Warning; alternate universe, supernatural, teen & dramatic! Arthur, AU ages, perverted-ness, OCs: Cheyenne (just the given name; she's the blonde chick Eames forged), Lorenzo, Houston, Timothy ( the school needs more students than the Inception cast. D: )
Disclaimer; if only, ohoho ~
Author's Notes; I love you guys. Q wQ
Over the span of the time in which Eames told his story and the night before the first school day, Arthur tried his best to deal with the mirror. His father didn't call anyone to come in and remove the mirror much to Arthur's misfortune. To make matters worse, he was told to deal with it. When he requested to move his bedroom to one of the guest's, his father just gave him a pointed look, and that ended the conversation. Nevertheless, if things couldn't get worse from that point, his mother then requested him to remove the bed sheet that he put back over the mirror the night proceeding the story telling. So now, Arthur was left to cope with the man in the mirror.
He wasn't doing the very best job at it; the time on the clock read that it was past ten at night, which was an hour after the time he usually slept for school days. He was listening intently, but there was nothing aside from silence that played its music. He turned over and peered at the mirror. Eames wasn't there. For the first time since his arrival of the place, the man wasn't making any sort of presence. At first, this was something to celebrate about, but over time, Arthur began to wonder where the man had gone off to. Another mirror? That was likely. He turned back on his side and closed his eyes. It was only a few moments later that he fell into an easy sleep. He was awoken a few hours later by his alarm clock and a loud exclamation of "bloody hell!", courtesy of Eames, of course.
Arthur blinked his eyes open to see that his room was lighted by the rising sun that streamed through his closed blinds. With a soft groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position. As he tried to adapt to the fact that he lacked an hour's worth of sleep, he was also trying to ignore Eames' voice.
"At least give me a fair warning before the alarm goes off— or tell me when it goes off!"
Arthur ignored him; he was far too tired to pay attention. Nevertheless, he slid out of his bed, shut the alarm off, and ambled his way to his closet. After choosing his clothes for the day, the young teen made his way towards the bathroom. The ten minutes long shower woke him up, though he still dwell on the fact that he didn't get enough sleep. He quickly shoved those thoughts aside as he brushed his teeth and groomed up for the day. As he tucked his white button up into his pants and adjusted his tie so that it was properly done, Arthur surveyed his bedroom for anything else he needed. Seeing nothing was left behind, he slung his one-strap backpack on his left shoulder and grabbed his keys. Yet, the moment before he stepped out of the room, he heard the Englishman speaking behind him.
"Have fun at school, pet."
The teen threw the other a look before turning and briskly making his way down the stairs. After grabbing a quick breakfast that consisted nothing but a simple granola bar, he was well on his way to school.
His drive there was peaceful aside from the fact that he was desperately trying to shove the thought that the mirror in his room was haunted by a young Englishman (with horrible fashion sense, might he add once more).
Eames didn't look dangerous; he didn't even sound dangerous, but Arthur knew very well not to judge books by their covers. Eames even admitted to bullying a student; he could only imagine what would happen if the man were to go insane and break out of the mirror. Arthur didn't want to involve himself in such matters. Least he knew, Eames was trapped inside the mirror and his own parents shouldn't be capable of seeing him. That is, unless it was possible for Eames to fall in love with them. In that case, Arthur merely shoved the thoughts from his head, hoping that his parents knew how to defend themselves if Eames got out or something (according to the other, he couldn't, so Arthur can only trust his word on that).
Focusing his attention on his driving, the young teen pulled into a parking space before grabbing his needed items and stepping out of the vehicle. After making sure that his transportation was secured, he moved towards the public school. He felt his heart beginning to thunder against his chest with each step he took towards the building, but he tried his best to suppress them. Being nervous was never something big on him, considering that he had much self-confidence, but the entire feel of a public school made him ... eager? Arthur didn't think for a moment that he was eager to attend a public school, but nevertheless, that was easier to believe than him being nervous, because there was nothing to literally be jittery about.
