Like spinning plates
NC-17 | Eames/Arthur | 9500 words | Don't own Inception
You never know when your schizophrenia starts.
Arthur doesn't really remember how it started for the second time, he's sure there were headaches and Eames, but for the life of him he can't remember when, exactly.
***Inception***
So I've been trying to write a story like that for almost as long as I can remember myself, so and it just didn't work for any other fandom. Now I've grown so lazy that I stole this idea from my other unfinished fic, and started to write this one, then quit it for four months because it was taking just too more energy from me.
Now though, I've had a good holiday, and I'm ready to kill my free time writing psycho-porny-internet shit, that no one even asked to write, how's that? D:
Nevertheless, here's the story I've been writing for what felt like AGES, and it's only the first part here, but I've put my fucking soul in this and I feel pretty exhausted now. God help me.
English – still not my first language, guys, and this shit is not even beta'd
Oh, and comments are absolutely necessary :D
***Inception***
Arthur doesn't really remember how it started for the second time, he's sure there were headaches and Eames, but for the life of him he can't remember when, exactly.
He knows it starts, or rather continues, in 2009, four days after his thirty-forth job with Cobb and tenth job with Eames, after everyone had left their warehouse and split, each one of them leaving Warsaw and going to various parts of the world. Basically, it can be said that it happened four days after Eames left, but Arthur doesn't think of it in that way, yet.
He walks back to his hotel room in the outskirts of Paris and it is dark outside, street lamps shining brightly above his head, when it happens for the first time.
(At least Arthur thinks it had been the first time, he's not so sure anymore)
One of the street lamps begins to flick slightly and then with a loud crash the lamp explodes. Arthur stops in his tracks, looks up and stares at it, before all the other lamps begin to flicker.
There's no one on the street besides him.
He draws out his gun, looking around, trying to spot anything, anyone, but he feels strange, different, and all the light flickering around him – it really gets on his nerves, his head is hurting.
Suddenly he notices it's not a warm summer evening anymore. The air around him seems to have chilled and the temperature must have lowered for at least ten degrees because Arthur is suddenly cold, so cold, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up with goose bumps, and then he hears whispering.
It sounds everywhere around him and comes from inside of him at the same time. It's just a mess of voices, loud and cold, furiously whispering and accusing him of something, and Arthur realizes he is scared.
He is so scared his right hand twitches so hard he has dropped his gun and didn't even notice it.
The headache is so furious it seems like his head is going to explode any second now and the whispering rings in his ears and he feels his pulse raising beating wildly, his heart feels like it's going to jump out of his chest.
And then he sees something, not far from where he's standing. Some black and intangible thing, some bundle of air and it's moving, right to him, this black mist of shadows, creeping it's way to him, shifting and flickering under the blinking lights.
His legs feeling numb from cold and fear, his heart racing, Arthur takes a step back from it, then another one and another, until he realizes he's on the ground and he's still crawling away from it, trying to find a gun, which must lie somewhere on the ground, with shaking fingers, even though in heart he knows it'll be of no use to him now. The air around him is chilly and electrified and it's becoming hard for him to breath, his knees ache (and he must have torn his suit), and the shadows are so close to him, he screws his eyes shut until they sting and begs and prays for this to stop, whatever it is, to please, stop
And just like that, it does.
Arthur is on the ground, panting heavily and looking around with wild look in his eyes, his shirt damp with cold sweat, fingers shaking. There is suddenly noise of cars passing by a few feet away, a distant sound of a barking dog, and all these soft sounds crush Arthur's ears with immense pain. His head is still throbbing, and as he tries to get up, he feels his legs won't be able to keep him up for long.
Confused, frightened and angry, Arthur manages to make his way to his hotel, looking around frantically every thirty seconds, his hand grasping the gun in his pocket in a death grip.
In the heart of hearts Arthur knows what had happened that day, and upon realizing it he stuffs this knowledge to the furthest corner of his mind, wishing to never think about it again.
Next morning he gets up early as usual, eats the same food as usual, goes to Starbucks and orders his usual coffee, and spends the rest of the day just like he usually does, and then the next day and the one after that.
He doesn't think about that night when he was crawling on the ground shaking with fear. He manages not to think about it all, and with time he forgets about it, as if it had never happened. He tries not to remember it and he succeeds and moves on with his life.
Until it happens for the second time.
***Inception***
After The Great Inception job they all leave Los Angeles, except Arthur. That is because he has a home there. Well, a place, which can remotely resemble a home, considering he visits it once or twice a year, but for Arthur it's enough. It's modern and high-tech and he bought all the furniture himself so the apartment feels nice and homey, and it is a pleasant change for him after the stress and shock of Inception job.
For some reason he keeps thinking about Eames, in his mind always getting to the last time he saw him – in the LAX. Eames was standing there, smiling faintly as he spotted Arthur, this bewildered shaken expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe the job had finished and he came out of it alive. Arthur felt then a surge of something, he still can't understand of what exactly, but he remembers he wanted to come up to Eames and just… hug him and say something nice, warm, something like everything is going to be alright, don't worry, but he immediately dismissed the thought. Eames didn't need his support or encouragement and he definitely didn't need to hear these cliché phrases, least of all from Arthur, of all people.
Regardless, even though Eames is gone to god-knows-where, never looking back, Arthur constantly comes back to the thoughts of him, rewinding all their conversations in his head over and over again, memorizing Eames' expressions, his smiles and smirks, the look in his eyes and soon Arthur realizes it's not normal. It's not OK to get to this point of obsession with Eames, more by token that he's begun to have awful headaches every now and then. Or rather – migraines would be the right word.
