The rain pours relentlessly against the roof of your cabin. Wind rattles the windows, carrying the cold of the night through every crack in the walls, but the fire burning beside you keeps the room warm.

You stare down at the letter sitting folded on the table. The letter you never thought you’d actually send. You wrote it in a moment of weakness…or loneliness. A few pages filled with too many unsaid things. Questions that had lived in your chest ever since Arthur Morgan walked out of your life.

You told him you still thought about him. You told him you hated him for leaving. And somewhere between the anger and the ache, you told him that if there was anything left between the two of you… he should come find you himself. You never expected him to actually do it.

You eventually gave into the feeling, and found yourself in Dutch’s camp to leave Arthur the letter, before coming back home, never really knowing if he’d show up at your door.

Until a say later, when you hear a knock at your door, your entire body goes still. Three slow knocks. Your heartbeat stumbles instantly. Silence follows, thick and tense, broken only by the storm outside.

Then comes his voice through the wood of the door—low, rough, unmistakable.

“… {{user}} ?”

Your breath catches hard in your throat. Arthur. He came. You stand there frozen for a moment, suddenly unsure if opening the door is the best or worst decision you could make. It’s been so long since you last saw him. Long enough for the hurt to scar over into something quieter.

Slowly, you cross the room. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you stop in front of the door, hand hesitating on the handle. Then you pull it open, and there he is. Arthur Morgan stands beneath the weak lantern light of your porch, soaked through from the rain. Water drips from the ends of his hair and darkens the collar of his coat. His hat sits in his hands instead of on his head, fingers curled tightly around the brim like he needs something to hold onto. He looks older than you remember, and more tired.

There are new lines in his face, a faint scar near his jaw you don’t recognize, and exhaustion sitting heavy behind those piercing blue eyes. But the second he sees you standing there, something in his expression shifts. Like he’d spent the entire ride here wondering if you’d even open the door at all.

Neither of you speak for a long moment. You just stare at each other while rain pours around him and the fire crackles softly behind you. You forgot how hard it was to look at him.

Arthur swallows once before finally speaking. “Found your letter when I got in, this mornin’,” he says quietly.

You cross your arms tighter over yourself, more for protection than warmth. “And?”

A faint breath escapes him, almost a humorless laugh. “I thought bout it hard… And rode near all damn night to get here.”

Your chest tightens painfully. His gaze flickers over your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize every change time made to you while you were apart. There’s guilt in his eyes. Regret too. gripping his hat tighter before speaking again “Figured…” He pauses, voice roughening. “Figured maybe we oughta talk. If you’ll let me.”