Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
"Arthur!" Shocked, Ariadne put her arm his shoulders. He was sobbing; his cool composure had completely cracked. Drawing him close, he began to nestle down, swallowing, and gasping.
She laid there, her arms round him, not moving. He swallowed, and eventually, his sobs began to dissipate. She stroked his neck.
"Thank you," he whispered, burrowing into her neck.
"Listen," she said, softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Well..." he gently rolled off her, and lay on his back. She began to move towards him, letting him encircle her with his arms. "Its really about me and Dad."
"What's he like?"
"A former athlete. Football player in college." Arthur sighed. "I think he always thought that I was too timid, too much of a weakling." He looked at her. "I never liked football, or soccer. I preferred athletics."
"But, he thought-"
"I was weak. And because I was thin, it made it worse." He sighed and closed his eyes. "And it was not my mother who at first thought I was anorexic."
"It was your Dad?" she whispered.
Arthur nodded. "Yes." He stretched out. "I remember one evening - I was about sixteen. Going downstairs. I heard them arguing. I heard him shout 'what's wrong with that boy?!"
Ariadne swallowed. "And what did your mother say?"
"She told him she cooked, she fed me properly, she had no idea. He started shouting back that it wasn't natural for me to be like that - all the men in his side were properly built - real men!"
She shivered. "So what happened?"
"Mom got upset." He blinked. "She was determined to help me bulk up - but it just made me sick. Too much protein, too much fat - you name it, she served it. My sister complained that she gained weight too easily, how come I was so thin?" He shook his head. "It messed things up between us all."
"But it was just your body," Ariadne whispered.
"I know. But couple that with the fact that I was serious and socially awkward...well, Dad and I didn't seem to see eye to eye." He shuddered.
"Do you have any other bad memories?"
He licked his bottom lip. "I do. There is one phrase in the English language I hate more than anything else."
She was puzzled, but tried not to let it show.
"Meat on your bones." She looked at him, and he smiled, wryly. "I just hate it. It was said to me more times when I was teenager than anything else. Made me feel like a battery chicken." He swallowed. "Dad used to shout it at me, and mostly at mealtimes."
She swallowed. "I promise never to say that."
"And vice versa." She cuddled closer to him again. "I don't know. I keep telling myself I'm all right, that I can handle this. But then in that dream..."
"So what do you think you should do?"
He blinked. "See the family. Who I haven't seen for about five years."
"Five years?!"
"Its hard when you're extracting," he said, mildly. "But I-"
"Arthur. You want to help me, and I'll help you. If you think seeing your family will help, I'll go with you."
He leaned over, and kissed her. "Thank you."
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