Inception - I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (13/16)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (13/16)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,056
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Robert Fischer, Yusuf, Nash, Cobb
Rating: PG-13(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 Thirteen: So How Come (No One Loves Me)

Arthur bolted from Mal's house and started down the sidewalk. He had no idea where he was going, but he just had to get away from there. Devastation slammed him, slowing him from a run to a brisk walk, and soon it was like he couldn't even see, like he couldn't even breathe.

Eames had lied.

Everything had been a lie.

It didn't make any sense… Eames had seemed so sincere, so serious about everything… he'd looked so shattered when Arthur had broken off their relationship, had seemed so… but it was all lies? All of it? It tore Arthur into shreds, and suddenly he was curled over, sobbing on the corner of the street, unable to go any further because he really couldn't see, because he really couldn't breathe.

He felt a hand take hold of his arm, and Arthur whirled around on the person to find Fischer there, and all Arthur could think to do was throw his arms around his shoulders and attempt not to scream too loudly. "He has a fucking boyfriend!" he shouted. "Maybe he always did! How could I have been so stupid?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Robert asked, and Arthur realized he was so upset that he surely wasn't quite as comprehensive as he had thought.

"Eames," Arthur shrieked, burying his face into Robert's shoulder, and he was sure he was shaking to the point Fischer couldn't even really put a hand on him, "Eames has a boyfriend-he has a fucking boyfriend!"

"What?" Robert asked again, but from the inflection, he clearly got the message this time.

"His boyfriend answered the phone…" Arthur whimpered, strength seeping out of him, and all he could do was slump against Robert to not fall down. "All the sweet words and love confessions… all the smiles and touches… everything was fucking bullshit… I should have known… I shouldn't have believed him…"

"Come on," Robert said, dragging him back towards Mal's house, and Arthur had lost the ability to fight him. "Tell me everything."

"There's nothing to tell," Arthur whined, hand limp in Robert's grip. "He fucking lied…" It sledgehammered him again, so strong that he stumbled and nearly fell if it hadn't been for the other man taking hold of him.

Arthur looked wildly around, hands sliding along the fabric of Robert's shirt, and he brought one hand up to his own face to wipe at the tears there. As he did so, his eyes landed on the pale, barely noticeable scar slashed across his wrist from freshman year, and suddenly he was overcome with the urge to carve up his whole arm.

Apparently he said as much because Robert's blue, blue eyes widened in panic.

Arthur was a whole new level of hysterical, and when he realized it he forced himself to calm down. He shouldn't have been planning on cutting himself up like the Christmas turkey, screaming and crying like an imbecile, and in public on top of that. He took several deep breaths and managed to stop his wailing.

…and then he was overcome with a whole new emotion on top of his misery.

He was angry.

No, not angry. He was livid. Furious.

How dare he do this to him? Whether Arthur had come onto him first or not, that gave him no right, no right to lead him on such a wild goose chase. The jackass… the fucking bastard… Arthur had given his first kiss, his virginity, his fucking heart to the bastard, and Arthur no longer wanted to hack himself up nearly as much as he wanted to hack up Eames. With a chainsaw. An old rusty chainsaw.

"You son of a bitch!" Arthur found himself screaming at the sky, and Robert was cutting him off by covering his mouth with both hands and shoving him into the car.

Okay, maybe he was still quite hysterical.

Robert was telling him something about taking him back to his house, but Arthur wasn't listening. His forehead fell against the cool glass of the passenger side window, and he could see Mal standing in the yard with her arms folded around herself, dark eyes full of nothing but concern.

He couldn't hear what Robert was saying to her through the glass, but it didn't matter because the next thing he knew, they were back on the road.

He buried his face in his knees and just wished everything was the way it used to be before Eames had gone and ruined his entire life.

Eames was dying.

He was sure he was laughing to the point that he couldn't breathe while Yusuf talked to another reporter on his cellular phone. He did a dynamite impersonation of Ricky Ricardo.

