The Magic Numbers – This is a Song

Arthur awoke with a start. Eyes blinking, searching for some light, he felt as if he were drowning in the darkness – in the loneliness of it all.

He sank back down into his sheets, reveling in the cool of the fabric on his hot skin. He laid, thoughts buzzing, for some time until he finally realized that he would indeed get no more sleep with the way his head was going. His thoughts seemed to be spinning in a constant, tight circle over what he assumed to be the dominant of said thoughts – Ariadne.

"Wonder what her last name is, she never mentioned. Although, neither have I, so… She looked really nice today, a bit flustered, maybe. But only because she couldn't find her layouts. Eames had hidden them – Ass… I wonder why she always smells of honeysuckle? Perfume, probably. Does she wear perfume or is that just her? She certainly doesn't wear a lot of make-up, I like that. She's naturally beautiful, doesn't need anything else… Who was that boy she was walking with earlier? Didn't like him – he seemed sketchy. I should have told her I would walk her to her flat, and then she wouldn't need him. She would only need me... Just like today, I helped her with her paradoxes…What's her middle name? Does she even have a last name? She can always have mine-"

Okay, Arthur cut off that thought before he could grow used to the idea. He quickly threw his legs haphazardly over the side of the bed, still covered, made to stand up - and promptly fell flat on his face.

His legs were too tangled in the sheets to actually move, causing him to fumble, flail his arms wildly for half a second, and gracefully fall over.

He groaned against the hardwood floor of his bedroom; breathe coming out hot and making a slight sheen over the panels. He decided to just lay there for a bit.

He couldn't tell her; No, he didn't want to tell her. "Coward," Arthur scolded himself in his head.

He was lost in her, in Ariadne, in his Ariadne. "No, not mine." Arthur caught all of her from the corner of his eye.

His phone buzzed at him, making Arthur literally jump out of his thoughts. He sat up, untangled himself from his sheets and peered over his shoulder, wondering who could be calling at this hour. He continued to gaze over his shoulder at the device until he seemed to realize that he should answer.

"Hello?"

"Arthur," her voice sighed over the phone, making him feel a bit light-headed.

"Ariande? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I… I just had a bad dream."

She sounded sheepish, probably realizing that she sounded childish and strange, calling this man in the middle of the night. But she had so needed to talk to him, to make sure he was okay…

"Oh," Arthur perked up a bit. A bad dream and she called him. He felt… Touched. "Do you want me to come over?" He asked tentatively.

She let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, please."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Arthur clipped, standing up and running a hand through his hair, looking for his pants.

"See you then," Ariadne said, hanging up the phone.

Arthur went to find his shirt thinking that maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought.