Arthur Cries Novels & Stories

"How can I feel good by torturing you? You being in pain means I’m in pain. So what’s the point?" Arthur turns around when he hears that weak familiar voice. His gaze falls on Madin, whose half-open eyes reflect exhaustion and sorrow. “You… you’ve woken up…” Arthur whispers, his voice breaking. He drops to his knees and instinctively lifts Madin’s upper body, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry,” Arthur murmurs, tears threatening to spill. He clings to Madin as though letting go would break him completely.

(Kim's Point of View) Killian is not my son. I made an effort not to cry as Arthur's words resounded in my head, but I still sniffed and covered my mouth to prevent any sobbing that was threatening to embarrass me. "It's okay to cry you know,"

Millie continues "take his money, take his job, take his happiness, take his soul. It still won't be enough to pay back what he did to you" Tears roll down her cheeks and her vision becomes clear again. She can't think of the last time she looked in a mirror and her face wasn't dripping in tears "There you go, crying again. Like you always are" "I'm not" she wipes her face "I'm not crying anymore" "Good" ~

I failed to change his faith, and I screamed all my regret as I was devastated to see him falling slowly. ARTHUR! ARTHUR! My mind was shouting his name, but I couldn't scream for a few moments as I observed him fall on the floor. Then, my world turned gray as I felt that I was slowly approaching Arthur. I couldn't stop sobbing as I approached him. I felt my chest was getting numbers as the seconds passed while looking at Arthur in his state.

I raised the glass. The magnification brought Arthur’s face so close it felt like I could smell the rot on his breath. He was sobbing. His eyes were bloodshot, his face a map of broken capillaries and dirt. He was clawing at the iron bars of the gate, his fingernails bleeding as he tried to find a purchase on the smooth metal. "Phineas!" Arthur wailed below. The sound carried on the wind, thin and pathetic. "I know you're up there! I’m sorry! I’ll fix it! Just come back to the pack!"

Aether whispered, his violet eyes locking not on Lucas, but on Arthur Cross, who stood frozen in utter, world-shattering shock. Arthur’s face collapsed. The stoic resolve, the quiet strength, all of it evaporated, leaving behind the raw, naked grief of twenty years. A single tear traced a path through the dust on his cheek. “My boy,” Arthur choked out, taking a stumbling step forward. “They told me you were stillborn. They let me hold a cold… a cold bundle of blankets.”

I'm aware that if I die, Arthur will cry a lot. When something awful happens to me, he usually cries a lot. If I ignored him, his eyes would fill with tears. If I yell at him, his eyes will be filled with tears. If I am harmed, his eyes create a lot of tears. He cries a lot for me for the simple reason that he is a cry baby. As I continued to stroke Arthur's cheeks, I cast a soft glance at him. "I want you to promise me something, Arthur." I muttered.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the glass tray and pushed the door open, heading back into the bedroom. ​ “Stop crying right now.” He moved closer, sat on the bed, and squeezed her upper arm, trying to make her stop. ​ “sob..” But that only made Patricia cry even harder than before. ​ “I told you to stop crying!” Arthur snapped irritably. He no longer knew what he was angrier about, whether it was the sound of Patricia’s heart-wrenching sobs or himself for being so frenzied that he had done something this vile. ​

How could he possibly say that to me after we just found out that we are mates. "Come here, sweetie." He said, stretching his hand towards his mistress who had already started crying. "Shhh.. it's okay, everything is fine. I'm not going to leave you." He cooed her and patted her head as he tried to stop her from crying. I stood there, watching them, myouth opening and closing, but no words coming out. Arthur really wasn't going to do what I thought he was, right? "What do you mean, Arthur?" I moved closer to him, holding unto one of his arms.