It was what they had been alternating doing for the past several hours since the damned ringing son of a bitch wouldn't let anyone sleep. They would pick a character and proclaim to be Eames's boyfriend, and as the hours passed on and the weed continued to be passed around, each character got progressively more ridiculous.

So far, Eames was apparently dating David Beckham, Johnny Depp, Tom Cruise, Kermit the Frog, Bert and Ernie (at the same time), Simba from The Lion King, the first Darren from Bewitched, Greg Brady, and now Ricky Ricardo. It was pretty much anyone they found on or in a magazine or TV Guide.

"This is the best game ever," Yusuf said blearily when the reporter hung up on him. "You'd think they'd have gotten the hint by now."

"Maybe now they'll stop bloody calling," Eames chuckled, flopping down onto one of the beds, tired out from the emotional rollercoaster that was his life as of recently.

"Too bad they're still not leaving the front of the fucking hotel," Nash said, peeking out through the curtains. "Saito's security can only keep them so far away from us after all."

"It's good to see you smile though," Yusuf said.

Eames wished Yusuf hadn't have said that, and Yusuf seemed to be wishing it too, because Eames immediately remembered why he hadn't been smiling.

The worst part was he was just drunk, tired, and high enough to allow his emotions to muddle up, and he started crying about how he missed Arthur. He fell asleep like that.

The next morning went about the same as the day before, with a little bit of weed, a little bit of crying, and a lot of telling off reporters on the phone. The game got boring, and they ran out of ideas, and eventually Nash and Yusuf were just telling them that they had the wrong number and to stop calling them. Eames loafed about in his pajamas, writing song after song on his guitar that got progressively sadder and more pathetic, and then he just couldn't play anymore.

He slept some more…

…but in that bed, he could feel Arthur's invisible presence there, warm and smiling with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his music was lilting through the air in a distant echo as if he was just down the hall waiting for Eames to come to him, and his touch was there, pawing at his back with feather light fingertips, like a ghost hovering just above his bed and never giving him enough.

He could even still taste Arthur in his mouth, no matter how many times he brushed his teeth.

Wasn't heartbreak supposed to get easier day after day? It felt like he wasn't improving at all. He'd have moments of happiness immediately quashed by the memory of Arthur hanging on his heart, and he was sure Yusuf and Nash were getting pretty sick of being stuck with him and his permanent gloom.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He wished he could at least talk to Arthur, apologize again for not discussing the whole outing himself incident before doing it, to try to convince him that maybe they could at least be friends, that maybe they could try again someday. It would have helped if he could at least piss Arthur off to the point of him yelling at him so Eames could try and pass him off as an asshole and make an easier time out of getting over him. Then at least he could stop thinking of his brokenhearted face when he told Eames he couldn't do it anymore.

…but really, even then, Eames wasn't sure how he'd be able to get over him. If Arthur was angry with him, he sort of thought that he had every right to be. Truthfully, there wasn't anything Arthur could do to make Eames dislike him. He still had quite a tight hold on his heart, and Eames feared that me may just wind up feeling this way forever.

Absolutely nothing could make him feel worse than he already felt.

Absolutely nothing.

…and then, two days after the phone call, when the reporters finally started backing off on the constant phone calls, Cobb managed to get through to Eames's line.

It was nearly one in the morning where Eames was, but he was awake, nursing a tumbler of whiskey while writing down some words he'd had stuck in his brain. Normally he never heard words, only music, but he figured he might as well get it out while he could just in case they were still good in the morning.

"H'lo," he greeted tiredly, expecting more questions, prepared to chew them out and move on. He really didn't want to deal with it anymore, but if heard his ring tone one more time, he was going to strangle somebody.

Unfortunately, the question that came blaring through the other end of the line wasn't any he'd been expecting.

"What did you do?"

"…What do you mean? Cobb, is this you?" Eames asked, confused.

