Katie PoV

  As our foreheads touched, the world around us vanished. I unknowingly smiled, remembering how we used to be like this in another lifetime. It felt so.. right.

  I felt myself being pulled into the memory along with Arthur, into a lifetime I'd relived thousands of times in my mind but never shared with anyone.

  The divine castle dissolved, replaced by something far more mundane and infinitely more painful.

  ****

  I sat on my bed, clutching my phone so hard I was surprised it didn't crack under the pressure. Arthur's call just now had shattered my world into pieces. I didn't know how to put back together.

  I touched my face absentmindedly and felt wetness.

  Was I... crying?

  The tears were flowing freely now, hot and unbidden, as I wondered how we'd come to this. How something that had been so good, so right, had fallen apart in a single phone conversation. Or maybe it was coming for a while, I was just stupid to see it.

  The past memories flashed through my mind like watching a movie I couldn't pause or stop.

  ***

  We were an unusual couple, Arthur and I.

  Everyone said so, though usually not to our faces.

  I was ambitious and outgoing, someone who hung out with the popular crowd while maintaining perfect grades. The girl everyone expected to succeed, to be someone important someday. I navigated social hierarchies with practiced ease, always knowing the right thing to say, the right way to act.

  And Arthur was... different. Introverted with barely any friends. Calm and gentle. A kind soul despite his social awkwardness. He didn't care about popularity or fitting in. Didn't understand the complex social games everyone else played.

  Everyone called me perfect. The balance of beauty and brains. "Katie has it all," they'd say with envy or admiration or sometimes resentment.

  I never really cared for their compliments, knowing they were fake and insincere. Just words people said because that's what you did in high school. You complimented the popular kids and hoped some of their status would rub off on you.

  High school was like that. Lots of people trying to pretend to be what they weren't. Maintaining some stupid social hierarchy that wouldn't matter at all once we graduated. Like popularity would somehow translate into real-world success.

  But that was the problem with social obligations, you had to follow them to give the semblance of belonging. Otherwise you got ostracized and received the kind of negative attention that could make your life miserable. I have seen it happen after all.

  I was approached by many boys starting from my freshman year. I didn't like bragging, but I was the prettiest girl in school, and that came with a lot of unwanted attention from guys who thought they had a chance. When they got refused, they would curse and spread rumors. Not that I cared, it was usual high school stupidity/

  I did enjoy it sometimes, I'll admit. Because at home, I never received much attention at all.

  My parents separated when I was younger, both of them too focused on their careers to maintain a marriage or properly raise a child. I was more like an obligation they shared custody of than a daughter they loved.

  I remember in fifth grade when I won an interschool debate competition. I'd worked so hard on my arguments, practiced my delivery for weeks. I was so excited to bring the trophy home and show it to them.

  But they didn't even care.

  Dad glanced at it briefly and said, "It's just some kid's competition, Katie. You should focus on winning the most important thing—the race of life. That's what actually matters."

  Mom did say congratulations, but then immediately busied herself with work on her laptop. "That's great, honey. I have a project due tomorrow, but I'll get you something nice this weekend to celebrate. Okay?"

  She never did.

  I remember crying in bed that night, hugging that stupid trophy and feeling like I didn't matter. Like nothing I did would ever be good enough to make them care, to make them look at me the way other parents looked at their kids.

  As the years went by, I stopped seeking their interest or love. I became cold and bitter inside, convincing myself I needed to be independent. To take care of myself so I'd never need to rely on someone or seek their approval ever again.

  I learned to put on a mask with others, because showing weakness made you a target for abuse. High school was brutal that way. Any vulnerability would be exploited, turned into gossip or ammunition for people who wanted to feel better about themselves by tearing others down.

  I knew as a human I'd need to find a partner eventually. That's just how society and humans worked. But I decided I would never open myself up to anybody. Never let someone have that kind of power over me.

  I would decide how I lived my life, and I'd find someone who would follow and support my wishes rather than trying to force their opinions on me. I would compensate them, of course—guide them to a stable path that complemented my own career. Make it a fair exchange.

  And if they didn't agree? I'd just find someone else.

  After all, marriage and partnership were lies. My parents had taught me that much. Love was just a chemical reaction that faded, and then you were left with two people who resented each other but were too stubborn or scared to leave.

  I never knew that one day I would actually fall for someone. That I would rely on them, need them, love them so much it terrified me.

  And I never knew that my cynical thinking would bring an end to my fairytale by my own hand.

  ***

  I met Arthur near the end of my freshman year in high school.

  He was... interesting, to say the least.

  He didn't hang out with any particular social circle, although I guess you could call him one of the nerds. He had a couple of them who hung out near him in the library or computer lab, quiet kids who preferred books to parties.

  But Arthur never quite fit that stereotype either.

  Some of the jocks tried to bully him once during lunch period. I was sitting with my friends at our usual table, only half-listening to Jennie gossip about some drama with the cheerleaders, when I heard shouting from across the cafeteria.

