Inception - I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (8/16)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (8/16)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,497
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Robert Fischer, Nash, Yusuf, Cobb
Rating: NC-17(this part)
Warnings: language, smut, alcohol use, dub-con, Arthur being an asshole, leather pants, un-betaed
Summary: AU. Arthur is a concert violinist at a prestigious arts college. His best (and only) friend Ariadne convinces him to come with her to a rock concert, aka his worst nightmare. He does seem to be quite taken with the charismatic lead guitarist though... or rather, the guitarist seems to be quite taken by him.



Track Eight: Heavy in Your Arms

It was during orchestra practice the next day that Arthur realized the rumors circulating about him were having a bit more impact on his life than he had expected.

"Arthur! You're playing sloppily! Get it together!" The professor, Dr. Jacobson, snarled, banging his conductor's staff on Arthur's music stand.

Arthur was a bit startled by the sudden shouting fit, especially since Jacobson had never directed his wrath at him before. He was even more startled by it because of the fact that he had thought he'd been playing just fine, and he wasn't the only one.

"I thought it was fine," Robert Fischer, the pianist in their group, piped up, wearing the same mildly annoyed look he generally had at all times.

"Play it again," Jacobson said bitterly and walked back to his stand, lifted his arms, and began to conduct. Arthur counted in his head until his entrance and started in with the rest of the violinists, and they at least made it through the song before Jacobson turned back on him again. "If you keep playing like that, I'm going to have to move you to second chair."

Arthur was appalled by the statement, stunned silent for a straight minute. He'd been first chair since freshman year.

"Five minute break," Jacobson said, waving his arms tiredly, and as soon as the group dispersed, Robert Fischer caught Arthur by the elbow.

"What's his major malfunction?" Fischer asked, annunciating each syllable as he so often did to give off the intended effect of sounding smarter and more sophisticated than his peers. It was something his family life had surely instilled in him since he could speak.

"I don't… I don't know," Arthur admitted, feeling his nerves starting to coil. "Was it really that bad? Fuck… I don't-"

"No, you were doing fine. He's just singling you out for some reason," Robert replied, sending a glare in the teacher's direction when he wasn't looking. "He can't be that much of a homophobe, can he?"

"Homophobe?" Arthur scoffed. "Don't tell me you believe all that shit going around about me?"

"Oh, please," Robert said with a roll of his eyes. "I've known since I met you. I have gay-dar with one hundred percent accuracy, I'll have you know."

Arthur blushed, nostrils flaring.

"Don't get offended," Fischer said, planting himself back on his piano bench. "I'm just telling you what I know. I didn't start any stupid rumors if that's what you're thinking. I have heard them though, and I'm thinking that maybe Dr. Jack-ass-son heard them too. Maybe that's why he's being such a major dick to you."

"That's ridiculous," Arthur replied. "He's a teacher. He has a doctorate for fuck's sake. What would my sexuality have to do with my playing?"

"I don't know, Arthur, but I've seen people do stuff like this. A lot of people aren't very accepting of gay people. You know that."

"-but… he doesn't even know if it's true!" Arthur complained.

"I don't know what to tell you," Robert said with a shrug, tinkering on his keys. "I mean, I'm not a violinist, but you weren't playing any differently than the other violinists, so clearly he's got some kind of bone to pick with you. You could always ask him, but I doubt he'd tell you the truth."

"You don't think he's going to take away my solo, do you?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"If he does, just go running to Mal Cobb. She'll certainly set him straight. I hear she can get pretty fiery when she's angry. I personally intend to stay out of it. I don't want him barking at me for my playing."

"Yeah…" Arthur said slowly and turned to go back to his seat. He didn't know how to process what he'd just been told. He'd been hated in the past for his attitude, been treated badly out of jealousy, but he'd never had someone dislike him for what felt like no reason. It wasn't like Arthur was fucking any of the students, and he wasn't doing it on school grounds, and he wasn't going around talking about it. He didn't understand how just being a homosexual was offensive. He figured that was why, for the first time ever, the fact that someone hated him actually made him feel horrible. He never used to care because he could justify it, but…

He tried to ignore Jacobson's protests through the rest of practice and left without saying goodbye when it was over.

Maybe he was still shell-shocked, but he wasn't really sure how to feel about the whole thing. All he knew was that he wanted to see Eames, so he went home and did his homework and, by nightfall, set off to Eames's hotel.