"Yes, it's Cobb! Who the hell else would it be?" Apparently Cobb had no idea what the past few days had been like for Eames. "What did you do?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Eames replied honestly, shutting his moleskin and sitting back in his chair to twirl his pencil around his fingers. "Have you gone off your nutter?"

"I've been trying to call you for days," Cobb told him in frustration. "I always got a busy signal."

"That would be because reporters have been ringing me up off the hook-"

"What did you do to Arthur?" Cobb interrupted sternly.

Eames paused. He hadn't expected Cobb to mention Arthur… but then again, Cobb hadn't known what was going on. "What are you talking about? He broke up with me, Cobb."

"I'm not talking about that," Cobb said, and that was when Eames's heart (or rather, what was left of it) went dropping to his knees.

"Then, what are you talking about exactly?"

"I'm talking about how he ran out of my house in tears after he called you two days ago and hasn't shown up for school or rehearsal since."

"…Arthur called me?..."

For a moment, Eames's chest was so tight he couldn't breathe.

"Yeah, he did," Cobb said. "He showed up here a couple of days ago saying that he needed to talk to you. He said he'd made a huge mistake."

Oh, God, Eames thought, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What did you say to him, Eames? He was out there long enough that I know he got through… and then, like I said, he ran out of my house crying and screaming."

"Well… I mean, it's difficult to say because I wasn't-I mean, that is ah… See, Yusuf and Nash and I are trapped in this bloody hotel room until the paparazzi can be shooed off, and the reporters kept calling, so we… so we started making up stories about my fake boyfriend-You don't think he believed it, did you?" he realized that he practically shouted the last part and checked the door to see if he'd awoken his roommates. He hadn't.

"Are you serious? Of course he believed it!" Cobb shouted, and Eames wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Cobb sound quite so angry. "Are you out of your fucking mind? What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Cobb, the stories were jokes! They were all bloody ridiculous! There's no way he believed I was dating Ricky Ricardo or Prince or whoever he heard one of us say."

"Were they all that ridiculous?" Cobb asked quietly.

"Yes!" Eames complained.

"All of them?" Cobb reiterated, voice trembling with rage. Eames had definitely never heard Cobb this angry before.

…and Eames hesitated, going completely silent because he'd just remembered how that odd first phone call had hung up suddenly as soon as Nash proclaimed to be Eames's boyfriend, Ryan.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK.

"Oh, God, what have I done?" Eames whispered, bringing his hand up to his mouth.

He could practically hear Cobb nodding on the other end of the line.

"Oh, God… Oh… Cobb, you've got to find him!" Eames told him desperately. "You've got to-you've got to tell him that it was a joke, that it wasn't true!"

"I don't know where he is, Eames. He hasn't shown up for class, so Mal can't talk to him."

"Go to his bloody flat, Cobb! I know where it is! I can tell you exactly where it is-"

"He's not there either, Eames. Mal went over to check on him yesterday and no one was home."

Eames's shoulders slumped, fear wracking through him and he begged Cobb, "Are you sure?... I mean, what if he was, but he was incapacitated? What if he-Oh, God, what if he did something to-Cobb, you've got to go back and make sure he-Oh, God…" Eames's eyes squeezed shut as tears released themselves, and his panic-stricken heart had been convinced that Arthur was already dead… Arthur had believed he'd been fucked over, had another one of his freak outs, and ended it all by putting a blade to his throat or by drowning himself in the tub or by sticking his head in the oven or by taking a bunch of pills or…

"Eames, calm down," Cobb commanded, and Eames realized that he must have been sobbing rather overzealously into the phone. He didn't even know how long he had been doing it or how long Cobb had been trying to get through to him. "Eames, I'm sure he's fine. Mal said that Ariadne went into his apartment and saw that he wasn't there, and when she called him he answered and told her to leave him alone. He's not dead, Eames."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Eames whimpered, unable to stop himself. "I didn't know that he was on the phone… I never would have… it was an accident, Cobb…"

"I know," Cobb said, voice going more sympathetic. He always had a weakness over people crying whether it was any girl on earth or simply one of his friends. "You really should use your brain more often, Eames. It'll save your life."

