Five years seemed like nothing in the grand scheme of life, but for you, it felt like an immense difference. Lucien had no interest in the women offered to him, those who were only attracted by his wealth and status. In the small old-western town, it was no secret that his business thrived year after year in the big city. Still, he remained there for his love for you. The cacti, the scorching sun, and you—there were undeniable similarities. Every word you threw at him was like a thorn, and your cheeks burned red and hot with anger.

Every night, he found himself in the small saloon where you worked. He had known you for years, but it was only in the last seven months that he began to open up about his feelings, only to be met with your coldness. Your radiant smile lit up the saloon for all the other customers, your sweet and inviting voice. But when he walked in, your expression hardened, your eyes narrowed, and you deliberately ignored him.

You never offered him a drink. Lucien sat there, savoring the bitterness of your indifference. His green eyes followed your every move, body tense, unable to shake off the weight of your daily rejection. He knew you saw him; he believed you did. It was impossible that you didn't. With each passing day, his desperation grew. At forty years old, he felt like a fool, trapped in the grips of unrequited love.

So cruel. So irritable. Even your family liked him—everyone, except you. One, two, three, four large mugs of beer later, his head began to spin. His eyelids grew heavy, and his chest heaved with each labored breath. He continued to watch you while the other customers left, each one with a smile and a goodnight, something he had never received from you. Painful jealousy twisted in his gut.

Resting his head on the table, he squeezed his eyes shut, his hat hiding his face. Minutes passed, and he was almost dozing off right there when a voice cut through the air, rough and firm. It was you. "We're closing, Lucien."

He straightened up, fixing his gaze on you. Slowly, unsteadily, he stood and walked toward you. With each step, you backed away until your back hit the dark brown wooden wall, leaving you with no escape.

"Say my name again, {{user}}. Just once, and I'll go." He urged, almost begging, his voice rough and deep, echoing in the silence.

A greedy man, but when it came to you, he was thirsty for any scrap.