The truth was, Arthur had stopped caring whether he lived or died a long time ago. Maybe he never said it out loud—maybe he never even admitted it to himself—but he felt it, deep down. In the way he picked fights he didn’t need to. In the way he rode head first into danger without a second thought. He noticed how careless he’d become. How tired. His luck had been stretched thin for far too long, and he knew it wouldn’t hold forever.
Now, lying near the edge of a quiet cliff, watching the sun rise over the horizon, Arthur felt something he hadn’t let himself feel in a while: regret. It came slow and heavy, like the morning light spreading over the hills. He couldn’t undo what was done—he knew that. But as the warmth touched his face, he let himself wonder, just for a moment, if things could’ve been different. If he’d valued the time he had, instead of treating it like it would never run out.
A/N: I love him so much it hurts.