  Tony Greco and his gang had cornered Arthur near the vending machines. Tony was your typical high school bully—all muscles and minimal brain cells, with a cruel streak that manifested in tormenting anyone he perceived as weak.

  "Hey nerd," Tony was saying loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I heard you told Tiffany she deserved someone better, like you. That's pretty funny coming from someone like you."

  Arthur didn't respond, just tried to walk around them. But Tony's friend Jake blocked his path.

  "Where you going? We're having a conversation here."

  "I don't want any trouble." Arthur said quietly. His voice was calm, but I could see tension in his shoulders. "I didn't say that, so I can't help what you think. Just let me pass."

  Tony laughed. "What are you gonna do about it if we don't?"

  He smacked the tray out of his hands, messing up his clothes. "You better know your place, loser."

  That's when Arthur moved.

  It happened so fast most people missed it. One moment he was standing there passively. The next, his fist connected with Tony's jaw with a solid crack that echoed through the suddenly silent cafeteria.

  Tony stumbled back, shocked, and then rage overtook his face. He charged at Arthur with Jake and Chad right behind him.

  What followed was... not what anyone expected.

  Arthur fought like someone who'd trained extensively. Every movement was precise, controlled, devastating. He dodged Tony's wild swing and delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs. Caught Jake's arm and twisted it behind his back before kicking his legs out from under him. Chad tried to roundhouse kick him, but he grabbed his leg and slammed him into the ground.

  Tony came at him again, and this time they really went at it. Punches were thrown. Blood was drawn. Arthur took some hits—his lip split open, his cheek bruised—but he gave back twice as much.

  By the time teachers came running to break it up, Tony, Chad, and Jake were on the ground groaning, and Arthur was standing over them breathing hard.

  Everyone was running away to avoid being caught by the teachers and getting detention or suspension.

  But I just stood there, stunned, watching as Arthur wiped blood from his mouth.

  He spat on the ground and muttered to himself, "Stupid muscle brains. I practiced Krav Maga and kickboxing since I was seven because of shit like this. Totally ruined my apetite."

  Then he looked up and saw me standing there staring at him.

  His expression shifted to something sheepish and embarrassed. "Uh... hey. Do you have a handkerchief or some Band-Aids?"

  "Huh? Me?"

  He shrugged. "There isn't anyone else after that fiasco."

  Yeas, apparently everyone left. Even my so called friends.

  I snapped out of my stupor and absentmindedly reached into my bag. My hands found my scarf, a designer one that had cost way too much money. I pulled it out and handed it to him.

  Arthur looked at it confused. "That's your scarf. It looks expensive. I can't pay for it if I ruin it."

  Surprising us both, I giggled. Actually giggled like some silly girl. Something I didn't do usually.

  "Don't worry, I have plenty of them," I said, still smiling. "Consider it a reward for winning the fight."

  Arthur actually blushed, his face turning pink in a way that was oddly endearing. It made me grin wider.

  "You better run before the principal catches you," I added.

  He gave me a shy smile that made something flutter in my chest. "I'll probably get detention anyway. But thanks."

  He walked away swiftly, and I just stood there watching him leave like an idiot.

  My friend Jennie materialized beside me and grabbed my arm. "Come on, Katie! Why are you standing there like that? We'll get in trouble!"

  As she dragged me away, I asked casually, "Who's that cute guy who beat up Tony and the gang?"

  Jennie smirked knowingly. "Why? Did our Miss Perfect catch a crush on the bullied nerd? Wanna kiss his boo boo away?" She wiggled her eyebrows while making kissy face.

  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because a guy who fights like that is totally a nerd. Just tell me."

  Jennie pretended to think, tapping her chin dramatically. I glared at her until she laughed.

  "Okay, okay! That's Arthur Morgan. He's in our science and English classes—you know, the quiet one who sits in the back and draws during lectures? I asked him to make a portrait of me once for the art fair. He's actually a really nice guy, but he doesn't talk to anybody much."

  She paused, then added with obvious relish for the gossip, "A bunch of girls have tried to chat him up, but he always refuses to hang out with them. Super polite about it, but firm. And get this—Tiffany totally flirted with him last week, and he told her talking to her was lowering his IQ or something like that!"

  Jennie laughed. "You should've seen the look on her face! She was not happy at all. Probably told Tony some lie about Arthur hitting on her, which is why those idiots tried to jump him. I thought they'd break his hand."

  She shook her head. "Would've been a real shame. The guy's an amazing artist."

  I muttered quietly as we walked back to our table, "Arthur the artist, huh?"

  The name settled into my mind and didn't leave.

  We didn't magically become lovers after that like they do in movies.

  Arthur didn't show up to school for the next couple of days—probably suspended for fighting. When he returned, he didn't try to talk to me. Just went back to his usual routine like nothing had happened.

  I didn't approach him directly either. I wasn't sure why. Maybe I was being cautious, not wanting to damage my social standing by being seen with the "weird artist kid" who'd gotten in a fight. Maybe I was just scared of something I didn't understand.