Security was much harsher than it had been the last time Arthur had been there, but he played it cool and made it into the elevator without issue. He was, however, sent away by the guards on Eames's floor and nearly chased down when he tried to sneak in through the stairway. He was afraid he was about to be beaten within an inch of his life until Eames arrived like his proverbial knight in shining armor and sent the guard away.

"You all right?" he asked.

Arthur wanted to scream at him that he wasn't, that he'd been harassed enough today thank you very much, but instead he just nodded and followed after him.

"They're just looking out for all of us, you know," Eames tried to explain as he opened the door. "I'll get you some kind of pass so you can get up here without trouble next time. I didn't even think about it."

"it's fine," Arthur mumbled, stepping inside only to find that he had a few pairs of eyes staring back at him.

It was Cobb, and Yusuf, and Nash. All of Radical Notion was in Eames's hotel room.

"Uh… hi…" Arthur said awkwardly, gripping tightly to his violin case. He wanted to scurry out and hide in the elevator.

"It's all right," Eames assured him, squeezing his shoulder. "Cobb told them about you. There's no need to be nervous."

Arthur wasn't sure why Eames expected that to make him less nervous when really it only amplified his nerves.

"You must be Arthur then," Cobb said, getting up off of the bed to extend a hand. "Dom Cobb. Mal's told me a lot about you."

"H-hopefully only good things," Arthur mumbled, shaking his hand. "Um… I'm sorry. I didn't expect all of you to-I mean, I can come back some other time…"

"It's all right," Yusuf said, twirling a drumstick around his fingers. He was sitting in front of an electric drum kit, probably brought up for convenience rather than sound. "We were just running through a new song. We thought practicing here was safer than trying to go to the studio. Ever since word got around that we're all back in town, fans have been on the hunt."

"O-oh…" Arthur mumbled, taking a seat on the corner of the bed. "Ah… well, uh… it's nice to meet you. I'm um… well, you already know my name-"

"Darling," Eames chuckled, leaning down to peck him on the lips. "It's fine. These are my friends. You don't have to be so formal."

"I'm sorry," Arthur croaked. He was making a fool of himself, he just knew it.

"Don't even worry about it," Eames said. Arthur couldn't help but do so, though. His relationship with Eames was still so brand new that he was terrified one false word to one of his closest friends would fuck up everything forever.

"So, this is your boyfriend, huh?" Nash asked, raising an eyebrow as he tuned the lowest string on his bass. "He's not exactly what I'd expect you to go for, Eames. He's sort of… sophisticated for you, isn't he? I mean, he's wearing a collared shirt and khakis for Christ's sakes."

Arthur tried not to regret his choice of fashion, but surely, he realized, he must have been looking like a complete tool to the glamorous rock stars he was surrounded by.

"Don't listen to him," Eames said, flopping down next to Arthur on the bed and grabbing his guitar out from behind him. "I like the way that you dress. You're wrapped up like a pretty little present."

"I… I have a t-shirt on underneath this shirt," Arthur stammered, only registering what Eames had said after he'd blurted such an embarrassing thing out. He was tempted to bury his face in his hands because surely it had turned red, but instead he just watched as Eames sent a glare in the direction of Nash who was snickering.

"Why's he such a wreck? I thought you said he was feisty," Nash said.

"Oh, fuck off, Nash," Eames sighed, "Can we just play the damned song already?"

"We've already played it like… three times. It's not working," Nash replied.

"Three times is hardly enough to make an accurate assessment, Nash," Yusuf replied, deadpan. "It'll sound better when we have amps and real drums, all right? Just play the damned song."

"Thank you, Yusuf," Eames said.

"Cobb!" Nash whined.

"Just play the damned song," Cobb repeated. "I think this one could be a real hit if we get it down."

Eames perked up suddenly and turned to Arthur. "Say… why don't you sit in with us? You can play along. You heard the rough track of it before."

"I… I don't know…"

"Yeah, come on, Eames says you're spectacular. Put your money where his mouth is," Nash said.

Arthur decided he didn't like Nash. At all… All the same, knowing this he decided to take his words as the challenge they were.

"All right," he said, opening his case. "I'll try and keep up."

Eames started to play, and Arthur waited until Cobb started singing to start adding in a few low notes from his violin. Eames really had put a lot of faith in his memory, but the truth was Arthur couldn't have forgotten that song even if he tried.

Nash brought in a thrumming bass line along with Arthur's playing, and by the chorus Yusuf jumped in with the drums, and with all of the instruments and Cobb's voice, the song was eerily powerful… He didn't really…

He didn't really like it.

