Inception - Bite Hard (8/11)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: Bite Hard (part 8)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~4,000
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Yusuf
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, age difference/underage, dub-con
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Arthur wakes up in another man's apartment.



Part Eight

The next time Arthur was over, neither of them mentioned what happened at the restaurant, but it was clear that it had eaten Arthur up inside. He was running a fever of one-hundred-and-one and hadn't appeared to have slept a wink if the deep, dark circles were any indication.

They didn't even have sex. The moment Arthur got inside, he leaned into Eames's chest and almost immediately collapsed.

When he woke up a few hours later, Eames was tending to his fever by wiping his face down with a cold cloth, and he tried to speak.

Eames interrupted before he could do so. "You're doing too much."

"I'm okay," Arthur croaked.

Eames shook his head, brushing a finger down Arthur's jawline. "You're not. You can't handle all of this on your own."

"I can sleep when I'm here," Arthur replied, shutting his eyes.

The words burned in Eames's chest.

"Go back to sleep."

He did, and thankfully, his fever broke about an hour later. Eames sat curled up on the other side of the bed, petting Arthur's hair, watching him until he realized what he was doing. It made him pause, horrified… and then he continued.

He tried to convince himself that he was only doing it for the boy's sake, feeling guilty and feeling sorry for him but…

He couldn't pretend that the little love you in the middle of his goodbye didn't have at least a grain of truth to it. He wasn't stupid enough to deny it forever, even though he'd been doing a pretty good job denying it up until that point.

Arthur's eyes fluttered open again, and he smiled a little at him, and the smile made Eames's heart just shatter.

"Hey, Eames?" Arthur asked sleepily, looking as though he was about to drift off again.

"What is it, darling?" Eames asked, combing his fingers through his hair over and over.

"I was… wondering… I mean, who was the person you gave your virginity to?"

Eames sighed through his nose, looking up to the ceiling. "It was a girl named Roxanne. We met in school. She was my first real muse."

Arthur scooted closer to Eames, trying to absorb his body heat. "Did you love her?"

That was the real question, Eames decided. Still, he couldn't help but answer. "There were days when I did. There are days that I still do. You can ask Yusuf though; there are some days where I refuse to admit I ever had feelings for her even though I know that's not true."

That sounded familiar.

"Well, you guys were together, right? I mean, like boyfriend-girlfriend?"

"We were lovers, and she used me to fill a void in her life left by someone in her past. I still don't know who that was, but I was too caught up in my idolization to realize that I was being used."

"She must have been really beautiful if you idolized her so much."

Eames shrugged, pulling his hand from Arthur's hair and wrapping it around his shoulder. "She was… interesting looking. She had a large nose, and she had dark hair and green eyes so pale they looked gold. She had a great smile too. She was really skinny and covered in tattoos, and she had her navel pierced. She was a year older than me."

The imagery of her melting into his head was enough to make a knot start to form in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment, trying to mentally erase her like he usually did.

"So… what happened to her? Did you just grow wise or something? Did she cheat on you?"

"She probably did cheat on me… Actually, I'm pretty sure she did, but I knew she did and didn't care. She's dead now."

Arthur's eyes opened wide, and he sat up. "What?" he asked, stunned. "How did she die?"

"Heroin overdose," Eames said.

Arthur stared down at Eames, and his hand brushed across Eames's cheek where a tear had managed to escape. He knelt down then, kissing Eames slowly, and Eames knew.

He knew that there was more than a grain of truth in that confession…

…and he knew he was fucked.

On Friday, Arthur's father smacked him so hard he hit the wall.

He pressed his palm into the hot, red mark and looked up at the man in confusion and the slightest hint of fear.

"I talked to Phil today," Arthur's dad said as an explanation.

It took Arthur a moment before he realized who he meant… his principal, Mr. Monroe.

"What did he tell you?" Arthur asked, wincing as he rubbed his cheek.

"He told me your grades had been slipping. Do you know how hard I worked to get you into that school?"

"I'm sorry-"

"You should be!" he shouted, and Arthur shoved his back against the wall so hard that he thought for a second he might phase through it. "I'm sorry that I have such a fucking failure for a son! You don't even have extra-curriculars, and you can't handle a fucking A average? How are you going to achieve anything in your goddamn life if you can't do that?"

