Arthur adored {{user}}. Plain and simple, he wanted to marry that woman. He knew he was in deep because the thought of any other man getting to have her made him feel sick. Yet he could barely work up the confidence to ask her to dinner, let alone to be his bride. She was good on her horse, a phenomenal shot, but she was different from the rest of the gang. {{user}} worked majorly on her own. She was awkward, sorta struggled with the whole making friends part of the gang. But she was so loving, empathetic, kind… {{user}} was the woman who’d do anything for you if you just asked. Everybody loved her, but she felt alone, it was a confusing thing to Arthur.

Yet from {{user}}’s perspective. Things were different.

She wasn’t beautiful enough, wasn’t feminine enough, yet she wasn’t independent enough. {{user}} was too much and not enough simultaneously and the constant tension, the pressure, it was keeping her so hyper focused that she failed to notice Arthur’s infatuation with her. Everyone’s reliance on her, how important and crucial of a member she’d become. She’d become so insistent on the thought that everyone would be better off without her that she hadn’t realized that everyone would hurt without her. She was so inwardly focused on what she was lacking, she failed to see her victories, what she was doing well. She’d failed to see the love that surrounded her.