"Uh," he interrupted after the first chorus, and Nash melodramatically sighed and threw his hands in the air. Arthur didn't care. "This seems a little… brash for the message, don't you think?"

Silence.

He had at least expected Eames to back him up…

Oh, well.

"That is, uh… I mean, it seems a tad overdramatic… I know that rock music is supposed to be dramatic and all that, but this is like… a love song. This is a love song, and if you overdo it with screaming guitars and banging drum solos, no one's going to take it seriously. It's too beautiful a song to have people wave it off… I mean, it's just my opinion… but maybe if you toned it down a little it would be better?"

"How would you suggest we do it exactly?" Cobb asked, squinting at Arthur curiously. Arthur appreciated that he didn't immediately shut him down at least.

"Well, uh…" Arthur said, lifting his violin back to his chin. "I can't really… that is… Maybe you just start out with an acoustic, and uh… maybe bring in a guest pianist or something? I mean, you don't have to make it sappy or anything, but you don't want it to come out sounding like an eighties' power ballad, do you?"

The whole band seemed to pale at that thought.

Well, at least Arthur had their attention.

"The theatrics really aren't all that necessary, is what I'm saying," Arthur said. "The song is good. It'll speak for itself."

He started to play it. "See, Eames, you could play an acoustic intro here, and then Cobb, you can come in just on vocals. Think of how you guys' did with Colored Lights. Um… yeah, and maybe bring it down a little, not quite so high up in your register, Cobb. Yeah, you can sing it there right now, but after twenty shows in twenty nights will you be able to? Save your powerful voice for the more powerful songs… Ah…" Arthur started to sing it in the register he had suggested, thankfully managing to not squeak when he was being stared at. As he finished the first verse, he continued, "and then maybe you could bring in the piano or a soft bass line, a light tap of the drums-some harmonies on the vocals would be good, I think." He sang the chorus.

"Why are we listening to this?" Nash asked when Arthur had barely finished the last word. "He's not in our band."

"I like it," Yusuf replied, a smirk forming on his lips at the idea that he was agitating Nash. "Maybe instead of the drum or bass line, you could play what you're playing, Arthur. I've always thought we could use a little more class in our tracks."

"You've never thought that," Eames snorted.

"You have no idea what I've thought. I don't verbalize everything that comes to my mind, you see," Yusuf replied simply.

Cobb shrugged. "Let's try it. Eames, Arthur, could you sing the harmonies? You can do that, right?"

"Sure," Eames said.

"I… guess I could try…" Arthur said awkwardly.

Nash folded his arms, nostrils flaring, and sat back to listen in aggravation.

Eames started to play, and then Cobb started to sing, and Arthur counted each measure, waiting for the right moment to come in on the violin while also thinking of what harmonies could work (he had to draw on his vocal classes from years ago, but thankfully being a musician he had a pretty good idea of what notes worked with what).

When the chorus picked up, he and Eames started singing with Cobb, and Arthur started playing whatever sounded right. Arthur was nervous, but he didn't miss a note because music was what he lived for (and he'd been practicing performing for others of course).

When they paused after the first chorus again, Cobb was nodding. "I like that," he said. "It's not complete yet, but-"

"Actually," Arthur interrupted because he'd been thinking the same thing. "Nash, can you play a five-string too?"

"Of course I can," Nash replied, and for once it wasn't quite so snotty.

"During Eames's acoustic intro, maybe you could bring in a few notes on the electric," Arthur suggested.

"I need to bring in a keyboard," Yusuf huffed.

"Can you play keyboard?" Arthur asked.

"I can. I haven't in a while, but piano was always my first love," Yusuf replied with a smile.

"That and your good old left hand, eh, Yusuf?" Eames asked, and the group laughed.

"You're pretty good at this, Arthur," Cobb said as the sound died down and Yusuf was mumbling about what tossers they all were. "Thanks for all the help."

"…Well, it was just an opinion," Arthur shrugged. "I mean, I'm not a big listener of rock music, but-"

"As long as I get a solo, you're all right in my book," Nash replied, already picking out the melody on Eames's electric.

"Stop being such a bloody narcissist and wash your hair," Yusuf barked, smacking him on the back of the head and then proceeding to wipe his hand on his vest. "I'm the one nobody bloody notices. At least they remember your name. I don't even get floozies on the side like you do, Nash! All I want is a little love. Is that too much to ask?"

