Inception - I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (15/16)
Title: I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (15/16)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,602
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne, Robert Fischer, Yusuf, Nash, Cobb, Mal
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 Fifteen: All You Need Is Love
Eames managed to get a couple of hours of sleep on the plane, and he was sure Saito was grateful for it as much as he was. Once they landed, he was immediately bombarded by reporters at the airport. Somehow they'd found out what gate they'd be coming in though even though Saito had gone to a great effort to keep it secret. Eames told them all to fuck off in order to be sure it was a sound bite they couldn't really use on their shows, but they probably would use it anyway. He didn't understand why they just had to know so much about who he was fucking around with. Shouldn't the idea that he liked guys have been enough? Why did they have to know who? Why did they have to accuse him of a handful of heinous ideas just because of the things he felt they shouldn't know? He actually had one of the reporters ask him if he had a drug problem. What the fuck did that have to do with being gay? Did they think cocaine or heroin made him gay?
It pissed him off.
How dare they accuse him of such a thing? How could they have possibly even thought he would answer that question?
The day was starting off absolutely horrible, and as they pulled up on the amphitheater, he realized that it was probably only going to get worse.
As expected, there were protestors with signs. The cops were already in the middle of stopping them from burning a pile of their CDs, to which Yusuf replied, "Well, at least they bought them. Record sales must be up."
"Always looking on the bright side, aren't you, Yusuf?" Eames said with a sigh. "It's a nice sentiment, but for the record, you're really not helping."
"You knew they would be here," Yusuf said. "Don't worry about it. The police won't let those wankers inside with those violent outbursts."
"Yeah, so only the quiet ones will get in to blow us all up," Nash added with a smirk.
"I appreciate that so much," Eames said sarcastically.
"You're welcome," Nash replied snottily. Eames refrained from smacking him on the back of his head. "They won't let anyone bring any guns or anything in here," Nash continued, this time more seriously. "Saito said he's got the absolute best security being run on this place for us."
"Sometimes words can hurt more than bullets," Yusuf supplied.
"Have you ever been shot with a bullet?" Nash asked.
"No," Yusuf said simply.
"Then you can't accurately say that," Nash said.
"True," Yusuf agreed lightly. "I do hope to not find out if I'm right or wrong anytime soon."
"As do we all," Eames said, sinking in his seat even though the windows of the car were tinted enough that no one could see who was inside. He wondered how Arthur was doing at that moment, if the protestors were making him feel uncomfortable. He knew how Arthur liked to imagine up problems that didn't exist (at least not as of that moment did they exist). He hoped Arthur was okay.
It was hard to think of anything but Arthur, actually.
Eames lowered his head and shut his eyes and said one simple, silent prayer of Please. If God was listening, he was pretty sure he had an idea of what he meant by that. After all, he was God, wasn't he? It was kind of his job to live up to expectations.
Eames wished he had lived up to expectations.
If he had just kept his mouth shut, the misunderstanding, the breakup, none of this would have ever happened. There would have been no protestors there to interrupt all of the bands. There would have been no super swarms of reporters and paparazzi trying to dig up lewd and obscene things that Eames had never done just to prove that being gay was bad.
He was really beginning to question if the music was worth all of the bollocks.
He knew that if it was Arthur, he wouldn't have to question it at all.
Eames hummed at that thought but didn't let any of the others notice. He went back to flipping pages in his moleskin until he came across the page he'd been working on the other night, jotting down a few more notes.
He was thankful to see a few counter protests had sprung up across the grounds outside the amphitheater as well, at least, carrying signs with rainbow colored letters of support for Eames and for Radical Notion. Several of them had even worn rainbow articles of clothing, and several had worn purple in particular.
Maybe it was worth it after all. There were more supporters than there were protestors, and just from glancing at some of the signs, he realized that he had done a lot of good with two words. He was giving some of these kids, some of them younger than himself, younger than Arthur, hope that they had someone in the world to understand them when maybe their parents or teachers or peers or religious leaders didn't. He may have fucked up his relationship with Arthur, but he most definitely was making a difference in those people's lives. Sure, he did want to be selfish and have Arthur, but at least selflessness wasn't a total loss.
Oh, who am I kidding? He thought. I don't even deserve him.
He got out of the car when they were safely behind the gates and just sighed, leaning against the door for a moment. As he ducked his head down to dig a cigarette out of the pocket of his jeans, he glanced up to see a rather large group of students bustling by with instrument cases. Several of them were pointing and whispering towards Eames and Yusuf and Nash, but the teacher had clearly disciplined them to not break from the group or to be disruptive.
That was when he spotted Arthur.
Arthur was near the back of the students, walking in stride with a rather beautiful boy with bright blue eyes and chestnut colored hair, and they were both looking at Eames with unreadable expressions.
When Eames met Arthur's eyes, it was as if the whole world around them stopped and unexpectedly disappeared. All they could do was stare and stare at each other, just like when they first saw one another at the concert weeks ago. Eames didn't have his guitar on hand to distract his eyes from the sight or the strength to avoid the unbearable pain that welled up in his chest. He thought he had missed Arthur before, but having him so close and yet so far away from him magnified the pain more than he could possibly bear… and yet he just couldn't look away. He could never look away from those eyes.
Arthur licked his lips slowly out of nervous habit, taking hold of the pretty boy's bicep, and his eyebrows lowered on his forehead, desperation creeping across his features. There was so much he was trying to say when he couldn't speak the words, and the only reason Eames was having trouble understanding them was because he was too caught up in sending his own brainwaves at Arthur.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry, Arthur.
