John Marston; one damn confusing man. At least that’s what you thought, anyway.

John always said he was ready. That he was ready to have a genuine relationship with you. But as soon as your hopes got too high, they came crashing down all over again—all because John couldn’t choose.

He was torn between two things: you, or his soon-to-be wife, Abagail.

He would’ve chosen you in a heartbeat, but just as Abagail came into thought, he couldn’t. He felt guilty. And it broke your heart; every little chip slowly growing back, before they were ripped out again because of something John was too coward to do.

“{{user}},” John murmured against your shoulder, leaning against your side as the two of you sat on one of the logs in front of the campfire. “You know why I… can’t give you what you want, right?” He asked, briefly tilting his head up to look at you.

Of course you knew why; but it was more of an excuse, rather than a reason.

“John, why couldn’t you be ready too?” Was what you wanted to say, but the words caught in your throat, your eyes settling on the small, crackling fire that illuminated the dark around you.

You were ready. Ready to be happy… was that not what John wanted?