He moved in after a crowd of chattering students. Upon entrance, Arthur glanced around and inspected the area with a critical eye. The place wasn't as new and shiny as the usual public schools were. Not to mention, everyone was in many shades of various colors, which was a new sight to him, since no one's outfit looked like another. That alone would need getting use to, but at the moment, he didn't want to stand around staring at numerous students, so he moved along.
Following the signs directed, he proceeded down many hallways and up a flight of stairs to get to the class that was reportedly his homeroom. The classroom was empty, aside from the fact that the teacher was seated in her desk shuffling through papers. Feeling rather awkward, Arthur knocked. The woman peered up, then smiled at him. He immediately felt some sort of relief wash over him. Proceeding forward, he greeted her with an introduction and a firm hand shake.
"My name is Arthur Irvings. I recently moved here from Chicago."
"Give me moment, Mr. Irvings."
Allowing his gaze to wander off, he waited for further words from the other. When she spoke again, his sights returned. She held out a few sheets of paper to him, to which he took.
"The sheet on top is your daily schedule. Every morning, you are to report to your first period class. The others are rules and regulations along with some forms that need to be signed by you and your legal guardian and returned by the end of this week to the office."
He thumbed through the papers as she mentioned them. Giving a curt nod, he thanked her and briskly walked to his first period.
There weren't many people about in the classroom; there were only two students mulling about (the teacher wasn't even present). They were both seated in the far back corner, whispering and giggling at something. When Arthur walked in, they both lifted their heads and peered at his direction before returning to their chatter. Paying no attention to them, he paced over to one of the empty desks and took a seat.
Still visibly tensed, the young teen peered around the small room. There were only twenty desks around, which wasn't many compared to his private school's count of thirty-five. The walls, as he noticed, were also in a damaged form by means of stray marks made by coloring utensils and whatnot. The desk he sat in wasn't very sturdy either and rocked whenever he decided to change his position. When that began to bother him, he stopped moving around to examine the place. He sat back and inspected the board. The words printed with a hard-to-read handwriting style said 'welcome, students! Mr. Grant, physics; free seating'. From the looks of it, he was in the correct room; it was just that the teacher wasn't in yet. And to that, Arthur frowned.
It would be easy for any student to stroll in, steal something from Mr. Grant's desk, before running away with a few witnesses to bare. Unless, of course, this school was completely theft-free and safe, which Arthur heavily doubted. Sure, he may feel more relaxed when driving around, but that didn't mean that there weren't crimes around, nevertheless, unsafe situation's lingering nearby waiting to strike. The thought made his brows furrow once again, so he quickly waved off it off.
Much to his luck, he didn't have to stray away from the thought, since the female that strolled into class had provided enough distraction for him. The moment she walked in, Arthur glanced in her direction. Her face was, without a doubt, familiar. And from the looks of it, she recognized him as well. At the first few seconds, he merely watched as she took a seat next to him. Once seated, she turned to him and offered him a small smile.
"I didn't think that you were around my age," she started.
Arthur wasn't sure if he should be glad for that comment or offended; he did dress and socialize in way as if he was older than his age, yes, but at the same time, he didn't think that he appeared that old yet. The girl must have realized that he was frowning, since she immediately added onto her greeting.
"No offense, though."
That didn't make Arthur feel any better, but he shrugged it off as nothing to be concerned about. "I'm seventeen," he answered bluntly, leaning back against his desk chair and crossing his legs.
She quirked a brow in response to this action, but didn't ask about it. Instead, she merely turned her body to face him so that she wasn't craning her neck.
"I'm sixteen. A junior."
Junior? A questionable look passed the young male's expression. He was sure that Physics was a senior class, or at least, that was what it was listed on the classes mandatory for seniors. Perhaps he was wrong, or maybe the classes differed. His eyes continued to bore through her.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is a seniors' class, no?"
She smiled at the question. "It is; I already took the other mandatory science classes in previous years."
