𝙂𝙧𝙞𝙩 & 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚| 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

The days blurred together once again, but now, there was a subtle change in the air. Each night, Boothill returned to the bar, his presence no longer just a routine but something that anchored you. The silence that had once separated you two felt less suffocating, more like a shared space where you could exist together without the need for constant words.
But there were still unspoken things—things you both danced around, unwilling to face, unsure of how to bridge the gap. The connection between you wasn't just a fleeting moment or a casual glance. It had become something deeper. Something real. But neither of you had yet named it, and maybe, just maybe, that was what made it so dangerous.
It was another quiet evening when Boothill walked in, his familiar silhouette cutting through the dim light of the bar. You hadn't seen him in a few days, and something about the way he moved tonight was different—he seemed... more distant.
He took his usual seat at the counter, his eyes scanning the room briefly before landing on you. His gaze lingered, but only for a moment before he looked down, his jaw tense.
"Same as always," he muttered, his voice rougher than usual.
You nodded, but the simple routine of preparing his drink felt different today. Your hands shook just slightly, though you did your best to hide it. What is this feeling? The question echoed in your mind, a question that seemed to swirl around every glance, every word exchanged.
You placed the glass in front of him, your fingers brushing against his hand for the briefest of moments. A shiver ran through you, and you couldn't tell if it was the electricity between you or just your own uncertainty.
Boothill's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time in a while, there was something raw there—vulnerable, though he fought to keep it hidden behind his usual mask of indifference. He picked up the glass slowly, staring into the amber liquid, as if trying to lose himself in its depths.
"You've been quiet lately," you remarked, trying to keep your voice steady.
He took a sip, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Been busy," he said, his tone evasive. "There's always someone else to hunt. Always something else to run from."
There was an edge to his voice—a weariness you hadn't heard before. It tugged at something inside you, but you didn't push it. Not yet. Not when it felt like you were walking on fragile ground, unsure of whether stepping too far would break whatever delicate thread had been woven between you.
But then, without warning, he placed the glass down with a soft thud and turned toward you. "You... You ever wonder if there's more to life than just this?" His eyes met yours, intense, and for the first time, you saw something more than the bounty hunter you had gotten to know. You saw him—a man who had been carrying far too much weight, far too many secrets.
You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words pressing against your chest. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been wondering that myself."
There was something about the way you said it—something that made Boothill pause. His expression softened, just for a moment, before he leaned back against the bar, his eyes never leaving you.
"I never thought I'd be asking myself that kind of question," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But then... I meet someone, and it's like everything shifts. Like maybe... maybe there's more than just survival. More than just being the one who's always running."
The words hung in the air, thick with meaning, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His voice—rough and unpolished—was a window into something deeper, something he had long buried beneath layers of stoic indifference. And somehow, you understood.
Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken bond you shared. Or maybe it was something about him—the man who had spent so much of his life in isolation, only to come to you, to this moment, with his guard down. But in that moment, you knew: He wasn't just a bounty hunter anymore. He was Boothill. And you weren't just a bartender.
You were Y/N—someone who had the power to reach beyond the surface.
"You're not the only one," you said softly, finally giving voice to the storm inside you. "I've been feeling it too. This... pull. Like I'm stuck in a loop, waiting for something to change. But I don't know how to make it happen."
Boothill's gaze softened, his lips twitching into something that almost resembled a smile. "Maybe you don't have to make it happen," he said quietly. "Maybe it just happens, when you're not looking for it."
The tension between you two thickened, and for a long moment, neither of you moved. The noise of the bar faded away, the soft chatter and clinking of glasses becoming distant echoes. It was just you and him, in this shared space that felt like it could collapse under the weight of your unspoken words.
Then, as if by some silent agreement, Boothill shifted closer, the space between you closing. The air around you felt charged, crackling with something that wasn't just the usual tension. It was something new. Something dangerous, yet thrilling.
He leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper, as if afraid that saying it too loud would break whatever fragile thing had formed between you. "I don't know what this is. But I know it's real."
Your heart was pounding in your chest, the thrum of it echoing in your ears as you met his gaze. The depth in his eyes, the way he looked at you now—like you were something more than just a person behind the counter, like you were someone he could rely on, someone who might understand.
"I don't either," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I want to find out."
And just like that, everything that had been building between you two snapped into place. You didn't need words to understand anymore. The pull, the connection—it was undeniable. It wasn't just about the glances or the shared moments of silence. It was about something deeper.
Something real.
Boothill's hand brushed against yours again, this time lingering just a bit longer, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you. His fingers curled around yours, and you didn't pull away.
He didn't say anything else, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. There was so much unspoken between you two—so much that neither of you had the courage to fully voice. But for now, the silence felt comforting. The kind of silence where words weren't needed.
You were both standing at the edge of something, a precipice that could either pull you apart or bring you closer. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could step forward and face it.
Boothill let out a soft sigh, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. "Let's figure it out. Together."
And in that moment, you realized that you didn't have to have all the answers. Not yet. Because whatever was happening between you and Boothill was enough. It was real, and it was something you were willing to explore.