When Eames opened his eyes, he found he was no longer clinging to Arthur. He sensed a significant passage of time and felt weary. He laughed at the irony of being tired in a dream and searched for Arthur. He was still in the little room from before, but it had changed since he last saw it. Books were now accompanied by an extensive collection of C.D.s and Eames thumbed through them, impressed by the variety between the genres. Only Arthur could love all music.
The boy (now almost a man) in question quietly opened his bedroom door and peeked inside. Seeing the room was empty, save for an invisible Eames, Arthur nodded and motioned for someone behind him to follow him in. A tall, blonde haired boy tiptoed into the room behind Arthur and closed the door as quietly as it had been opened, making no noise even when he locked it behind him. Arthur appeared to be about sixteen. The neatly kept hair that Eames was so accustomed to was almost completely shaved except for a long wavy strip that ran down the middle that surely formed a Mohawk when gelled correctly. Arthur lowered his schoolbag to the hardwood floor as his friend flipped through the music selection Eames had just gone through, pulling a case from the neatly ordered shelf.
"Arthur?" the boy asked quietly, waiting to be heard.
"Hmm?" Arthur responded, looking up at the blonde patiently.
"Where's the mixed C.D. darling? The one with all the jazz music on it?" Eames raised his eyebrows upon hearing his favorite name for Arthur. Darling. Surprisingly, teen Arthur did not seem to mind the little pet name.
"Already in the stereo, most likely." The other nodded his head and turned to a cheap looking stereo that sat on the nightstand, pressing play. Quiet music that Eames did not know drifted sweetly through the room. He smiled and swayed, shifting his weight from hip to hip. "Come sit down Daryl." Arthur beckoned, patting the bed next to him. Daryl complied and sat, taking one of Arthur's hands in his own. Arthur reached up and caressed Daryl's smooth face in his free hand, humming the soft music to himself. Eames felt a surge of jealousy rush through him but quickly shook it away. This was still a nightmare, and Eames would have to put his feelings aside; he stayed alert for signs that things were about to turn ugly.
The young boys on the bed kissed and touched sweetly, almost nervously as the C.D. ran its course. Eames watched Arthur smile as Daryl tangled a hand in his hair, messing up that which would be perfectly combed in the future. Eames looked for a nearby kick, hoping one could get themselves out of a natural dream without disturbing the dreamer; he believed the nightmare had dissipated and did not particularly want to hang around to see it become a lucid, lovely dream. He felt like an intruder before, but this was just private! Eames felt himself blush when Arthur whispered a gentle "I love you" and shifted uncomfortably. The boys weren't doing anything nearly as graphic as Eames had seen before; in fact, they hadn't gotten past kissing. He still felt the urge to get out; he felt he shouldn't be there.
And that's when he saw the nightmare unfolding.
The doorknob to Arthur's room was jiggling and twisting, but the two teens could not hear it over the music. The lock began to turn as someone picked it from the outside, and Eames had a good idea of who that someone may be.
"Hey!" he yelped, pleading for Arthur or Daryl to hear him. "Hey! You're dad's home!" he screamed at the top of his lungs but Arthur and his partner remained undisturbed, actually deepening their kisses. Eames ran to the door and grabbed the knob, planning to hold it closed but to no avail; Arthur's father shouldered his way into the room.
"Damn it Arthur! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't lock the d—" he stopped midsentence and stared at the scene before him. Daryl had snaked a hand under Arthur's shirt just before Daddy came in. The boys were paralyzed, lying entangled in each other's arms. Arthur's father too was immobile, and simply gaped stupidly at the two. Eames would have laughed if he wasn't so near wetting himself. All at once the scene burst to life. Arthur's father was across the room in record time, his face as red as a ripe tomato. Arthur began to cry silently as he held onto Daryl, attempting to protect him with his skinny body. Daryl flipped Arthur over gently but quickly and stood to meet the giant standing before him. Before he could even open his mouth, Arthur's father landed a fist in it, drawing blood from Daryl's already bruised lips. Arthur screamed as Daryl flew back, but it seemed the blonde had a little fight in him. He stood and threw a shot at the older man's gut which doubled him over. A brawl broke out, and still Arthur could be heard over the grunts.
"Dad stop! Stop it dad please! I love him!" At that, the man's eyes grew wild and he doubled his intensity, bludgeoning the blonde who had long since given up. Arthur leapt at his father's ankles, taking him to the ground.
"What? You want some?" screamed the bear of a man. Arthur's eyes widened in fear.
"Leave him alone!" shouted a very defenseless Eames. The dream began to fall apart. The ceiling was caving in and pieces of the night sky were coming through the roof as the sun continued to set in the window. Arthur's father stood and brushed himself off as the music continued to play happily in the background. Arthur's father left the room, threatening hell on anyone who tried to leave. Momentarily alone, Daryl looked into Arthur's eyes with his own bright blue ones and smiled the best he could through his tear and bloodstained face. He was slowly losing his pigment and Arthur chocked on his sobs.
"Don't worry darling one," he whispered. Blood squirted from his mouth with each word of false comfort. "Everything is going to be okay." Footsteps pounded down the hall as Daryl let his eyes drift shut. Arthur screamed and begged him to hang on, to come back as the dream crashed around him.
"Don't worry darling," growled Arthur's father sarcastically from the door. "I'm not quite done with you yet."
Eames woke with a start and found himself staring into the confused and fear filled eyes of Arthur. They were both sweating and crying. Eames' throat was sore from yelling at a dream but he cleared it the best he could and sat next to Arthur. The man in question looked away ashamedly and rubbed at his eyes, attempting to clear them of the horrible sights he had re-witnessed that night. Eames pulled him into his arms and held him, hushing him quietly, at which point Arthur cried outright and clung to him.
"It was all my fault Eames! He died because I couldn't keep myself away from him like my father told me to," he sobbed into Eames' shirt, sniffling and barely breathing.
"That was never you're fault d- love." Eames caught himself on the nickname he used to love annoying the distraught young man with. He promised to watch himself from now on and vowed to cut the word out of his vocabulary entirely.
"He said that if he ever caught me with another man like that again he'd kill me too," Arthur hiccupped, looking around wildly for the man to come creeping out of the corners.
"He can't lovie," said Eames quietly. He leaned away from Arthur and looked into his eyes. "I won't let him. Ever." Arthur sniffled and looked at Eames for a while more before pulling away and nodding. Eames took his hand and pulled him up from the lounge chair. They spent the night at Eames house, laughing, crying talking and sharing stories, but not sleeping. Despite their exhaustion, they knew that if either one closed his eyes he would be subjected to the things that had gone on in Arthur's dream. So they played any music but jazz and watched movies, and finally did fall asleep in each other's arms, warding off nightmares and the things that lurked in shadowy corners.
A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. =]