Katie PoV
It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows with us after that, of course.
There were incidents at school when everyone found out we were dating. The popular girls couldn't understand what I saw in the "weird art kid." Some of the guys in my social circle made comments about me "slumming it" or said Arthur must have some kind of hidden talent to land someone like me.
Nobody dared to directly mess with him after he'd beaten the crap out of Tony and his gang, but words were something you couldn't stop. Gossip spread like wildfire.
We went through it all together.
Arthur taught me something important during those months—honesty. Real, uncomfortable, vulnerable honesty.
We never hid anything from each other. When I was stressed about my grades or some drama with my friends, I told him. When he was frustrated about his art or feeling overwhelmed, he told me.
I even told him about my family. About the loneliness, about how my house felt more like a golden cage than a home. About my parents' divorce and how neither of them seemed to actually want custody of me, they just didn't want the other to "win."
About how I'd won that stupid debate trophy in fifth grade and cried myself to sleep because nobody cared.
I remember breaking down completely the first time I told him everything. We were sitting in his car after a movie, and it just all came pouring out. Years of pain and loneliness and feeling fundamentally unwanted.
Arthur didn't try to fix it or offer empty platitudes. He just held me tight and kept saying he was here for me. That I wasn't alone anymore.
"You have me now," he said softly, his hand running through my hair. "And you have my family. They love you, Katie. My mom asks about you all the time. Dawn adores you. My dad thinks you're the best thing that ever happened to me."
"And you?" I asked, my voice muffled against his shoulder. "What do you think?"
"I think I'm the luckiest guy in the world."
He took me to meet his family properly after that, not just quick hellos when picking me up for dates. His parents welcomed me with open arms. His mom hugged me and told me I was welcome anytime, that I should consider their house my second home. His dad was kind and funny, always making terrible jokes that somehow still made you laugh.
And Dawn—precious, adorable Dawn—latched onto me immediately. She followed me around, asking me to play games while telling her about high school drama.
I found myself showing up at Arthur's house almost every day after school. My mom barely noticed. She was always working, and when she was home, she was too tired to care what I was doing.
His mom, Christine, would always greet me with a warm hug and ask about my day. She actually listened to my answers, asked follow-up questions, cared about the details of my life in a way my own mother never did.
"Katie, dear, you're staying for dinner, right?" she'd ask, and I'd always say yes because the alternative was going home to an empty house and microwaved leftovers.
The Morgan family dinners were chaotic and loud and everything mine wasn't.
David would tell terrible dad jokes that made everyone groan. Dawn would talk nonstop about her day at elementary school, dramatically reenacting conversations with her friends. Christine would gently tease Arthur about something embarrassing. And Arthur would blush and try to defend himself while everyone laughed.
I loved it. Loved feeling like I belonged somewhere.
Dawn would drag me to her room to show me her toy collection, beg me to play dolls with her, ask me to braid her hair because "you do it so much prettier than Mommy."
"Katie, will you be my big sister?" she asked me one day, her big blue eyes looking up at me hopefully.
I felt my throat tighten. "Of course, sweetie."
"Forever and ever?"
"Forever and ever."
Arthur's dad treated me like I was already part of the family too. He'd ruffle my hair when I came in, ask about school and my college plans, give me advice about dealing with difficult teachers.
Once, when my mom forgot my birthday entirely, David organized a surprise party with the whole family. They sang to me, gave me presents, made me feel special in a way I'd never experienced before.
I cried that night. Happy tears, for once.
"Thank you," I told Arthur as we sat on his porch afterward. "For sharing your family with me."
He took my hand and squeezed it. "They're your family too now, Katie. You're stuck with us."
I never wanted to be unstuck.
The Morgan family gave me something I'd never had: belonging.
****
Arthur and I did argue sometimes, of course. What couple doesn't?
We mostly argued about silly stuff at first , but Arthur would always be patient and listen, then express how he thought. We mostly did what I wanted, even though Arthur didn't like some things, he went along with it for my sake. I tried to do his favorite things, although it bored me at times. But I enjoyed seeing the happy smile on his face.
We'd go to the mall and I'd drag him into clothing stores, making him give opinions on outfits. He'd sit patiently while I tried on different combinations, always saying I looked beautiful no matter what I wore.
"Arthur, you have to actually give me feedback. That's the point."
"But you do look beautiful in everything."
"You're hopeless."
He'd grin at that, not even trying to defend himself.
We'd go to parties with my friends, even though I knew Arthur hated them. He'd stay close to me the whole time, uncomfortable with the loud music and drunk teenagers, but never complaining. When I'd ask if he wanted to leave, he'd always say, "I'm good. You're having fun, right? Then I'm happy."
In return, I'd go with him to art museums and galleries. He'd light up explaining different painting techniques, pointing out brushwork and use of color and composition.