  But I did notice him more after that. And when we'd run into each other in the hallways or cafeteria, we'd share casual smiles. Small acknowledgments that something had shifted between us, even if neither of us knew what.

  One day about two weeks later, I found him sitting alone during lunch period under a tree. He had his sketchbook out and was drawing something with intense concentration, completely oblivious to everything around him. It grabbed my interest.

  I felt mischievous suddenly. Reckless in a way I never usually was.

  I quietly approached him from behind, getting close enough to see he was drawing some kind of bird. Then I leaned in close to his ear.

  "Boo!"

  "Aaaahhhh!"

  Arthur's reaction was priceless. He flailed his arms in shock, and his sketchbook went flying up into the air. He twisted around to see who'd scared him, and that's when it happened.

  His forehead connected directly with my nose.

  Hard.

  "Owww!"

  Pain exploded across my face. My eyes watered reflexively.

  Arthur's next expression was even more priceless. Pure horror mixed with mortification.

  "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Are you okay? Let me see! You're bleeding! I'm so sorry!"

  He forgot his usual shyness entirely, immediately jumping up and gently taking my face in his hands to examine the damage. He was so close I could feel his breath, could see the genuine concern and panic in his eyes.

  "I think it's not broken," he said, still looking stricken. "Wait here, don't move!"

  He ran off before I could respond, leaving me standing there holding my nose.

  He came back a minute later with ice wrapped in napkins from the vending machine area. Without asking permission, he gently pressed it against my nose.

  "Does it hurt a lot? Should we go to the nurse? I'm really, really sorry," he kept saying, his face still red with embarrassment.

  He didn't seem to notice how close we were standing. How his hand was gently holding the ice to my face while his other hand steadied my shoulder. How his eyes kept darting between my nose and my eyes, checking for any sign of serious injury.

  But I noticed. And it made me blush despite the pain.

  This guy is really clueless, I thought with amusement.

  After a few minutes, the pain had dulled to a manageable throb. I removed the ice and glared at him, channeling my best intimidating expression.

  He shrank back immediately. "I'm really, really sorry," he said again. "If you want... you can punch my nose. Make it even."

  There was something charming about his shy, awkward sincerity. He genuinely meant it, would let me punch him because he'd accidentally hurt me.

  Before I knew it, words came out of my mouth that I definitely hadn't planned. "I'll accept your apology on one condition. You have to take me out somewhere nice."

  His eyes lit up with hope for just a second before dimming. "Umm... I spent all my allowance on a new painting set last week."

  I glared at him again, and he visibly flinched.

  "B-but I can get you some pizza!" he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

  "Yeah, I'll ask my dad for an advance on my allowance, and maybe I can pick up an extra shift at the bar, and..." He started mentally calculating his finances, muttering numbers under his breath.

  I shook my head, both exasperated and charmed. This guy is completely hopeless.

  But it was refreshing. He wasn't like the other guys in school who tried too hard to impress me or acted like spending money on me was some kind of investment that would pay dividends. He was just... honest. Awkward but thoughtful.

  Why the hell did I just ask him to take me on a date?

  I coughed lightly. "It's fine, forget it if it's too much trouble."

  I needed to change the subject before this got more awkward. "Sooooo, what were you drawing before I so rudely interrupted?"

  He smiled sheepishly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Nothing special. I saw this red cardinal outside the window and felt like sketching it."

  I stretched out my hand. "Show me."

  He hesitated for just a moment before handing over the sketchbook. His hand shook slightly as he passed it to me, like he was nervous about my judgment.

  I looked down at the page and felt my breath catch.

  The drawing was beautiful. The cardinal was captured mid-flight, wings spread, every feather detailed with careful strokes. The way he'd used shading to give it dimension, the way you could almost see it moving, it was incredible.

  "This is really beautiful!" I said honestly.

  "Thanks," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

  I flipped back through the pages, curious to see more of his work. Each page revealed something new. A train passing through a meadow, smoke curling from its stack. The sunset over a lake, the colors blending perfectly even though it was just pencil. Trees reflected in water with such detail you could count the leaves.

  Then I came to a series of drawings that made me stop completely.

  His house. His family.

  There was one of what must have been his parents sitting together on a porch swing, laughing at something. His dad had his arm around his mom, and they looked genuinely happy. In love in a way my parents had never been.

  Another showed a cute little girl—his sister, probably—playing in a yard with a dog. Pure joy captured in paper.

  One more of all of them together at dinner, the table crowded and messy but warm. You could see the love in every detail, the way he'd drawn his mom reaching over to ruffle his sister's hair, his dad grinning at something someone had said.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  They looked like a real family. The kind you see in movies or TV shows but never quite believe exists in real life.

  I didn't know how long I stared at those drawings. How long I traced the lines with my eyes, trying to memorize what that kind of happiness looked like.

  My chest felt tight. Painful. Empty in a way I couldn't name.

  I'd never had a family like that. Would never have that kind of warmth and love and belonging. My parents would never look at each other the way his parents did in this drawing. Would never look at me that way.

  "Katie?"

