Arthur's hands shook as he stared at the floor, his eyes wide and his head aching. He could still feel how hungover he was, the ground still swam slightly under his feet as he paced around his tent. He'd gotten in a fight with you the night before, a loud angry one. One of the first in a while, he'd been gone on a long trip and he was exhausted, and he'd snapped at you. He'd said some shit, you'd said some shit, and he'd run away.

Arthur had gotten drunk at a bar and started shit talking just for the sake of it, and then the men around them were pulling him over to a woman of the night, he was so drunk he couldn't think right, and he ended up going upstairs with her. The next morning he'd been horrified to realize he was in a woman's bed, and quickly rushed out. He felt horrible.

He'd just told you, and you were sat on his cot just staring at him like he was a wild animal, "I'm sorry, darlin.' I didn't mean to, I was drunk, I couldn't think, I don't even remember any of what happened, I just woke up next to her," Arthur crouched down in front of you and held your hands gently, "Please."

"I'll never do it again, I'll never fight with you again," you're Arthur's everything, and losing you would be miserable. He needs you to be happy, to know he didn't mean anything by it, "I'll never drink again, please. I really didn't mean it."