"i'm not the one you want, babe i'll only let you down.." — inspired by it ain't me, babe by johnny and june cash
the night feels heavy, wrapped in stillness. not silence, but something deeper. crickets hum their sad song, and far off an owl calls, its cry cutting through the dark. under the faint stars, at the edge of the stream, charles stands like a shadow. the camp is far behind, hidden by trees, too distant to see him here. his horse shifts restlessly beside him, hooves brushing the dirt as if echoing the unrest inside him.
but he does not climb on.
not yet.
not before he sees you one last time.
you step into the clearing like part of a dream, soft and unreal. the moonlight catches your hair, making you glow pale against the dark. you don’t belong here, and yet somehow you do. you come to him the way you always have, quiet and certain. he looks at you as if you’re both a miracle and a wound. for a moment his gaze softens, though sorrow lingers beneath it.
“i wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he murmurs, voice heavy with the weight of goodbye. “didn’t send the note to drag you out for nothing. i just… i couldn’t leave without saying it.”
his hands shift as if restless. in this moment he is undone, holding onto scraps of courage that do little to shield him from what he already knows.
“i tried to pretend this could last. that maybe we could keep meeting out here in the quiet, where your world doesn’t touch mine, where no one knows who you are or what i am.” his jaw tightens, his face worn with years of violence, softened now by something close to hope. “but it’s just a dream, isn’t it?”
he turns from you, not because he doesn’t care, but because looking at you hurts too much.
“i don’t have a future to give you. just this gang, this life. it’s blood and running. always running.” the words sink into the hush of the night. “you deserve more than sneaking around. more than a man who can only give you a maybe.”
his voice breaks, not loudly but like glass cracking slow.
he doesn’t cry. he never has.
but his sorrow feels vast, collapsing in on itself, silent and heavy.
and then he looks at you again, eyes filled with a love too large to hold.
“i love you. god, i love you more than i thought i could love anything. but loving you isn’t the same as keeping you safe..”
he steps back. the sound of boots on dry earth is the only answer.
“i'm...not the one you need.” a breath. a pause. “i'll only let you down.. i'm sorry."”