?Karmic ending?

Arthur's POV

You're probably expecting to hear how much I've been suffering or breaking down without Bryony.

You'd be wrong.

I went back to New York and decided to stay with Alison for a little while but I knew staying with her too long was a recipe for disaster.

Jack, Odell and Darnell were my companions for this time.

Alison would work a lot of times and at most nights I would go to a club or a bar. Get fucked up and probably get beaten to a bloody pulp.

Whatever fucked up substances I took made me barely feel or remember so I had no worries. After all I had Alison to go home to.

Even through my drunken lens I could see the disappointment that lingered whenever I would return looking like roadkill.

She would sometimes leave the hospital in a hurry from an emergency for my sake and call me selfish but it made me feel important. It made me depend on her more. Knowing she'd stop almost anything at a drop of a hat just for me.

Someone like me.

Whenever I would wake up with headaches, she would be at home. Alison made it her duty to treat me first and ask questions later.

If ever she tried to interrogate me it would often result in us fighting then it transitioned into sex.

It was a temporary glue for us. Until I would get fucked up with cocaine again or get too drunk to even remember my own name.

Despite all this she never asked me to change and she was never hard to please.

They were was an occasion where I went 1 week without inhaling any cocaine. Let me tell you something that was fucking suicide, hell on earth even.

Night terrors prompted me to stay up for up to 2 nights at a time. I was always so jittery and tired all the time that I had to stay in a closed room for up to 3 days without water or food.

Sounds awful doesn't it?

That's because I lied before. My life was total shit since Bryony left. It was just one fucked up high after another.

One shot, two shots, three shots, ten.

//

Alison's angel effect was dwindling away the longer I stayed with her.

So I had to go back to my apartment and lock myself away for another week. The only source of light at times would be my laptop as I sat and watched, no stalked her.

Her performances were improving. She started out with just dancing on her own and engaging with the crowd to then having back up dancers.

Her breath control wasn't always the best and whenever it sounded like she was faltering I would cringe and find myself hoping she would pick herself back up.

Bryony's social media had doubled since the shows and steadily her music was gaining a lot of attention.

I was proud of her because I knew she was more than capable of this and much more.

Maybe if I didn't fuck things over I could be there whenever she needed me.

Because she does need me right?

I used to believe that but with all her successes and the flooded Instagram posts and stories, it depicted just how much she was better off without me.

That fucking hurt no matter how many times I tried denying it. At this point I knew if I wanted her back I would have to drop everything I associated myself with and be the man she wanted me to be.