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He was cold.
Not just cold, freezing.
How long has it been? 10 minutes? 10 hours? 10 days?
He’s cold.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to get out, get better even. But he didn’t, and he never will.
How was he supposed to go on? How was he supposed to get up everyday knowing that his other half isn’t here anymore.
Arthur was his! His special person. His soulmate. And now he’s just cold, a lifeless body that he’ll have to bury and mourn and pretend to go on as if nothing was wrong.
Charles was a man of few words. Many thoughts and emotions coursed through his body but words were rarely said, and when they were, it was to Arthur. Arthur understood him. He understood him when they went hunting and found the poachers, he understood him when they came across the family that spoke little English and knew they needed help, he understood him when he said he needed to help the Wapiti tribe. He understood him.
Now there was no one to understand him. The man he loved, adored, cherished, gone.
He came back to the camp hidden in the cave to see if anyone could be saved only to find Mrs.Grimshaw with a hole in her side left for dead. He buried her. He followed the many horse tracks that went up the mountain having some hope that he would find someone, anyone, to rescue but as the trails of hooves became more sparse and the blood began to fill the mountain side he knew there was no hope in finding anyone. At least no one alive.
So, when he rounded the sharp edges of the mountain and saw this figure laying there on the ground, he knew.
He looked peaceful. Like he was just sleeping. Like if he softly called his name. “Arthur.” he would wake up and turn his head towards him.
But he wasn’t going to wake up. Not now, not ever, and that hurt him. It hurt knowing the kindest man he knew, the man who would do anything for the gang was gone, dead, left behind to die on the side of a mountain alone.
He walked over slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the figure laying there, knelt down and slowly, ever so slowly, reached down to brush his fingers against his cheek.
He was cold. Almost freezing.
That's what did it, that’s what pushed him over the edge.
His partner, his lover, his other half! Spent his life devoting himself to a man who only wanted to use him and left him when he needed him most. The same man that would stop dead in his tracks during a hunt just to point out and draw the bunnies that ran across the path. This man who was too good for this world!
His knees slammed to the ground with how hard he fell, small rocks and gravel digging into them but he didn’t care. He gathered Arthur into his arms and wept.
Rocking them slowly he’ll never know how much time passed, but it was enough. There was nothing he could do to bring him back no matter who he prayed to, what sacrifices he made, or deals he struck. He was gone.
Seconds or hours passed by in a blur, but it didn't matter to him. What mattered was that he had his lover in his arms. A place that he should have been to begin with.
By the time the sun had gone down his legs felt numb and his tears had dried. He knew he couldn’t stay like this forever. He knew he would have to find a spot to bury his love, so he did.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness"
Leaving felt like he was tearing a piece of himself off, but he knew he had to move on, if not for himself but for Arthur who wanted him to live.
The wind whipped by blowing his hair every which way. So he pulled his jacket tighter to him.
He was cold.