Like Spinning Plates, Pt. 1/2a
Like spinning plates
NC-17 | Eames/Arthur | 9500 words (this part) | Don’t own Inception
You never know when your schizophrenia starts.
***Inception***
So I’ve been trying to write a story like that for almost as long as I can remember myself, so and it just didn’t work for any other fandom. Now I’ve grown so lazy that I stole this idea from my other unfinished fic, and started to write this one, then quit it for four months because it was taking just too more energy from me.
Now though, I’ve had a good holiday, and I’m ready to kill my free time writing psycho-porny-internet shit, that no one even asked to write, how’s that? D:
Nevertheless, here’s the story I’ve been writing for what felt like AGES, and it’s only the first part here, but I’ve put my fucking soul in this and I feel pretty exhausted now. God help me.
English - still not my first language, guys, and this shit is not even beta’d
Oh, and comments are absolutely necessary :D
P.S. The title comes from Radiohead's 'Like spinning plates' track
***Inception***
Arthur doesn’t really remember how it started for the second time, he’s sure there were headaches and Eames, but for the life of him he can’t remember when, exactly.
He knows it starts, or rather continues, in 2009, four days after his thirty-forth job with Cobb and tenth job with Eames, after everyone had left their warehouse and split, each one of them leaving Warsaw and going to various parts of the world. Basically, it can be said that it happened four days after Eames left, but Arthur doesn’t think of it in that way, yet.
He walks back to his hotel room in the outskirts of Paris and it is dark outside, street lamps shining brightly above his head, when it happens for the first time.
(At least Arthur thinks it had been the first time, he’s not so sure anymore)
One of the street lamps begins to flick slightly and then with a loud crash the lamp explodes. Arthur stops in his tracks, looks up and stares at it, before all the other lamps begin to flicker.
There’s no one on the street besides him.
He draws out his gun, looking around, trying to spot anything, anyone, but he feels strange, different, and all the light flickering around him - it really gets on his nerves, his head is hurting.
Suddenly he notices it’s not a warm summer evening anymore. The air around him seems to have chilled and the temperature must have lowered for at least ten degrees because Arthur is suddenly cold, so cold, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up with goose bumps, and then he hears whispering.
It sounds everywhere around him and comes from inside of him at the same time. It’s just a mess of voices, loud and cold, furiously whispering and accusing him of something, and Arthur realizes he is scared.
He is so scared his right hand twitches so hard he has dropped his gun and didn’t even notice it.
The headache is so furious it seems like his head is going to explode any second now and the whispering rings in his ears and he feels his pulse raising beating wildly, his heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.
And then he sees something, not far from where he’s standing. Some black and intangible thing, some bundle of air and it’s moving, right to him, this black mist of shadows, creeping it’s way to him, shifting and flickering under the blinking lights.
His legs feeling numb from cold and fear, his heart racing, Arthur takes a step back from it, then another one and another, until he realizes he’s on the ground and he’s still crawling away from it, trying to find a gun, which must lie somewhere on the ground, with shaking fingers, even though in heart he knows it’ll be of no use to him now. The air around him is chilly and electrified and it’s becoming hard for him to breath, his knees ache (and he must have torn his suit), and the shadows are so close to him, he screws his eyes shut until they sting and begs and prays for this to stop, whatever it is, to please, stop
And just like that, it does.
Arthur is on the ground, panting heavily and looking around with wild look in his eyes, his shirt damp with cold sweat, fingers shaking. There is suddenly noise of cars passing by a few feet away, a distant sound of a barking dog, and all these soft sounds crush Arthur’s ears with immense pain. His head is still throbbing, and as he tries to get up, he feels his legs won’t be able to keep him up for long.
Confused, frightened and angry, Arthur manages to make his way to his hotel, looking around frantically every thirty seconds, his hand grasping the gun in his pocket in a death grip.
In the heart of hearts Arthur knows what had happened that day, and upon realizing it he stuffs this knowledge to the furthest corner of his mind, wishing to never think about it again.
Next morning he gets up early as usual, eats the same food as usual, goes to Starbucks and orders his usual coffee, and spends the rest of the day just like he usually does, and then the next day and the one after that.
He doesn’t think about that night when he was crawling on the ground shaking with fear. He manages not to think about it all, and with time he forgets about it, as if it had never happened. He tries not to remember it and he succeeds and moves on with his life.
Until it happens for the second time.
***Inception***
After The Great Inception job they all leave Los Angeles, except Arthur. That is because he has a home there. Well, a place, which can remotely resemble a home, considering he visits it once or twice a year, but for Arthur it’s enough. It’s modern and high-tech and he bought all the furniture himself so the apartment feels nice and homey, and it is a pleasant change for him after the stress and shock of Inception job.
For some reason he keeps thinking about Eames, in his mind always getting to the last time he saw him - in the LAX. Eames was standing there, smiling faintly as he spotted Arthur, this bewildered shaken expression on his face, as if he couldn’t believe the job had finished and he came out of it alive. Arthur felt then a surge of something, he still can’t understand of what exactly, but he remembers he wanted to come up to Eames and just… hug him and say something nice, warm, something like everything is going to be alright, don’t worry, but he immediately dismissed the thought. Eames didn’t need his support or encouragement and he definitely didn’t need to hear these cliché phrases, least of all from Arthur, of all people.
Regardless, even though Eames is gone to god-knows-where, never looking back, Arthur constantly comes back to the thoughts of him, rewinding all their conversations in his head over and over again, memorizing Eames’ expressions, his smiles and smirks, the look in his eyes and soon Arthur realizes it’s not normal. It’s not OK to get to this point of obsession with Eames, more by token that he’s begun to have awful headaches every now and then. Or rather - migraines would be the right word.
