my life is a love letter to you

You would wake up just in time to go and meet Arthur outside Ha Ha's, but other than that, you were either rotting on the sofa or watching TV or sleeping.

Or walking aimlessly around the apartment building like a ghost, because you didn't know what to do with yourself, but Arthur didn't need to know that.

You were grieving the loss of your studying routines, rituals, lifestyle, and everything you associated with your degree. It was like you were grieving an old friend, someone you had cherished and loved dearly... and they were gone before you were ready for them to leave.

The grief hit you harder than you had ever expected, and it had left you breathless, disoriented and lost.

A few weeks after, in the middle of May, you had begun to understand what you were supposed to do with all of the extra free time you had, and had started to re-join the world of the living. You put yourself on the same erratic sleeping schedule as Arthur (or, at least, you went to bed when he did, and you got out of bed when he did... sleep was still difficult for you, with so much extra energy and nowhere for it to go), and tried to clean the apartment, tried to find things to do in Gotham that didn't cost too much money, tried to be there and you supported Arthur in everything he did, wanting to spend as much time with him as possible.

Oh, but you had missed him while you had been 'away' studying. Whether or not you had lived in the apartment with him over the last six years while you were studying was irrelevant; you missed Arthur. He was the beginning and the end of everything. He was the reason you had set out to complete this degree, he was the reason you wanted to make something of yourself, the reason you had tried to find a way to stay alive all those years ago... Arthur was your reason.

Arthur, for his part, had been driven insane watching you kill yourself over balancing a full time job with your full time studies, but he had channelled his worries into looking after you as much as he could, making your life easier as best as he could. Arthur was always so proud of you, you had struggled, survived and thrived in these six years, growing into yourself as your relationship with Arthur grew, as your hair grew and your dreams began to unfurl themselves in front of you. The next step always revealed itself before you knew you needed to take it, such was the nature of your dream career.

You wanted to be a therapist, not so you could help Arthur, specifically, though you did this as much as you could, but so you could help people like him. That was all you wanted to do, in honour of everything he had taught you, in honour of the love that you shared and the seven years you had shared together thus far.

Your life, for the last seven years, had been a love letter to Arthur, and he marvelled at its contents.

By the time you reached the middle of June, your grief had abated somewhat, but your worries and anxieties about your Bachelor's psychology with counselling honours degree results had warped into 'I didn't try hard enough', 'I've failed and I know it', 'I've let Arthur down, he's gonna hate me, I didn't honour him, I've dishonoured him', and more. You ripped yourself apart every night so seamlessly that by the time morning rolled around, as it always does, no one knew.

Arthur did, but Arthur knew that telling you he was counting down the days until you found out your results would trigger anxiety attacks, and so he stayed silent. All he could do was tell you what you already knew, which was that you had worked so hard, so how could you fail?

You tried to believe him, you did, but not even your love for your husband could save you from your own mind.

As the months crept closer and closer to results day, which happened to be your birthday, it got to the point where someone even mentioning results turned into an instant anxiety attack. There was no warning, no build-up, no way of stopping it. Your heart rate would sky rocket, your hands would begin to shake, and intervention had a small ten second window or you would begin to experience an anxiety attack.

Arthur had handled many of your 'moments' over the years, as you referred to your anxiety and panic attacks, but he had never seen you experience so many as intensely as these, in such a short period of time.

It was all he could do to keep you 'level', and that meant very carefully not talking about university, your degree, your results, or anything. You could talk about moving on, you could talk about next steps, you had even hired a careers advisor for a year to help you get to where you wanted to be, but you couldn't face the concept of your results without having an anxiety or a panic attack.

Your desk had not ever been cleaned off, it still looked like it did when you had submitted your dissertation, even when July ticked around.

You always faced what scared you with shaking hands and a fierce look in your eyes, but this...

Arthur had never known you to be so afraid of something before, especially when you had been in control of the academic situation for six years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of all-nighters, hundreds of times where you had been awake for more than the twenty-four hours in a day (your record had peaked at thirty six hours in your fourth year, and then you had beaten it in fifth year with thirty eight hours), tens of assignments, five times before where you had been scared of your results, but the sixth time... Arthur wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't kill you off.

You were, quite simply, terrified of the inevitable.

Finally, finally, your torment was almost over, just when you thought you couldn't take anymore (Arthur knew you couldn't, and his relief to find out that your results had been released was palpable), and it was late July.

Despite knowing what was happening at midnight 21st July , you hadn't been prepared for the email that said 'Your Results Are In!'. White hot heat flooded your body and for a brief moment, you thought you were going to be sick. It was a similar sensation. You took a moment to breathe, you took a moment to realise that this was it.

The results of six years of soul-destroying work (oh, but you had loved every second of it and you would do it all over again just for fun if you could, you were a student at heart), was in your hands. All you had to do was click on the link, log in, and your pain was over.

Or... the insidious voice in your mind whispered, it's just beginning. You've failed, you didn't work hard enough, Arthur is about to find out you have let him down and he'll divorce you.

You whimpered, and Arthur's head shot up, his dark hair brushing the tops of his bony shoulders as he examined your body language. His oceanic eyes widened - he knew that position of yours. Sat sideways on the sofa, one leg dangling over, the other tucked so that your foot was touching your inner thigh, bent over at the waist, like a pretzel.