  Arthur's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and realized my vision was blurry.

  I was crying.

  When had I started crying?

  Arthur was holding out a tissue, his expression gentle and concerned. "Here."

  I took it automatically, wiping at my eyes and feeling stupid and exposed. I never cried. Especially not in front of other people. Crying was weakness, and weakness got exploited.

  "I don't know why you were crying looking at my family drawings," Arthur said quietly. "And I won't presume to understand your sadness. But if you want to talk to someone as a friend, or maybe share your story, I'll be here. I may not be able to help much, but I promise to listen to you. Always."

  His words were simple. Honest. Without any expectation or judgment.

  I looked at him with surprise, and saw only sincerity.

  "Why?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. "You don't even know me."

  He grinned, and it transformed his whole face. "Hey, I may be a loner, but I don't live under a rock, Katie. Every boy and girl in school talks about you."

  I felt my stomach drop. Of course. He'd heard all the gossip. Did he also think like the others?

  "Although I don't care much for what other people say," he continued casually. "Public opinion is overrated anyway. I'd rather form my own judgments about people. Plus i kinda owe you one after hitting your nose like that." He scratched his head awkwardly.

  I laughed. Actually laughed so hard I almost fell off the bench I'd perched on. The sound was startling in its genuineness, I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like that.

  He really was such a weirdo.

  But I think... I like people like him.

  I calmed myself and wiped away the last of my tears. "Thanks, Arthur. I really needed that."

  Then I grinned mischievously, feeling bold. "As for your offer, I'll take you up on it. But only if you paint a portrait of me. And it better be good."

  Arthur smirked back, a bit of playfulness entering his expression. "Sure, I'll do my best. At least you didn't ask me to draw you like one of those French girls." he gave a sly wink.

  I felt my face heat up immediately. "Like hell, mister!" I slapped his shoulder, probably harder than necessary.

  He laughed, rubbing his arm. "Ow! I was joking!"

  "You better be!"

  But I was smiling as I said it.

  ***

  We talked often after that day.

  It started casual—sitting together at lunch sometimes, chatting between classes. Arthur would show me his latest sketches, and I'd complain about whatever social drama was happening in my friend group.

  He was easy to talk to. Didn't judge or offer unwanted advice. Just listened and occasionally made dry comments or sarcasm that made me laugh.

  A couple of weeks later, he actually followed through on his promise to take me out.

  He showed up at my house nervous as hell, wearing his nicest clothes and clutching a wrapped package. My mom answered the door and was immediately charmed by how polite and awkward he was.

  "You must be Arthur," she said with more warmth than she'd shown me in months. "Katie's told me about you."

  I had not, but I let it slide.

  We went to a small Italian restaurant—nothing fancy, but it was clean and the food smelled amazing. Arthur was adorably nervous the entire time, like he was terrified of messing something up.

  During dinner, he pulled out the wrapped package and slid it across the table.

  "I, uh, finished it," he said, not quite meeting my eyes. "The painting."

  I unwrapped it carefully, and then I couldn't breathe.

  It was beautiful.

  He'd painted me sitting under a tree—the oak tree in the school courtyard where we'd talked that day. My red hair was loose around my shoulders, catching sunlight and looking almost alive. I was looking down at his sketchbook in my lap, and I was smiling.

  Not my fake social smile. A real one.

  He'd captured something in my expression I didn't even know existed. A softness, a vulnerability, a genuine happiness that I'd buried so deep I'd forgotten it was there.

  But more than the technical skill, which was incredible, I could feel the heart he'd poured into it. The care he'd taken with every brushstroke. The way he'd seen me, beneath all the masks I wore.

  I don't remember anyone ever putting that much thought and care into something for me.

  Before I fully processed what I was doing, I grabbed his collar and pulled him across the table toward me.

  "Katie, what—"

  I kissed him.

  His lips were warm and soft, and he made a surprised sound against my mouth. For a second he just sat there frozen, and then hesitantly, he kissed me back.

  The restaurant erupted in cheers and applause from the other diners who'd been watching our date with amusement.

  We pulled apart, and Arthur's face was bright red. Completely flustered. He tried to speak a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  Finally he managed, "Um, what was that for?"

  I looked him straight in the eye, my heart pounding but my voice steady. "You're going to be my boyfriend."

  I didn't even know where those words came from. They just felt right, true, like something I'd known all along but hadn't been able to articulate until this moment.

  Arthur blushed so much I legitimately worried he might be having a heat stroke. He slowly spoke, his words careful. "But, are you sure? You're the most popular girl in school, and I'm... me. We're like two different people from different worlds."

  I glared at him. "Do you have someone else?"

  "No?"

  "Are you gay?"

  He spluttered adorably. "No? I mean no! Definitely not!"

  "Then it's settled."

  "But—"

  I looked at him seriously, letting all my walls down for maybe the first time in my life. "I don't date just anybody, Arthur. I don't know what those other idiots at school say about me, but you're only the third guy I've ever gone out with. And you're the first guy I've ever kissed."

