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Arthur,
I've been thinking. About things I mean. You and I. I know you're doubtful of me, and you have every right to be. But I also know things haven't changed as much during these years as we may claim.
It's been a long time, but seeing you made things feel right again. I can't help but notice it seemed right for you too. I don't want to have to beg for your presence, let alone your forgiveness, but I miss you. And I want things to be the way we wanted.
Please come see me again, it would mean a lot to me, and I need to make things right between us.
Yours,
Mary
He'd read it what seemed to be over ten times now, his heart ached for her, and he knew if he wanted anything, it was this.
"Hey."
He looked up from the paper, finding Sadie standing there, a smug look on her face as she noticed his startled mannerism.
"What's that?" She gestured to the letter, which he folded quickly, pocketing it before she had the chance to read it, remembering her tendencies to snoop in her peers' mail.
"It's nothin'— from a friend." He sat on his cot, resting his arms on his knees, looking away from her casually.
"A lady friend?" She raised a brow, chuckling at his quickness to straighten up, preparing an excuse already, which he eventually sighed at, shaking his head in mild amusement. Sadie always pried at him, knowing his emotions even better than himself sometimes.
"John told me about her," she gestured to the photo of Mary nearby, one Arthur could never bring himself to put away. "'Course, he's not the best judge of character." She swung her leg over a wooden chair, crossing her arms along the back of it. "So, what's her name?"
Arthur scoffed to himself, unknowing why he allowed Sadie to know about all of this. "Mary."
"You sure don't talk about her much do you?" Sadie took her knife out then, starting on the wood in her hand soon after.
"There ain't much to tell I guess." He said simply.
Sadie scoffed, "Uhuh, you're sweet as I ever saw on her Arthur, that ain't changed."
"Sadie—"
"Look, Arthur," she leaned forward, her expression hardening, "I know what it's like, to find that person. Hell, with Jake I... well, we were happy."
"It's not so simple Sadie."
"You got that right, but hey— what is?" She shrugged, putting her blade back inside her boot before turning her gaze to his profile, "What happened Arthur?"
"We lived separate lives, I blamed her when she said no, her daddy got to drinking and hatin' me more than ever, and— now..." He looked down into his lap as a sigh left him. "Well, now I guess we're just realizing things could've been different."
"Alright, give it here," she held her hand out, raising her brows when he didn't hand it over. "Do you want my advice or not?"
"Sadie—" He protested, despite reaching for it.
"Come on," she took it with satisfaction, opening it with more care than he thought.
He watched her as she read it, her expression growing more serious as she did, almost heartbroken.
She shook her head in disbelief when she was finished, looking back at him with a pain in her eyes. "Arthur—"
"It's crazy I know—" He started, doubt immediately filling him as she said it.
"No— I think you should go." She nodded decisively. And he knew, inevitably so, that she was right.
He nodded himself, standing slowly, taking the letter back from her. "Thank you." It was all he could think of to say, and she seemed to understand it.
--
It was only hours later when he found himself standing at Mary's doorstep, hesitant to knock, wondering briefly if his cowardice would get the best of him.
But after a few more moments of contemplation, he knocked lightly, removing his hat quickly when he heard footsteps advancing in his direction.
It was Mary for once who opened the door, not Jamie, not a housekeeper, and certainly not her father.
He felt his stomach flutter at the sight of her, despite everything, all the time they'd spent together, he still grew nervous around her.
"Arthur..." She seemed mildly surprised that he was there, although a look of adoration resided somewhere in her eyes too. "You came."
He nodded, finding words difficult as he looked at her, she was so beautiful. There were no words for the feeling he had for her now, how he'd missed being with her. "You wanted to talk?"
She nodded, "Yes. I've just been... thinking about things."
"Yeah me too," he said it regrettably, knowing he should've told her sooner, that despite the fact that she had said no, he was the one who was a fool.
She stepped aside, inviting him in wordlessly, as if sensing his hesitation, leading him into the sitting room.
She sat beside him on the sofa, shifting slightly, looking as though her mind was scrambling for words to push out, searching for anything to make him stay. "Arthur—" She put a hand on his arm, a desperation in her voice, as if she'd been holding this back for months.
He stopped, only to look at her, leaving her room to speak, tired of fights and melancholy reassurances, which they'd been stumbling through recently.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have— Well, I shouldn't have done a lot of things, I haven't been exactly fair to you, and... you're trying, I know that." Her voice broke, her eyes brimming with tears which she tried valiantly to hide. "I know you are Arthur. And I appreciate it more than you realize it's just— I've been so unhappy."
"Mary..." He wanted to comfort her, hold her, like she used to allow him, but time had taken that privilege long ago.
"I miss you, so much, after everything, I never stopped—" she trailed off, looking back at him like she'd said too much. But it wasn't, she could never overstep her boundaries with him.
His hand curled around hers, feeling the cool metal of the ring he'd given her so long ago, and a comfort along with it, knowing how much his presence now meant to her.
She lifted her gaze from their hands to meet his, "Arthur, I love you, I always have. Even with Barry I couldn't... he was a friend but—" she trailed off, seemingly unable to find all of the right words, but he knew what she'd meant. All that time, she'd tried to abide by her father's will, by the expectations her peers had of her, all the while knowing her heart had always resided in the same place.
"Mary," he spoke softly, struggling to keep his own tears at bay, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear, an action he'd ceased to do since they were young. "I love you too... Christ, you've always known that." He shook his head with a weak smile, a bittersweet feeling residing in his chest as he finally got the chance to say it.
She laughed softly, stray tears streaming down her face now, "I suppose, yes." She smiled at him, wiping them away with the palm of her hand. "But I've waited a long time to hear it again."
"Me too," he whispered, his gaze indistinctively falling to her lips for a moment before he looked back at her, feeling the warmth of her hand still clasped within his.
And then he felt her lips press against his, soft and chaste, as though she hadn't expected herself to. His free hand moved to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek gently as he closed his eyes.
And then suddenly, as though she had fully realized their situation, she kissed him fully, her hand moving to his neck, her fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer until he lost himself in the kiss entirely.
He'd forgotten what it felt like, her touch, her breath against his skin, the flutter he felt in his chest when she kissed him. She always took the initiative, matching his indelicate methods, contrasting from everything people expected of her.
She soon pulled away hesitantly, as if she were trying to refrain herself from pushing further than she ought to.
He allowed his forehead to rest against hers, their noses brushing ever so slightly as he noticed the gleam of tears still residing on her cheeks. "You okay?"
She nodded, chuckling softly as she ran a gentle hand through his hair. "Some things never change with you."
"I could say the same for you," he grinned at her, making her laugh again, his heart beating uncontrollably with a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. "Where do you want to go?" He asked her eventually, pulling away slightly from her.
"Anywhere," she said softly, moving to kiss him another time.