So he stops thinking about Eames. He just buries himself in work, never leaving a spare minute for his fantasies, or whatever they can be called.
And it goes well at first. He doesn't think of Eames, doesn't remember him, nothing reminds Arthur of the man.
Until one day (two and a half weeks after Inception) Eames calls him.
Arthur has no idea how Eames got his new number, and when his cell rings for the first time he stares at it, perplexed, before answering, voice tight.
"Yes?"
"Hello, darling"
Even through the possible thousands of miles between them Arthur can feel Eames smirking. He grits his teeth, suddenly tired and unreasonably angry with Eames, even though he's glad to hear him. Fucking paradoxes.
He feels a beginning of a headache.
"What do you want? How did you get this number, Mr. Eames?"
"Mr. Eames? Come on, Artie, we've almost died together, doesn't that count for something? I believe we are way past formalities now, aren't we?"
"Whatever has happened or will possibly ever happen will not give you the right to call me Artie" Arthur snaps, his mood taking for the angry, and he feels his face flush. He can't even explain this to himself, the reasons for why he's so mad now, but his head is fucking throbbing and he's sick and tired of Eames' attitude –
"Don't be so anal, sweetheart" Eames laughs – fucking laughs – at the other side of the wire. And then his voice gets completely serious. "I miss you, you know"
It's absolutely new for Arthur to hear Eames voice like that, and he doesn't know what to think of it, what to say to that. And then his head explodes with pain, making him shut his eyes tight until he sees stars and he decides Eames is just messing with him again, fucking with him, like he always does.
"Arthur?" Eames says tentatively, now sounding uncertain, but Arthur doesn't hear that – he sees white and he's absolutely enraged and in pain, and he feels something wet running down his cheeks. He touches his face and realizes belatedly that he's crying. He stares at his wet fingers in disbelief and Eames calls his name over the phone again and again.
And Arthur snaps.
"Fuck you, Eames" he hisses furiously, heart racing, "I've had enough of your shit to last me a fucking lifetime, so be nice and kindly fuck off!"
He doesn't hear Eames' reply because he snaps his phone shut with so much force he's surprised he hasn't broken it. It's all Eames' fucking fault – always screwing with him, messing with him, laughing at him, never being fucking serious for a moment, and Arthur is so tired of this, he just wants, he wants –
He vomits on the floor suddenly, his insides burning and he hasn't felt so shitty for quite a long time. He sinks on the floor, resting his head against the wall, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. As his breathing slowly returns to normal, his rage withers and he thinks with sudden horror about what he had said to Eames.
He doesn't know the reason for his unreasonable anger, or his whole hysteria with all the tears and vomiting and he thinks what the hell is wrong with me?
Every part of his body aches and hurts and he doesn't have the will to move so he stays where he is – lying on the floor, heart pounding painfully in his chest. He wants to call Eames back but he finds himself unable to, and just thinking about it makes his head hurt so he doesn't.
He falls asleep right on the floor.
***Inception***
The next morning he worries and tortures himself about what Eames must have thought of him and that Eames might never call him again and the thought disheartens Arthur in so many levels, he can't even understand when he has got to the point in his life where Eames' opinion has come to mean so much to him.
His head throbs all morning and Arthur just swallows one pill of aspirin after the next and it still doesn't help a bit.
He's restless, he can't concentrate on work – instead he keeps glancing at his phone to check if Eames has called but there are still no missed calls. He gets angry and frustrated and he can't even sit unmoving, and that gets him more furious and he is mad that he's so mad about Eames, and since when has he been so goddamn crazy about anyone and why is his fucking head hurts so much?
And then Eames calls him.
Arthur answers after two and a half seconds.
"Yes?" He pretty much yells in his phone, all of his nerves on edge and he shivers involuntary.
"Arthur?" Eames's voice comes, wary and slow, "I just wanted to check if you're alright. You seemed… off yesterday"
"Eames" Arthur manages to rasp because suddenly he's very cold, and his teeth are almost chattering. He knows he must say something, he wants to say something but there's a rush of emotions to his head and he's overwhelmed with them, can't sort them out, the only thing he knows is that he doesn't want Eames to hang up. "Eames" he repeats hoarsely.
"Yes, darling?" Eames says softly, almost tenderly and there's concern evident in his tone and god, Arthur must be absolutely pathetic.
And with that thought he's furious again.
"Where are you now, love?" Eames asks him and something in his voice or maybe something that he said makes Arthur's insides flip. He swallows heavily, his mind racing, trying to decide whether it's a good idea to let Eames know where he is.
"I'm in… ah… I'm in LA" He manages through the sharp pain in his head. He's in so much pain, he thinks he's crying again. As if through a wall he hears a whimper that must have come out of him. "Eames, please" he begs in his phone, though he knows perfectly well there's nothing Eames can do about the pain, but it feels good to say it out loud.
"God, Arthur, I'll be there as soon as I can" Eames promises and now there's definitely concern and worry in his tone and after he hangs up Arthur is sick all over the floor again.
His right hand is twitching violently, like in convulsions.
Arthur lies there, on the floor, in the pool of his own vomit, feeling shittier than he has for a long time and he can't help but think, over and over again:
What is fucking wrong with me?
***Inception***
That night when Arthur is asleep, Edward comes back.
In the heart of hearts Arthur has always known that day would come, still, it doesn't make him any less terrified as he remembers this one simple thing:
Once Edward is here, he's not ever leaving again.
***Inception***
Arthur is awoken in the middle of the night, judging by the darkness in the room, and the reason he's awake is because there's a hand on his shoulder – cold hand, almost icy – and the hand shakes him gently, calling his name in a quiet whisper.
