"You are a horrible person, Arthur Morgan."
He knew this, told himself this constantly along with other self-deprecating things that got far worse than just calling himself horrible, but something was different about hearing it from another person's mouth. You stood before him, arms crossed and completely closed off for him, and it made his heart ache to see you pull away from his touch when he reached out for you.
"I told you not to get close to me." His own voice feels weak, he doesn't feel like himself.
"I guess this is what you wanted me to learn, right? That whole lesson in not trustin' people?"
"I hurt people. It's all I'm good at." He had never been dishonest with you about who he was, or what he did, which is why he feels so muddled and confused now. Shouldn't you have brought this up before? Why now was it suddenly such a problem you'd confront him in such a manner, completely tearing his heart out in the process; he didn't think he'd actually feel this pain again, heartbreak, but he was finding himself wrong about plenty of things these days.
"I trusted you!" Your voice cracks as you scream at him, and now you're crying, tears streaming down your face, a sight he hated seeing; it'd only happened a handful of times, and it still made him sick to his stomach. "Just let me go, Arthur, just let me go."
It was the hardest thing you could ask him to do, something he didn't even know if he could, but in the end he knows it's what he deserves. If a God existed in this world there's no way it'd ever let a man like him be happy, and this happening was proof of that; he watches you walk away and as he goes to call out for you to just wait a minute, to come back and explain, his voice catches in his throat. He suddenly feels parched, mouth dry and unable to properly form words, and soon he's sinking to the ground in defeat as you completely disappear before he even has the chance to say he loves you.
Arthur wakes up in a cold sweat, his dream more real than anything he's ever experienced before; he curses as he sits up in bed, rubbing his temples and wondering where the hell that came from. It takes him a moment to reorient himself to reality, to what was actually happening around him; the sun was just beginning to rise in the distance, he could see it from the light drifting through the half closed curtain. He was in bed, all his belongings stored in a chest to the right of him; there was just one more thing he had to check.
He knows it's damn stupid to take a dream to heart like that but he turns slowly to his other side, to peer at the person occupying the other side of the bed. You're still curled up, as heavy a sleeper as always, and you look like you're having more pleasant dreams than he did. He doesn't know why he half-expected you not to be there, rubbing his eyes and laying down on his back as he tries to wipe away the dream that still feels fresh. He knew he hadn't meant to fall as hard for you as he did, he could probably confidently say (only to himself) that he was in love with you, and maybe that's why the dream hit him so hard.
He didn't know what it was like to feel love so genuinely without having it torn away from him.
Arthur turns on his side to face you, considering leaving you be and not waking you up just because he wanted to feel your body against him (just to make sure you're actually real). He briefly remembers you diving on the bed early as sin a day after he'd been drinking heavily, waking up with the worst hangover of his life, and decides he feels no pity for waking you up like this. He slings an arm around your waist and pulls your body closer to him, an easy feat since you almost seem to help him out by wiggling closer.
"Arthur?" You let out a sleepy mumble, yawning but still not opening your eyes. "It's too early."
"Early bird gets the worm, sweetheart." He kisses the back of your neck, nuzzling the soft skin and breathing in your scent. Sometimes he treated moments like these as though they were the last he'd have with you, even if that wasn't the case; he'd long since learned he should be prepared for the worst case scenario. That dream could be a reality one day, couldn't it? He could end up hurting you so bad you leave him, but not before taking his heart with you.
"Fine." You sit up in the bed, his arm now thrown across your lap. "If I'm makin' breakfast, you're makin' the coffee. Deal?"
He finally moves, sitting up alongside you while you both sit in the bed, waiting for the grogginess of sleep to disappear with the rising sun. You lean against his shoulder, waiting until he looks over at you to give him a 'good morning' kiss; he reciprocates strongly, a little moreso than you're used to. Normally Arthur was a little more lax with affection, especially in the morning hours unless he was horny, but right now he seemed a little more needy than normal. You can't pinpoint why but you're not gonna question it, pulling away and flashing a smile at him.
"How did I get so lucky to get someone like you?" He'd think that was a joke, coming from anyone but you.
"I ask myself that every day, darlin'."
Maybe he had to learn a dream was just a dream, not a premonition, and he had nothing to worry about.