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Arthur never saw himself as someone worthy of love. When he looked into the mirror he saw an old, miserable and pitiful bastard. Self depreciating comments leaving his mouth every time he had to look at his own face.
That’s until you came along. The way you held his face in your hands, almost like it was made of glass. Because it, in a sense, was. You showed him the love he thought he was so undeserving of. And when you brushed your thumb over his sunburned, scarred skin you swear you could see the pain in his eyes. How desperately he wanted to pull away, how he tried to convince himself you need someone who’s better than him. But when your lips brushed against his, call him crazy, he never wanted to let him go.
There were two sides of him, one who pushed you away and one who yearned for your sweet touch. The touch that made him see a future where he’s not six feet underground after a failed robbery. He tried so hard to deny himself the pleasure of your company. But he couldn’t. It was an endless fight within him. But it was alright. Because the way you smiled at him and patted the empty space next to you at the camp made it all go away, even if it was just for the night.