It's not true, Arthur.
I love you, Arthur.
I've always loved you.
I always will.
…and then the group had passed them, and Eames found himself staring dumbfounded at nothing.
His lip quivered as he came back to reality, and a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye so suddenly that he didn't even realize the need to swipe it away until it had nearly reached his jaw.
Yusuf clapped him on the back and mumbled, "You all right there, Eames?"
Eames swallowed thickly, sniffed, and said, "No, I really don't think so. I think I just died."
Arthur's whole body felt like it had gone numb. He held onto Robert's arm to keep his knees from collapsing on themselves, let Arthur whisper quietly to him to keep breathing, to not panic, to not cause a scene for his own good.
The first band started playing on the stage, but Arthur couldn't hear the music as he sat with the other orchestra members, all of them in their own respective seats with their names on them, sitting there at the corner of the stage where everyone could see them so Arthur couldn't sneak away. He didn't even care about the thousands of faces staring at all of them. He felt nothing but broken.
Eames had looked so sad. Arthur swore he had seen tears in his eyes. It had been that same desperate look he'd given Arthur when Arthur had broken up with him, the same eyes begging him not to leave him all alone… but Arthur didn't know if it was loneliness that fueled that look or it if was regret for playing games with his emotions. Arthur just wasn't good at reading people's emotions. He barely knew how to take on his own…
All he knew was that an ache bloomed in his chest so rapidly that he was unable to breathe for a long minute. He looked to Robert, too far away at the chair next to the piano bench, looked to the audience where Ariadne also sat so far from him, squeezed in next to his unimpressed looking parents, looked down to his program on his music stand next to his book of sheet music, saw Eames's name underneath the list of Radical Notion's band members, and watched as the letters blurred together. Tears sprang to the edges of his eyes, and he couldn't even cry. He couldn't let anyone see because he couldn't explain that his heart was breaking all over again and he couldn't handle it.
"Hey, Arthur," a voice whispered from behind him, but he didn't dare turn around and show his red-rimmed eyes to anyone. "Arthur," the voice said again, and this time he recognized it as Ally's. "Hey, man, you okay? You're kind of stiff shouldered."
"Fine," Arthur whispered back curtly, grateful that the whisper didn't allow his voice to treacherously break.
"Just relax, Artie. We're going to be awesome. You're going to be awesome."
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, letting in a sharp intake of breath through his nose, fists clenching on his knees. If only she knew it wasn't the concert he was necessarily getting worked up over. In fact, all of his fears and worries about the concert were now the last things on his mind. All he could think about was how much he missed Eames and about how lonely he was. All he could see was Eames's eyes, staring into his like there were no other people on earth.
Arthur tugged at the collar of his shirt and opened his eyes again to watch the first band finish their set. He had been zoned out for far too long, he thought, as the next band stepped on stage.
…and yet, even after being sure of that, he couldn't help but keep doing it. He was only vaguely aware of the music echoing around him, every word sounding like a memory of him and Eames, or of a an idea of how things could have been if he hadn't screwed everything up, everything Eames drifting around and hanging off of him like the smoke of one of his cigarettes. The air was so thick with him that Arthur was sure he was suffocating on it, and he couldn't understand why the fact that he was close by was enough to do this to him. He thought maybe it was opportunity slipping through his fingers like sand in the hourglass, that he'd been thrown up on the altar and he could either let Eames walk away from his life or expose…
The second band left.
Then, the third band.
The fourth.
Then… Radical Notion came out.
Eames was wearing his leather pants again, but this time he was wearing a shirt, and when he came onto the stage, he was met with mixed reviews from the crowd. There was an overwhelming amount of loud, raucous cheering, but there was quite a few boos and hisses and 'go home fag' chants as well. Arthur's parents just sat in their seats with their arms crossed, looking as smug and disappointed as he surely had been before the concert from weeks ago had started.
He was really starting to hate who he used to be.
Arthur watched Eames intensely, eyes as fiery as they had been that night, as unable to pull away from him as before. He played as expertly as always, unfazed by the crowd's reactions. From the distant look on his face, he clearly had a lot on his mind.
The first song ended, and Eames took the mic from Cobb before he could thank them for the applause, and said, "You know, if you don't like me, you can leave. You've already paid for your ticket, thus donating to the cause, so I really don't give a fuck if you're here or not. I'd play for an empty stadium if I was scheduled to play there."
This was met by thunderous applause from his supporters, and Arthur could see them waving signs out of his peripheral vision.
"In the end, this is about the music, and music is about love and freedom and not giving a damn about what other people think about them, all right?"
"Was that necessary?" Cobb mumbled, but his voice did pick up on the mic as Eames passed it back to him.
"Not really," Eames said with a beatific smile. "You know how I can't resist riling people up though. It's in my wild rock star nature."
He went back to his side of the stage and went into the next song, giving one quick glance in Arthur's direction.
A couple of people did leave, but one thing was for sure-no one booed after their next song. Eames had effortlessly set them straight. Arthur for one was not surprised. He had that effect on people.
Then, they played No Fault of Mine, and Arthur felt his heart twist in his chest.
They had gone the way Arthur had suggested, toning it down, letting raw emotion flood out from their instruments. Yusuf was astoundingly good on the keyboard, making Arthur wonder why he had ever switched to drums, and Nash was actually good at the six-string as well.