Which more than likely meant that this female was smart.
Arthur smiled lightly. He had competition, it seemed like. But she was still a junior; he should have more knowledge than her. "I'm impressed," he stated.
At that, the girl's cheeks began to warm. "Thanks. I try." She then turned back and opened her folder. Drawing out a piece of paper, she leaned over. "What classes do you have?"
Arthur peered at her schedule for a moment before fishing his out. For the next few seconds, he ignored a few students' entrances in order to compare the two schedules. Before he could announce his conclusion, Ariadne had already piped up her's.
"We have gym and history together! That's also our lunch period." She grinned at him as if she was waiting for him to make a comment. When he did, it was a mere "excellent". Luckily, the teacher decided to enter at that moment, which saved him from saying anything more.
Turning away from the female, Arthur watched as the middle-aged teacher paced across the room to pick up a folder that once laid on his desk. He then proceeded to introduce himself and go over the necessities of being in the class, the rules, and whatnot. None of which, of course, was anything new to the young teen; he had heard of such requirements before. They were quite simple, unlike the private schools he once attended. Mr. Grant claimed that there would be two projects per semester; in the past, Arthur had dealt with a total of five various ones from the same class, so he felt as if this class was going to be easy (even though he wasn't the best at science). He shrugged the thought off, though, and tuned back in on what the instructor was saying.
Mr. Grant was now introducing the last few rules. Following that was the issuing of books. When Arthur's last name was called out, he stood up and headed over to where the teacher stood. After signing his name and putting the number of the copy he had received, Arthur returned to his desk. Ariadne, last name Dutch, as he realized, followed his footsteps a couple of seconds later. When she returned, she was weighing the physics book in her hands.
"This is going to weigh me down," she huffed.
Arthur, on the other hand, didn't mind the weight as much, but he could admit that he wouldn't like balancing it among other books in his arms or in his backpack. So, in response, he merely nodded once.
A moment later, she spoke up again. "When are we getting lockers?"
Arthur turned to answer that he didn't know, but upon realizing that she wasn't questioning him, he sealed his lips shut. The teacher, still assigning the books to the remaining students, paused briefly at his work before answering.
"Fourth period, I believe."
Ariadne groaned and turned her gaze to him once more. "I would have to lag around four books," she complained.
Arthur glanced away and rolled his eyes. "It can't be that heavy," he responded.
A reply to his words came almost instantly. "Guess you're right. Better than carrying seven from all our classes, eh?"
He didn't respond back, and for a bit of time, he wasn't even paying attention to what she was saying, so when the bell rang, he had to tune back in on her words.
"—you in third."
Ariadne smiled and waved goodbye to him before leaving. From that point, Arthur merely wondered why she was acting different from the first time he met her; maybe he was unconsciously nodding to what she was talking about to fool her that he was listening? It was a possibility, but it seemed unlikely. Maybe she wasn't even talking to him— that would have made more sense.
Giving up on trying to understand, the young male stood up and gathered his items into his arms. A couple of moments later, he walked into Calculus class taught by Mr. Saito. Immediately upon entrance, he felt the teacher's observing stare on him from the front of the classroom. At that, Arthur halted in his step; the whole thing of Eames being in the mirror was getting to him. There wasn't a mirror around, but he felt the familiar chill he always got when he knew Eames was watching him.
"Take a seat, sir," Mr. Saito instructed, spreading his right arm out as if he was advertising the desks.
Quickly snapping from his daze, Arthur ushered over to an empty seat on the right of a blond male. After recovering from the embarrassment, he straightened up and watched as the instructor close the door at the sound of the bell. Mr. Saito then walked briskly back to the blackboard. As the chalk was picked up, Arthur's eyes caught sight of a math problem forming on the board. Beside him, the blond figure began scribbling down in his notebook. Arthur quirked his brow as he examined the other's work from the desk over. The other student was apparently working out the problem, and feeling as if this should be a competition, Arthur drew out his pencil and peered back up at the board. Mr. Saito moved out of the way just in time and instructed the students within the class to complete said problem.
