John sat sullenly, cleaning his revolver. Occasionally, he glanced at you and Arthur. The two of you were sitting by the fire, chatting sweetly about something, clearly flirting. Or at least that's what John thought, because you kept laughing every now and then, nudging the man. The sound of your giggles made John stomach churn. You hardly even smile at him now, but Arthur seems to make you happy. Guess, I lost to Morgan on that one. He thought, sighing.

John is the one to blame for this. He's the one who left the gang after all. During John's absence, you and Arthur became close. Awfully close, John would say.

He didn't know how to fix everything with you. He used to like you before, seemed like you felt the same way. But now? You'd rather spend your time with Morgan than him. You haven't even talked to him much since he came back. John had to admit that he felt rather miserable, pining for you silently like that.

On the next day John sees Arthur mounting his horse to leave, that's his golden opportunity to try and talk to you. You're combing your horse's mane, humming softly to yourself when John comes up to you.

“What, Morgan didn't take you on the ride with him?” he asks, reaching out to pat your horse's forelock, making the animal snort.