"It wasn't even me who answered the damn phone," Eames blubbered. "It was Nash, the rat bastard… but it's not like Yusuf and I weren't laughing and encouraging him… We were just trying to get the reporters to leave us alone."

"I know, Eames, I know. Just don't panic, all right? I'm sure Arthur will come around, and when he does we'll get the truth to him, and I'll have him call you back, all right? Don't play anymore games, all right?"

Eames sniffed. "Never again, Cobb. I just… fuck, I'm the worst human being on the face of the earth… and all I want is to hear his voice again, even if he's angry with me… I just miss the sound of his voice…"

…and that was when his tears sprang forth with new strength and he was a bawling mess again that had to be pulled back by Cobb on the other end of the line.

"Have you been drinking?" Cobb asked.

"Yes, I have, but I mean it, Cobb… I still love him, all right? More than anything-to the end of the universe and back… please… tell him that if you see him. I'll be there at the end of the week, and I want to see him. I've got to tell him… that I'm so sorry…"

"Hold yourself together, Eames. I'm sure he'll come back to school since the concert is at the end of the week. Just stay calm, and get back here as soon as you can, all right? Everything's going to be fine."

Eames took a deep breath and let it out and said, "Okay. I… I'll try…"

"Everything will be fine," Cobb repeated. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you in a few days."

He hung up, leaving Eames with only the silence and the heaviness of his regret hanging off of him…

He didn't believe Cobb. He didn't believe that everything would be fine. He wasn't sure how things could possibly be okay at this rate… Why had Arthur even called? What was the mistake he had made? Had he actually been calling to tell Eames that he wanted to be with him?

Had Eames actually screwed up his chance of being with Arthur when it had presented itself?

There was no way things could be all right.

Eames was sure of that.

Arthur couldn't go to school.

He knew he should have been going to rehearsal, practicing his songs, getting back to his life. He knew that, but…

Well…

He couldn't stop shifting between engulfing rage and overwhelming despair. His emotions were absolutely and completely out of control, and if he wasn't growling and screaming, he was sobbing and sleeping it off.

He couldn't even go home because Eames's memory lingered in every corner of the place. His empty cereal bowl was still sitting in the sink. His plastic cup ashtray was still sitting on the bedside table. His imprint was still on the sheet, and his smell was still floating through the air.

Robert let Arthur stay at his place as soon as Arthur explained his fears, and really it wasn't like he was really bothering him. Arthur was like a ghost in the house, moaning and groaning from a room but seldom allowing himself to be seen. He slept more than he ever had, but it was never a decent sleep. He was constantly tossing and turning while Eames haunted him through his sleep, taunting him with every sweet lie he'd ever said, every false smile.

How could he have done this?

Why did Arthur still care?

Ariadne called once, and Arthur told her to leave him alone and hung up. He turned his phone off from that point so that it wouldn't bother him again. Surely Robert had told her that he was staying with him, but thankfully she didn't try to come over and question as to why he was acting in such a way.

Maybe Robert had explained what had happened. Arthur didn't know.

That Wednesday afternoon, Fischer came home from class and rehearsal to meet with Arthur in his kitchen. Arthur had his knees pulled up to his chest, still dressed in a pair of Robert's pajamas, picking at a bowl of microwaved fried rice. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days (though he had managed to bathe because there was nothing else to do), and he was looking more unkempt than he ever had, and it was all Eames's fault.

"How are you doing?" Fischer asked, taking Arthur's fork from him and taking a bite out of his food (since he wasn't really eating it anyway).

Arthur made a sound that wasn't really any kind of answer, but at least he didn't burst into tears like he had been before.

Robert apparently noticed as much. "Well, that's an improvement at least."