At the looks of it, Arthur's brows knitted close to each other. He had seen a similar problem before when working out his homework during a pre-calculus class, but how he managed to, he wasn't sure of. Nevertheless, he set to work. He copied the problem down on a blank sheet of paper before tapping the eraser end of his utensil against the desk lightly. He rearranged the numbers and variables. That didn't change anything. He looked up at the teacher, who was observing the class. When the other man returned his gaze, he dropped his own sights back to the paper. A couple of more seconds was focused on the problem before he glanced up once more. This time, he peered at the student sitting beside him. Nearly half of the blond's page was filled with work, but he was tapping his eraser end against his lip, which gave Arthur the idea that he didn't know how to solve it either. He glanced around. Only a couple of students were actually writing things down; others were frowning in various directions.
"Three minutes."
When the time leftover was called out, Arthur returned his gaze to his paper. It was only one minute left that he finally dawned down on him how to solve such problem. The process of how simply just clicked in from his memory, giving him an easy access to the answer of the math problem. As time was called, Mr. Saito peered around and asked who thought that they had the answer. Arthur was one of the three that did raise their hand. He watched as the middle-aged man strolled around and checked the other two's answer. They were both incorrect.
As Mr. Saito neared him, Arthur regretted raising his hand. What if he had it wrong too? He would be far embarrassed. Much to his fortune, though, his answer was approved. Feeling gleeful, Arthur wanted to grin, but he kept it back to a small smile. As the man walked away to explain the problem, Arthur leaned back in his chair, triumph crossing over his expressions. A second later, he heard a voice to his left.
"I don't get it. Is there an easier way to solve this?" Upon hearing the question, Arthur glanced over. The blond male, who was apparently the questioner, was leaning towards him curiously.
At the sight of the other student, Arthur felt himself freezing on the spot. The man was undeniably handsome, and the small smile he was offering only proceeded to make the brunet's heart pound. He couldn't help but gape; the man could easily be an actor or model.
"You okay?" The voice brought Arthur back to earth (dammit, he was spacing out again).
He nodded. "I'm ... fine. The concept is easy. You just need to simplify first."
The man glanced back at his paper before whispering "oh." He glanced back and flashed Arthur a brilliant smile.
"Thanks. I did order of operation first." He laughed uncomfortably before holding out a hand. "Dom."
Arthur grasped the soft hand and shook. "Arthur."
He was rather reluctant to pull his hand back; Dom's hand was rather warm and— no. This was completely wrong. Obsessing over Dom's beauty was as ridiculous as it sounded. His fingers curled into a fist as he willed the thoughts of such away.
"Are you new—" Dom had started, but was cut off by the teacher, who was glaring at them both for interrupting the explanation by their small talk.
Arthur turned his attention back to the board, though the corner of his eyes lingered on the male next to him. He decided at that moment that Dom seemed like a suitable companion, even though the other was clearly not as intelligent. That was about the only horrid thing about the other man. Yet, shoving the thought aside, he reverted his attention back to Dom once Mr. Saito had finished explaining and was now handing out textbooks.
"Yes, I'm new here," he answered.
Dom grinned. "Do you play sports? Soccer, specifically?"
Arthur shook his head.
"Shame. You would've been a good addition to our team."
Arthur straightened up at the sound of that; he wanted to say something along the lines that he could learn, but seeing how pathetic that was, he didn't comply to his thoughts. Instead, he asked about the other activities the school offered. Turns out, Dom was only involved in soccer and basketball, which were sports that Arthur could not play and was not interested in.
The class ended with an awkward farewell from Arthur's part and a "see you at lunch" from Dom. Nevertheless, he walked to his next class with full confidence.