"Eames?" he whispers, turning his head around to the person, and he suddenly realizes he's still lying on the floor, his own vomit dried and sticky on his clothes. He feels awful, dirty, disgusting. Some part of his brain is terrified that Eames sees him like this – fallen hard, and pathetic.
Then it gets cold in the room in a matter of seconds, so cold Arthur can feel a chilly breeze on his face.
"No, it's not Eames, darling" the voice above him says, the voice Arthur will always recognize in a million, the voice he's hoped and wished so hard not to hear ever again. He screws his eyes shut, mortified, refusing to look up and see the person he's come to hate more than anything in his life, who he's hoped he had left behind years ago.
"What, Arthur, dear, aren't you happy to see me, darling?" And his voice is the same, cocky and arrogant, with the note of smugness. "What an attitude!"
He doesn't open his eyes, afraid to do so, and he instead counts in his mind to ten, then to twenty, willing it to stop, willing Edward to disappear.
He doesn't. Arthur'd be surprised if he did.
"Open your eyes, Arthur, don't be shy" Edward whispers into his ear, making his whole body shudder. When he doesn't obey, the jolt of pain rushes through him, sharp and intense, and the voice hisses in his ear "Look. At. Me. Arthur."
And he looks, unable to bear the pain, tearing him apart.
Edward hasn't changed a bit, not even a little, even though Arthur was thirteen the last time he saw him. Edward is still tall, muscular, redheaded and devilishly handsome, the same cocky smile tugging at his lips, same bang of red hair hanging over his eyes, so Arthur can't really see his eyes, but he knows Edward can see him.
"Why are you here, Edward?" Arthur chokes out finally.
"Edward? Why don't you call me Eddie anymore?
"You damn well know that! Now why are you here, Edward"
"You tell me, darling" Edward replies, making emphasis on the last word, and Arthur remembers why he's always hated it when Eames called him that. He never really thought about that, always putting the reason in the back of his mind, but now it comes out as if it's been here all the time – the reminder of Edward, and, unfortunately, almost everything about Eames is a reminder of Edward. "Seems like you need me now more than ever, or you wouldn't be lying on the floor in the pool of your own vomit, would you?"
"I never needed you" Arthur growls out, looking up at Edward from the floor, making pathetic attempts to get up, but his body refuses to listen to him, his head throbbing with pain. "Not now, not ever"
"Lies you've been telling yourself, dear Artie" Edward smirks and everything about him is so smug and haughty and impossible that Arthur is overwhelmed with rage and hatred and, god, he's shaking with emotion, hating and wishing to be able to kill that piece of shit-
"Piece of shit?" Edward says quietly, dangerously, and of course he can fucking read his thoughts, how could Arthur forget that, "That's how you think of me now, after all I've done for you?"
He sounds deadly calm, quiet and dangerous, ominous, and the air around them is suddenly electrified, full of tension and fear and cold, and Arthur swallows past the bile in his throat, his heart racing, because no, for the life of him, he never ever wants to get Edward mad or angry, because he knows what can happen, he knows it all too well.
"No, no, I'm sorry, Edward, I'm sorry, alright?" he hastens to say, and he thinks he sees the blackness of Edward's eyes behind his fringe. "Just… why have you come back?"
He almost tears up, asking that question.
Edward grins charmingly. "I've never left, darling"
And it's so much like their last conversation, that Arthur has to remind himself again and again that it's not happening, it's not real, Edward's not here, he's not here –
"Then why are you talking to me, Artie dear?"
"Please, Edward" Arthur chokes out, and his eyes do water, but he's way past caring now. "Please. Go away"
Edward scoots closer, his face unreadable mask.
"Why are you talking like that? Is it that Eames person, influencing you way too much?" He hisses, his every word strikes Arthur like a hammer. "You think you've become so cool, got a fancy degree and fancy apartment, a job on the wrong side of the law and it changes you that much? Well, listen to me, Artie, but you fucking haven't. You're still the pathetic repressed teenager I know, whatever you might have thinking of yourself this far."
He makes a pause and whispers, his voice echoing in the deadly quiet apartment.
"You think you don't need me anymore? You think you're all grown up and independent now that you don't need to cry on my shoulder anymore? You think you replaced me with Cobb or Mal, or Eames or whatever? Well, think again"
There's dreadful silence, only Arthur's heavy panting and the sound of his heart beating in his ears.
He feels like shit, absolutely fucking despicable and disgusting. He clung to the wall helplessly, feeling like he's under fire of these icy words, like he's pinned to the wall, in the corner with nowhere to run or hide.
Edward, nevertheless, seemingly isn't about to stop anytime soon.
"You think your father died and you're suddenly all independent and healthy and free of your own shit, lie his death solved all of your pathetic problems. Like if you just put all those memories in the back of your head and pretend it never happened to you, everything would be all right. Well, no fucking way, Arthur, hate to break it to you but life's not like that. You're still repressed and so deep in the closet some people can't even hear you, and the fact that your father died never stopped you from wanting men, never stopped you being less of a sick queer!"
It feels like his intestines are being pulled out of him and then used to smother him. He suddenly feels like vomiting again, even though his stomach was empty. He screws his eyes shut so tightly they sting, and he prays to god and all the saints he knows to please, please, make it stop, make it stop, make Edward disappear, and let Arthur die and never feel anything again, please –
And just like that it stops. Arthur feels rather than hears the absence of Edward, and as soon as he opens his eyes to make sure, he is sick all over the floor again.
This time he forces himself to get up and go to shower, the wild mix of emotions tearing him apart, making his head hurt. The shock has faded and Arthur is left with the realization that it has started all over again, Edward appeared in his life when Arthur least of all needed it, and thing will turn from bad to worse in a matter of nothing now.