You had your results.

Arthur said nothing. He let you have your moment. He was as anxious as you, his knees and hands trembling, but Arthur held himself together. This was your moment.

The page loaded, and he watched you. No expression on your face, none at all. Your eyes roamed the page, and still with no expression on your face, you said, "Arthur, can you pass me my phone, please?"

Arthur nodded, handed you your phone. It was on the table right next to you, but he didn't say anything. Your self-control, your poker face, had always amazed him.

"Thank you."

You took your phone, and Arthur noticed you took care not to touch him - holding yourself together.

You called a number, and then said, "What's a Pass Grade 2 mean?"

The person on the other side spoke, and your eyes widened.

"... What? Are you sure?"

Again, the other person was talking, and you were white-knuckling your phone. Tears filled your eyes, but you didn't let them fall.

"I'm... okay, thank you so much, I'll call you back later. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. I am questioning my own eyeballs, thank you for checking."

You called someone else, and it was almost the same conversation, word for word, as you waited for them to affirm your suspicions. To confirm what you had already been told. You always sought reassurance from three people before you relaxed, because three was the scientific method.

The way you doubted yourself over everything always broke Arthur's heart.

No one hurt you more than you did.

Your voice was trembling as you finished the second call, and you clicked on your laptop some more. Another results page, Arthur knew from previous years. He watched you process your results and the phone calls in real time. He knew nothing, but he had his suspicions. You were so carefully composed externally, though internally he knew emotions were flying through you like a hurricane. You had always felt so much more than you ever said.

Arthur wondered what had happened, before he had come into your life, to teach you that.

He hoped he never met them.

Finally, you nodded to yourself, put your head in your hands, and breathed in. You had always liked a 6-6-6 count, it made you laugh. In for six, hold for six, out for six.

You did this six times, and then looked Arthur square in the eyes.

"Arthur, I, uh... my results. I have them." You swallowed thickly.

There - you were ready to share, though you had not processed by any means. You were terrified.

"Yeah?"

Arthur came rushing over, he kneeled down beside you on the floor, you angled your screen so he could read it:

Pass Grade 2.

"What - what does that mean?"

"Uh, so," you smiled softly, and Arthur's heart picked up as you clicked to another page on your laptop and pointed out sentences surrounded by graphs and numbers, "I scored 74% on my dissertation... 73% overall on my sixth year... and a Pass Grade 2 means I did it. I fucking did it. I got a 2:1, Arthur."

Arthur frowned, and you elaborated, "that means I can be a therapist once I've done more training. It means I can do a Master's degree. I did it, Arthur! I did it I did it I did it!!!!"

As you said your results out loud for the first time, the metal vice that had been constricting your ribcage for the last six years fell away.

You were so scared it was going to shatter the glass floor you felt like were stood on, scared that these were someone else's results.

Even still, you knew they weren't.

And so you had to do your best to process the news, but that would come in time.

He watched as you jumped up and ran over to the photo on your office wall, the one of you as a seven year old, with the caption "do it for her" underneath.

"I did it, little me. I made it happen, just like I promised. You're gonna get your cool graduation hat! I got what I needed to keep my promise to you and to Arthur! I did it!"

And that was it - you broke.

You sunk to your knees, laughing and crying, right there on the floor in front of the photo of you as a child.

Arthur ran over, bent down on the floor beside you, and you threw yourself at him. "I did it, Arthur!" You were giggling, crying, "I'm in shock, I - how did I do it?"

"You know how," Arthur murmured, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I never doubted you for a second!" Kisses were rained all over your face and you let them, you let Arthur love on you, so happy were you that nothing else mattered other than this moment right here.

Even so, you were in genuine shock.

How the fuck did you manage a 2:1????

You???

Immediately, Arthur began making plans to take you out to dinner, he didn't have much money, but he had his Carnival suit, he was getting paid in a few days, he could always ration his medication for a day or so to make it all stretch... Arthur shook his head, you would be angry if he did that.

But he had to do something.

"Let me take you to dinner, to celebrate?"

Arthur was never sure of himself, everything was a question, the anticipation of rejection too great. You would never say no to Arthur, you never had, and especially not now.

You looked up at Arthur, your eyes red, your face blotchy. He cradled your face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe your tears away. "I'm so proud of you," a kiss was pressed to the tip of your nose, and you began to cry anew, in a true state of shock.

You nodded, you wanted to celebrate. You wanted to sleep. You wanted to do so many things. You would need time to process, the both of you knew, but it would come slowly, as all things must.

"Please," I'm so tired, you thought, even in your happiness and relief, "but... can we cuddle first? I'm in shock... I really had myself convinced I'd failed."

Arthur's arms were so tight around you in the next second that his grasp replaced the metal vice you had carried around for the last six years. You missed it, and already you wanted to go back to university. You wanted to go back right now.

But you were wanting to enjoy the moment before you started calling people. Your parents, grandparent, aunt, your manager, co-workers... It had all been for Arthur, it would continue to be for Arthur, and this moment especially, was one you wanted to share with Arthur.