"You're being overdramatic," Eames chuckled, not even noticing as he wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and settled his head on his shoulder as he so often tended to do. "Your cats love you, at least."

"Kindly go fuck yourself, Eames," Yusuf grumbled.

"Can I go fuck Arthur instead?"

Arthur went bright red, and they all seemed to find that funny. After a moment, he seemed to find it funny too because he started to laugh.

…and no, the night certainly didn't go as he expected. He'd wanted to spend a night alone with Eames and gripe about what was going on at school and then let him fuck it all better… but… really, by the end of the night, they were finalizing the song, and Arthur had nearly forgotten all about it.

Arthur woke when Eames gently shoved his shoulder. When he pulled his face up off of the pillow, the clock read 4:30 A.M.

He groaned and dropped face first back into the down feathers. "Why are you waking me up now?"

"Because you need to go home and get ready for school," Eames replied softly.

Arthur grumbled and let Eames pull him out of bed, but he didn't make any effort to go further than to lean against the warmth of Eames's body and sigh. He must have fallen asleep at some time around one, when the band had been winding down into quietly talking, and he'd lain back just to relax a little. He was thankful the rest of the band was gone now at least, so he could have a moment alone with Eames.

"Arthur, you don't want to be late, do you?" Eames asked, chuckling as Arthur curled against his chest and attempted to fall asleep that way.

"I don't have class until nine," Arthur mumbled. "Let me stay just a little longer?"

"I'm sure I can arrange that," Eames replied, kissing the shell of Arthur's ear. "I've got to go to an interview at seven though… So, I'm afraid it won't be as long as you might like. Come on, come into the bath with me."

Arthur shuffled into the bathroom behind Eames and couldn't help but eye the large Jacuzzi bath that he'd seen the time he'd hidden in the bathroom when Cobb had come by. He couldn't help but smile a little.

"So, you seemed a bit troubled yesterday," Eames said as he filled the tub. "Is something bothering you?"

"Huh?" Arthur blinked, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor before tugging his t-shirt over his head. "Oh… ah… no, it's nothing. It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it."

"No, tell me, I want to know," Eames said, grinning as he dropped his robe and stepped into the water, easing slowly into the heat.

Arthur followed him into the tub, the hot water stinging just a little until he relaxed into it. "It's not a big deal," he said again, suddenly shy about it. "I guess I sort of embarrassed myself at the bar the other day, and I may have come out of the closet to the bartender. Some other people heard, and there are rumors going around that I'm gay."

"Oh, bugger," Eames said, pouring a handful of shampoo into his palm and then scrubbing it into Arthur's hair. "It is true though, isn't it?"

"Irrelevant," Arthur replied, laughing a little. "Yeah, it's true, but what or who I do in my private time is none of their business. I neither confirmed nor denied anything."

"So, that's not what's bothering you, then? What is it?" Eames asked, snickering as Arthur started scrubbing shampoo into Eames's hair as well, both of them tangling their limbs in the process.

"Oh, it's… it's really nothing, Eames. It's just… well… I'm thinking that this stupid rumor has gotten around to the teachers and everything-you know how fast things can spread-and ah… well, I feel like I'm being treated a little… differently."

"Differently? How?" Eames asked, clearly concerned.

Arthur chose that moment to slip under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair and also to avoid the question. When he came back up for air, Eames had gone down to do the same, reappearing over the surface as Arthur parted his wet bangs out of his eyes.

"So? Who is it who's treating you differently? What are they saying?" Eames asked.

"It's nothing, Eames, seriously. It's just Dr. Jacobson, the leading professor of music over at the college, he's been kind of… well, he just wasn't-I mean-"

"He's being mean to you," Eames guessed.

"It sounds really childish and silly when you say it like that," Arthur mumbled. "Kind of… He insulted my playing, threatened to take me out of first chair. Robert Fischer-he's a piano player-said that it sounded just fine and clearly he just had a problem with me. He said that he betted it had something to do with these 'gay' rumors swirling around. I don't even know if that's true. Fischer likes to come up with stuff like that all the time."

"That's bollocks," Eames said, grabbing the bar of soap and pulling Arthur close to wash his back. "What a wanker. I do hope you won't let it get to you."

"I'm not," Arthur said, shutting one eye as Eames rubbed soap on his cheek. "It's just… It's just weird, okay? I was kind of caught off guard by the sudden change in attitude. Jacobson always liked me before. I've been first chair since freshman year because he was so impressed by my playing. If he suddenly hates what I'm doing, I can't help but feel that… well, maybe he's right. I mean, what does Fischer know about violin?"