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his father took that moment to backhand him so that he stumbled and banged his head on the railing of the stairs. As he struggled to get up, his dad kicked him in the gut, sending him crashing to the floor again.

"You ungrateful little shit," he hissed.

Arthur grabbed hold of the railing to pull himself up, coughing. After such an event, he generally would go up to his room and study through the tears.

…but at that moment, he stared at his father, and he could hear the distant ticking of the clock in the hall.

Tick-tock.

His mother stood on the landing with her arms folded around her, and she did nothing.

Tick-tock.

Snap.

He whirled on his heel and marched out of the house.

He walked away, without his jacket, into the freezing air and didn't stop until he was at Eames's apartment.

He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again to the same result and ended up slumping down against the door and burying his face against his knees. No one called him to tell him to come home. No one even called to yell at him.

He called Cobb.

"Hey," Cobb said, and he could hear Mal talking excitedly in the background in French. Cobb must have been at her house. "Something wrong?"

"No," Arthur lied. "Just… ah… I was just… what did you do for that research assignment in Mr. Stile's class when you were there?"

"Uh… I don't remember, but I think I still have the file on my laptop. Do you want me to email it to you?"

Arthur sighed as quietly as he could. "Sure, that'd be great. I think I'm gonna try to go to sleep early. Thanks."

"No problem. You sound like you need the sleep. Are you sure you're all right? I can come get you, if you need to get out for a while."

"I'm fine. Just tired. Good night, Cobb. Tell Mal that we-"

"I know, I know, we need to hang out soon. Make a little time for us and we'll see."

He knew Cobb was teasing, but it made him feel worse, so he said a curt goodbye and hung up.

What felt like a few moments later, Arthur was being roused by a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn't Eames, but Yusuf.

"Arthur," Yusuf said sternly.

Arthur rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Hi…" he said sleepily. "Should I go?"

Yusuf grabbed Arthur around the elbow and pulled him to his feet, and for a minute Arthur thought the man intended to throw him out altogether, but instead he took him down one floor and let him inside his apartment.

"Wh… what are you doing?" Arthur asked when Yusuf shut the door with a quiet click behind him.

"Sit down on that stool over there," Yusuf ordered gently and went digging in his refrigerator. A moment later, he had a Ziploc bag full of ice wrapped in a hand towel pressed to Arthur's forehead.

"Ow," Arthur winced a little.

"You've got a knot on your head," Yusuf said. "What happened? Eames didn't do this, did he?"

"No," Arthur replied tiredly. "No, I just uh-I hit my head on the banister at my house."

"How did that happen?"

"My Dad… he uh… He hit me. I fell."

Yusuf hummed dejectedly. "Well, that explains where the bruise on your cheek came from. You all right?"

Arthur sniffed. "It's happened before."

"So, you ran out and came here, did you?" Yusuf asked, removing the ice pack to see if the swelling had gone down. He pressed it back and then had Arthur hold it while he went digging around the cupboards for tea.

Arthur vaguely remembered Eames mentioning once that Yusuf felt the need to make tea for every guest that ever entered his home.

"I didn't really… plan on anything. I just sort of showed up here. It's the only place I can really go."

Yusuf set to boiling some water. "Do you find that decision wise? What if you were followed?" he asked, busying himself with his work and never looking at Arthur.

"Nobody at home cares enough about me to go looking for me. I'm pretty sure they'd be relieved if I never came back… one less mistake to have to look in the eye… Dad'll probably just go back to his business trips, first thing tomorrow."

Yusuf's shoulders stiffened at such a response, and Arthur wondered how much he knew about him. Had Eames told him anything? Had Eames told him everything? He didn't mind that, but… he would have liked to know what secrets Eames was spilling behind his back.

"Hey, Yusuf."

"Yes?"

"Did you know Roxanne?"

Yusuf snorted. "Oh, I knew her all right."

"What was she like?"

