In a world where unpredictability was the norm, Arthur clings on to a familiar schedule as close as he can. That's why he loves when the leaves change. It is always something he can depend on.
He often misses the first snowfall, and it's rare that he ever gets to enjoy the summer sun beating down on his face. But with Dom taking time off during the fall to spend the holiday months with his children, Arthur is always back "home" in New York in time to witness the leaves bloom into bold reds and loud oranges.
The sight is always breathtaking, but there is something he looks forward to even more. Every year when the first batch of leaves start to shiver and let go of their branches, Arthur makes a trek to Central Park. He brushes the crunching leaves off his bench before taking a seat. Sometimes he only has to wait a moment and sometimes he's left staring at the shaking trees until sunset, but Eames always shows up eventually, knowing the exact day Arthur is waiting for him no matter where he was the day before. They don't voice many thoughts, other than Eames muttering about the cold until Arthur agrees to share his scarf, but it leaves a pleasant feeling in his stomach nonetheless.
He isn't sure how this tradition started. It just became an unspoken rule that they would meet. Sometimes Eames can only stay the night, sometimes he mooches off of Arthur for a month. Sometimes, while curled up under the comforter, their legs tangled and their flushed noses warming up, Arthur childishly asks if Eames can stay forever. He knows the answer, until one time the answer is different. It's a change he loves even more than the colors of the leaves.