By time gym rolled around, he walked around the perimeter of the gymnasium (considering that he wasn't interested in playing tennis or basketball) with Ariadne. She chatted with him lively about her English class, and he actually found himself listening. According to her words, the junior English class was reading Romeo and Juliet, and she was dubbed the part of the Nurse. At one point, she mentioned that Dom would make a better Romeo than someone named Timothy. To that, Arthur silently agreed, but he didn't think of the male as a type to play a character that was completely blinded by love. He passed it off as a mere opinion, seeing that Ariadne obviously knew Dom longer and better than him.
It wasn't long until lunch arrived. The smell of pizza and hamburgers was absolutely foul compared to what Arthur usually ate. So, as he went through the line behind Ariadne (who helped herself to a slice pizza and yogurt), Arthur only grabbed a banana, seeing that seemed to be the only suitable item there without grease, was clean, and did not contain sugar. Ariadne, when seeing this, offered him her portion of the lunch, but he immediately turned it down while making a mental note to bring lunch every day.
As he glanced around for a place to sit with Ariadne, he noticed Dom sitting among a few other students that looked as if they were on the soccer team. He was about to notify the female on his left about the empty seats there, but she was already stepping in that direction. Silently, Arthur followed her and seated himself diagonally from Dom, who greeted him with a warm smile.
He was then introduced to Timothy (he really didn't seem like a Romeo), Cheyenne (apparently Juliet), Mal (a tennis player), Tadashi, Lorenzo, and Houston (a few of the many soccer players). Arthur's first interpretation of the group was that Timothy was cocky, Tadashi was the know-it-all, Cheyenne was stuck up, Houston and Lorenzo were partners in crime and equally perverted, and Mal was much like Ariadne, but was more outspoken.
Nonetheless, Arthur didn't pay much attention to them unless they contributed something about him that pertained to the current conversation.
Other than that, he ate ate his banana while listening to Cheyenne blabber endlessly about her given role in reading. Half way through her speech, or whatever she was making, really, Houston—if that was even his name— pointed to Arthur and promptly said that he was eating a banana.
Arthur gave him a pointed look that clearly said "no shit, Sherlock" while a few others snickered.
That was when the whole conversation with him as the main topic started. He was asked simple questions along the lines of if he was gay or not, and how many boys had he blown, and so on. To those, Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. Though he was reluctant to answer, he passed the replies off with quick and short words. No, he was not gay. And he had blown no one. But of course, being the immature idiots that Arthur already assumed they were, Lorenzo and Houston continued to snicker and list off more questions.
Luckily, Ariadne stepped in for him right then and there, and Arthur felt forever grateful for that. He felt uncomfortable about the subject, seeing that the half of the answers he had given himself was what his parents wanted. He wasn't exactly the straightest character, since pretty boys (like Dom) were always snagging his attention. As for sexual intercourse, his answer remained honest (thankfully).
Arthur frowned at the thought before dawning back on what Houston was saying. It just so happened that the other was snickering over the fact that he was eating a banana. Was. He finished the banana a few minutes ago. And truthfully, he saw nothing wrong with that. They then moved to the point where they began teasing him with flirtatious actions and cheesy pick-up lines. Dom stepped in this time before Arthur could have a piece of the situation.
"Come on, Cobb. We're just joking," one of the two replied, patting the blond male.
"Unless you—" the other one started, but Mal chose that moment to cut in.
"That's enough, boys. Mind your own business."
Arthur had found temporary respect in the tennis player right then and there. That was, until lunch was over and she pulled him aside from the rest of the eavesdropping students.
"Sorry for Renzo's and Houston's behavior. They don't mean harm, really."
Arthur blinked at her, then said bluntly, "I'm not gay."
And she laughed at that while patting him on the shoulder. "Whatever you say, kiddo."
Had he been that obvious? He watched, his mouth gaping, as Mal walked away. He didn't think that he was obvious. She must have sharp eyes, then. In that case, he needed to stop eying Dom all together.
Clamping his mouth shut, Arthur hurried to his next class.
The rest of school day went by slowly. His last class, which was History and shared with Ariadne and Tadashi, was far entertaining.