The hot water runs down his body, his face, his hair, and he feels anger, hurt, fear, and guilt. He isn't sure where the last one came from, though, but he supposes he has to get used to the feeling now.
He shuts down the water, dries himself, cleans up the floor.
He is afraid to go to sleep, actually, but he figures it's stupid and he has to sleep anyway, so he just grits his teeth and lies down, putting the blanket over his head, tucks himself in.
He's asleep in less than a minute.
***Inception***
Eames comes the next day, when Arthur is still lying in bed, feeling sore and sick and too lazy to get up. Eames knocks on the door several times and Arthur panics, his first thought being that it's Edward coming back, and then he figures Edward wouldn't knock, and Edward isn't fucking real, so he gets up and opens the door.
He must look as shitty as he feels, because Eames frowns on seeing him.
"You look like shit" Eames feels the need to state the obvious before making his way inside, not waiting for Arthur to invite him. He brushes Arthur on his way through the doorframe and Arthur flinches at the touch.
He suddenly realizes he doesn't know what to say to Eames. He doesn't know why he even called him in the first place. Now that Eames is here, he's shifty and uncomfortable and nervous.
"So" Eames begins, having settled on the coach and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He lightens one and takes a deep drag before continuing. "Care to explain, darling?"
And Arthur is angry again, not even sure why – because of the fact he's got nothing to explain, doesn't know how to do it without making a complete psychopath out of himself, or because Eames called him darling again, just like Edward always did.
Part of him is angry just because of Eames sitting there in front of him, calm and collected and sensible – all of the things Arthur is not, right now. Part of him is angry just because Eames is… well, Eames. He doesn't even know how to explain it to himself.
God, he's such a mess.
He sits down beside Eames, quirks a questioning eyebrow and then pulls out a cigarette for himself. After several days of constant throwing up it feels weird in his mouth. He inhales, resting on the back of the coach. With a corner of his eye, he sees Eames watching him, the calculating bastard.
"So?" Eames prompts him again. Arthur suppresses the urge to glare at him.
He feels like a fifteen-year-old all of a sudden. He swallows. There's a million things he could say to Eames now, all of them, but isn't stupid, isn't brave enough to do so.
"Well, I didn't really ask you to come here, did I?" Arthur finally say, settling sown for defensive.
Eames winces like he has a particularly bad toothache and he licks his lips absent-mindedly. Arthur's eyes follow the curve of his full lips, and he automatically mirrors the action.
God damn Eames, making him feel that way, making him want things h isn't supposed to want.
"Now, now, Arthur, can't we just skip this part when you try to pull this shit on me that both you and I know I won't buy and get straight to the point, please?" Eames says, staring him down, his eyes cold and calculative like he sees right through Arthur. His eyes are slightly narrowed, his face unreadable. "Because I did not just fly ass-thousand miles to you for this"
"Where've you been?" Arthur asks, desperately trying to get Eames off the topic.
"In Russia. Moscow. Shitty country and even shittier people. Good vodka, though. Oh, and definitely good girls. Very flexible, if you know what I mean" He leers smugly, and Arthur is suddenly full of disappointment, like the hopes he didn't even know he had were crashed to the ground.
"What have you been doing there?"
"A job. Not really exciting. But then again, nothing's really exciting enough anymore, after the thing we pulled with Fischer's mind" Eames says, exhaling smoke. Arthur is mesmerized with the sight of his pink lips again. Eames continues, his gaze boring a hole in Arthur. "Nice try, Artie dearest, though you should know better than to try and distract me this easily. Now quit this shit and tell me what's happened to you that provoked the late-night calls to me, full of tears and despair, hmm?"
Arthur flushes, embarrassed.
"They were not full of – how dare you – you know what, I don't need this from you, whatever you must be thinking of yourself know, that you're some hero of something – coming here and saving me like some damsel in distress, you can forget it! Do you hear me? I don't want anything from you, you can go and do whatever you want, Eames!"
"Now that's a reaction" Eames says calmly his eyebrows raised. "Now, please, tell me what crawled up your ass and died so I can put on my doctor gloves, put it up and examine"
And just as Arthur opens his mouth to start a new rant, another voice says right behind him.
"I see he's not so bad, after all, darling"
Arthur freezes, feeling his heart skip a beat and then start to race twice faster.
No, no, nononono, please, please, it can't be happening now, it can't, oh god –
"You must get really hard on those lips, huh?" Edward says, coming closer and past Arthur, stepping to Eames, who sits on the coach, not seeing anything, not hearing –
"I wouldn't blame you for jacking off to him, my boy, believe me, the guy's hot as hell and he knows it all too well. Hence the effect he has on you"
Arthur stays like that, mouth half-open, eyes wide, face pale. Edward keeps coming up to Eames and then he leans down and puts a hand on Eames' face, traces his fingers up and down Eames' cheekbone, caressing.
"Yeah, I'd definitely fuck him hard if I were you"
Eames' expression changes and now he frowns, seemingly having notices Arthur's tense pose.
"Arthur? Arthur! What's wrong?" Eames says, but Arthur doesn't listen to him, he watches, petrified, as Edward bows down and gently kisses Eames on the cheek.
Eames doesn't notice anything.
Arthur stands there, mouth open, watching helplessly as Edward runs his fingers up and down Eames' face. Eames stands up, frowning and saying something, looking worried and concerned and it's so rare that Arthur sees that expression on his face, but he can't pay attention now, because Edward smirks smugly at him and then licks a long hot stripe along Eames' left cheek, his tongue leaving a wet trail of saliva.
Arthur throws up.
He can't stop, just keeps vomiting, his body shaking and convulsing, his head throbbing like there are tiny hammers inside, and he falls on his knees, praying for it to stop, to please, stop.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and tries to shake it off, but the hand is warm and he feels the heat radiating from it, so he assumes it's Eames, not Edward, so he lets the hand stay, and it makes him feel just tiniest bit less fucked-up.
Eventually it stops. It seems like ages for Arthur, before his body stops convulsing, but in reality it must have been hardly two minutes and by the time it stops he feels broken, shaken, empty inside, as if all of his internal organs were pulled out of him without anesthesia, his throat dry and torn and there's a taste of bile in his mouth.
He leans back on the wall, letting his head drop back, closing his eyes, panting heavily, his hair plumped to his forehead with sweat. There're warm fingers on his face, touching him gently, moving a wet strand of hair from his face, softly and as if he might break.
"Arthur, god, what was that?" Eames whispers softly, and Arthur opens his eyes to look at him, and yeah, Eames is there, sitting on his knees beside him, looking worried and even scared, and there's so much warmness and tenderness in his eyes that Arthur feels something twist in his belly.
Behind Eames stands Edward, his arms crossed on his chest, leaning against the wall, looking at Arthur with coldness and something dark and dangerous radiates from him.
For a moment Arthur thinks he has seen Edward's eyes behind his fringe – absolutely black, without a trace of whiteness in them.
"Darling, please, talk to me" Eames pleads, sighing quietly.
Arthur swallows.
He tells Eames: There's something wrong with me
And: I'm sick, Eames
And: I need you to listen to me, please.
Then he starts talking.
***Inception***
***Inception***
Arthur is seven years old when his elder brother dies, having been beaten to death by a group of aggressive teenagers. In the court where his father had dragged him, Arthur had heard one of them call his dead brother a 'fucking queer'
He doesn't know what it means then, but his father gets all riled up, tense and nearly murderous. He keeps sitting there, beside Arthur, and he mutters under his breath over and over again 'my son was not a queer'
It's only a day after the funeral that Arthur cries for the first time, only now realizing what had happened, what he had lost. He won't be able to talk to his brother, to play with him, to listen to him going on and on about the guys in his class, to feel safe because his brother is dead now, is gone, and he will never come back again.
And somewhere down the line of coming down to this realization, Arthur's little word breaks and shatters.
Edward appears only two weeks later.
***Inception***
Arthur is crying, leaning on the wall on some dirty street, because some guys at school today mocked him and bullied him and, worst of all, they said awful things about his dead brother.
Today they've called him a fag. It's another word Arthur doesn't know the meaning of, but the boys were older than him, almost seven years older, around the age of his brother.
When Arthur asked his father what a queer meant, his Dad turned mad and hissed that if anyone pronounced that word in his house again, he'd not be responsible for his actions.
So now Arthur is pressed to the wall, hot tears of rage and humiliation run down his cheeks, when there's suddenly a voice behind him.
"Please, don't cry, you would never solve any problem by crying"
It's the thing his mother had used to say all the time, before she died, but the voice is male an Arthur turns around quickly to look at the speaker. He suddenly feels some wrongness, something strange and odd around him, some electricity in the air, and everything seems strange, unfamiliar, different, the colors all wrong – too bright, too intensive, and Arthur is overwhelmed by it for a moment, shocked and confused, but the next moment it stops, and everything's back to normal, though Arthur can't even explain what it was in the first place that was wrong.
Behind him stands a man – he seems very grown-up to Arthur – probably twenty-five years old, and he smiles down at Arthur. He's very tall (or maybe Arthur is just smaller than average), slim and muscular, red-headed, with a long fringe nearly covering his eyes. The man's smile is warm, gentle and he looks down at Arthur with so much love and caring that no one has ever since his mother died.
He walks closer, bends down so he's at the same eye-level with Arthur. He puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder, very cold hand – the bright contrast to his warm eyes and smile.
"Those boys are just stupid, Arthur" He whispers it like it's some kind of a big secret he shares just between the two of them. Arthur frowns.
"How do you know about that?" he asks him suspiciously.
"I've been watching you lately, dear, so I know a lot about you"
The term of endearment slips out of his mouth casually, like it is not a big deal, except that it is, and Arthur's heart is beating faster and something in his chest tightens. No one ever used such words to call him, even his own mother, and Arthur feels a tugging desire to be called something like that again.
Nevertheless, he says.
"Why have you been watching me?"
"Ah, so I've been right about you – you are the smart one, huh? Always see to the core" The stranger grins, ducking his head. Then he looks Arthur in the eye again, only this time he's serious and he's not smiling. "I just like you, Arthur, my boy. I want to be friends with you, that's all."
Somehow, Arthur is not surprised, he might have seen this coming. For some reason, this stranger appeals to him, makes him feel better and Arthur desperately wishes that he wouldn't go away. Besides, he doesn't have any friends at school, his only friends was his brother who is dead now, and Arthur is very lonely.
"But why don't you make friends with men your own age?" Arthur asks the final question, because he can't just leave it like that.
"Because I make friends with those who needs me, and men my own age don't, so I'm here"
Arthur is silent for almost a minute. Then he makes up his mind.
"What is your name?" he says finally.
The stranger's face is lit up with a broad smile.
"Edward. My name is Edward. But friends call me Eddie."
***Inception***
Now that Arthur has Eddie things go much better.
He doesn't feel lonely anymore. He has someone to talk to about anything he wants. Eddie will always listen.
Eddie is always there for him.
He doesn't know how Eddie manages it but he somehow does, and he's there whenever Arthur wants to talk to him or just see him.
