Disclaimer: I do not own Red Dead Redemption 2. This story contains blood, violence, non-consensual elements, and dark themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

Bill was drunk.

That was for sure. In between downing liquor and chugging beers, Bill's motor skills had become those of a lobotomized pig and the perception of a child overdosing on sugar cane. It was a miracle he could walk to the log overlooking the lake without falling over and passing out. He didn't know exactly why he chose to come to this particular spot, but his intoxicated mind could care less. In his drunken stupor, he had been loud and boisterous with his fellow gang members, but all by his lonesome, he could only talk to himself and yell at any nocturnal bird that landed too close to his spot. He was contempt with just sitting comfortably and taking in the night scenery. Unfortunately, the tranquility was disrupted, as always. An unpleasant gnawing had suddenly stirred at the pit of his stomach. The agitating feeling was not uncommon, but still alien to him. It rid him of his drunk grin.

Sick again.

It was not the kind of nausea that came with drinking too much alcohol; it was like a growing emptiness inside him that couldn't be filled by liquor or beer. He tried once, which only made him actually nauseous. The nulling sensation seemed to grow stronger and stronger every damn day. And each day, he grew sicker and sicker of it. It seeped into his daily life, making every action and task laborious and dissipated any elation inebriation gifted him. He couldn't escape it no matter how hard he tried. It was a hopeless sickness. You're just too stupid to find a cure.

He wasn't stupid. He could have the cure to his sickness; he was just too drunk to find it now. Aren't you all the time? No, he wasn't drunk all the time. He wasn't an alcoholic; moderation wasn't an issue for him. And he deserved every goddamn drink he downed. Moonshine ain't too bad neither.

"Bullshit!" He cursed and, in a fit of rage, throwing his nearly empty beer bottle into a nearby tree; it shattered on impact. The ruckus scared away whatever birds were left on the lake, taking off in a rush of flapping wings and twittering cries. The birds were not the only thing startled.

The crack of a twig from behind caused him to spin around in alarm, ready to pounce on whatever had snuck up on him. His ugly sneer instantly fell apart at the sight of the brilliant blue eyes that peered at him through the darkness of night. Shame on you. He should not have liked the O'Driscoll boy. Deep down, he knew even though the boy had pledged allegiance to Dutch van der Linde himself, it was not enough to redeem him for being a part of the rival gang. However, the bit of himself that shunned the boy and mocked him was a flickering candle compared to the blazing fire that called out to bring him closer. Those blue eyes always seemed to stoke the flames. He must have been gawking at the former prisoner for an awkward amount of time as the boy had begun to shift nervously under his gaze.

"S-Sorry, mister," the boy stammered, avoiding eye contact. "I didn't mean to startle you, I-I was asked to see where you went, and here you are... I'll be going now." As quick as he had appeared, he was ready to disappear back into the shadows of the trees.

"Wait!" Bill nearly fell over with how quickly he reached out to his only company as if he weren't standing twenty feet away. "Don't just leave me all by myself here! Stay, O'Duffy! Give me some company!" Thankfully, the boy turned back around and looked at him hesitantly.

"You look fired up there, s-sir. Are you sure?"

"Goddamn right, I'm sure! Come here, sit!" He smacked the side of the log and looked at the other expectantly. The boy gave one quick look back over to the camp before slowly making his way to the log. He sat down at the end of the log, readjusting his shirt. "Don't sit so far, come on closer." He urged the other. A shift barely an inch to the side was all the boy moved. Even though Bill had lost the delight drinking brought him, he didn't lose his spurs of confidence.

"Now don't be like that, dammit, I'm not gonna bite ya." He reached out, this time grasping the boy's slender arm and pulling him closer; it took little effort. He had beaten down men double times the size of the boy, who was dragged towards him as if he weighed a feather. Their legs pressed comfortably close together as they took up each other's personal space. It made Bill heat up inside, a certain buzz that was not familiar to alcohol, but none the less pleasant. "There, ain't that better?" A shaky nod was his response, the rest of the boy's body shifting as well; Bill savored every time their bodies grazed each other. If he were in his right mind, he wouldn't have allowed the boy so close unless it were to tease or wrestle with him. But having the boy simply sit next to him was much more enjoyable as he wasn't actively trying to escape him. He tried looking into the boy's blue eyes, but they constantly shifted away and avoided his gaze. Talk, why don't ya? "So, how is you doing tonight?" He managed to ask coherently.

"I'm alright, sir." Came the meek reply.

"Enough of the 'sir' nonsense from you, alright? Tonight, you call me, Bill, not 'sir' or 'Mister.' 'Bill' got it?"