It was beautiful. Arthur could already see tears on Ariadne's face, and while there weren't any on his parents still uninterested faces, the crowd had fallen into silent awe over the piece. Cobb's voice tore through all of them, full of pain, ruling them with his words, and the band short-circuited everyone really listening with the amount of anguish they poured into every note, and suddenly Arthur's eyes were welling up with tears like they had when Eames had played the rough and tumble version in his apartment.
It was his song. He could feel Eames glancing at him throughout the entirety of it, as if to say so…
…and then an extra verse that Arthur had not heard on the piece came spilling out of Cobb's mouth, and Arthur was sure, positive that this was for him. The entire band had dropped out, leaving Eames with his acoustic and Cobb with his vocals, singing, "and when I said I love you, I probably let you down; I know I don't deserve you, but I hope I'll come around; your smile is quite disarming, and I'm stuck in the firing line, my heart's left bleeding and yet I'm still proceeding, but it's no fault of mine."
Eames was definitely looking in Arthur's direction now, even if it was only out of the corners.
He was sending him a message, and Arthur heard it loud and clear as he joined Cobb on vocals, sharing the microphone.
"…and when I said I love you, you know I never lied; I may be quite the fuck-up, but at least you know I tried; It's all your fault I've fallen, but know that I don't mind; if I'm lonely I know it's only a stupid fault of mine."
It hadn't been serious.
The boyfriend thing.
It had been a joke.
Eames hadn't known it was Arthur, and someone else had answered and claimed it, but it hadn't been true. Arthur didn't know who it had been or why they had done it, but it wasn't true.
It wasn't true.
Eames wasn't with anyone else. He knew it from the look on his face, from the words on his lips.
They sang the final chorus and ended the song to an eruption of cheers and applause, and Arthur couldn't understand how anyone could hate Eames or anything he stood for after a performance like that (though admittedly, he was a little biased).
They played another song, this one an old standard of theirs that got the whole crowd moving, and then they left the stage. Afterwards, the school's choir sang three or four songs.
Mal spoke fondly about the previous performances and then gushed about their orchestra while they tuned up. Arthur was so stunned at his revelation that it took him a few minutes to recover, but thankfully, he'd tuned his violin to perfection before leaving the apartment. He could still see Eames off to the side of the stage, talking heatedly with Cobb, probably about his little speech… but Eames hadn't cheated on him the whole time, Eames hadn't immediately gone out to find someone else, none of that, and that was all Arthur cared about. All of his sadness and insecurity and loneliness just melted off of him. He wasn't worried about the fact that his parents were in the audience or that Jacobson was staring him down as they started their first piece, or that there were protestors, or anything. Eames hadn't lied.
Eames hadn't lied.
They finished their first song to a much more polite version of applause than the hooting and hollering that the rock bands received. They went into Frank Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No.2, and Arthur kept trying to make eye contact with Eames for the entire nine to ten minutes of it, trying to relay to him that he'd been forgiven, that he still loved him, that he understood, but Eames was distracted by Saito and the other band members, by other bands who were whispering words of support (if Eames's polite smile was any indication) in his direction.
As they played Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers, he continued to try and get his attention but was startled out of leaning too far to the left when he nearly slammed into the musician sitting next to him and getting an audible bark out of Jacobson. He shrank a little, looking nervously at Mal off to the other side of the piano, and she just shrugged.
From that point on, he actually focused on his playing, since his parents were watching and all, and though he'd played all of these songs long enough he could do them in his sleep (and quite possibly had, considering he woke up on the floor among the his music and violin), he concentrated as they dove into the final climax of the song.
The song came to an end, and since it was track more people were familiar with, the response was a bit more excitable than the last one.
They played two more songs, and then the soloists started their performances, each with a little speech from Mal beforehand.
Arthur hadn't known she would be speaking before he played, and it made him momentarily a little nervous. What on earth was she going to say about him? Sure, Mal probably had nothing but good things to say about him, but… well… that was the problem.
He didn't want to let her down.
…but then he told himself that this performance was something he had to do on his own, and he couldn't let anything or anyone else get in his way, and…
It was his turn.
"This next student," Mal said, "is the first ever at the Cobol School to be in first chair since freshman year. He's a phenomenally talented young man, considered a prodigy at the violin from his teachers over the course of his life, who has also managed to maintain a 4.0 grade point average on top of his performance duties. On top of all of that, all of that…" she turned and smiled at him, and Arthur felt warm all over, "he's a genuinely good person."
Arthur nodded a small thanks and tried not to get so touched by it that he cried. His emotions were already on edge as it was. He was definitely starting to get a handle on it at least, so there was that.
"Without further ado, playing Chopin's Nocturne, Arthur Welch."
The crowd applauded as he stepped up to the music stand, but he didn't start to play. Well, it's now or never, he thought, and as he realized he didn't have a plan, somehow the idea calmed him.
"Uh, hi," he said, clearing his throat. "Uh… yeah, your program and Mal said I was going to play Nocturne, but well-" he took a moment to look out at the expectant faces of the crowd, of Ariadne's nervous stare, and a quick glance to the side of the stage showed Eames, staring as well. "Well, fuck that," he said simply, and he could hear the audible gasp from some of the students, Jacobson, and probably his parents too. He didn't miss Robert's smirk.