Eddie is his only friend now and Arthur does everything Eddie asks of him to keep that.
Eddie asks Arthur not to tell anyone about him. He asks to not even mention him in any conversation with whomever.
That's only one simple rule, and Arthur will sure as hell not break it.
Or everything will end, Eddie says one day, and even though Arthur doesn't exactly know what it means, he keeps his mouth shut.
Anything, really, to keep Eddie pleased.
***Inception***
When Arthur is nine, his father buys a house in Utah and they move there.
Doubtlessly, Edward moves there too, for Arthur.
Edward doesn't say how or why, and Arthur doesn't ask.
He misses his home, more than anything. He missed his room, his brother's room where he used to sit with Edward in evenings. His small yard where the swings used to be, the ones his father had once put there before David died, before his mother died, before he became the insufferable reserved drinking mess.
Arthur's current room is much bigger, and so is his new bed, and Arthur doesn't like that. It feels strange and different, and even though he has already been living here for four month, he still can't bring himself to call this place home.
Edward helps him through it.
Once Edward comes to his new room and just says, close your eyes, my boy, and when Arthur does, he feels that strangeness again, the one he felt when Edward first appeared behind him. There's something wrong, something different, and when Arthur opens his eyes, he's in his old room again, the opens straight to the yard where the swings are, and he looks at Edward gratefully who just looks back at him with warmness and love.
The do it very often after that, Edward taking Arthur to his old house, never missing a detail out, and Arthur is so happy he doesn't even think anything of it, yet.
He is just glad he has a friend, a real friend, who talks to him and helps him with his homework and his French lessons, and he never thinks about why is Edward there, why he has moved across the country for him, why he doesn't allow Arthur to talk to anyone about him or why and how he can teleport Arthur magically to any place he wants.
He doesn't let himself think about it, because he knows that once he does everything will somehow change, and it will never be the same again – just he and Edward, as he likes.
He also knows that once he has thought through his questions he will not like the answers.
So he pushes all that to the furthest corner of his mind, until he's thirteen and he sees Edward angry for the first time.
Things quickly go to the worst after that, and no matter at what point of his life Arthur is later, he will always, always remember that day, and it will forever be the reminder of why he can't see Edward anymore.
***Inception***
When Arthur is thirteen he has his first crush. It happens to be a boy.
Arthur doesn't think much of the fact that Stuart is the same sex as he is, he just likes to spend time with him, likes to talk to him, and one day it just hits him that Stuart is more to him than just a friend. He is tall, broad, handsome, a year older than Arthur, and basically the school's number one Popular Boy. Arthur can't imagine why on Earth Stuart would want to hang out with someone like Arthur.
But Stuart smiles fondly at him, the kind of smile he seems to have reserved only for Arthur, and Arthur finds he wants to kiss Stuart more and more each day.
One of those days among the thoughts of Stuart and what it would be like to kiss him, Arthur sees Edward angry for the first time.
"What are you doing, hanging out with that boy all the time, huh?" Edward hisses at him one evening, his fringe partly covering his eyes.
"Stuart's my friend, Edward!" Arthur says indignantly, frowning.
"I'm your friend, Arthur, not that School-Star guy, and whatever you think he wants from you it's not friendship!"
"Well, maybe I want something more than friendship, too!" Arthur snaps, angry and frustrated and Edward straightens his back, before saying calmly.
"So what now, you want to be one of those queers, those fags, like your brother was for them to beat the shit out of you and become a life-time disappointment for your father?"
And Arthur is suddenly mad, he sees red before his eyes, and who is Edward to say shit like that to him and he shouts "Shut the fuck up!"
"What, home truths are hard to swallow, dear?" Edward says, tiny cold smile tugging at his lips, one eyebrow quirked.
"You know what," Arthur says, forcefully calming down. "You are not my only friend anymore, Edward, deal with it. But I will hang out with Stuart, whether you like that or not"
Edward stares at him for a long time, and Arthur feels his heard spinning for some reason.
"Okay" he finally says, ducking his head so his fringe completely covers his eyes. "But I want to meet him."
That is unexpected because Arthur still hasn't broken their Rule #1, and Edward never asked Arthur to meet with anybody.
He feels strange suddenly, his head spinning, and there's that wrongness again the one Arthur is already used not to notice. He shakes his head to make it stop.
"Um. Okay. I guess. If you want to." He says uncertainly.
"Yes, I want to" Edward says, and his voice is still icy, but Arthur ignores it.
***Inception***
They are to meet with Stuart in about five minutes on the bus station Arthur and Edward are now waiting, and Arthur is awfully nervous and anxious. His head hurts, and there's something in his mind, something beneath the surface, some thought he can't quite catch and figure out, and it feels like something bad, something horrifying, something he should've known or remembered but has forgotten.
The air around them is electrified and different and wrong, and Arthur has this presentiment, like something awful is going to happen know, and nothing will be back to normal again.
His heart is pounding in his chest, and he's about to tell Edward that he's changed his mind, let's go home, but then another voice says: "Hey, Arthur!"
He turns around, Edward closely behind him, and sees Stuart making his way to them.
"Hey" he says, stepping closer, and then Stuart says something that makes Arthur's heart drop.
"So, where's your friend?"
He says it casually, looking around them, as if he truly doesn't see anyone right next to Arthur, and Arthur thinks with horror that this is it, this is that thing, the thing that has been tugging at him ever since he's known Edward.
He feels rather than sees Edward smirk next to him.
"What- What do you mean?" Arthur stutters, but, really, he should know better know.
"Let me see him" Edward whispers and stands before Arthur, facing Stuart, the poor boy, who has no idea, who doesn't see, doesn't feel anything.
