“I mean, how do ya think your mom’ll feel?” His words softly fell from his lips as he watched you closely. The soft, sweet air of the spring suddenly felt heavy as his plea’s reached your mind.

“You gotta go home, your home.” Arthur’s voice was gentle, as gentle as he could make it, and you were nothing if not aware of the begging behind the tone.

Hand reaching for yours, Arthur gently took it, planting a soft kiss to the skin upon it. “This ain’t worth dyin’ over, you know that.”