"I guess," Arthur mumbled. "What am I supposed to do, Robert?... Eames has just… ruined me. I'm sure Jacobson has taken away my solo by now since I haven't shown up for practice… I can't go home, I can't even leave this place without falling apart… I used to be so controlled and so focused, and now I can't… do anything… I just want to be able to know why I hurt so much, why I still care when he's just a tool who played with my emotions."

Robert tousled his hair and walked over to the sink, digging a cigarette out from behind the potted plant. He had explained to Arthur that he had tried to keep his smoking habit secret from his roommate and his parents when they'd come to visit and never really got out of the routine.

Arthur had hated that the smell of the smoke comforted him. He also hated that he'd taken up the habit as well.

Fischer handed him one and lit it for him, and they both sat there smoking for a little while.

"I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better," Robert admitted after some time. "You really don't deserve this. You're much better than this."

"I don't know about that…" Arthur sighed, smoke lilting out of his mouth in swirls. "He doesn't even deserve my grief, the jackass… I mean, whether he had a boyfriend the whole time or just hopped into another guy's bed immediately afterward, it was still an uncalled for-"

"I don't know, Arthur," Robert shrugged, "I mean, you kissed me the same night you dumped him."

"That's not the same thing!" Arthur spat. "I was just drunk and lonely… I wasn't trying to make you into my new boyfriend. I was just-" Okay, maybe Robert had a little bit of a point, but still… "He must have had this guy as his boyfriend since before me anyway. I mean, he and I may have become boyfriends kind of fast, but not one day fast. I should have known that everything he said was a lie. I should have known that nobody could really love me-"

"Okay, I've had enough of you talking like that," Fischer said then. "I know your self-esteem is in the toilet, but you need to know right now that that's not true."

Arthur looked hopelessly at Robert because it sounded like another line. "You're just saying that to try to make me feel better," he said bitterly. After all, that was what Eames had done.

Eames had lied.

It punched him in the gut again just as fiercely as it always did.

"No, I'm not just saying it. Arthur, you've got to rise above this. This is ridiculous."

"Well, what should I do?" Arthur asked desperately.

"Find someone else," Robert explained. "Stop letting him win. I know you love-"

"I don't!" Arthur interrupted. "I don't… I hate his guts. I wish he was dead."

"Okay… all right, I'll let you have that," Robert nodded, clearly trying to keep the conversation more or less diffused, "but you can't keep living this way, Arthur. The world's still moving on around you. You've got to get back on your feet. You'll only allow Eames to ruin you if you let him."

"I just want someone to care about me for real…" Arthur sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "I've never been so vulnerable in front of someone as I was in front of Eames, and now I don't… I just don't know what I can do now…"

"Well, come on," Robert said, tugging him out of his chair. "You're going to shave, and get dressed, and we're going to go out."

"No, I don't want to…" Arthur groaned.

"Well, you've got to do something," Robert insisted, dragging him across the kitchen floor. "This is too much."

"I don't want to go out and drink and be reminded of how much of a loser I can be when I'm depressed. I just want to be fucked until I'm unconscious," Arthur complained. "Buy me a hooker or something. I just want to get Eames's touch off of me."

"I'm not letting you bring a hooker into my house. That's not a solution to your problem. You don't need sex. You need affection."

"Then why don't you have sex with me? If you think I'm so great, why won't you make the moves on me? Just tell me the truth! Tell me I'm not beautiful and tell me how much I suck! Just tell me!"

Fischer kissed him.

He kissed him in a way that gave off the impression he'd been wanting to the whole time Arthur had been there, desperate and longing and actually a bit angry, like he'd frustrated him for far too long and just couldn't take it anymore. He kissed him so fiercely that their teeth clacked together.

Arthur let out a muffled sound of surprise, and then it was over as suddenly as it had begun.

"You think you're the only one going without right now?" Robert asked in agitation. "You've been walking around my apartment for days, and you think I wasn't affected by that? I haven't had a man in my life since high school, I'll kindly remind you, and you are really testing my control right now."