"Yes, s-" the boy bit his tongue. "Bill. I'm doing alright... How about you?"

"Oh, tonight's just been hell in a handbasket! First, the old fool's always gotta be tellin' me what to do and what to say, as if he runs the place, then that bastard just had to run that mouth of his, goin' on about how I'm the 'stupidest' one of the lot, he should 'a kept playin' that shitty banjo, and god fucking damnit the rat smacked my drink out my hand, and then I'm the one who gets hollered at when I give him an ass whooping for it! Son of a bitch had it coming!" He yelled back in the direction of the camp as his anger came to a boiling point, not that any of the camp members heard his screams. He turned back to his company. "Besides that, I'm pretty good." Bill grinned, devoid of any of his previous anger. "'Specially now that I got you here, O'Duffy, finally get to have you all to myself!" He patted the boy on the back, a little too roughly as the recipient of said 'pat' nearly fell off the log.

"That's good?"

"Glad we agree." Bill's smile widened as he gave a chuckle. "We never get to spend any time together, you and me. You're always runnin' around doin' chores, locking yourself up in them damn stables, shit you spend most time with the horses than anything. What's so special about them horses that you'd rather spend time with em' than me?"

"It ain't anything personal." The boy stated, the shakiness in his voice present but not overtaking. "It's just that horses need a lot of attention and tending to is all. If you want them to be happy and hardworking, you gotta make sure they're cared for." He seemed to take pride in his words. That bravado left as an arm slung around the boy's shoulders, causing him to flinch. Bill drew him in closer, the heat of their bodies coming together to confront the chill air.

"O'Duffy, what if I told you I needed to be cared for to be happy?" His tone was low and husky in the boy's ear. "Would you give me tendin' to like one of your horses?" The boy's eyes widened, and a flush growing visibly in his cheeks.

"I-I uh, I'm um...I-" the stuttering fit that ensued amused him. This kind of flustered upset was what sent chills of excitement up his spine. If only he could look into the stunning blue eyes, that were looking nowhere at him, could he have filled the growling pit in his stomach? It hungered, and so did he.

"Just look at you!" He cackled. "I take one look at ya, and you burst into flames! Oh, lord, it doesn't take much for you to turn redder than the sun, does it?" The boy didn't have a smile like he did, though a grimace was clearly seen. "I'm just messing with you, don't be too mad at me." Still chuckling, he pulled his arm away, allowing the boy to calm himself. "I needed that; I haven't felt that good in a long while." He sighed happily and looked over to the boy, dopey grin spread across his face. "Who would 'a thought, you make me smile?... It gets lonely here sometimes, I bet you know all about that, how it can make you feel like shit... Thanks for being here with me, O'Duffy." The shimmering blue eyes met his, it was only for a fleeting moment, but he saw the flicker of life dancing within them.

"I'm happy to help." a twinge of a smile formed as Duffy spoke. "I… I don't spend all that time with the horses just because of work and such. I like horses a whole lot, spent most of my life with them. They're such beautiful animals that are willing to carry us through hell and back just to please us. Unfortunately, not everyone is there to know that. Some folks are so far down that no one can reach them; their only company is darkness. But it will only be the horse that will try to get them to the light. If only everyone gave horses a chance, a lot of people would be happier. Once trust is made with a horse, they'll never turn their back on you. No matter how far down you are, they'll never stop trying to bring you up…" Duffy was silent for a moment looking out over the lake. Bill didn't try and fill the silence; he only listened intently for the next words. "They brought me up, from a place where I thought death was the only way to happiness. They saved me; they gave me the happiness I needed. Still do… What makes you happy, Bill?" the mention of his name brought him back to attention. Happy?

"Happy? Beer or liquor, I switch between both of 'em, but they don't work all the time. I like robbin' folks and fightin' 'em, 'specially when I get the drop on them. Let's see … I like Brown Jack for sure, had him for a while now, though sometimes he don't come to me when I call, jackass."

"That sounds nice and all…" Duffy bit his lip in nervousness. "But those are things you like, that ain't really happiness. Just because you like something doesn't mean it makes you happy. What makes Bill Williamson happy?"

"Well, that would be uh…well-" It was his turn to stumble over his words or lack thereof; he didn't know what to say even as he tried his damnedest to form some kind of answer. He had never thought about what made him happy in a while. Had it been that long?

"It's alright you don't have to answer. Forgot you've been drinking, maybe a bit too much. I don't wanna stress you." Duffy interrupted Bill's non-existent thought process. His gaze was to the floor. "Kinda pointless, even if you did answer, you'd probably forget this talk when you wake up in the morning." You've been happy before… idiot.

