- dangerously yours, 1937
'you‘ll live a long time yet, an eternity without me. you will look into the faces of passers by, hoping for something that will... for an instant, bring me back to you. you will find moonlit nights strangely empty because.. when you call my name through them; there will be no answer. always your heart will be aching for me and your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did.. a brave thing.'
the night was heavy, dark enough that even the stars were gone, swallowed by summer’s still air. no wind, no cicadas. only silence, thick and waiting.
arthur stood at the bottom of the balcony steps, hat in his hands, head bowed. above him, the faint glow of your porch light flickered against the curtain, a tired gold in the navy dark. he didn’t call your name. only the creak of the metal beneath his feet alerting you to presence.
he had no right to come back.
he told himself he’d left so you could have peace. clean mornings, silver on the table, no violence or paranoia. no wondering if anyone would kill you in your sleep. you were supposed to be safe, untouched by the world that had ruined him.
but here he was. dirt on his boots and jacket, eyes duklled with regret. his hands shook with the memory of you. of what he’d thrown away.
you.
you, who had once kissed him like he was worth saving. you, who had whispered you’d rather be poor with him than rich and alone.
and he, in his cowardice, had called it love when he broke your heart, saying it was for your freedom. now it only felt like loss.
a small sound broke through. the sound of ccurtains shifting, the quiet click of a door. you stepped out into the night, robe loose, hair mussed from sleep, your voice soft from tire.
“…arthur?”
he froze, breath caught. for a moment he couldn’t answer. but then, low and rough: “evenin’.”
you came down barefoot, slow, obviously confused. you stopped in front of him, close enough for him to breathe in the smell of horse and the road and cologne (which he didn't regularly wear, but he still cleaned himself up before he saw you), and beneath it, the man you had once loved.
“i told myself i’d stop lookin’ for you in crowds,” he murmured. “told myself lettin’ you go was right. lettin’ you live.”
he swallowed hard. “but every night it’s the same. i close my eyes and you’re there. always you.”
he turned his face away, jaw tight. “you deserve better. god knows you do.”
his voice dropped to a whisper. “i ain’t askin’ for nothin’. i just…” his eyes met yours then, bare and aching. “i just needed to see you. one more time. to know you’re still well. still breathin’.”