Those vows of sobriety Stephen made this morning were already out the window.

  Today was his day, and the gang wasn't about to let him off easy.

  "Alright, family! Let's raise a glass to our new brother, Stephen Johnson!"

  At Dutch's command, everyone hoisted their bottles, tilted them back, and chugged away.

  Even the seemingly gentle Mary-Beth and the seasoned Abigail downed their beers in one go.

  Seeing everyone so carefree, Stephen couldn't refuse.

  He grabbed the beer in front of him, took a deep breath, and started gulping it down.

  "Hear, hear!"

  As he finished the bottle, everyone applauded.

  Now that the group stuff was done, it was time for the individual challenges.

  First up was Arthur, who eyed Stephen with a sly grin before downing another bottle.

  That old fox was definitely doing it on purpose!

  Stephen had no choice but to play along, matching him drink for drink.

  As the gang lined up, each taking their turn to pour drinks down Stephen's throat, he quickly reached his limit.

  Only after finishing Karen's drink, the last person, was he finally done and passed out.

  Seeing him in such a state, the gang erupted in laughter.

  Dutch finally decided to let him off the hook, leading the crew in singing and dancing around the bonfire.

  Of course, Stephen was faking it. He was afraid he'd really be down for the count if he drank any more.

  He quietly crawled into a secluded corner, leaning against a tree, unnoticed.

  Watching the others frolicking in the middle of the camp, he felt a sense of contentment.

  Like he'd said before, he'd been alone for the past two years and was getting tired of it.

  In this strange, lonely, and wild world, maybe finding a good group of people to band together with wasn't such a bad idea.

  Stephen sipped his beer, watching Bill make a fool of himself on the table, and chuckled softly.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  A figure approached, and Stephen saw it was Charles.

  Seeing Stephen sitting alone under a tree, Charles asked curiously, "Today is your day man. Why are you sitting here alone?"

  Stephen patted the ground beside him, inviting him to sit down and chat.

  Charles plopped down next to him, raising his bottle for a toast.

  "It's a little too lively, making me, well, a bit out of my element."

  Stephen took a sip of his beer, watching Javier tuning his guitar in the crowd, feeling a bit melancholic.

  "I've been alone for so long, whether it's drinking or hunting, it's always been just me."

  "I thought I was used to it, but I guess not."

  "So I need some time to get used to it, to adapt to living around others.”

  Charles listened quietly, empathizing with Stephen's words. "I was alone before I joined the gang too."

  "I understand how you feel. I love them all and appreciate the comradery here, but habits take time to change. And I just have to figure that out along the way.."

  So, this black guy also had a story to tell.

  Stephen asked curiously, "What made you join the Van der Linde gang?"

  Charles silently took a swig of beer before slowly saying, "Like I said, I was alone for a long time."

  Stephen remembered Charles mentioning something about his past on the way down from the mountains to Horseshoe Overlook.

  "Yeah, I remember. You said you were on your own at around thirteen."

  Charles nodded. "That's right. Afterwards, I was always on my own. Doing odd jobs, hunting in the mountains for food, or working as a hired gun."

  "It was a tough time. I even had to sleep with one eye open, afraid someone would stab me in the back."

  Charles ticked off the things on his fingers. "I did almost everything I could, but the results weren't good."

  "Because of my skin, because of my race, I could never get the respect I deserved."

  At this point, Charles, who was usually calm and composed, couldn't help but show a hint of resentment.

  "Then I met Dutch. He didn't discriminate against me, and neither did most of the others here. Do you know how rare that is for me?"

  Stephen understood, reaching out to pat his buddy on the shoulder, and both of them downed the rest of their beers.

  "Sorry, I've had a bit too much to drink today, and I got sad thinking about the old days"

  Charles burped, apologizing.

  "No, it's good. Sometimes it's better to talk about things, isn't it?"

  Stephen smiled. "At least we understand each other better now, which means I have another person to watch my back."

  "Hey, buddy, want to play some music?!"

  Javier had finished a good song by the bonfire and waved to Stephen's direction, shouting loudly.

  Seeing this, Stephen was intrigued and immediately got up from the ground.

  He took the instrument from Javier; it was an old guitar, covered with the marks of time.

  The area where the hands gripped had been worn smooth, showing that the guitar had been used for many years.

  He wasn't proficient in any other instrument, but the guitar happened to be the only one he knew a little about.

  Which young man hadn't fantasized about standing beneath his sweetheart's window, serenading her with a guitar?

  Stephen did a soundcheck and, with cheers from the crowd, heavily struck the first chord.

  Honestly, this wasn't the time for gentle or soothing music.

  Stephen went full throttle, launching into a rock and roll song.

  But he was just a hack; halfway through, he forgot what to play next.

  But at this moment, no one cared anymore.

  With his music, everyone in the camp went wild.

  Not just the others, but even the steady Charles and the solemn Dutch joined in.

  Horseshoe Overlook became a joyful ocean, filled with laughter and song.

  This went on until dawn.

  As the first rays of sunlight came, the sweaty and drunk crowd scattered.

  Stephen couldn't handle it either, crashing on his bed and falling into a deep sleep.

  He slept soundly, as he hadn't slept in a long time.

  Just like Charles said, he didn't have to worry about someone stabbing him in his sleep anymore.