"… The army made me happy." That brought Duffy's attention back up though their eyes didn't meet. "Or the people there, I guess. So many of 'em and yet all of them had somethin' that made them … special. Came from all over America, bringing their courage and a story to tell with them. It made it a place where I could find people like me, who appreciated all I had to offer. No one there was perfect, not everyone good, but all were human. Some too human for their own good, but we were able to make it work. Ah, I had it good there, some good days." He looked back over to Duffy and was happy to see the boy staring back at him. The blue eyes were startled but didn't turn away. He was grateful to watch them burn.

"The army was that good for you, made you happy?"

"Among other things, yeah."

"... Is that why you're here? It's like the army?"

"Nah, this ain't the army." It was upsetting how the flame dwindled—stupid idiot. "No, I mean that nothin' will be like the army, but being here ain't too bad, I'd say. Got good and bad people here too, all fighting for one reason or another, and ol' Dutch makes one hell of a general. It ain't the army, but it's where you'll find me." He chuckled, working a smile onto his face. It was infectious as he was given a small smirk in return.

"I guess so. Bill..." the eyes left him in the cold before coming back to give him heat, the fire so much brighter than before. "If you need it, I'd be happy to help you find your happiness." Finally, a smile. One connected to the eyes in its intensity, eyes that were a serene blue that reflected off the light from the moon and stars. They touched his soul with a gentle palm, its tranquil aura guiding him closer into their kind embrace. The pit in his gut had something to fill its empty depths, and it ate with glee. It began to drown itself in the euphoria; it couldn't breathe. Choking.

Bill's breath caught in his throat.

Too much.

A bile rising from within his filling insides.

Them eyes… poison.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that, O'Driscoll?" His abrupt fury was spat out in the spiteful question; he could feel the uncomfortable heat rising to his face and twisting his delightful smile into a frightening sneer. The light died within the blue eyes, replaced with a distinct biting force, fear. They recoiled from him as if on instinct, letting a frown mold their features.

"W-what are you on about? I'm not a—" The sentence was cut short when Bill grabbed the boy by the collar and brought him back. He tried to pry his hand off his shirt; this only made Bill's grip that much tighter.

"Don't act stupid, you know what I'm talkin' about. You tryin' to fool me with them eyes of yours, think you can mess with me, boy?!" he glowered, jostling the boy, pulling out a cry.

"N-no! I wasn't trying to fool you or nothin'."

"Now you're just lyin', I can see all your lies. I know you wouldn't be lookin' me like that unless you wanted to poison me. Try and bite me like that again, you damn snake!".

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I won't look at you like that again, I promise. P-please let me go." the boy pleaded, eyes darting around franticly for an escape.

"Oh, cry and beg all ya want, I ain't letting you run away from me, not this time." He shook him more violently.

"I said I won't look at you like that no more. What else do you want from me?"

"I want…" To make him suffer for all he'd done. He deserved it... But does he? Maybe suffer was too strong of a word. Make him regret ever hurting him. But did he really hurt you? There was no harm to his body. He wasn't bleeding; he had no cuts or bruises... There had to be something he wanted. He already wanted so much. "Too much…" No. "No…" He's too much. His breathing slowed, and his grip unintentionally loosened. No, he's poison. His gaze gradually crawling to the shadows.

Poison don't make you warm. It makes you sick. It's not a sickness. It's a sin.

"Bill, you alright? You didn't tell me what you want?" Too sweet of a voice asked him. It made him realize how sick he was as his insides stirred, hungering for warmth again.

"I want," His fingers entangled themselves into greasy black hair, keeping the boy steady when he flinched. The eyes were close now; they were enticing him to indulge in their appetizing essence. "I just wanna look at you." He slurred, the hand grabbing the shirt finally relaxing and drifting downward across a shuttering chest and over a stuttering heart. His hand pulled at the shirt's buttons, which held it together.

"B-Bill, what are you—what are you doing?" Duffy stuttered through quivering lips, as if he were left in the cold; though the red flush of his face implied, there was a heat rising inside him. Duffy's hands tangled around his own, but their feeble attempts to keep him at bay did not impede his progress. The shirt was promptly opened, and he examined the warm skin that had been hiding underneath with leering eyes.

"I told you, I just wanna look at you." The statement was followed by the touch of his eager palm caressing the pale skin of Duffy's stomach. "All of you." His hand traveled further off to the side, fingers dipping into the shallow curves of hips before running up the rows of ribs. The smooth flesh was giving underneath his callous touch, so delicate yet firmly knit together; could it break? Duffy gasped as Bill's nails dug into his rib bones.