"Yeah, uh, I think I'm going to shake things up a little, and I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, and it could be a disaster in every sense of the word, but… well… I've got to play from my heart or no one's going to listen to me, and my heart's telling me to play this. It ah… doesn't have a title yet. My friend helped me write it the other night." He nodded to Fischer, approached and handed him the sheet music. "I've cut it down and fixed it," he whispered to him.
"Are you entirely sure about this?" Robert asked, eyes wide.
"Nope," Arthur replied and smiled. "Just follow my lead."
He walked back to the microphone, made a quick glance at Mal who was watching a bit unsurely at him, and then he mumbled, "I ah… hope you like it, and um… if you don't, I really don't care…" and started to play.
Robert expertly fell into time with Arthur, just as he'd expected, and Arthur had to admit that the piece was quite good if he did say so himself. It helped that his playing was absolutely spot on, and on the parts that he had never been quite sure about, he improvised absolutely beautifully. The piece started out wild and untamed like his and Eames's torrid sexual affair, slowly becoming sweeter as love found its way inside, sadder when it fell apart, angry when betrayal boiled upwards followed by a hateful despair. Arthur played out every emotion Eames had made him feel, and he'd never felt so sure of a piece in his entire life. He had his eyes closed as he remembered every second of it, every touch, every word, so he didn't pay any mind to the faces all staring at him. He had said that he didn't care if they liked it or not, and he had honestly meant it.
Eames had played him a song.
Arthur was just returning the favor.
…but he still wasn't sure if Eames understood, and that was when he decided to be as obvious as possible without actually shouting it from the proverbial rooftops.
As the song came to an end, he flew his bow onto the final wailing note, and Robert finished his piano part, only for Arthur to continue on the note until everyone was under the impression that he must have frozen up, and then he jumped into a familiar chord, barely hitting his bow across the strings before stepping up to the microphone and singing, "There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark…"
Now he was sure all eyes were upon him, and he was probably going to regret the fact that he was shaming his parents by playing a contemporary piece, but it was too late to go back on it now, and really he'd come to realize just how much he hated his parents anyway.
He only hoped Eames would get the message.
"Finally I can see you crystal clear, go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare."
…and suddenly, several of the other students in the orchestra started playing behind him, as if he had told all of them to follow his lead rather than just Robert. Completely unprovoked, they were helping him, and it sounded good.
He smirked as he continued to sing, "See how I leave with every piece of you, don't underestimate the things that I will do; There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark…"
The orchestra fell into soft wails while Robert banged out chords on the piano as he fell into the bridge, singing, "The scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinking that we almost had it all…"
…and he could swear he heard somebody plugging into an amp.
"The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help feeling…"
A full on rock band filtered into Arthur's ears, and a voice sang along with him from the microphone next to his, over the sounds of exuberant cheers, "We could have had it all…"
It was Eames.
Eames and Radical Notion had come out and started to play with Arthur, with the rest of the orchestra.
Apparently, he'd gotten the message.
"Rolling in the deep… You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat."
Arthur turned, lowering his violin for the moment, eyeing Eames down as he sang, "Baby, I have no story to be told, but I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn."
Eames looked right back at him, a corner of his mouth turned up as he responded by singing, "Think of me in the depths of your despair, and make a home down there 'cause mine sure won't be shared."
The choir piped up from behind all of them, "You're gonna wish you-"
"The scars of your love-"
"-never had met me-"
"-remind me of us-"
"Tears are gonna fall-"
"They keep me thinking that we almost had it all…"
"Rolling in the deep…"
Arthur couldn't believe how willing the other students were to jump into his defiance, but admittedly it was far too cool to currently worry about. He was having fun which was more than he could really say about any of his previous performances in his life, and he no longer cared if the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, if Jacobson, if his parents thought he was a failure.
…because it wasn't about fame or impressing people or money. It was about music, and he'd be perfectly satisfied living on the streets as long as he could play the violin. He understood what Eames had been talking about before, about how the schooling didn't matter nearly as much as the passion. It was like he was seeing the world through new eyes, and his only regret was that he hadn't realized it sooner.
They sang the chorus again, and then everyone, seemingly on the same wavelength, dropped out so that it was just Yusuf banging an under-beat over their voices as they sang at each other, mouths cracking into face-hurting smiles, "Throw your soul through every open door; Count your blessings to find what you look for; Turn my sorrow into treasured gold, and pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow…"
Arthur and Eames just gasped while the chorus started singing, "You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
"We could have had it all…" Arthur crooned, closing distance between them so they were standing nearly nose to nose.
"Tears are gonna fall," the choir sang.
"We could have had it all," Eames wailed back.
"Rolling in the deep… You're gonna wish you-never had met me…" the choir belted out unabashedly in harmonies they must have memorized on their own time.
"It all, it all, it all…" the two of them sang, and then Arthur threw himself back into a violin solo even more ridiculous than the one he'd played the first time, and he didn't care, he didn't care, because he'd never been so goddamned happy in his entire life.
The crowd was going so wild that for a moment Arthur didn't even know if anyone could hear his violin, but then he realized they were actually cheering for him. For him.
No wonder Eames and Radical Notion liked playing for big crowds. The adrenaline rush he got from their excitement was infectious. How had he ever feared performing in front of them? This was awesome!
"We could have had it all, rolling in the deep; you had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat!"
Arthur was pretty sure he could do this forever. The swell of music, of the togetherness of every single musician doing what they wanted and loved to do, the way Eames was looking at him like he'd never been more in love with anyone in his whole life, everything was just perfect.
