His passion was gone, the fire had died out.

While the rest of the gang — or whatever was left of it — slept, he stared at the empty space before him, the mattress creaking every time your knee dug into it to reach the wounds across Javier's back. The shot he received on his leg was nothing compared to the lashes he had received on his back.

Guarma.

Terrifying place that reminded him of unpleasant times, and for a few moments his fingers itched with the wish to reach for a cigarette, but he remained painfully still as you tended to his wounds, humming a low song under your breath.

Oh, how he missed his guitar.

Javier's mood soured a little when he was reminded that he had also left that behind when trusting Dutch's plan. Another robbery, more money, more means to attempt and salvage something that couldn't be salvaged. But he was loyal, yes, until the very end, and he would remain loyal even if it took his life.

A wince parted from his lips when you pressed too harshly into one of his injuries, the contact making him jolt away from your touch.

"Ai, careful, cariño. You'll make me scream like that."

The term of endearment left his tongue before he could stop it, and he could feel you halt behind him before you resumed your work. It was something he had never realized before, but each time he called you a nickname you seemed to hesitate.

Maybe it was the fact that Javier still held a long lost love in his heart, even after all of these years. He had tried to open up to you, act like you were the second chance he needed... but Javier knew, despite your efforts to fix the broken pieces of his heart, that it could only ever belong to someone who was not you.

It was unfair, he knew, to keep you around and waiting for him to ever reciprocate your feelings when he would never let go of the past, but how could he ever let go of you?