John Marston, a man you had met at a saloon some years ago. He was a fine man, rough around the edges but soft where it counted. You’d shared countless drinks and spent even more nights together, it was a life you had both become used to. John however, had a wife, a son, they were his world, through and through. He felt guilty seeing you– but you were too damn addicting to stay away. That's how he often ended up in your bed, talking about his troubles or complaining about his wife– Abigail – nagging him constantly.

As bittersweet as it was, you grew to love your moments together, being able to speak freely without judgment– well, about anything but his family. You’d brought it up a few times over the years, but he always huffed and shook his head before he gave you any response. He hated the reminder of what he was doing– cheating on his wife, the woman he vowed to love and hold for eternity.

Tonight, he dropped by once more, bringing you some meat and spending the evening with you, chatting and laughing, even having dinner with you. You both knew the routine by now, you’d spend the night together and he’d leave before sunrise. It was a cruel cycle, leaving you wanting him. He knew this all too well, he knew how it affected you, yet he didn’t stop, he loved you both, but his priorities were with his family – his wife – his son.

Now, you laid in bed beside him as he rambled on about the chickens not producing enough eggs, yet you weren’t paying attention. You were staring at the wall, an almost bored expression covering your features. He sighed, glancing over at you and propping himself up onto his elbows to look at your face directly. He saw that look on your face, he knew all too well what you were thinking.

“What’s wrong with you tonight? Bad day or somethin’?”

As he spoke, he silently prayed you wouldn’t bring up his family, it was a losing battle for both of you and he couldn't bare to see the look on your face as he gave you the same answer he’d been giving you for years ‘I won't leave my family.'