Screw the protestors. Screw the paparazzi. Screw his parents. Screw Jacobson. Screw anyone who refused to take a chance and try to understand. He didn't care about any of that. He didn't need any of that. All he needed was his music, his true friends, and Eames.
This was everything.
"We could have had it all, rolling in the deep; you had my heart inside of your hand, but you played it, you played it, you played it, you played it to the beat…"
The song came to a close and Arthur threw his arms around Eames's neck, not caring about the sudden blinding flashes of cameras, not caring that Eames's guitar was digging uncomfortably into his groin.
"I'm so sorry," Eames whispered. "It was all a big game-we thought it was reporters-it was just Nash and Yusuf and me playing around, I swear on my mother's life-"
"I know, I know, don't worry about it, I never should have let you go in the first place," Arthur stammered, breathing in his scent like he'd never smell it again. "Fuck, you're supposed to stop me from doing stupid things."
"You didn't stop me from doing stupid things," Eames countered, and the two of them broke apart, but only just barely.
Arthur looked out at the crowd, all of them screaming wildly, throwing their hands in the air, waving their signs.
"They love you," Eames whispered and then grabbed the microphone. "He's fucking ace, isn't he!" he said, and the crowd got impossibly louder. "Fuck, he completely schools me in everything I ever did in my early twenties, though I'm only twenty-six so… Also, how about all the rest of these brill motherfuckers?" He indicated the orchestra and the chorus, and the crowd erupted even more, shouting so loud that Arthur for a long moment couldn't even hear. "Damn… I think I should register for school there. Oh, and of course, my mates are always great, as well, clearly."
"Thank you," Arthur said humbly, delayed of course, as always. "Eames."
"Don't thank me, darling, for being yourself," Eames laughed and mussed up Arthur's hair. "Another round of applause for these right ace students."
"Eames," Arthur said, still blinking back the white flashes of cameras from his eyelids.
Eames looked back at him as he went to set his guitar on the stand, smiling absolutely brilliantly, and Arthur's heart just melted. Arthur could see all of the apologies Eames was still making through his eyes, and Arthur for one couldn't think of anything he still needed to apologize for.
Three weeks.
Most people would have said it was stupid, that it would never last, that no one could be in love after that short amount of time. If someone had told Arthur the exact story they had lived out a month, two months, a year ago, he would have scoffed at them and passed them off as absolutely loony…
…but he knew what was real, and Eames was real. He felt stupid for ever doubting him in the first place.
Arthur jumped on Eames, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, and he kissed him on the mouth and didn't care who saw.
After all, the only opinions that mattered in their relationship were theirs.
When Arthur finally released his lips, chest heaving, Eames leaned over the microphone again and said, "Put that shit in your papers. I love this man."
"I love you to the stars and back," Arthur replied, and he kissed him again with the sounds of cheering still ringing in his ears.
All we're waiting on is the epilogue, huh. I'll work on that when I get home from work. ;)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,602
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne, Robert Fischer, Yusuf, Nash, Cobb, Mal
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 Fifteen: All You Need Is Love
Eames managed to get a couple of hours of sleep on the plane, and he was sure Saito was grateful for it as much as he was. Once they landed, he was immediately bombarded by reporters at the airport. Somehow they'd found out what gate they'd be coming in though even though Saito had gone to a great effort to keep it secret. Eames told them all to fuck off in order to be sure it was a sound bite they couldn't really use on their shows, but they probably would use it anyway. He didn't understand why they just had to know so much about who he was fucking around with. Shouldn't the idea that he liked guys have been enough? Why did they have to know who? Why did they have to accuse him of a handful of heinous ideas just because of the things he felt they shouldn't know? He actually had one of the reporters ask him if he had a drug problem. What the fuck did that have to do with being gay? Did they think cocaine or heroin made him gay?
It pissed him off.
How dare they accuse him of such a thing? How could they have possibly even thought he would answer that question?
The day was starting off absolutely horrible, and as they pulled up on the amphitheater, he realized that it was probably only going to get worse.
As expected, there were protestors with signs. The cops were already in the middle of stopping them from burning a pile of their CDs, to which Yusuf replied, "Well, at least they bought them. Record sales must be up."
"Always looking on the bright side, aren't you, Yusuf?" Eames said with a sigh. "It's a nice sentiment, but for the record, you're really not helping."
"You knew they would be here," Yusuf said. "Don't worry about it. The police won't let those wankers inside with those violent outbursts."
"Yeah, so only the quiet ones will get in to blow us all up," Nash added with a smirk.
"I appreciate that so much," Eames said sarcastically.
"You're welcome," Nash replied snottily. Eames refrained from smacking him on the back of his head. "They won't let anyone bring any guns or anything in here," Nash continued, this time more seriously. "Saito said he's got the absolute best security being run on this place for us."
"Sometimes words can hurt more than bullets," Yusuf supplied.
"Have you ever been shot with a bullet?" Nash asked.
"No," Yusuf said simply.
"Then you can't accurately say that," Nash said.
"True," Yusuf agreed lightly. "I do hope to not find out if I'm right or wrong anytime soon."
"As do we all," Eames said, sinking in his seat even though the windows of the car were tinted enough that no one could see who was inside. He wondered how Arthur was doing at that moment, if the protestors were making him feel uncomfortable. He knew how Arthur liked to imagine up problems that didn't exist (at least not as of that moment did they exist). He hoped Arthur was okay.