  His eyes widened at that admission.

  "I don't give a shit about stupid high school cliques or social hierarchies or any of that bullshit," I continued. "I like you. Do you like me?"

  Arthur scratched the back of his head, his face still red. "I mean... yeah. Who wouldn't? You're pretty and smart and fun to hang around with. I don't really talk to people much normally, but with you, I actually enjoy it."

  I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in years. "Then there's no problem. Now walk me home, boyfriend."

  He did.

  And for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep with a genuine smile on my face.

  ***

  It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows with us after that, of course.

  There were incidents at school when everyone found out we were dating. The popular girls couldn't understand what I saw in the "weird art kid." Some of the guys in my social circle made comments about me "slumming it" or said Arthur must have some kind of hidden talent to land someone like me.

  Nobody dared to directly mess with him after he'd beaten the crap out of Tony and his gang, but words were something you couldn't stop. Gossip spread like wildfire.

  We went through it all together.

  Arthur taught me something important during those months—honesty. Real, uncomfortable, vulnerable honesty.

  We never hid anything from each other. When I was stressed about my grades or some drama with my friends, I told him. When he was frustrated about his art or feeling overwhelmed, he told me.

  I even told him about my family. About the loneliness, about how my house felt more like a golden cage than a home. About my parents' divorce and how neither of them seemed to actually want custody of me, they just didn't want the other to "win."

  About how I'd won that stupid debate trophy in fifth grade and cried myself to sleep because nobody cared.

  I remember breaking down completely the first time I told him everything. We were sitting in his car after a movie, and it just all came pouring out. Years of pain and loneliness and feeling fundamentally unwanted.

  Arthur didn't try to fix it or offer empty platitudes. He just held me tight and kept saying he was here for me. That I wasn't alone anymore.

  "You have me now," he said softly, his hand running through my hair. "And you have my family. They love you, Katie. My mom asks about you all the time. Dawn adores you. My dad thinks you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

  "And you?" I asked, my voice muffled against his shoulder. "What do you think?"

  "I think I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

  He took me to meet his family properly after that, not just quick hellos when picking me up for dates. His parents welcomed me with open arms. His mom hugged me and told me I was welcome anytime, that I should consider their house my second home. His dad was kind and funny, always making terrible jokes that somehow still made you laugh.

  And Dawn—precious, adorable Dawn—latched onto me immediately. She followed me around, asking me to play games while telling her about high school drama.

  I found myself showing up at Arthur's house almost every day after school. My mom barely noticed. She was always working, and when she was home, she was too tired to care what I was doing.

  His mom, Christine, would always greet me with a warm hug and ask about my day. She actually listened to my answers, asked follow-up questions, cared about the details of my life in a way my own mother never did.

  "Katie, dear, you're staying for dinner, right?" she'd ask, and I'd always say yes because the alternative was going home to an empty house and microwaved leftovers.

  The Morgan family dinners were chaotic and loud and everything mine wasn't.

  David would tell terrible dad jokes that made everyone groan. Dawn would talk nonstop about her day at elementary school, dramatically reenacting conversations with her friends. Christine would gently tease Arthur about something embarrassing. And Arthur would blush and try to defend himself while everyone laughed.

  I loved it. Loved feeling like I belonged somewhere.

  Dawn would drag me to her room to show me her toy collection, beg me to play dolls with her, ask me to braid her hair because "you do it so much prettier than Mommy."

  "Katie, will you be my big sister?" she asked me one day, her big blue eyes looking up at me hopefully.

  I felt my throat tighten. "Of course, sweetie."

  "Forever and ever?"

  "Forever and ever."

  Arthur's dad treated me like I was already part of the family too. He'd ruffle my hair when I came in, ask about school and my college plans, give me advice about dealing with difficult teachers.

  Once, when my mom forgot my birthday entirely, David organized a surprise party with the whole family. They sang to me, gave me presents, made me feel special in a way I'd never experienced before.

  I cried that night. Happy tears, for once.

  "Thank you," I told Arthur as we sat on his porch afterward. "For sharing your family with me."

  He took my hand and squeezed it. "They're your family too now, Katie. You're stuck with us."

  I never wanted to be unstuck.

  The Morgan family gave me something I'd never had: belonging.

  ****

  Arthur and I did argue sometimes, of course. What couple doesn't?

  We mostly argued about silly stuff at first , but Arthur would always be patient and listen, then express how he thought. We mostly did what I wanted, even though Arthur didn't like some things, he went along with it for my sake. I tried to do his favorite things, although it bored me at times. But I enjoyed seeing the happy smile on his face.

  We'd go to the mall and I'd drag him into clothing stores, making him give opinions on outfits. He'd sit patiently while I tried on different combinations, always saying I looked beautiful no matter what I wore.

  "Arthur, you have to actually give me feedback. That's the point."

  "But you do look beautiful in everything."

  "You're hopeless."

  He'd grin at that, not even trying to defend himself.

