a.n. I've got an idea where this story is going, but it's rather hazy to be honest. I'm very interested to see how it turns out, though. I don't usually write like this so it's a bit of an experiment. Also, thanks a lot to all those who have reviewed so far. You guys keep me writing!

disclaimer. Inception = not mine!

Changes

.The Place I'd Rather Be.

I've been sleeping a little too well lately. Even on a normal morning, Arthur has to all but push me out of bed before I stir. He tells me it's probably got a lot to do with the job and all the work we've been doing lately. He thinks I might be pushing myself too hard, that I might have screwed over my sleeping schedule for good this time.

I know better, of course. Work and stress have nothing to do with it, I'd rather just stay asleep. I'm an architect, after all. I can craft my dreams right down to the smallest speck of dust. I can't do that with reality. That's something over which I have absolutely no control.

Arthur doesn't know any of this, and that's definitely for the best. He loves me, after all. It would kill him to find out.

It's for this reason that I force my eyes open when he shakes me for the fifth time. It's for this reason that I smile at him, and kiss him back when he leans down to brush his lips against my own. It's for this reason that I let him lift up my nightgown and shower kisses across my breasts and stomach, down my legs all the way to my toes. It's for this reason that I ride him slow and languidly, the way I know he likes, and it's for this reason that I shout my satisfaction and hold him tight when he comes.

We shower together before heading down to the kitchen for breakfast. Arthur makes cereal while I opt for toast because it's easier to eat while checking my emails. As usual, I have several messages from potential clients. One is of particular interest – something about someone wanting to extract information from the mind of some powerful foreign leader. It doesn't go into any more detail that that, they never do, but it does contain a telephone we can use to find out more. I call Arthur over and ask what he thinks.

"It sounds interesting," he agrees, stroking my hair as he looks over my shoulder. "I'll call them once I've finished my coffee."

I finish my toast, wash my plate and flick through one of my textbooks, trying not to act too impatient as Arthur drains his drink and scans the newspaper. It's at times like this, I am grateful for not having dropped out of university. It provides a welcome distraction, at the very least.

After what seems like an eternity, Arthur closes the newspaper and stands to wash out his mug. It's only then that he makes towards the phone. I can't help but hold my breath as he dials the number, though I stare at my textbook and pretend not to notice. In the time that it takes him to complete to call, I must have re-read the same line at least a hundred times.

"So, what happened?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.

"Nothing, the client was very tight lipped. Even used a distorter of some sort to disguise his voice. He did, however, ask that I meet him downtown in an hour or so. Are you right to get to university by yourself?"

I nod my head, crestfallen. It didn't look as if I'd be doing any architecture any time before first period. A crying shame, if you ask me. Still, I smile at him and meet him halfway when he bends down to kiss me.

"I'll see you this afternoon, Ariadne."

"Yeah, have a good day."

He walks out the door after that leaving me alone with naught but my textbooks and a head of whirling emotions. How long am I going to be able to keep this up? I wonder. I care about him, I really do, but I just don't love him the same way he seems to love me. What's worse is the way I am blatantly using him. If it wasn't for the fact that he's my one and only link to the world of dream architecture – my sole fulfillment in life – I'm more or less certain I wouldn't even be here.

But what can I do? I can't leave him, and I most certainly can't tell him. I feel trapped and afraid, locked into a shitty situation I can't get out of. There's nothing I can do.

Then again, that's not quite true. There's always one place I could go, one place where everything is perfect – just the way I want it.

I don't make it to first period that day. I spend the day in bed.

a.n. If you've got opinions or ideas, be sure to let me know. They inspire me!