So he stops thinking about Eames. He just buries himself in work, never leaving a spare minute for his fantasies, or whatever they can be called.
And it goes well at first. He doesn’t think of Eames, doesn’t remember him, nothing reminds Arthur of the man.
Until one day (two and a half weeks after Inception) Eames calls him.
Arthur has no idea how Eames got his new number, and when his cell rings for the first time he stares at it, perplexed, before answering, voice tight.
“Yes?”
“Hello, darling”
Even through the possible thousands of miles between them Arthur can feel Eames smirking. He grits his teeth, suddenly tired and unreasonably angry with Eames, even though he’s glad to hear him. Fucking paradoxes.
He feels a beginning of a headache.
“What do you want? How did you get this number, Mr. Eames?”
“Mr. Eames? Come on, Artie, we’ve almost died together, doesn’t that count for something? I believe we are way past formalities now, aren’t we?”
“Whatever has happened or will possibly ever happen will not give you the right to call me Artie” Arthur snaps, his mood taking for the angry, and he feels his face flush. He can’t even explain this to himself, the reasons for why he’s so mad now, but his head is fucking throbbing and he’s sick and tired of Eames’ attitude -
“Don’t be so anal, sweetheart” Eames laughs - fucking laughs - at the other side of the wire. And then his voice gets completely serious. “I miss you, you know”
It’s absolutely new for Arthur to hear Eames voice like that, and he doesn’t know what to think of it, what to say to that. And then his head explodes with pain, making him shut his eyes tight until he sees stars and he decides Eames is just messing with him again, fucking with him, like he always does.
“Arthur?” Eames says tentatively, now sounding uncertain, but Arthur doesn’t hear that - he sees white and he’s absolutely enraged and in pain, and he feels something wet running down his cheeks. He touches his face and realizes belatedly that he’s crying. He stares at his wet fingers in disbelief and Eames calls his name over the phone again and again.
And Arthur snaps.
“Fuck you, Eames” he hisses furiously, heart racing, “I’ve had enough of your shit to last me a fucking lifetime, so be nice and kindly fuck off!”
He doesn’t hear Eames’ reply because he snaps his phone shut with so much force he’s surprised he hasn’t broken it. It’s all Eames’ fucking fault - always screwing with him, messing with him, laughing at him, never being fucking serious for a moment, and Arthur is so tired of this, he just wants, he wants -
He vomits on the floor suddenly, his insides burning and he hasn’t felt so shitty for quite a long time. He sinks on the floor, resting his head against the wall, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. As his breathing slowly returns to normal, his rage withers and he thinks with sudden horror about what he had said to Eames.
He doesn’t know the reason for his unreasonable anger, or his whole hysteria with all the tears and vomiting and he thinks what the hell is wrong with me?
Every part of his body aches and hurts and he doesn’t have the will to move so he stays where he is - lying on the floor, heart pounding painfully in his chest. He wants to call Eames back but he finds himself unable to, and just thinking about it makes his head hurt so he doesn’t.
He falls asleep right on the floor.
***Inception***
The next morning he worries and tortures himself about what Eames must have thought of him and that Eames might never call him again and the thought disheartens Arthur in so many levels, he can’t even understand when he has got to the point in his life where Eames’ opinion has come to mean so much to him.
His head throbs all morning and Arthur just swallows one pill of aspirin after the next and it still doesn’t help a bit.
He’s restless, he can’t concentrate on work - instead he keeps glancing at his phone to check if Eames has called but there are still no missed calls. He gets angry and frustrated and he can’t even sit unmoving, and that gets him more furious and he is mad that he’s so mad about Eames, and since when has he been so goddamn crazy about anyone and why is his fucking head hurts so much?!
And then Eames calls him.
Arthur answers after two and a half seconds.
“Yes?!” He pretty much yells in his phone, all of his nerves on edge and he shivers involuntary.
“Arthur?” Eames’s voice comes, wary and slow, “I just wanted to check if you’re alright. You seemed… off yesterday”
“Eames” Arthur manages to rasp because suddenly he’s very cold, and his teeth are almost chattering. He knows he must say something, he wants to say something but there’s a rush of emotions to his head and he’s overwhelmed with them, can’t sort them out, the only thing he knows is that he doesn’t want Eames to hang up. “Eames” he repeats hoarsely.
“Yes, darling?” Eames says softly, almost tenderly and there’s concern evident in his tone and god, Arthur must be absolutely pathetic.
And with that thought he’s furious again.
“Where are you now, love?” Eames asks him and something in his voice or maybe something that he said makes Arthur’s insides flip. He swallows heavily, his mind racing, trying to decide whether it’s a good idea to let Eames know where he is.
“I’m in… ah… I’m in LA” He manages through the sharp pain in his head. He’s in so much pain, he thinks he’s crying again. As if through a wall he hears a whimper that must have come out of him. “Eames, please” he begs in his phone, though he knows perfectly well there’s nothing Eames can do about the pain, but it feels good to say it out loud.
“God, Arthur, I’ll be there as soon as I can” Eames promises and now there’s definitely concern and worry in his tone and after he hangs up Arthur is sick all over the floor again.
His right hand is twitching violently, like in convulsions.
Arthur lies there, on the floor, in the pool of his own vomit, feeling shittier than he has for a long time and he can’t help but think, over and over again:
What is fucking wrong with me?!
***Inception***
That night when Arthur is asleep, Edward comes back.
In the heart of hearts Arthur has always known that day would come, still, it doesn’t make him any less terrified as he remembers this one simple thing:
Once Edward is here, he’s not ever leaving again.
***
Part 1/2b