Honestly, most of it went over my head. I didn't understand the difference between impressionism and expressionism, couldn't see what made one painting better than another.
But I loved watching him talk about it. The enthusiasm in his voice, the way his hands moved as he described things, the pure joy on his face. That made the boredom worth it.
We'd go stargazing sometimes. Arthur loved astronomy almost as much as art. He'd bring a blanket and we'd lie in the grass in his backyard, looking up at the night sky.
"See that really bright one there?" he'd point. "That's actually Venus, not a star. And that cluster there is the Pleiades, also called the Seven Sisters. In Greek mythology..."
He'd go on and on, telling me stories about constellations, explaining how stars formed and died, talking about the vast distances of space.
I didn't care about any of it. Couldn't keep track of which constellation was which, couldn't understand the scale of what he was describing.
But I'd lie there with my head on his shoulder, holding his hand, listening to his voice, and feel completely content.
I'm ashamed to say, I took that for granted. He would always find a compromise, and it made me think I was always right. That I should think and decide for both of us.
I started making decisions without asking him. Planning our weekends without checking if he had other things he wanted to do. Assuming he'd go along with whatever I suggested because he always did.
"We're going to Jessica's party Saturday," I'd announce.
"Oh, I was actually planning to—"
"You can do that another time. This party is important."
And he'd always agree.
Arthur would always find a compromise, always try extra hard to make me happy. And that made me think I was always right. That I should be the one thinking and deciding for both of us.
After all, I was practical. I planned for the future. Arthur was a dreamer, artistic and creative but not focused on stability.
I convinced myself I was helping him by guiding his decisions. Making sure he didn't make mistakes that would hurt him later.
I didn't realize I was slowly suffocating him until it was too late.
***
When it came time for college applications senior year, I chose Harvard without hesitation.
Best pre-law program in the country. Perfect connections. It's where successful people went, where I needed to be to build the career I wanted.
Arthur had the grades for Harvard. He wasn't a straight-A student like me, but he was smart and his test scores were high. The problem was money. His family couldn't afford Harvard's tuition, and while he'd likely get some financial aid, it wouldn't be enough.
I talked to my mother about it. Surprisingly, she actually agreed to help.
"If this boy is important to you," she said with uncharacteristic warmth, "then we'll make it work. I can cover his tuition. Consider it an investment in your future together."
I was thrilled. Problem solved! We'd both go to Harvard, stay together, build our future side by side.
But when I told Arthur, he got angry.
Actually angry, something I rarely saw from him.
"I don't want anyone's charity, Katie." His voice was tight, controlled. "I don't want to go somewhere that would strain my family's finances or put me in debt to your mother. You know what my dreams are."
I was annoyed. Frustrated that he wouldn't just accept this perfect solution I'd arranged.
"It's not fucking charity!" I snapped. "My mom is willing to pay tuition for both of us. She doesn't even care if you pay it back! You're my boyfriend, Arthur. This is what people do, they help each other."
He didn't shout back. That wasn't Arthur's way. He stayed calm, which somehow made it worse.
"I get that you're trying to help," he said quietly. "I really do appreciate it, Katie. But I don't like being in someone's debt, especially when I've worked hard to save my own money to pursue something I actually want."
"And what about it?" I demanded. "I know you have talent, Arthur. But an artist's life isn't stable. So many talented artists never gain any fame or financial security after years of hard work. We've talked about having a life together, about supporting each other. We can't do that if you become a starving artist."
I stood up, pacing his room. "I care about you, and I don't want you to make a mistake. Art school isn't practical. You need to think long-term."
We fought about it often over the next few weeks. The same argument, over and over.
Our first real fight about college happened in his car after school. We'd gone to get coffee, and I brought up Harvard again.
"I've been thinking," I started. "If you come to Harvard with me, you could major in business or something practical, and minor in art. That way you'd still get to pursue your passion while having a backup plan."
Arthur was quiet for a long moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. "Katie, I don't want to minor in art. I want to go to an actual art school. Somewhere I can fully focus on developing my skills."
"That's not realistic. Do you know how few artists actually make a living from their work? You'd be setting yourself up for failure."
"Or I'd be pursuing my dream."
"Dreams don't pay bills, Arthur."
He flinched at that, and I saw hurt flash across his face. But then he took a breath and spoke calmly. "I've been saving money since I was fourteen. Working part-time jobs, doing private commissions, saving every dollar. I have enough to go to a good art program without putting financial strain on my family or going into massive debt."
"But you could be making so much more with a business degree. You're smart enough, Arthur. Why waste that on something so uncertain?"
"It's not a waste if it's what I love."
"Love doesn't matter in the real world. Practicality matters. Stability matters."
We argued for over an hour in that parking lot. Arthur stayed calm the entire time, patiently explaining his perspective while I got more and more frustrated that he wasn't seeing sense.
Finally, he pulled me into a hug. "Let's not fight about this anymore tonight. We'll figure something out, okay?"
And I let it drop, thinking I'd convinced him. Or at least planted seeds of doubt about his "impractical" dreams.
Our second fight was worse. We were at his house, in his room surrounded by his artwork. I'd brought up Harvard again, pushing harder this time.
"My mom's offer still stands. Full tuition, room and board, everything. You'd be stupid to turn that down, Arthur."
"I told you, I don't want to be in debt to your family."
"It's not debt! She doesn't expect you to pay it back! This is a gift, Arthur. An opportunity most people would kill for."
"An opportunity to do what? Study something I don't care about at a school I don't want to attend?"
I felt my temper flare. "You're being childish. This is about our future together. Don't you want that?"
"Of course I do. But not at the cost of giving up everything I want."
"Oh, so I'm asking you to give up everything? That's dramatic."
"Katie, you're literally asking me to give up my dreams, move across the country to a school I don't want to attend, study something I'm not passionate about, and be financially dependent on your mother. How is that not giving up everything?"
I stood up, pacing his room. "Because you'd have me! We'd be together! Isn't that worth something?"
Arthur stood too, and for once there was frustration in his voice. "Yes, being with you is worth something. It's worth a lot. But Katie, you're not compromising anything. You get exactly what you want—Harvard, your perfect pre-law program, everything. And I'm supposed to just... follow along and be grateful?"
"I'm trying to help you make smart choices!"
"No, you're trying to make my choices for me!"
We stared at each other, both breathing hard. Then Arthur's expression softened and he pulled me close.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair. "I didn't mean to yell. Let's just... let's talk about this another time, okay? When we're both calmer."
I nodded against his chest, and we spent the rest of the evening watching movies and pretending the fight hadn't happened.
Arthur would calmly explain his position. That art was his passion, that he'd been saving money for years specifically to attend a good art school, that he needed to at least try to pursue his dreams.
And I would counter with logic and practicality. That passion didn't pay bills, that he could always do art as a hobby while having a stable career, that he was being naive about how the real world worked.
The fights never got truly serious because Arthur always knew how to defuse tension. He'd make a self-deprecating joke or change the subject or pull me into a hug until I forgot why I was mad.
And I would shower him with affection afterward—kiss him, hold him in my arms and tell him I loved him, make him smile and laugh until the argument seemed forgotten. And the nights we spent together, when we truly became one. We were each others first, and we knew it meant a lot.
He stopped protesting as much after a few of these fights. Started saying things like "I'll think about it" or "Maybe you're right" instead of defending his position.
I thought he was coming around. Finally seeing sense.
I didn't realize he was just tired of fighting. Tired of having to defend his dreams to the person who was supposed to support them.
I felt bad, knowing how much his dreams meant to him. But I genuinely believed I was helping him. Making the practical choice instead of indulging in fantasy.
It was selfish of me, I see that now. I wanted him with me no matter where I went, because I knew without his support I would become that empty shell of a girl I used to be. His family had become my family, and I couldn't lose any of them.
The thought of going to Harvard alone terrified me. I'd built my entire support system around Arthur and his family. Without them, I'd be back to being that lonely girl whose parents didn't care, who had no real friends, who had to pretend to be perfect all the time.
I needed Arthur. Needed him so desperately it scared me.
So I pushed harder. Convinced myself I was doing it for us, for our future together, not because I was terrified of being alone again.
****
Our last real fight was a couple of days before that camping trip with his family.
Well, it was more like me berating his "childish fantasy" and telling him to "live in reality" while he just sat there quietly taking it.
"You're being naive, Arthur," I remember saying, my voice harsh. "This isn't some movie where following your dreams magically works out. This is real life. Art school is a waste of money and time. You need to grow up and make responsible choices."
"Katie..." He sighed. "I have thought about it a lot. And I just... feel it's not me."
I felt frustration bubble up immediately. "Why not? What is so important about art school that you'd give up on us?"
"I'm not giving up on us. I'm asking you to support my dreams the way I support yours."
"I do support your dreams! I just think you're being unrealistic about them!"
"See, that's not support, Katie. That's you deciding you know better than me about my own life."
I stood up, pacing my room. "Because I do know better! I'm thinking long-term while you're stuck on some fantasy about being a famous artist! I am thinking about our future together."
"I never said I wanted to be famous. I just want to study what I love and see where it takes me."
"And what if it takes you nowhere? What if you spend years and thousands of dollars and end up working a minimum wage job anyway?"
"Then at least I tried. At least I didn't spend my life wondering what if."
I spun around to face him. "That's such bullshit, Arthur. This isn't some movie where following your dreams magically works out. This is real life. You need to grow up and make responsible choices."