Arthur swallowed and licked at his lips, the taste of Fischer's cigarette still lingering there, and then he remembered the one burning between his own fingers just in time for the ashes to fall into the carpet.

"I mean… how dare you talk about yourself so pathetically?" Robert asked as if he'd offended him somehow. "You're good-looking, and you're amazingly talented-fucking gifted even, and you're smart too. Do you know how rare that is to find in someone, especially someone your age? Most people your age don't know what to do with themselves, much less with their future, and you're talking about how no one can love you and how you suck? Seriously, have you looked at yourself?"

Arthur hadn't been spoken to in such a way since Eames proclaimed his love… and Robert looked so serious when he said it too… and Robert had never given Arthur any reason to believe that he was lying either…

…and again he was reminded of the benefits of being in a relationship with someone normal like Robert... someone who clearly didn't have another boyfriend on the side.

Arthur lunged at him in a hungry kiss, arms latching on around his neck, and they were stumbling backwards onto the couch, clawing at each other's clothes, trying to get them off as fast as physically possible.

…but still…

Robert slipped his hands up underneath Arthur's shirt, brushing his fingers down his ribs a little clumsily, allowing their hips to grind together. His tongue slipped inside and Arthur let it, deepening their kiss as Arthur's hands fell to rest on Robert's hips.

…but still…

Arthur broke the kiss, gasping for air, and he must have had a look on his face because Robert asked him, "What's wrong?"

Arthur still felt nothing.

He couldn't allow himself to feel anything for Robert, no matter how intelligent, talented, beautiful, available, or willing he was.

He was still in love with Eames, no matter how much he didn't want to be.

"Yeah," Robert said, smirking a little, "that's what I thought."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. He felt like the absolute worst person ever. He was leading Robert on… he wasn't any different than Eames had been. "Fuck, I… I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be," Robert replied, wriggling and sliding out from underneath Arthur. "I planned this, you see. Now that I've reminded you that you still love Eames, I need to ask you if he was the one who told you he had a boyfriend."

"What?" Arthur asked.

"Was it Eames on the phone?"

"That doesn't matter-"

"Was. It. Eames?" Robert repeated again with emphasis.

"Well… no, but-"

"Then how do you know it was true?"

"…I don't know, but…"

"You need to talk to Eames," Robert explained sternly. "You need to talk to him face to face, really talk to him, and get the truth out of him. Whether he has another boyfriend or not, whether he's a liar and a dick or not, you need to hear it from him. You won't be able to move on until then. You'll always be caught wondering if it was true or not until you know for sure."

"You… you think so?" Arthur asked.

"I know so," Robert agreed.

"Then… what should I do?" Arthur asked.

"Practice," Robert said, standing. "You need to be prepared for that concert because you've got to show him, show everyone what you can do. You've got to get that solo, got to get back in good with the rest of the orchestra, because you may not get a chance to talk to him again otherwise."

"How the hell am I going to get my solo back?" Arthur asked.

"You actually still have it," Robert told him. "I've convinced everyone that you've been really sick. I told them you had mono… but you've got to be ready to play, Arthur. You've been curled up in bed for too long."

Arthur nodded slowly, taking in the information. Robert was such a lifesaver. He owed him a lot for all of this… He stood from where he'd been sitting. "I… I think I want to go home now. I play best on my own violin."

"Shave first and put some clothes on," Robert said, and if his smile was just a little disappointed, Arthur didn't bother to mention it. He didn't need anything to make him feel worse…

…because for the first time in days, he was starting to see if there was some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. He wasn't sure what was on the other end, but he wasn't hiding away from it anymore because Robert had been right. Robert had been right about everything.

He needed to get out of his funk that he'd been letting consume every fiber of his being.

He needed to get back to his life and back to his music and back to school.

Most of all, he needed to talk to Eames.

Heading off to Vegas first thing tomorrow for a week, but I will definitely try to update while I'm gone. I don't know if I'll be able to though, so just so you know...