fic: I'm hungry to hear you
Title: I'm hungry to hear you
Author: ohmydarlingdear
Team: ANGST!
Prompt: devotion, forever
Word count: approx. 400
Rating: PG
Warnings: none.
Summary: The pains of a long-distance relationship.
A/N: title borrowed from Simon & Garfunkel
It’s the long stretches of darkness that are the hardest for Arthur, the endless spaces between sleeping and waking. It’s the emptiness of rolling over and only finding bedsheets, cool from the absence of human touch. It’s the silence of a morning without words. It’s waking up and knowing that his lover is halfway across the world, just nodding off to sleep, just out of reach.
Arthur jealously hoards the letters Eames writes to him, keeps them tucked safely away in his suitcase, all neatly stacked and carefully arranged so they don’t crease. Some are pages long, line after line written on fine, creamy white paper, and others are but a mere sentence, scrawled hastily on the back of a postcard. Arthur has memorized all of them.
It’s been more than a year since Arthur last saw Eames; they’ve been running and running, towards each other, from each other, ever since that night Arthur fled alongside Dom, banking on the possibility of buying back quick freedom. Arthur doesn’t want to see Eames now (but he does, but he doesn’t), because there is a time and a place for everything, and this is not it. Instead, Arthur traces over elegant words written in the blue or black ink of a criminal, a thief, his thief, and wishes he could dream still, if only to see a cheap rendition of Eames’ smile.
The last postcard Eames sent him shows a picture of the Oriental Pearl Tower with looping cursive lettering that reads Shanghai. It’s travelled a long way to make it to Córdoba, and bears only a handful of sentences to its name:
‘Shanghai is ludicrously hot at this time of the year. You’d hate it. Remind me to bring you here sometime.’
And Arthur reads:
‘I miss you. I love you.’
And it kills him, more than anything, knowing that Eames would go to the ends of the earth, that he’s willing to run and run and run as far away from Arthur as possible, give him wide breadth to steal and shoot and blow up buildings, so that neither of them get caught in the crossfire. It’s knowing that Eames is all his, knowing and being unable to act, to take, to have.
Arthur writes back:
‘I hear Jakarta’s even hotter. You could take me there instead.’
And really, he means:
‘I love you too. Always.’
Author: ohmydarlingdear
Team: ANGST!
Prompt: devotion, forever
Word count: approx. 400
Rating: PG
Warnings: none.
Summary: The pains of a long-distance relationship.
A/N: title borrowed from Simon & Garfunkel
It’s the long stretches of darkness that are the hardest for Arthur, the endless spaces between sleeping and waking. It’s the emptiness of rolling over and only finding bedsheets, cool from the absence of human touch. It’s the silence of a morning without words. It’s waking up and knowing that his lover is halfway across the world, just nodding off to sleep, just out of reach.
Arthur jealously hoards the letters Eames writes to him, keeps them tucked safely away in his suitcase, all neatly stacked and carefully arranged so they don’t crease. Some are pages long, line after line written on fine, creamy white paper, and others are but a mere sentence, scrawled hastily on the back of a postcard. Arthur has memorized all of them.
It’s been more than a year since Arthur last saw Eames; they’ve been running and running, towards each other, from each other, ever since that night Arthur fled alongside Dom, banking on the possibility of buying back quick freedom. Arthur doesn’t want to see Eames now (but he does, but he doesn’t), because there is a time and a place for everything, and this is not it. Instead, Arthur traces over elegant words written in the blue or black ink of a criminal, a thief, his thief, and wishes he could dream still, if only to see a cheap rendition of Eames’ smile.
The last postcard Eames sent him shows a picture of the Oriental Pearl Tower with looping cursive lettering that reads Shanghai. It’s travelled a long way to make it to Córdoba, and bears only a handful of sentences to its name:
‘Shanghai is ludicrously hot at this time of the year. You’d hate it. Remind me to bring you here sometime.’
And Arthur reads:
‘I miss you. I love you.’
And it kills him, more than anything, knowing that Eames would go to the ends of the earth, that he’s willing to run and run and run as far away from Arthur as possible, give him wide breadth to steal and shoot and blow up buildings, so that neither of them get caught in the crossfire. It’s knowing that Eames is all his, knowing and being unable to act, to take, to have.
Arthur writes back:
‘I hear Jakarta’s even hotter. You could take me there instead.’
And really, he means:
‘I love you too. Always.’