"Arthur, what's wrong?" Stuart says, and he goes around to looks at Edward and he sees blackness, absolute blackness in his eyes behind that red fringe, and it is horrible, terrifying.
He hears Edward say "He's mine, you faggot" and then.
And then, everything's black, Arthur's fallen down to some infinite blackness, nothingness around him and he doesn't know how long it lasts, before he opens his eyes again, panting, and he's lying on the ground and it's dark.
He lifts his head, throat tight, because he's not at the bus station anymore, he's forest border, and it's dark.
He stands, feeling like shrinking into a ball and crying, and he doesn't know how he's got there, where's Edward, and more importantly where's Stuart.
He's taken care of.
Edward's voice sounds right inside of his head, as if he's sitting inside him, making Arthur turn around frantically, in the search of Edward.
You shouldn't worry about that anymore, Arthur, dear.
"What have you done? What have you done?" Arthur yells, unable to see that son of a bitch.
"I've done what you wanted"
And he's suddenly there, right in front of Arthur, smirking, the fringe covering his eyes. He's leaning on a tree, arms crossed, and even in the dark, Arthur still sees a small spot of red at the collar of Edward's shirt.
He freezes, his heart stopping.
"Oh my god, oh my god, you crazy -"
"I am crazy? You're so sure about that? You know I can see what you want, what you're afraid of, Arthur, you know I know everything about you"
"You – what have you done to him? Where's Stuart?"
"You know where he is"
"No I don't!"
"Yes you do, Arthur. Think about it"
And then he disappears, leaving Arthur in the forest, on the verge of tears, absolutely shocked and horrified.
***Inception***
Arthur doesn't remember how he got home that night.
He just comes to his room, past his father, drunk at the dining table, takes off his clothes and lies in his bed.
Two days later, Stuart is considered missing. His mom and dad go to school, both sobbing, and the principal orders to hang around hundreds of Stuart's photos with his features under them.
Two weeks later, Stuart's body is found somewhere deep in the forest, or more exactly, the remains of his body.
The boy was disemboweled, the police says to the parents.
It must be that Utah psychopath-pedophile, they say.
Arthur knows better.
After the night in the forest Edward only comes a couple of times, always silent, just staring at Arthur from under the fringe.
The morning after That Night, when Arthur is picking up his clothes from the floor, he sees a tiny red blood spot on the collar of his shirt, the one he had worn to the bus station to meet with Stuart.
Arthur doesn't let himself think about that.
Only a month later he notices, Edward has not been coming to him for a while. He doesn't know when it stopped, just, suddenly, he wasn't there anymore.
Still, Arthur thinks he feels Edward's cold stare all the time, watching him silently, judging him.
He doesn't think about that, either, pushing these thoughts away, like he's used to with everything else, repressing the desire to see Edward again, repressing every thought about Stuart and what had really happened that night.
He doesn't think about the fact he's actually ill, mentally ill. He knows he can't go anywhere about this, because he's sure once he's with a shrink, they will be able to figure what's wrong with them, and ten they'll start to dig and find out what happened.
Arthur might be sick, but that doesn't make him less smart, and he knows he'll have to be responsible for Stuart even if he hasn't done anything.
Though, this he isn't absolutely sure of, anymore.
***Inception***
Edward comes again when Arthur is sixteen, and he's feeling lonely and depressed. Edward is just suddenly in the room with him, still looking twenty-five, not having changed a bit, making Arthur feel small and helpless against him.
"How have you been, my boy?" He says, smiling coldly.
"Stop calling me that!" Arthur yells, and it's nothing like it used to be between them – warm and friendly. Now it just feels… torturous. "What are you doing here? Get the fuck away from me!"
"What, aren't you glad to see your first and only friend? We've been together for a lot of years, Arthur, dear."
"I don't care!" Arthur says through gritted teeth. "I don't want to see you ever again, you sick fuck!"
"Now that was rude" Edward hisses and a jolt of pain goes through Arthur's head. He falls on his knees. "I get angry, when I'm treated rudely. Do you want me to get angry?"
Arthur doesn't say anything, writhing on the floor, his head killing him.
"Do you want me to get angry, Arthur?"
"NO!" Arthur shouts, and the pain eases. Slowly, clumsily, he gets to his feet.
"Why don't you want to see me anymore?" Edward asks, pure innocence. Arthur doesn't buy this shit.
"You are not real, Edward! So stop ruining my life!"
"Ruining your life? So that's what I'm doing know?"
"No, no, I'm sorry" Arthur says hastily, before Edward gets mad, "of course you're not"
Edward keeps staring at, his eyes covered with his fringe.
"Why are you here, Edward?" He asks wearily.
"Because you need me, like you always have"
"No I don't! I don't" he states, doing his best to remain self-controlled. "I don't and I haven't for almost four years now, so please do understand that your assistance is not required. Not anymore" And that is true. He's been very good so far at ignoring all the memories of Edward and That Night. He doesn't need this to be ruined by Edward now.
"Ah, I see" Edward smirks, tilting his head to the side. "But I wouldn't be so sure of that, taking into consideration the other night last week when you were crying into your pillow for hours like you are six, not sixteen."
His eyes go wide. "You -"
"Of course I was watching you, Arthur! I've told you so many times already that I'm always with you, I'm always watching you even though you don't see me"
He shuts his eyes with a pained expression. "Alright, now please go"
And then the voice sounds right in his head: "Are you afraid of me now, my boy?"
He shudders, hearing the endearment and wishing he wouldn't hear it ever again. His heart is beating painfully in his chest and his throat is dry but he can't not answer, or Edward will be mad.