  We'd go to parties with my friends, even though I knew Arthur hated them. He'd stay close to me the whole time, uncomfortable with the loud music and drunk teenagers, but never complaining. When I'd ask if he wanted to leave, he'd always say, "I'm good. You're having fun, right? Then I'm happy."

  In return, I'd go with him to art museums and galleries. He'd light up explaining different painting techniques, pointing out brushwork and use of color and composition.

  Honestly, most of it went over my head. I didn't understand the difference between impressionism and expressionism, couldn't see what made one painting better than another.

  But I loved watching him talk about it. The enthusiasm in his voice, the way his hands moved as he described things, the pure joy on his face. That made the boredom worth it.

  We'd go stargazing sometimes. Arthur loved astronomy almost as much as art. He'd bring a blanket and we'd lie in the grass in his backyard, looking up at the night sky.

  "See that really bright one there?" he'd point. "That's actually Venus, not a star. And that cluster there is the Pleiades, also called the Seven Sisters. In Greek mythology..."

  He'd go on and on, telling me stories about constellations, explaining how stars formed and died, talking about the vast distances of space.

  I didn't care about any of it. Couldn't keep track of which constellation was which, couldn't understand the scale of what he was describing.

  But I'd lie there with my head on his shoulder, holding his hand, listening to his voice, and feel completely content.

  I'm ashamed to say, I took that for granted. He would always find a compromise, and it made me think I was always right. That I should think and decide for both of us.

  I started making decisions without asking him. Planning our weekends without checking if he had other things he wanted to do. Assuming he'd go along with whatever I suggested because he always did.

  "We're going to Jessica's party Saturday," I'd announce.

  "Oh, I was actually planning to—"

  "You can do that another time. This party is important."

  And he'd always agree.

  Arthur would always find a compromise, always try extra hard to make me happy. And that made me think I was always right. That I should be the one thinking and deciding for both of us.

  After all, I was practical. I planned for the future. Arthur was a dreamer, artistic and creative but not focused on stability.

  I convinced myself I was helping him by guiding his decisions. Making sure he didn't make mistakes that would hurt him later.

  I didn't realize I was slowly suffocating him until it was too late.

  ***

  When it came time for college applications senior year, I chose Harvard without hesitation.

  Best pre-law program in the country. Perfect connections. It's where successful people went, where I needed to be to build the career I wanted.

  Arthur had the grades for Harvard. He wasn't a straight-A student like me, but he was smart and his test scores were high. The problem was money. His family couldn't afford Harvard's tuition, and while he'd likely get some financial aid, it wouldn't be enough.

  I talked to my mother about it. Surprisingly, she actually agreed to help.

  "If this boy is important to you," she said with uncharacteristic warmth, "then we'll make it work. I can cover his tuition. Consider it an investment in your future together."

  I was thrilled. Problem solved! We'd both go to Harvard, stay together, build our future side by side.

  But when I told Arthur, he got angry.

  Actually angry, something I rarely saw from him.

  "I don't want anyone's charity, Katie." His voice was tight, controlled. "I don't want to go somewhere that would strain my family's finances or put me in debt to your mother. You know what my dreams are."

  I was annoyed. Frustrated that he wouldn't just accept this perfect solution I'd arranged.

  "It's not fucking charity!" I snapped. "My mom is willing to pay tuition for both of us. She doesn't even care if you pay it back! You're my boyfriend, Arthur. This is what people do, they help each other."

  He didn't shout back. That wasn't Arthur's way. He stayed calm, which somehow made it worse.

  "I get that you're trying to help," he said quietly. "I really do appreciate it, Katie. But I don't like being in someone's debt, especially when I've worked hard to save my own money to pursue something I actually want."

  "And what about it?" I demanded. "I know you have talent, Arthur. But an artist's life isn't stable. So many talented artists never gain any fame or financial security after years of hard work. We've talked about having a life together, about supporting each other. We can't do that if you become a starving artist."

  I stood up, pacing his room. "I care about you, and I don't want you to make a mistake. Art school isn't practical. You need to think long-term."

  We fought about it often over the next few weeks. The same argument, over and over.

  Our first real fight about college happened in his car after school. We'd gone to get coffee, and I brought up Harvard again.

  "I've been thinking," I started. "If you come to Harvard with me, you could major in business or something practical, and minor in art. That way you'd still get to pursue your passion while having a backup plan."

  Arthur was quiet for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. "Katie, I don't want to minor in art. I want to go to an actual art school. Somewhere I can fully focus on developing my skills."

  "That's not realistic. Do you know how few artists actually make a living from their work? You'd be setting yourself up for failure."

  "Or I'd be pursuing my dream."

  "Dreams don't pay bills, Arthur."

  He flinched at that, and I saw hurt flash across his face. But then he took a breath and spoke calmly. "I've been saving money since I was fourteen. Working part-time jobs, doing private commissions, saving every dollar. I have enough to go to a good art program without putting financial strain on my family or going into massive debt."

  "But you could be making so much more with a business degree. You're smart enough, Arthur. Why waste that on something so uncertain?"

