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.
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.