For a short amount of time, he had forgotten the incident back at lunch. Yet, as he was walking back towards his car, he felt an arm sling around his shoulder. It was Houston, and on his other side was Lorenzo. Arthur immediately tensed and halted in his step. He shrugged the arm off and stepped away. As he was about to say something, the two started.
"We didn't mean to offend you or anything. We don't mind gays," Lorenzo began with a soft grin.
Arthur's eyes narrowed on them. "I am not—"
The two boys looked at each other before saying "denial" in unison.
Arthur scowled. "If you have no further business with me, then I will take my leave, thank you."
He ignored the snorting and laughing in the background as he turned and headed to his vehicle. When he got into the car, strapped himself in, and locked the doors, Arthur watched the two friends joke with each other. After a few seconds, he rolled his eyes and pulled out of the lot.
The drive home consisted of nothing but how the first day of school played out. It wasn't until he stepped into his room did he get a scare.
"How was your day?"
He had nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Eames' voice. He had forgotten about the other man throughout the whole day, which was surprising, considering that that was most of his worries for the past few days. It seemed that all of today was about repeating that he wasn't homosexual countless of times. And at that thought, Arthur's mouth curved into a frown again as he dropped the keys on his desk and flopped onto his bed. Off to the side, Eames was speaking again.
"Are you alright, darling? Did something happen?"
To that, Arthur merely glared at the other. "I loathe your sort of people."
Eames blinked at him. "Pardon?"
"People who tease," he hissed, "and won't shut up."
Eames answered him a moment later. "My bad. Didn't think it upset you. Maybe if you asked, I would have stopped teasing earlier, but from looks of it, I'm not to blame. What happened at school?"
Arthur's forehead met the bed once more at the sound of the question. He didn't want to talk about it, but he needed to complain and get it out of his system. Rolling on his back, he allowed his eyes to feast on the ceiling before opening his mouth to begin.
"I'm being suspected of being homosexual."
The answer from Eames came quickly. "Are you?"
It was the same question he had been asked various of times, and he hated it. So instead of answering, Arthur threw another glare in the mirror's direction.
The man quickly began again. "I don't have a problem with them, trust me. I learned my lesson."
The young teen ignored the comment and turned away from the mirror. "Leave me alone," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes close and taking in deep breaths.
He tried to clear his head of the events that happened earlier, but he couldn't help but allow them to linger; he knew, from watching other kids in his private school, that preferring the same sex would lead to bullying and harassment. Though Lorenzo and Houston posed no threats yet, Arthur still felt uncomfortable around them. If he started to get bullied— no; he wasn't one to be bullied. If that time came along, he would just need to defend himself with whatever was avaliable.
"That's it?"
At the sound of the Englishman's voice, Arthur's brows furrowed. He proceeded not to answer, and in return, Eames began pestering him with advice.
"Just ignore them, darling, and try not to think about it too much. What else happened?"
Aside from that situation alone, nothing else happened that was an interesting conversational topic. That was, if he were to exclude meeting Dom for the first time. Yet, he didn't want to dwell on the thought of the other man, so he answered the man with a simple 'no'.
When asked his classes, he replied in a murmur. To that, Eames laughed. Apparently Mr. Saito, his calculus teacher, was once the principal of the school. Arthur sniffed at the sound of that, but didn't make another comment. As Eames continued to fill him in on the teachers he had, Arthur slipped off the bed and strolled over to his closet. That was when Eames decided to ask why his clothes only consisted of neat clothing, aside from the occasional shorts, t-shirt, and sweatpants to the summer.
"It's neater," he responded, weighing his t-shirt and shorts in his hand along with the towel. And after gathering his boxers, Arthur turned his attention back to the man. "Do you mind?" he questioned irritably.
The other, who was recently staring at him in silence, jerked his sights from his lower half to his face. "My apologizes, love," he said with a light grin.