It was hard to think of anything but Arthur, actually.
Eames lowered his head and shut his eyes and said one simple, silent prayer of Please. If God was listening, he was pretty sure he had an idea of what he meant by that. After all, he was God, wasn't he? It was kind of his job to live up to expectations.
Eames wished he had lived up to expectations.
If he had just kept his mouth shut, the misunderstanding, the breakup, none of this would have ever happened. There would have been no protestors there to interrupt all of the bands. There would have been no super swarms of reporters and paparazzi trying to dig up lewd and obscene things that Eames had never done just to prove that being gay was bad.
He was really beginning to question if the music was worth all of the bollocks.
He knew that if it was Arthur, he wouldn't have to question it at all.
Eames hummed at that thought but didn't let any of the others notice. He went back to flipping pages in his moleskin until he came across the page he'd been working on the other night, jotting down a few more notes.
He was thankful to see a few counter protests had sprung up across the grounds outside the amphitheater as well, at least, carrying signs with rainbow colored letters of support for Eames and for Radical Notion. Several of them had even worn rainbow articles of clothing, and several had worn purple in particular.
Maybe it was worth it after all. There were more supporters than there were protestors, and just from glancing at some of the signs, he realized that he had done a lot of good with two words. He was giving some of these kids, some of them younger than himself, younger than Arthur, hope that they had someone in the world to understand them when maybe their parents or teachers or peers or religious leaders didn't. He may have fucked up his relationship with Arthur, but he most definitely was making a difference in those people's lives. Sure, he did want to be selfish and have Arthur, but at least selflessness wasn't a total loss.
Oh, who am I kidding? He thought. I don't even deserve him.
He got out of the car when they were safely behind the gates and just sighed, leaning against the door for a moment. As he ducked his head down to dig a cigarette out of the pocket of his jeans, he glanced up to see a rather large group of students bustling by with instrument cases. Several of them were pointing and whispering towards Eames and Yusuf and Nash, but the teacher had clearly disciplined them to not break from the group or to be disruptive.
That was when he spotted Arthur.
Arthur was near the back of the students, walking in stride with a rather beautiful boy with bright blue eyes and chestnut colored hair, and they were both looking at Eames with unreadable expressions.
When Eames met Arthur's eyes, it was as if the whole world around them stopped and unexpectedly disappeared. All they could do was stare and stare at each other, just like when they first saw one another at the concert weeks ago. Eames didn't have his guitar on hand to distract his eyes from the sight or the strength to avoid the unbearable pain that welled up in his chest. He thought he had missed Arthur before, but having him so close and yet so far away from him magnified the pain more than he could possibly bear… and yet he just couldn't look away. He could never look away from those eyes.
Arthur licked his lips slowly out of nervous habit, taking hold of the pretty boy's bicep, and his eyebrows lowered on his forehead, desperation creeping across his features. There was so much he was trying to say when he couldn't speak the words, and the only reason Eames was having trouble understanding them was because he was too caught up in sending his own brainwaves at Arthur.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry, Arthur.
It's not true, Arthur.
I love you, Arthur.
I've always loved you.
I always will.
…and then the group had passed them, and Eames found himself staring dumbfounded at nothing.
His lip quivered as he came back to reality, and a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye so suddenly that he didn't even realize the need to swipe it away until it had nearly reached his jaw.
Yusuf clapped him on the back and mumbled, "You all right there, Eames?"
Eames swallowed thickly, sniffed, and said, "No, I really don't think so. I think I just died."
Arthur's whole body felt like it had gone numb. He held onto Robert's arm to keep his knees from collapsing on themselves, let Arthur whisper quietly to him to keep breathing, to not panic, to not cause a scene for his own good.
The first band started playing on the stage, but Arthur couldn't hear the music as he sat with the other orchestra members, all of them in their own respective seats with their names on them, sitting there at the corner of the stage where everyone could see them so Arthur couldn't sneak away. He didn't even care about the thousands of faces staring at all of them. He felt nothing but broken.
Eames had looked so sad. Arthur swore he had seen tears in his eyes. It had been that same desperate look he'd given Arthur when Arthur had broken up with him, the same eyes begging him not to leave him all alone… but Arthur didn't know if it was loneliness that fueled that look or it if was regret for playing games with his emotions. Arthur just wasn't good at reading people's emotions. He barely knew how to take on his own…
All he knew was that an ache bloomed in his chest so rapidly that he was unable to breathe for a long minute. He looked to Robert, too far away at the chair next to the piano bench, looked to the audience where Ariadne also sat so far from him, squeezed in next to his unimpressed looking parents, looked down to his program on his music stand next to his book of sheet music, saw Eames's name underneath the list of Radical Notion's band members, and watched as the letters blurred together. Tears sprang to the edges of his eyes, and he couldn't even cry. He couldn't let anyone see because he couldn't explain that his heart was breaking all over again and he couldn't handle it.
"Hey, Arthur," a voice whispered from behind him, but he didn't dare turn around and show his red-rimmed eyes to anyone. "Arthur," the voice said again, and this time he recognized it as Ally's. "Hey, man, you okay? You're kind of stiff shouldered."
"Fine," Arthur whispered back curtly, grateful that the whisper didn't allow his voice to treacherously break.
"Just relax, Artie. We're going to be awesome. You're going to be awesome."