"Bill, wait, you're drunk, you don't know what you're doing." Duffy wasn't wrong. Bill didn't know why he moved his hands the way he did, but he didn't want to stop them either. He dug his nails deeper into the soft flesh. "Bill, please." Duffy whimpered. He sounded scared. The kind of scared Bill wasn't looking for. His fingers began combing through dark locks, almost comforting in the way they grazed Duffy's scalp. An apology for tugging on it earlier.

"You're scared, aren't you? I can feel it." He dragged his nails as he laid his palm over a rapidly beating heart. "No need to be, I'm just lookin' is all." The pad of his thumb stroked in a comforting motion that was precariously close to one of the pinkish buds. The heart fluttered.

"I-I don't think this is just looking." Bill couldn't stop the chuckle that slipped past his lips.

"I guess it ain't, but a bit of touchin' never hurt anybody." He was pleasantly surprised by the quiver of Duffy's body as his thumb happened to rub over the apparently sensitive bud. He wondered if he would get the same reaction if he rubbed it again. He did.

"Don't mean, it feels good." Duffy's statement felt more directed at himself than anything, though Bill still responded.

"You mean to tell me this don't feel good?" He messaged the nipple in tentative strokes, and the shudder that came was accompanied by a breathless gasp that Bill had never heard come from Duffy. It stirred a desire inside of him. A desire that wanted to do more than soft messaging. His breath quickened at the thought. "You make it sound good, with all them noises your making." He witnessed the red flush flood over Duffy's skin, his eyes traveled up his chest and to his collarbone where his neck held his bobbing Adam's apple. "You make it look good too." He absent-mindedly licked his lips. He gotta taste good too. His mouth was already moving towards a pale neck, his lips only able to graze supple skin before it was pulled away.

"Y-You shouldn't." The whine was exhaled between shudders. "Making me feel… like this. I-I don't… Is this right?" Bill froze. Duffy stiffened with him. "I-I wasn't tryin' to be rude, t-that's my fault. I should be keeping my thoughts to myself. I'm sorry, sir." Bill's head shot up to stare down the blue eyes. They stared back at him; they were… uncertain or afraid, either would have been appropriate.

"Now I've done told ya, boy." The hand wrapped in Duffy's hair was released to grasp his chin. The action brought them to their closest point, hot breath painted his lips in quick succession, and their heat melted into one.

"Call me, Bill." He glanced at the pink lips, an awfully long glance. "Duffy, call me Bill." His thumb brushed at Duffy's bottom lip. "Say. It." The thundering heartbeats in his ears matched the ones within Duffy's chest. With their intimacy, he made a discovery he felt foolish for not realizing before. The eyes weren't only blue, but decorated along the iris's outer rings, were delicate shades of green. The twos hues coalescing together in a memory of an artist's painting. He saw the curl of the lips before the words were spoken in a voice that dared to be no louder than a whisper.

"Bill… why are you so close?"

"… I'll get sick if I don't."

"Mr. Williamson, what are you doing out here, you drunken bastard?!"

What the hell are you doing with that boy, Billy?!

A loud shout came from the surrounding trees, footsteps coming closer. Bill locked up at the intrusive sound, and his mind momentarily blanked. It felt as if his heart stopped. It had taken more than a moment to realize that, where he had become as still as stone, Duffy had found the strength to scramble out of Bill's hold and sprint into the sea of trees. He didn't try to stop him, or call him back, only stare blankly at where he had just been. His warmth already fading away in the presence of cold.

"I'd asked that O'Driscoll boy to come find you, never came back. I thought you might have killed him," he barely felt the hand on his shoulder. "Was I right, Bill?" He didn't respond. "Bill?" Javier jostled his shoulder. Still no response. "You fool, you've nearly drank yourself to death. Don't tell me your seeing ghosts."

"No, he just left." He answered flatly, never looking away.

"Oh, did he? He wasn't too frightening for you, Bill, now was he?"

"Nah… He was more scared of me."

"Of course, he was. Now, you can stare all you want in your tent. If I left you out here overnight, you'd find some way to get yourself killed. Come on, Bill." His name broke his focus; he could see a faint outline of Javier's features with his blurry vision. He grumbled out a response and got to his feet; he most likely would have fallen over without Javier keeping him steady. As he stumbled back into camp and collapsed onto his cot, a faint thought flickered across his mind before sleep seized him.

You're stupid.

Bill already knew.