The dark brunet huffed before making his way towards the shower. As he stepped in and began washing his hair, thoughts began to stir. He still needed to get rid of the other; there was no telling if he was being watched through any of the mirrors as he passed them. That is, unless he felt the awkward chill that told him that someone had their eyes on him— that was the only exception.
Or maybe that was simply paranoia? It could be, but Arthur didn't want to take the chance and believe that he was simply paranoid about it— which meant that someone could be watching him at the moment. For that second, he suddenly became conscious of his surroundings. Just, what if someone was watching? They would see everything. A man stuck in a mirror or not, they could still be outside, waiting for him to drag the curtains open in order to grab his clothes ...
He simply shoved that thought aside and turned off the shower. After drying and dressing him, he returned to his room to toss his clothes into the basket sitting underneath his shirts. He then reverted his steps in order to look in the mirror; again, Eames was gone. Why the man was gone at various times of the day made Arthur wonder, but nevertheless, he didn't ponder over that for long; Eames always came back anyways.
No longer lingering on that, the dark brunet grabbed his backpack before withdrawing a folder that contained papers that he and his parents needed to go over and sign. Of course, Arthur had already read the contents; it was simply a repeat of the handbooks, procedures, and etc. for each class. He grabbed a pen and signed his name in the given places. After that, he straightened up and headed out to seek his father. That didn't turn out well; his father was apparently out looking for a job.
Arthur contemplated whether or not to wait for his fatherly figure to get home, or to get it over with and have his mother, who was lounging in the chair, watching television (though, he knew that she wasn't in taking anything considering that her gaze would constantly flick in his direction), sign it.
In the end, he gave up and walked over. "Do you have a moment, mother?"
She glanced up at him and shook her head while patting the spot next to her.
Intensively, Arthur sat and handed the papers and pen over. "Standard class procedures and whatnot," he informed bluntly, though she already started signing them without reading them beforehand.
Feeling the awkward atmosphere reach him, he glanced to the TV screen and tried to understand what was going on. Whatever it was, it seemed like drama comedy, considering that the blonde woman was screaming about being pregnant or something along those lines. Arthur, irritated by this already, turned back to watch his mother sign the papers.
As she handed them and the pen back, he stood. Only a second later did she attempt conversation: "How was school?"
He could tell her everything that he told Eames, but unlike Eames, Arthur knew that she would end up telling her father, which would lead to questioning and getting the school officials involved, which, in all terms, would make him look weak and pathetic.
"Fine," he answered.
He allowed his gaze to linger, seeing that his mother seemed as if she wanted to say something else. But in the end, she merely said that that was "good" before turning her attention to the screen. Arthur took this as a cue to leave, and so he did.
He made his way back to his bedroom in order to tuck the papers back into his folder.
Moments proceeding that was a greeting from the Englishman. "You okay?"
Arthur blinked in the mirror's direction, but nodded, nonetheless. Was he masking a face of disappointment or something? He didn't think so, but Eames was eying him in a manner that told Arthur that he didn't believe the answer. The teen turned away and ignored the man. As he shuffled through his backpack, Eames started to talk again.
"There's nothing wrong with being g—"
Arthur cut him off before he could finish. "That's coming from a person who taunted them. And I'm not."
He glared at the man, but Eames remained unfazed. "I said I learned my lesson. And that's hard to believe; I've yet to see a bloke who is as neat as you, organizing-wise."
The last statement seemed like a challenge, as if Eames expected him to prove him wrong. Arthur didn't comply to that. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and continued to meet the other's amused gaze with his cold glare.
"Not all men are messy. And I doubt that—"
"Now, please use your head a bit more, love. If I were not to learn my lesson, then I wouldn't have asked you for a kiss, hm?"
For a moment, Arthur couldn't conjure anything up to comeback with that, which brought a triumph grin onto the man's face. He ignored the amusement, though and piped up his side of the petty argument. "You could have been taunting me, like you did to the—"
"I assure you it's far from that, Iz—"
"Arthur," he corrected briskly. "My name is Arthur."