"You have got to stop demeaning yourself, love," Eames said, washing himself while Arthur splashed water over his face to remove the soap, dabbing it off with a white cloth hanging next to the bath. "Your friend, Fischer, surely knows his stuff when it comes to music, even if he doesn't play violin."

"Dr. Jacobson was a violinist for years and has his doctorate in music. I think his opinion has a bit more-"

"Bollocks, Arthur! That's bollocks, and you and I both know it. Do you think you played it correctly?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then you played it fine, Arthur. If there's anyone who knows his stuff about playing the violin, it's you."

"I haven't been playing as long as-"

"It doesn't matter. You're a bloody prodigy, Arthur. You're gifted, darling. I've never seen someone pick up on a song as fast as you do, and no one plays quite like you do. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't have the skills that you do. I don't believe this shit when it comes to you not playing it right. I've got to agree with Fischer on this one."

"You weren't there," Arthur huffed. "There's no way you can know that for sure. You're just biased."

"That may be," Eames admitted, leaning in close, "but as a fellow musician, I do believe I know what I'm talking about as well."

Arthur smiled as Eames pressed a kiss to his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck. The sweet, chaste kiss quickly deepened, Arthur gasping into Eames's mouth as Eames licked his way inside, and he pressed as much of his body against Eames's as he could.

Water splashed over the side of the tub as Eames shoved Arthur against it, Arthur yelping as his limbs scattered to touch Eames as much as possible. He couldn't help himself any more than Eames apparently could, his hands scrambling down his ribs and down his thighs, and then hoisting one leg up over his shoulder. He didn't take long to stretch him out before pushing himself inside, Arthur biting down on a strangled cry, and they fucked in the water, hot and fast, because they didn't have just a whole lot of time. Arthur's noises were obscene and unapologetic, and he was sure if there were people in the other rooms (there weren't, other than the other band mates far down the hall-Saito had rented out the whole floor to ensure their safety), they would have been disturbed by the sounds and blushing all the way to their ears.

Somehow, this made it hotter for him, but he didn't tell Eames as much (not that he could). As he impaled himself on Eames's prick, he couldn't help but think that the idea that people could hear was alarmingly attractive. It was as if he was showing everyone who even dared to badmouth him just for his sexuality that he was much better off than them, that he didn't care what they thought, that he had better sex than them and would continue to do so whether they got their jollies off of it or not. Somehow, the illicitness of the act, the solidification of the idea of the forbidden fruit made it taste all the sweeter, made the bite marks Eames left on his skin sting with more pleasure than before, made the fistful of wet hair Arthur grabbed onto for support feel all the more perfect between his fingers.

He couldn't help but feel like Eames knew exactly where to put his hands and mouth, like he'd been performing with Arthur for years. Eames knew Arthur as well as he knew his guitars, picking out little songs on Arthur's heartstrings so that they sang out of his mouth in long moans and gasps. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought that Eames's words were untrue when he touched him the way that he did, when he made such an effort to play the right song with the scrapes of his teeth and the flutter of his fingers and the warm softness of his tongue.

He didn't even have to talk. Eames knew exactly how to say everything without words.

Eames's hand drifted across his abdomen and then wrapped around Arthur's cock, stroking it with just enough force to send Arthur's nerves into a frenzy. Right on cue, Eames's cock brushed against his prostate, and suddenly Arthur feared he might get so hot that all the water in the bath might just evaporate, and fuck, he was just fine with that. His hands scrambled along the tiles, slipping as it searched for something to hold onto, and he finally decided on just grabbing onto Eames's shoulders and not letting go. It only took him four tugs and he was toppling over the edge, ears filling with white noise, sparks filling his vision, and he was sure he must have been shouting (and probably shouting some rather lewd things as well), but he didn't care at all. He could feel Eames's hand tighten its grip on his waist, could feel him filling him up…

…and then it was over. As soon as Eames pulled his softening member out, Arthur was slumping down into the water, feeling absolutely boneless, and he could have drowned and felt satisfied at that moment. When he ventured to open his eyes, he could see his own seed floating on the top of the water, could feel Eames's leaking out of him, and he could see Eames slumped next to him with an arm around him, leaning Arthur's head against his shoulder to keep him from slipping under the water.

Eames was always looking out for him. Eames always knew.

Arthur pressed a kiss to Eames's chest, and Eames raked his hands through Arthur's wet hair.