Yusuf sighed, scrubbing his forehead with his palm. "She ah… Well, she had Eames wrapped around her little finger from the moment he met her. He thought she was this astounding, wonderful thing. I really don't know what he saw in her. Still, she caught him in her spider web from day one of school. He thought that she loved his art. What she loved was the fact that he came from a well-off family, but he won't believe that, even today. See, the thing was Roxanne had a bit of a heroin habit. Oh, and the award for understatement of the year goes to me… but yeah, she had a heroin habit, and she got Eames wrapped up in that shit too. They ended up flunking out of school and spending all the money he had on it, and when his parents cut him off for being wasteful, she started selling herself to pay for their habit. Eames let her do it because he was just as addicted as she was."

"…and then she overdosed."

Yusuf glanced up, pouring the water into glasses and dropping tea bags in. "So he told you that, did he?"

Arthur nodded, accepting the tea with a slice of lemon and some sugar. "That's about all that he told me."

"It's shocking that he told you about her at all."

Arthur sipped at the tea. "I guess."

"Did he tell you how he tried to kill himself?"

"What?"

"Surely you've seen the scars on his arms, right? I mean, you've been sleeping with him."

Arthur blushed a little. "I didn't realize that they were… Well, maybe I just didn't want to think about it…"

"Eames is a complicated individual," Yusuf sighed. "Either that or he's far too simple."

…and, sitting there in Yusuf's apartment, hands wrapped around a glass of tea, Arthur was no longer sure about his and Eames's relationship. He was still sure of his feelings... he was still sure that he loved him, but… After all the time he'd spent deciding not to care about all of the things he was doing, he was finally starting to feel it.

He felt it sparking at the bottom of his feet, building and building through his legs, his stomach, up to his shoulders and to the top of his head, and… there it was.

Regret.

It had literally been the worst night of Eames's life.

Well, not literally, but it had been his worst night at the steakhouse at least.

Ariadne had been on his case nearly non-stop since Arthur had dropped in, and the girl had a talent for being able to just go for hours and always had new accusations to make. He was beginning to not like her so much.

On top of that, the restaurant had been absolutely swamped, and Eames had to spend most of his tip money paying for an entire tray of food that he accidently dropped. He hadn't slept the night before, and he was out of cigarettes, and some kid had spilled a sticky red juice down Eames's front. He was there two hours after closing time.

So, when he trudged up the stairs and found Yusuf waiting for him outside his apartment door, he was about ready to cry or punch him in the head. "What," he said flatly.

"Come with me," Yusuf said and led him back down the stairs to his own apartment. When he opened the door, Eames immediately spotted Arthur curled up on Yusuf's couch wrapped in an afghan, asleep.

"What is he-" Eames started to question.

"I found him hunched against your flat's door, asleep. He had a knot on his head, so I brought him down here and put some ice on it. We talked for a little while, and then he fell asleep."

Eames normally would be thankful to Yusuf for helping out, but he was too agitated and exhausted and expecting Yusuf to start chewing him out like Ariadne had been. "So, this couldn't wait until morning?" Eames asked.

"Eames, he's here. This is getting ridiculous. He thought that this was the only place that he could go."

"Maybe it is," Eames grumbled, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "I don't know. Wouldn't this conversation be better in the morning when we're all awake?"

"Eames, tell him to go home. He'll listen to you."

"Yusuf, he's asleep. He'll leave in the morning. Fuck, you want me to just carry him upstairs?"

"No, Eames. You can't just condone this behavior. He'll start moving his things in, and I shouldn't have to tell you how difficult things would get then. Your little secret would definitely be revealed by then."

Eames sighed through his nose. "You don't know that-"

Arthur stirred on the couch, nearly rolled off of it. When he lifted his head, blinking crookedly, he couldn't help but smile a little. "Eames," he said, and he sounded almost hopeful, but then his smile faltered a little, like he was noticing something unpleasant.

"Arthur, what are you doing here?" Eames asked in exasperation. He didn't want to have the conversation. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to go to sleep, and the fact that he couldn't was starting to piss him off. It wasn't even justified anger, but he had it none the less, and it seemed to be in search of a target.

"Oh, um… Yusuf brought me down here. I was waiting outside your door for you and-"

"Yes, I know that, but why are you here at all? It's Friday. You knew I would be at work."

Apparently his anger had found its target.

