weapon in your hand. This didn't feel right at all, you wielding a weapon that so far had only caused destruction in your life.

"Go on, (name)," Arthur encouraged behind you. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Just pretend it's someone you really hate."

That was encouragement enough for your brain to imagine a little hat on those bottles, a stupid big moustache and an annoying nasally, condescending voice.

"Fucking Micah." You hissed to yourself quietly, and aimed at the middle bottle. Your finger hit the trigger, and with a loud crash the bullet expelled from the metal barrel – flying through the air at speed your eye could not follow. All you knew was, next minute, the thing clipped the rock beside the bottle – just missing it. The brown glass bottle clattered as it spun slightly from the near miss motion.

"Damn it." You groaned, and tortured yourself by hearing Micah's laughter as if he was really there – laughing at how much of a failure you are.

"Well I'd say that was pretty damn good for a girl who ain't shot before." Arthur's voice rang with praise, and he walked up beside you. Your heart lifted madly to his words... you hoped this wasn't just all a fake nicety... you so wanted him to just be real and genuine with you.

"But I can see where ya' went wrong." Morgan advised, and in a matter of an unfathomable moment – he was right there behind you, pressed against your back ever so slightly. Oh that closeness, how you shamefully wallowed in it. His handed guided your arm to the correct level, the touch gentle with just enough pressure to manoeuvre your arm's position.

"Take a better look now at where you wanna shoot." He said, his voice almost hushed by your ear.

"Breathe in and focus on your target," Arthur also added, " and then breathe out- always try to shoot with no air in your lungs." He instructed finally with that soft voice that had your mind straying to other things besides the task at hand. Arthur eventually stepped back again, and it did make you feel lost in a peculiar manner. Still, you focused through this mad rush of busy thoughts and acted on his instruction.

This time at your finger clicked down onto the trigger, the bullet went whizzing straight through the core section of the bottle – sending splinters and shatters of glass whizzing through the air.

The sound of the clattering glass made you throw your arms up in excitement, turning back to look at Arthur who stood there looking smug, hand resting on his belt.

"Did you see that? I did it!" you called with a child like excitement, that Arthur couldn't help but start grinning back at you.

"You did, and you should be proud," he started, walking over to you to prise the gun from your hand. "But your potential future targets ain't all gonna be beer bottles." He scorned in a playful fashion, as he slid the gun back into the holster.

God... why couldn't he of been like this all the time?

Arthur eventually lifted his gaze to look at you, the softest and most boyish smile on his face you had ever seen.

All of this- the lesson, the looks, the gentle touches masqueraded by some damn gun technique – it had your head spinning... just what did he really want.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur's mind was very much trawling over the same thing. Something about this day had him feeling like this really could be his moment.

The pair of you both opened your mouths at the same time – faltered by a single loud booming sound that reverberated through the skies above. Thunder.

No less than a few moments later, has the first fat droplets of rain began to fall. In the passing seconds, they only grew heavier – and the few drops turned into a full slant of cold rain.

You had both pelted for the horses, grabbing their reins and running to the nearest patch of trees for cover.

It was the type of rain where it was hard to see, and within a few seconds it had soaked you to the skin. Not to mention the ever-loudening grumbles of thunder from the sky were spooking the horses.

A generous amount of relief was felt by all once you reached the cover of the trees, half guarded from the onslaught of the downpour.

Tying the horses up to a low, sturdy branch – yourself and Arthur exchanged a look at one another – and proceeded to burst out laughing. You both were drenched, soaked to the skin in the few seconds you had been subjected to the rain.

"Well ain't this just dandy!" you chorused, taking a look at your dress – it felt heavy on your body from all it water it had taken on.

"I can think of better things." Arthur smirked, taking a long look at himself before he met your smiling expression of disbelief at the situation.

The moment in which the pair of you simply shared a light-hearted laugh, clothes soaked – was such a simple moment of unadulterated happiness.

Arthur recognised that there was no better time than now.

And so, you watched the smile drain from his expression a little – and a look of gentle uncertainty replace it.

"Y'know," Arthur started, "I just wanna say that I... I have enjoyed my time with you today, (name)." his tone was unmissably shaky, "A-and... I wanna apologise for the way I've been actin'. I've been anythin' less than what a man should be." He went on with a remorseful tone, but not once did he look away from your gaze.

There you were, enraptured in his eyes – hanging onto every word that acted as a rope – pulling you closer and closer towards your dream.

The gunslinger sighed, a slightly painful sigh at that.

"I just... I just wish I had spoken to you sooner... but truth is... I ain't the bravest feller when it comes to stuff like this." He went onto say. Your short breaths were lodged in your throat when he took hold of your freezing wet hands in his own.

"I been speakin' to Dutch, and he made me realise that I can't keep goin' on being afraid of losing everythin'." Arthur elaborated, holding your hands tightly. The look in your eyes was so hopeful, it probably told him everything he needed to know.

"Cause truth is... I really like you." Arthur uttered softly, his voice a beautiful mix with the prevalent sounds of rainfall. "And I don't want to push you away no more."

He fell silent then, a searching look in his gaze. There it was, the moment you had been dreaming of for weeks on end – all blurted out in this oddly beautiful moment. The most you could come at the moment, was to throw your arms around him – as you felt beyond speech.

His clothes were cold against your skin, but after a few seconds you could feel the warmth of his body underneath. You crushed your face against his chest, so glad you had finally got to hold him like you had wanted to.

"I wish you'd just spoken to me sooner..." you whispered against him, feeling his strong, protecrive arms snake around your smaller frame. You looked up at him, a doe-eyed innocent look about your (eye colour) eyes that Arthur adored. "I've been crazy these past few weeks... not knowing where I stand with you... how you feel."

"Young Jack gave the game away, I thought that might be enough." Arthur replied with a snigger, and recalling the memory of Jack embarrassing him, you cracked a smile.

"I'm not going to go off the word of a young boy, Mr Morgan." You scorned playfully, your eyes full of teasing, and especially happiness. "I am just so relieved we had this talk." You responded, squeezing your arms around him tightly.

But where did you go to now? – You thought to yourself as you uncoiled your arms from around him. Would he still be the same about not wanting anyone to know?

"We should be headin' back now." Arthur instigated, listening to hear the harsh thundering of the rain had calmed down to a gentle chorus of drips.

Your question bothered you all the way back up the hill towards camp, as you thought about just exactly how he wanted to play this.

"... so... are we keeping this a secret?" you called from Boxer's back, the horse's fur spiked almost from being wet. Arthur glanced over at you, Phantom walking at Boxer's passing after the heavy rain deterred his mood.

"Well, how about – if they ask... then we can say.... If not, we don't have to shout it out." He shrugged with a smile, spearing very nonchalant and relaxed. You could tell him confessing to you had been a big weight off his shoulders. "It's up to you."

This was a comforting thought, that further affirmed to you that this was how it was supposed to feel. Normal, relaxed... yet still exciting and dangerous. You were in love with an outlaw for gods sake... but at least now you could tell the gang if you wanted to.

"I shall have a little think about that..." you replied with a self-assured smirk, knowing Arthur was looking at you whilst the pair of you rode back to camp.

"Whilst I practice my shot on Micah." Was added soon after, resulting another series of laughter from the handsome outlaw riding beside you.

You knew from that moment, Arthur's laughter would definitely one of your favourite sounds.