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, letting in a sharp intake of breath through his nose, fists clenching on his knees. If only she knew it wasn't the concert he was necessarily getting worked up over. In fact, all of his fears and worries about the concert were now the last things on his mind. All he could think about was how much he missed Eames and about how lonely he was. All he could see was Eames's eyes, staring into his like there were no other people on earth.
Arthur tugged at the collar of his shirt and opened his eyes again to watch the first band finish their set. He had been zoned out for far too long, he thought, as the next band stepped on stage.
…and yet, even after being sure of that, he couldn't help but keep doing it. He was only vaguely aware of the music echoing around him, every word sounding like a memory of him and Eames, or of a an idea of how things could have been if he hadn't screwed everything up, everything Eames drifting around and hanging off of him like the smoke of one of his cigarettes. The air was so thick with him that Arthur was sure he was suffocating on it, and he couldn't understand why the fact that he was close by was enough to do this to him. He thought maybe it was opportunity slipping through his fingers like sand in the hourglass, that he'd been thrown up on the altar and he could either let Eames walk away from his life or expose…
The second band left.
Then, the third band.
The fourth.
Then… Radical Notion came out.
Eames was wearing his leather pants again, but this time he was wearing a shirt, and when he came onto the stage, he was met with mixed reviews from the crowd. There was an overwhelming amount of loud, raucous cheering, but there was quite a few boos and hisses and 'go home fag' chants as well. Arthur's parents just sat in their seats with their arms crossed, looking as smug and disappointed as he surely had been before the concert from weeks ago had started.
He was really starting to hate who he used to be.
Arthur watched Eames intensely, eyes as fiery as they had been that night, as unable to pull away from him as before. He played as expertly as always, unfazed by the crowd's reactions. From the distant look on his face, he clearly had a lot on his mind.
The first song ended, and Eames took the mic from Cobb before he could thank them for the applause, and said, "You know, if you don't like me, you can leave. You've already paid for your ticket, thus donating to the cause, so I really don't give a fuck if you're here or not. I'd play for an empty stadium if I was scheduled to play there."
This was met by thunderous applause from his supporters, and Arthur could see them waving signs out of his peripheral vision.
"In the end, this is about the music, and music is about love and freedom and not giving a damn about what other people think about them, all right?"
"Was that necessary?" Cobb mumbled, but his voice did pick up on the mic as Eames passed it back to him.
"Not really," Eames said with a beatific smile. "You know how I can't resist riling people up though. It's in my wild rock star nature."
He went back to his side of the stage and went into the next song, giving one quick glance in Arthur's direction.
A couple of people did leave, but one thing was for sure-no one booed after their next song. Eames had effortlessly set them straight. Arthur for one was not surprised. He had that effect on people.
Then, they played No Fault of Mine, and Arthur felt his heart twist in his chest.
They had gone the way Arthur had suggested, toning it down, letting raw emotion flood out from their instruments. Yusuf was astoundingly good on the keyboard, making Arthur wonder why he had ever switched to drums, and Nash was actually good at the six-string as well.
It was beautiful. Arthur could already see tears on Ariadne's face, and while there weren't any on his parents still uninterested faces, the crowd had fallen into silent awe over the piece. Cobb's voice tore through all of them, full of pain, ruling them with his words, and the band short-circuited everyone really listening with the amount of anguish they poured into every note, and suddenly Arthur's eyes were welling up with tears like they had when Eames had played the rough and tumble version in his apartment.
It was his song. He could feel Eames glancing at him throughout the entirety of it, as if to say so…
…and then an extra verse that Arthur had not heard on the piece came spilling out of Cobb's mouth, and Arthur was sure, positive that this was for him. The entire band had dropped out, leaving Eames with his acoustic and Cobb with his vocals, singing, "and when I said I love you, I probably let you down; I know I don't deserve you, but I hope I'll come around; your smile is quite disarming, and I'm stuck in the firing line, my heart's left bleeding and yet I'm still proceeding, but it's no fault of mine."
Eames was definitely looking in Arthur's direction now, even if it was only out of the corners.
He was sending him a message, and Arthur heard it loud and clear as he joined Cobb on vocals, sharing the microphone.
"…and when I said I love you, you know I never lied; I may be quite the fuck-up, but at least you know I tried; It's all your fault I've fallen, but know that I don't mind; if I'm lonely I know it's only a stupid fault of mine."
It hadn't been serious.
The boyfriend thing.
It had been a joke.
Eames hadn't known it was Arthur, and someone else had answered and claimed it, but it hadn't been true. Arthur didn't know who it had been or why they had done it, but it wasn't true.
It wasn't true.
Eames wasn't with anyone else. He knew it from the look on his face, from the words on his lips.
They sang the final chorus and ended the song to an eruption of cheers and applause, and Arthur couldn't understand how anyone could hate Eames or anything he stood for after a performance like that (though admittedly, he was a little biased).
They played another song, this one an old standard of theirs that got the whole crowd moving, and then they left the stage. Afterwards, the school's choir sang three or four songs.
Mal spoke fondly about the previous performances and then gushed about their orchestra while they tuned up. Arthur was so stunned at his revelation that it took him a few minutes to recover, but thankfully, he'd tuned his violin to perfection before leaving the apartment. He could still see Eames off to the side of the stage, talking heatedly with Cobb, probably about his little speech… but Eames hadn't cheated on him the whole time, Eames hadn't immediately gone out to find someone else, none of that, and that was all Arthur cared about. All of his sadness and insecurity and loneliness just melted off of him. He wasn't worried about the fact that his parents were in the audience or that Jacobson was staring him down as they started their first piece, or that there were protestors, or anything. Eames hadn't lied.
