The weight of John's love, the intensity of a god that only knew the meaning of holding back because he'd learned what going too far looked like, always always knocked the breath out of Arthur, and he suspected it always would.

(And a part of him suspected if it didn't, that it would be because some part of him had become something beyond human, just to be able to contain it.)

He clings tighter, a chokehold on something that might have needed to breathe as he just... lets it wash through him, piano stuttering to a halt as he shuts his eyes and a shiver rolls down his spine from the intensity.