He looked up at me then, and there was something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Hurt.
"Responsible choices, huh?" he repeated quietly. "Like giving up everything I want to follow you to a school I don't want to attend?"
"Like thinking about our future together instead of just yourself!"
"I am thinking about our future. I'm just not willing to have that future mean I give up everything while you give up nothing."
"That's not fair—"
"Isn't it?" He stood up. "You keep saying we need to compromise, but Katie, every compromise we've ever made has been me doing what you want. When do I get to choose something?"
I felt tears prick my eyes. "So you're choosing art school over me."
"No, I'm choosing to not give up my dreams. There's a difference."
"Not from where I'm standing."
We glared at each other, and then Arthur deflated. He walked over and pulled me into a hug, even though I resisted at first.
"I love you," he said softly. "I really do. But you are asking me to give up the thing that brought us together."
"I love you too, Arthur. I know I'm asking a lot, but please, it will be the best choice for both of us. We can be together like we always thought we would. Don't you want that?"
He didn't say much in response. Just nodded along, his expression carefully neutral.
I thought he'd finally agreed. Finally accepted that I was right and he needed to be more practical.
We spent the night together as usual after that fight, and he held me close without saying much. I fell asleep content, thinking everything was settled.
I didn't know I'd been breaking his heart all along.
***
I thought the camping trip would be good for him. Help him unwind a little, spend time with his family, remember what was important.
And when he came back, I'd planned to apologize for the harsh words. Tell him I was only being tough because I cared, because I wanted what was best for us. Reassure him that we'd figure everything out together.
I'd even looked at some art programs in Boston that he could do part-time while taking business classes at a local school. A compromise that would let him pursue art as a hobby, while still being practical.
I was going to present it to him when he got back. Show him I'd been listening, that I cared about his dreams too.
But I never got the chance.
I remember waking up in the middle of the night to my phone ringing. I fumbled for it in the dark, squinting at the bright screen.
Arthur.
I answered groggily. "Arthur? It's late. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, sorry." His voice sounded strange. Strained. "I just... we need to talk about Harvard."
I paused, my sleepiness fading as anxiety crept in. "What about it?"
"Is there any way we can compromise? Maybe I could look at schools near Boston, or you could consider—"
I felt irritation spike through me, sharpness from being woken up mixing with frustration that we were having this conversation again. "Arthur, we've talked about this already. Harvard has the best pre-law program in the country. This is my dream."
"I know that. But what about us?"
"What about us? You're coming with me. I thought we already decided this."
And there it was. The assumption that had poisoned everything. That he would just follow along. That his plans, his dreams, his future didn't matter as much as mine.
"Katie, I can't do that." His voice was quiet but firm. "I have my own goals. My own path. I can't just abandon everything I want to be your shadow."
"So what are you saying?" My chest felt tight suddenly, fear creeping in.
I heard him take a deep breath, and I knew whatever came next would hurt.
"I'm saying... you are free to do whatever you want. It's your life, your dreams. Just.... forget about our relationship."
The words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment I couldn't process them, couldn't believe I'd heard correctly.
"What?" I whispered.
"You heard me." His voice was steady now, resolved. "Go to Harvard. Live your dream. But I'm not going to follow you around like a puppy, Katie. I can't keep sacrificing everything I want just to make you happy."
I felt panic rising, my sleepy brain struggling to catch up. "Arthur, you can't be serious. You... you always—"
"I always went along with what you wanted. I know." He sounded tired. Sad.
"But I'm done being your comfort zone. I'm done always going with your whims while my own dreams get pushed aside. I tried to be there for you, I know about your insecurities adn issues at home. So I tried to make you happy as much as I could. But I can't keep on going along with everything just so I would avoid hurting your feelings. When it is hurting me, and you're too blind to see it."
My voice cracked. "You don't mean that."
"I do. And honestly? I care too much about you to hold you back. You deserve to chase your dream without worrying about me, without having to compromise or feel guilty. You would achieve all you wished for someday, I know it. Sadly, I won't be there to see it."
I realized then that he'd made up his mind. That this wasn't an argument I could win with logic or emotion.
I tried anyway.
"Don't do this, not like this!" I pleaded, tears starting to flow. "Let's meet up when you get back. We can talk face-to-face, figure something out together—"
"There's no point if you won't change your mind about Harvard," he said gently. "And I can't be who you want me to be anymore. I can't keep pretending it's okay that my dreams don't matter."
"Arthur, please—"
"Goodbye, Katie. I hope Harvard is everything you want it to be."
The line went dead.
I sat there in my dark bedroom, phone still pressed to my ear, and broke down sobbing.
Because the only boy I'd ever loved, the one who'd healed my broken heart and given me a family and made me feel like I mattered, had just left me.
And I was all alone again.