"But you said— never mind that, Arthur. As I was saying, it's not like that. I'm attracted to you. I think you can help me get out of the mirror."
To that, Arthur scoffed. "And I assure you, Mr. Eames, that your logic and devious plan will not go through."
Eames fell silent for a bit, which allowed Arthur to gather his composure. He shifted and dropped his arms to his side. Eames, on the other hand, was ranging from sighing to rubbing his temples. A second later, he spoke.
"I just want to get out of here," he muttered. "I don't care who I fall in love with or whatever; I just want to get out of this bloody mirror."
The blue-green eyes peered up and in his direction once more. "It shouldn't be that hard to fall for each other, right? If we're meant to be—"
All this fairy tale talk was getting to him. The corner of his mouth twitched in disapproval.
"This is reality, not a fairy tale," Arthur stated bluntly.
Eames frowned faintly. "How else do you think could break this spell?"
"Break the mirror? You haven't tried—"
"Definitely not," Eames replied coldly. "Nash said I won't be free until I learn heartbreak and love."
Arthur quirked a brow. "He could be lying. What about the female you fell for and had your heart broken by?"
Eames chewed on his bottom lip before gazing away. Arthur noticed a flicker of utter disappointment that ran across the Englishman's eyes as he mentioned the female. He thought the man was about to cry, but thankfully, he was proven wrong.
Eames turned back to him. "I'm not completely sure. She didn't kiss me ... I think I need a kiss too."
Hope crossed the man's eyes, but Arthur waved it aside as nothing.
"This is just—"
"—ridiculous," Eames finished, "I know. But it's about the only thing I can believe in."
Arthur fell silent for the given moment and simply inspected the other man. Eames had been stuck in the mirror for many years; there was no telling that the other wasn't simply making this up. But then again, Arthur asked himself a similar question: how else would it be possible for a man to be in the mirror and dutifully responding to each of his words?
The man heaved a sigh. "We can create our own fairy tale with fake love," he suggested.
Arthur was threatened to roll his eyes, but he refrained himself from doing so. "I don't want to be a part of your fairy tale."
The Englishman met his gaze. "You can see me; therefore, you don't have a choice."
The comeback of 'not if I throw the covers over you' danced across Arthur's mind, but he repeated nothing of it.
"Really, darling, it won't be that bad. You see reluctant to fall in love with me ... unless you already have."
At that Arthur snapped back to attention; his expression made the opposing figure chuckle.
"It could possibly work. If I'm capable of falling in love with you, and you feel nothing back, then my heart would be broken. Then you kiss me to make it all better. And then I'll be free. We'll live happily ever after."
Arthur snorted lightly at the sound of Eames' version of a classic fairy tale. "No, thank you."
"Oh, come on. All you have to do is peck me— the mirror— on the lips. Besides, I haven't showered in six or something years."
The corner of Arthur's mouth twitched at the sound of that.
"I don't smell, though. Or at least, I don't think I— that doesn't matter. I just want to get out. Can't you just help out a poor bloke?"
That was when Eames stuck out his bottom lip slightly and pouted. And for that fleeting moment, all Arthur could think about was how cute the Englishman looked, but once discovering his thoughts, he immediately waved it off.
"What do I get out of it?" he questioned.
Eames immediately lit up. "That means you're agreeing—"
"I asked a question."
"Oh. Well. You'll lose your first kiss, if you hadn't already."
Arthur had never kissed anyone before, and truthfully, he didn't plan to (though, a small part of him hoped to), unless it was D— no. No. He willed away the thought and focused on the current situation.
"No."
Eames huffed. "I'll stop pestering you for the time being."
Arthur actually liked that offer, but— "We'll see."
Eames grinned. "That's a yes, isn't it?"
"No."
The Englishman folded his arms across his chest.
Arthur turned away. "It's a maybe. For now, be quiet. I have homework."
There was a sound of soft laughter. "Alright, love."
And there was complete silence in his room after that.