  "It's not a waste if it's what I love."

  "Love doesn't matter in the real world. Practicality matters. Stability matters."

  We argued for over an hour in that parking lot. Arthur stayed calm the entire time, patiently explaining his perspective while I got more and more frustrated that he wasn't seeing sense.

  Finally, he pulled me into a hug. "Let's not fight about this anymore tonight. We'll figure something out, okay?"

  And I let it drop, thinking I'd convinced him. Or at least planted seeds of doubt about his "impractical" dreams.

  Our second fight was worse. We were at his house, in his room surrounded by his artwork. I'd brought up Harvard again, pushing harder this time.

  "My mom's offer still stands. Full tuition, room and board, everything. You'd be stupid to turn that down, Arthur."

  "I told you, I don't want to be in debt to your family."

  "It's not debt! She doesn't expect you to pay it back! This is a gift, Arthur. An opportunity most people would kill for."

  "An opportunity to do what? Study something I don't care about at a school I don't want to attend?"

  I felt my temper flare. "You're being childish. This is about our future together. Don't you want that?"

  "Of course I do. But not at the cost of giving up everything I want."

  "Oh, so I'm asking you to give up everything? That's dramatic."

  "Katie, you're literally asking me to give up my dreams, move across the country to a school I don't want to attend, study something I'm not passionate about, and be financially dependent on your mother. How is that not giving up everything?"

  I stood up, pacing his room. "Because you'd have me! We'd be together! Isn't that worth something?"

  Arthur stood too, and for once there was frustration in his voice. "Yes, being with you is worth something. It's worth a lot. But Katie, you're not compromising anything. You get exactly what you want—Harvard, your perfect pre-law program, everything. And I'm supposed to just... follow along and be grateful?"

  "I'm trying to help you make smart choices!"

  "No, you're trying to make my choices for me!"

  We stared at each other, both breathing hard. Then Arthur's expression softened and he pulled me close.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair. "I didn't mean to yell. Let's just... let's talk about this another time, okay? When we're both calmer."

  I nodded against his chest, and we spent the rest of the evening watching movies and pretending the fight hadn't happened.

  Arthur would calmly explain his position. That art was his passion, that he'd been saving money for years specifically to attend a good art school, that he needed to at least try to pursue his dreams.

  And I would counter with logic and practicality. That passion didn't pay bills, that he could always do art as a hobby while having a stable career, that he was being naive about how the real world worked.

  The fights never got truly serious because Arthur always knew how to defuse tension. He'd make a self-deprecating joke or change the subject or pull me into a hug until I forgot why I was mad.

  And I would shower him with affection afterward—kiss him, hold him in my arms and tell him I loved him, make him smile and laugh until the argument seemed forgotten. And the nights we spent together, when we truly became one. We were each others first, and we knew it meant a lot.

  He stopped protesting as much after a few of these fights. Started saying things like "I'll think about it" or "Maybe you're right" instead of defending his position.

  I thought he was coming around. Finally seeing sense.

  I didn't realize he was just tired of fighting. Tired of having to defend his dreams to the person who was supposed to support them.

  I felt bad, knowing how much his dreams meant to him. But I genuinely believed I was helping him. Making the practical choice instead of indulging in fantasy.

  It was selfish of me, I see that now. I wanted him with me no matter where I went, because I knew without his support I would become that empty shell of a girl I used to be. His family had become my family, and I couldn't lose any of them.

  The thought of going to Harvard alone terrified me. I'd built my entire support system around Arthur and his family. Without them, I'd be back to being that lonely girl whose parents didn't care, who had no real friends, who had to pretend to be perfect all the time.

  I needed Arthur. Needed him so desperately it scared me.

  So I pushed harder. Convinced myself I was doing it for us, for our future together, not because I was terrified of being alone again.

  ****

  Our last real fight was a couple of days before that camping trip with his family.

  Well, it was more like me berating his "childish fantasy" and telling him to "live in reality" while he just sat there quietly taking it.

  "You're being naive, Arthur," I remember saying, my voice harsh. "This isn't some movie where following your dreams magically works out. This is real life. Art school is a waste of money and time. You need to grow up and make responsible choices."

  "Katie..." He sighed. "I have thought about it a lot. And I just... feel it's not me."

  I felt frustration bubble up immediately. "Why not? What is so important about art school that you'd give up on us?"

  "I'm not giving up on us. I'm asking you to support my dreams the way I support yours."

  "I do support your dreams! I just think you're being unrealistic about them!"

  "See, that's not support, Katie. That's you deciding you know better than me about my own life."

  I stood up, pacing my room. "Because I do know better! I'm thinking long-term while you're stuck on some fantasy about being a famous artist! I am thinking about our future together."

  "I never said I wanted to be famous. I just want to study what I love and see where it takes me."

  "And what if it takes you nowhere? What if you spend years and thousands of dollars and end up working a minimum wage job anyway?"

  "Then at least I tried. At least I didn't spend my life wondering what if."