"I… I'm sorry. I forgot. I was upset, and I wasn't thinking-"

"No, you weren't thinking, were you?" Eames spat back. "Jesus, Arthur, just sitting in the hallway like that, you might as well have been painting a target on my door. What did you want? What was so bloody important that you waited for me there?"

"I… nothing, I just-"

"Nothing? You had no bloody reason? That's so fucking expected."

Arthur jumped to his feet then, and his eyes were large and wet and burning. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

Eames groaned, running his hands over his face and through his hair. "You can't just come running to my flat whenever you feel like you need some attention. Fuck, Arthur, I've got better things to do than babysit you."

Arthur gaped for a moment, letting out stammering sounds before finally managing, "I… wasn't asking anything from you, Eames. I-I just wanted to-feel safe, you know? So-"

"For God's sake, Arthur, grow a fucking backbone! God, you're… Ugh, you're such a whiny little bitch, do you know that? Jesus, I… I haven't finished a damn painting these past two weeks because I've been up taking care of or worrying about you, and now Ariadne's on my case, and I'm distracted, and it's starting to affect me at the steakhouse too-"

"I never asked you to take care of me or worry about me!" Arthur shouted, voice cracking, fists clenching until they were white-knuckled. "You can't blame me for that!"

Eames knew that was true, but he couldn't stop himself. "You're the idiot who thinks that this is more than what it is!" he shouted. "It was just sex, Arthur. That's all it ever was!"

The look on Arthur's face was enough to make an apology press up against the back of Eames's teeth, but before he could say anything, Arthur shouted, "So you just used me like Roxanne fucking used you? I must be as good as the fucking heroin, huh! Good for me! That's just fucking awesome to hear, Eames!"

"Don't talk about Roxanne! You didn't know her!" Eames screamed, apology forgotten about. "You don't know one goddamned thing!"

"She was a glorified whore!" Arthur seethed, apparently feeding off of Eames's anger, aiming to hurt. "She was a whore and you were her bitch! It must have felt pretty shitty, huh! I know it does because you made me into your bitch and your whore! Fuck you, Eames! I wish you had died that night you slit your wrists!"

All of the words drained out of Eames as surely as the color did from his face. Arthur marched out, slamming the door behind him. The sound rattled, echoing through the entire room, followed by the most painful silence.

It was as if Eames had been drunk and smacked sober. Everything he had said, everything Arthur had said, everything roared inside his ears.

He moved towards the door to give chase, but Yusuf grabbed him by the arm.

Eames had forgotten Yusuf was even there.

"I have to talk to him," Eames said desperately, and his voice was choked and wobbly. "I shouldn't have said… I need to apologize-"

"Eames… I hate to say this, but… it's better this way."

"The hell it is!" Eames shouted, struggling against Yusuf's grip, but he was just too tired. "He was just trying to find some comfort, and I went and screamed at him!" He gave up the struggle and just stared at the floor, sniffling pathetically. "I hurt him."

Yusuf patted Eames's back in sympathy. "Sleep on it, Eames. It's better-"

"Don't. Don't say that. Don't say it's better this way, Yusuf… Fuck… Fuck… I feel like my heart's been ripped out, and you think I'm fucking better off? You said that about Roxanne too… Why did you have to tell him about that night, Yusuf? He didn't have to know that I… I wasn't trying to kill myself, Yusuf. I was already dead."

Yusuf sat Eames down on the couch, and Eames buried his face in his hands, sobbing openly. "You're such a bastard," Eames whimpered. "I can't believe you… I trusted you, you little shit. That was personal. I didn't want him to know-"

Yusuf sighed. "Eames."

"Maybe I should have died that night," Eames mumbled. "He never would have gotten wrapped up in this mess."

"Don't say things like that."

"Fuck you, Yusuf."

"Get some sleep, Eames."

Eames barely slept that night, curled up in the same spot Arthur had slept in on Yusuf's couch. Yusuf wouldn't let him leave, for fear he'd slash his wrists again.

It was clear now that Eames had fallen just as hard as Arthur had…

Eames always did have a habit of falling in love with his muse.

I have a feeling I'm going to get a lot of "OH YOU BITCH" comments for this. It's okay. I deserve them.