𝙂𝙧𝙞𝙩 & 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚| 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

The days after that night were different. Not dramatically so, but enough that Boothill felt a subtle shift. The silence between you two, the awkwardness that had lingered in the past, had started to melt away. It wasn't instant—nothing with Boothill ever was—but each day, you found yourself inching closer to something new. Something real.
It wasn't just about the fleeting glances or the quiet moments you shared anymore. No, it was more than that. Something deeper had started to take root between you. A sense of understanding. Of trust.
Boothill hadn't known what to expect when he agreed to take that step with you. To open up, to let someone in. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down at an unknown depth. But with every passing moment, the fear began to fade, replaced by something that made his heart race in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Today, he found himself standing outside the bar, the sky above painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped low in the horizon. He hadn't planned on coming here. But something had drawn him, like an invisible thread pulling him back to where you were.
The door opened, and there you were, stepping out into the cool evening air. Your gaze met his immediately, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to slow down.
"Boothill," you greeted, your voice light but warm. You didn't hesitate as you approached him, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "What brings you here?"
Boothill's throat tightened, but he swallowed it down. He wasn't going to hide from this. Not anymore. "I came to see you," he said simply, and it felt like a weight lifting off his chest just to say it aloud.
Your smile softened, your eyes twinkling with something he couldn't quite place, but it made his heart stutter for a moment. "I didn't think I'd see you today. Thought you were still on the job," you teased, but the playful tone in your voice was underlined by something more genuine—something that made Boothill's stomach do a small flip.
"I finished the job," he replied, his voice a little rougher than he intended. "And... well, I figured I could use a break."
"A break from bounty hunting?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. "I didn't think that was possible for you."
Boothill gave a half-smile, his eyes flicking to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. "Even I need a break sometimes."
The silence that followed was comfortable in a way that surprised him. It wasn't the awkward silence of two people unsure of what to say—it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes in the way you simply were together. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual respect. And it felt... right.
"So," you said after a moment, breaking the silence with a playful tone. "What do you usually do when you're not hunting bounties or staring at walls?" You tilted your head to the side, clearly curious, but there was something else in your expression—something that Boothill recognized. You wanted to know him. Not just the bounty hunter version. But the man behind all of that.
Boothill hesitated for a beat before answering. "I don't know. Don't really have much of a 'normal' life outside of the job." His words were clipped, but there was no bite to them. Just a fact. "I'm not good at... doing anything else."
You studied him for a moment, your eyes thoughtful. "Well, maybe you just haven't found something you want to do yet," you suggested, voice soft, almost as if you were offering him a possibility. "There's more to life than just work, Boothill. Maybe you should try to... live a little."
Boothill blinked at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. He wasn't sure if it was the way you spoke, or the look in your eyes, but something about what you said made him feel... seen. For once, he wasn't just a bounty hunter. He was Boothill. The man who, despite his hardened exterior, had moments of softness—of longing.
"And what about you?" he asked, his voice quiet, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. "What do you do when you're not working?"
You chuckled softly, leaning against the bar. "Me? I'm still figuring that out. But I think I'm getting there. Taking time for myself... trying new things."
Boothill nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You were starting to sound more and more like the person you had the potential to be. It was clear you were no longer just playing a role. You were living—and it made Boothill admire you even more.
A quiet moment passed, and then you shifted, stepping closer. "You know," you said, voice quieter now, almost shy. "I've been thinking about what you said the other night. About... not being perfect."
Boothill stiffened slightly at the mention of it. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, no," you interrupted gently, shaking your head. "I meant it. It was... comforting, you know? It made me realize that maybe I don't have to have it all figured out either. And it's okay to take things slow. Together."
The weight of your words sank in. Boothill felt his heart thud in his chest. You were right. You didn't need to rush into anything. What mattered was being present with each other—learning who you both were in this moment.
And for the first time in a long while, Boothill felt like maybe, just maybe, he could stop running from the storm inside him. He didn't need to have all the answers. He didn't need to know exactly where this would go.
But he knew one thing: You were worth figuring out.
"I think... I think I'm ready to try," he said softly, his voice steady as he looked at you, something in him shifting—letting go of the fear that had held him back for so long.
Your smile deepened, and your eyes sparkled with something warm, something hopeful. "Yeah?" you asked, stepping just a little closer.
"Yeah," he confirmed, nodding slowly. "I'm not perfect, but I'm willing to try. With you."
And as you reached out, your hand brushing his arm again, Boothill felt a sense of peace settle over him. It wasn't the end of a journey, not by any means. But it was the beginning of something new.
Something real.