"No"
"Don't you dare lie to me, Arthur!" Edward hisses and the echo of his voice sounds in Arthur's ears painfully, accompanied with feverish whispering and he suddenly feels like crying. "Don't you dare do that, or may be you want to see me angry?"
He doesn't answer, his eyes hurt as he shuts them so tightly.
"Do you?"
"NO, I DON'T! Yes, I'm afraid of you, yes, who wouldn't be, considering what you've done to Stuart!"
And he sobs hard, his whole body shaking with fear, hurt, anger, confusion, grief. The memories he's been trying so hard to ignore all these years, they are forcefully taken out of him, being shoved into his face, the wounds that he thought had already healed are now torn open again and Edward sticks his fingers into them, making it hurt even more.
Arthur knows at first hand what it is like when Edward is angry and for the life of him he doesn't want to ever experience it again.
He still feels too guilty to visit Stuart's grave after all this time.
So, he takes a deep breath and repeats firmly: "Go away, Edward"
"But why?"
And all over again it starts.
***Inception***
Edward disappears again one day, just like that – Arthur gets home and goes to bed. Edward hasn't been around the whole day, not in school, not at home. The next day goes by and Edward – he's just not there anymore.
He's happy, ecstatic even, but the thought, rooted deeply in his mind – won't leave him, no matter how hard he tried, eating at him.
One day, Edward will come back.
***Inception***
So Arthur keeps living his life, making friends, communicating, though he never feels really comfortable around them. He just waits, for a day to end, for a month to pass, for school to finish.
As soon as he graduates, he goes to military, never really missing the friends he'd made at school.
He finds he's good at following orders, he's good at doing whatever he's being ordered to, because this way he's not responsible for his actions.
He joins the Project Somnacin, when he's twenty-three, and he finds he's good at that, either. He can build a dreamworld worth something, he can kill projections like nobody's business, and most importantly – he's very good at cleaning his mind, at controlling his subconscious.
He's the best.
He's so good, that one day, a guy, named Dom Cobb comes and asks Arthur to join him and his wife with their experiments at dream-sharing, and Arthur goes, partly because he's good at it, partly because he enjoys it, but mostly because he has nothing to do with his life.
He likes Cobb, and likes Mal, so he goes along with it, in the process, somehow, managing to make his first real friends.
When he's twenty-five, he moves to Los-Angeles, so he's closer with Dom and Mal.
This year, he receives a call, informing him that his father is dead.
He feels nothing.
***Inception***
When he's twenty-six, he meets Eames for the first time.
Eames is loud and playful and broad and handsome, and he reminds Arthur of somebody, somebody that he doesn't remember, but is supposed to, somebody that makes his head hurt.
He calls Arthur stupid pet names, that remind him of something wrong and bad and scary, and Arthur doesn't like feeling those, but Eames never stops.
He doesn't like Eames instantly.
After every job with the man, Arthur is left feeling things he's sure he isn't supposed to feel, and it makes him helpless and angry, and it makes him hate Eames even more.
After the fourth job with Eames, Arthur figures he wants the man.
He wants that fucking bastard with thousand faces, who keeps poking Arthur and provoking him, who is handsome and charming, who flirts with him and never really means it, who probably doesn't care about anything but himself.
He's hard every time Eames so much as licks his lips, and that, more than anything, makes Arthur feel mad and pathetic, and the wave of disgust for himself is so huge, Arthur can't even look at himself in the mirror.
Eames, fuck him, has this thing about liking to be underestimated. He jokes and acts like he doesn't know the meaning of the long words and the names of famous books and movies, like he sometimes doesn't know what everybody is talking about, but Arthur sees right trough this bullshit. He knows Eames is far cleverer than people give him credit for.
Actually, Eames is one of the smartest people Arthur knows, including Cobb. He is smart and calculating, always three steps ahead of everyone else, and he is all by himself, like a lone wolf, and he always sees the benefit for himself in absolutely anything.
Eames is perfect at controlling his emotions, something Arthur had used to be good at, too, before he met the fucking forger.
After the fifth job with Eames, the Big Headaches start. Arthur does his best to ignore them.
After the seventh job with Eames he starts feeling sick. He doesn't let himself worry about that, either.
After the tenth job with Eames, the incident with the black mist happened, the one Arthur pushed to the back of his mind.
After the twelfth job with Eames, Edward comes back, so here he is now.
***Inception***
***Inception***
Arthur tells Eames almost all of this, one huge fucked-up biography, but it feels great, it feels absolutely amazing to fucking finally open up and spill this shit he's felt and suppressed for years to somebody who's fucking real.
Eames is silent for a long time, long enough for Arthur to start thinking he's made a huge mistake telling Eames this, but then Eames just closes the space between them and pulls Arthur in a bone-crashing hug, his hands meeting on Arthur's back.
It's been such a long time since anybody touched him like that, and Arthur is confused and shocked, when Eames' nose presses to the skin between Arthur's neck and shoulder, and he feels Eames' hot breath on his clavicles, and without thinking he hugs Eames back.
"Arthur, Arthur, oh god, darling, oh god" He hears Eames whispering like mantra, and the next moment Eames' soft warm lips are pressing to his temple, his forehead, his cheek, nose, eyelids, before tentatively meeting with Arthur's own.
It is wonderful, amazing, fabulous, better than anything Arthur has ever tried in his entire life, and he goes for it, kissing Eames in response, with a kind of desperation and greediness that he's felt for so long.
Near the window, Edward stands, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and he says: Remember you are mine, darling
He says: This Eames better let you go now that he knows what you're capable of, my boy
And then: Have you forgotten what I've done for you? What we came through together?
And: I think you need a reminder.
***Inception***
Part 2/2