  I spun around to face him. "That's such bullshit, Arthur. This isn't some movie where following your dreams magically works out. This is real life. You need to grow up and make responsible choices."

  He looked up at me then, and there was something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Hurt.

  "Responsible choices, huh?" he repeated quietly. "Like giving up everything I want to follow you to a school I don't want to attend?"

  "Like thinking about our future together instead of just yourself!"

  "I am thinking about our future. I'm just not willing to have that future mean I give up everything while you give up nothing."

  "That's not fair—"

  "Isn't it?" He stood up. "You keep saying we need to compromise, but Katie, every compromise we've ever made has been me doing what you want. When do I get to choose something?"

  I felt tears prick my eyes. "So you're choosing art school over me."

  "No, I'm choosing to not give up my dreams. There's a difference."

  "Not from where I'm standing."

  We glared at each other, and then Arthur deflated. He walked over and pulled me into a hug, even though I resisted at first.

  "I love you," he said softly. "I really do. But you are asking me to give up the thing that brought us together."

  "I love you too, Arthur. I know I'm asking a lot, but please, it will be the best choice for both of us. We can be together like we always thought we would. Don't you want that?"

  He didn't say much in response. Just nodded along, his expression carefully neutral.

  I thought he'd finally agreed. Finally accepted that I was right and he needed to be more practical.

  We spent the night together as usual after that fight, and he held me close without saying much. I fell asleep content, thinking everything was settled.

  I didn't know I'd been breaking his heart all along.

  ***

  I thought the camping trip would be good for him. Help him unwind a little, spend time with his family, remember what was important.

  And when he came back, I'd planned to apologize for the harsh words. Tell him I was only being tough because I cared, because I wanted what was best for us. Reassure him that we'd figure everything out together.

  I'd even looked at some art programs in Boston that he could do part-time while taking business classes at a local school. A compromise that would let him pursue art as a hobby, while still being practical.

  I was going to present it to him when he got back. Show him I'd been listening, that I cared about his dreams too.

  But I never got the chance.

  I remember waking up in the middle of the night to my phone ringing. I fumbled for it in the dark, squinting at the bright screen.

  Arthur.

  I answered groggily. "Arthur? It's late. Is everything okay?"

  "Yeah, sorry." His voice sounded strange. Strained. "I just... we need to talk about Harvard."

  I paused, my sleepiness fading as anxiety crept in. "What about it?"

  "Is there any way we can compromise? Maybe I could look at schools near Boston, or you could consider—"

  I felt irritation spike through me, sharpness from being woken up mixing with frustration that we were having this conversation again. "Arthur, we've talked about this already. Harvard has the best pre-law program in the country. This is my dream."

  "I know that. But what about us?"

  "What about us? You're coming with me. I thought we already decided this."

  And there it was. The assumption that had poisoned everything. That he would just follow along. That his plans, his dreams, his future didn't matter as much as mine.

  "Katie, I can't do that." His voice was quiet but firm. "I have my own goals. My own path. I can't just abandon everything I want to be your shadow."

  "So what are you saying?" My chest felt tight suddenly, fear creeping in.

  I heard him take a deep breath, and I knew whatever came next would hurt.

  "I'm saying... you are free to do whatever you want. It's your life, your dreams. Just.... forget about our relationship."

  The words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment I couldn't process them, couldn't believe I'd heard correctly.

  "What?" I whispered.

  "You heard me." His voice was steady now, resolved. "Go to Harvard. Live your dream. But I'm not going to follow you around like a puppy, Katie. I can't keep sacrificing everything I want just to make you happy."

  I felt panic rising, my sleepy brain struggling to catch up. "Arthur, you can't be serious. You... you always—"

  "I always went along with what you wanted. I know." He sounded tired. Sad.

  "But I'm done being your comfort zone. I'm done always going with your whims while my own dreams get pushed aside. I tried to be there for you, I know about your insecurities adn issues at home. So I tried to make you happy as much as I could. But I can't keep on going along with everything just so I would avoid hurting your feelings. When it is hurting me, and you're too blind to see it."

  My voice cracked. "You don't mean that."

  "I do. And honestly? I care too much about you to hold you back. You deserve to chase your dream without worrying about me, without having to compromise or feel guilty. You would achieve all you wished for someday, I know it. Sadly, I won't be there to see it."

  I realized then that he'd made up his mind. That this wasn't an argument I could win with logic or emotion.

  I tried anyway.

  "Don't do this, not like this!" I pleaded, tears starting to flow. "Let's meet up when you get back. We can talk face-to-face, figure something out together—"

  "There's no point if you won't change your mind about Harvard," he said gently. "And I can't be who you want me to be anymore. I can't keep pretending it's okay that my dreams don't matter."

  "Arthur, please—"

  "Goodbye, Katie. I hope Harvard is everything you want it to be."

  The line went dead.

  I sat there in my dark bedroom, phone still pressed to my ear, and broke down sobbing.

  Because the only boy I'd ever loved, the one who'd healed my broken heart and given me a family and made me feel like I mattered, had just left me.

  And I was all alone again.