Released from Malachi's grip, Arthur felt like he was falling apart.  He couldn't blame his own shaking hands on the other's influence anymore, could just clench them hard and try to convince himself they were trembling out of anger.  That was part of it, sure, but the rest of it was something Arthur wasn't familiar with.

Fear.

What did he have to be so afraid of?  The fact that he was right?  Arthur knew he was the only person on the Earth like this, terrible and cruel as he was.  He had thought for a moment Malachi was something like him, even just half of what he was, but he was wrong.

So why was he still fighting?

"You don't want me to love you," he spat.  Just the word, love, sounded like it tore his throat coming up.  "You don't love me, you don't even know me, you're nowhere close to knowing me and you're already leaving.  You don't want love, you've just deluded yourself into thinking love will fix you!  But it won't!"

Arthur was tense, ready to strike with more than his words but for the first time, he was holding back.  Physically, at least.  Vocally, he was throwing everything he had at Malachi, near screaming at him now as if volume alone could convince him.

"Nothing will fix us, Malachi, we are broken and that is that!  All we can do it cope, and stick together, but you are working to make an enemy of me and that is not something you want, I can promise you that."