"I love you," Arthur sighed, and then Eames pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"To the stars and back?" he asked, and Arthur snorted. "What? That's what my mum always used to tell me. She used to tell me that she loved me to the stars and back."

Arthur smiled, pushing himself up to look at Eames and then kissed him chastely on the lips. "I love you to the stars and back."

"I love you to the ends of the universe," Eames replied, as if it was now some sort of competition…

…and it should have been cheesy. Arthur should have scoffed and gotten out of the tub and told Eames to man up and stop being such a schmuck. If it had been Arthur a month ago, a year ago, he would have never listened to the sap and probably would have been disgusted by anyone who fell for that crap (i.e. Ariadne)…

…but he wasn't the same person, and Eames wasn't saying it just to be schmaltzy. When he looked at Arthur and said it, Arthur could see it in every little movement that he meant every word of it. The feeling was overwhelming but not in the bad way that his emotions usually tended to turn. He couldn't believe he'd denied himself of this feeling for so long…

…but it wasn't his fault… After all, he'd never been aware of how strongly he could feel it. He'd never loved anything quite like he loved Eames. The only thing that came even remotely close was his music.

Music…

Arthur was again reminded of the fact that Eames was a musician, a famous musician destined to run off on tours and television shows and premieres and studios and… in a little over a week, he would be gone.

Eames had to leave.

Arthur had gone and forgotten that little bit of information when he'd gotten distracted by falling in love. Now it came smacking him in the face, and all he could do was grip Eames's arm tightly and shake his head when Eames asked if there was anything wrong.

There wasn't anything wrong, not yet. When that day came that Eames waltzed out of his life back onto the road, Arthur wasn't sure how he would be able to deal. Even if Eames proclaimed to stay loyal to him until he returned to his side, Arthur wondered how he would manage without Eames's soft touches and words of encouragement. He feared that time apart from Arthur would allow Eames to realize how much of a prize he wasn't, and then he would get left in the dust to pick up the pieces of his heart.

He didn't want Eames to go. He wanted Eames to stay with him and be there at his apartment to pet his hair when he had a bad day, to hold him during one of his episodes until he calmed down, and to sing him songs when he couldn't sleep. Most of all, he just wanted Eames around.

…but he couldn't tell him that. It was definitely too much to ask in a relationship as brand new as theirs. He couldn't ask him to choose his music or Arthur because Arthur certainly couldn't make that choice. He wasn't so selfish that he would dare ask Eames to make that decision. He was sure that Eames would choose his music every time. After all, the man had gone without shelter, probably gone without food and water, lived on the streets just so that he could continue to play his guitar. He had thousands upon thousands of devoted fans and close friends in his band members, and Arthur had seen how brightly Eames shone on stage. Eames loved every second of performing. Arthur was just another instrument on which he could do so, and Arthur loved that… and because of his love for his work, Arthur could most definitely never ask him to give it up for him.

After all, Arthur really wasn't that much of a prize. He was stubborn and on occasion tended to be emotionally constipated. He was bitchy and generally spent a lot of time complaining, and when he had a problem, he usually went drinking rather than attempted to solve it. He was so unbearable a person a lot of the time that Ariadne was his only true friend. Worst of all, Eames couldn't even show Arthur off. They weren't allowed to be seen together at all per their unspoken agreement. They couldn't even talk about each other in public places. The hell that would crumble down on them should either of them speak up was devastating enough just in the imagination, so Arthur couldn't even think of how bad it would be in reality.

It wasn't fair… All he wanted to do was love Eames and let Eames love him back, to have Eames come home to him a lot and to maybe go with Eames sometimes. He wanted to sing songs with Eames and play violin on top of his solos. He wanted to eat breakfast with him and maybe get a cat and let Eames name him something stupid so that they could call it even stupider pet names. He wanted to sleep next to Eames and let him keep him warm on the cold nights. He just wanted a life with Eames.

He just wanted something that he couldn't have.

Maybe the whole relationship was as bad an idea as he first thought it was after all.

…but he didn't tell Eames anything.

I wrote this on the trip down and on the trip back, and it got kind of sad here at the end because I'm actually super sad. D:

I had a really fun time on the trip, but I knew my dog was really sick while I was gone, and yesterday my folks had to put her to sleep. :( She was old, and we've seen this coming for a while, but it still made me really sad. I'm going to miss her a lot. She made it nine months after my first dog died which is longer than I thought she would.

...So yeah... I'm sad, but I'll be okay.