Eames hadn't lied.
They finished their first song to a much more polite version of applause than the hooting and hollering that the rock bands received. They went into Frank Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No.2, and Arthur kept trying to make eye contact with Eames for the entire nine to ten minutes of it, trying to relay to him that he'd been forgiven, that he still loved him, that he understood, but Eames was distracted by Saito and the other band members, by other bands who were whispering words of support (if Eames's polite smile was any indication) in his direction.
As they played Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers, he continued to try and get his attention but was startled out of leaning too far to the left when he nearly slammed into the musician sitting next to him and getting an audible bark out of Jacobson. He shrank a little, looking nervously at Mal off to the other side of the piano, and she just shrugged.
From that point on, he actually focused on his playing, since his parents were watching and all, and though he'd played all of these songs long enough he could do them in his sleep (and quite possibly had, considering he woke up on the floor among the his music and violin), he concentrated as they dove into the final climax of the song.
The song came to an end, and since it was track more people were familiar with, the response was a bit more excitable than the last one.
They played two more songs, and then the soloists started their performances, each with a little speech from Mal beforehand.
Arthur hadn't known she would be speaking before he played, and it made him momentarily a little nervous. What on earth was she going to say about him? Sure, Mal probably had nothing but good things to say about him, but… well… that was the problem.
He didn't want to let her down.
…but then he told himself that this performance was something he had to do on his own, and he couldn't let anything or anyone else get in his way, and…
It was his turn.
"This next student," Mal said, "is the first ever at the Cobol School to be in first chair since freshman year. He's a phenomenally talented young man, considered a prodigy at the violin from his teachers over the course of his life, who has also managed to maintain a 4.0 grade point average on top of his performance duties. On top of all of that, all of that…" she turned and smiled at him, and Arthur felt warm all over, "he's a genuinely good person."
Arthur nodded a small thanks and tried not to get so touched by it that he cried. His emotions were already on edge as it was. He was definitely starting to get a handle on it at least, so there was that.
"Without further ado, playing Chopin's Nocturne, Arthur Welch."
The crowd applauded as he stepped up to the music stand, but he didn't start to play. Well, it's now or never, he thought, and as he realized he didn't have a plan, somehow the idea calmed him.
"Uh, hi," he said, clearing his throat. "Uh… yeah, your program and Mal said I was going to play Nocturne, but well-" he took a moment to look out at the expectant faces of the crowd, of Ariadne's nervous stare, and a quick glance to the side of the stage showed Eames, staring as well. "Well, fuck that," he said simply, and he could hear the audible gasp from some of the students, Jacobson, and probably his parents too. He didn't miss Robert's smirk.
"Yeah, uh, I think I'm going to shake things up a little, and I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, and it could be a disaster in every sense of the word, but… well… I've got to play from my heart or no one's going to listen to me, and my heart's telling me to play this. It ah… doesn't have a title yet. My friend helped me write it the other night." He nodded to Fischer, approached and handed him the sheet music. "I've cut it down and fixed it," he whispered to him.
"Are you entirely sure about this?" Robert asked, eyes wide.
"Nope," Arthur replied and smiled. "Just follow my lead."
He walked back to the microphone, made a quick glance at Mal who was watching a bit unsurely at him, and then he mumbled, "I ah… hope you like it, and um… if you don't, I really don't care…" and started to play.
Robert expertly fell into time with Arthur, just as he'd expected, and Arthur had to admit that the piece was quite good if he did say so himself. It helped that his playing was absolutely spot on, and on the parts that he had never been quite sure about, he improvised absolutely beautifully. The piece started out wild and untamed like his and Eames's torrid sexual affair, slowly becoming sweeter as love found its way inside, sadder when it fell apart, angry when betrayal boiled upwards followed by a hateful despair. Arthur played out every emotion Eames had made him feel, and he'd never felt so sure of a piece in his entire life. He had his eyes closed as he remembered every second of it, every touch, every word, so he didn't pay any mind to the faces all staring at him. He had said that he didn't care if they liked it or not, and he had honestly meant it.
Eames had played him a song.
Arthur was just returning the favor.
…but he still wasn't sure if Eames understood, and that was when he decided to be as obvious as possible without actually shouting it from the proverbial rooftops.
As the song came to an end, he flew his bow onto the final wailing note, and Robert finished his piano part, only for Arthur to continue on the note until everyone was under the impression that he must have frozen up, and then he jumped into a familiar chord, barely hitting his bow across the strings before stepping up to the microphone and singing, "There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark…"
Now he was sure all eyes were upon him, and he was probably going to regret the fact that he was shaming his parents by playing a contemporary piece, but it was too late to go back on it now, and really he'd come to realize just how much he hated his parents anyway.
He only hoped Eames would get the message.
"Finally I can see you crystal clear, go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare."
…and suddenly, several of the other students in the orchestra started playing behind him, as if he had told all of them to follow his lead rather than just Robert. Completely unprovoked, they were helping him, and it sounded good.
He smirked as he continued to sing, "See how I leave with every piece of you, don't underestimate the things that I will do; There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark…"
The orchestra fell into soft wails while Robert banged out chords on the piano as he fell into the bridge, singing, "The scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinking that we almost had it all…"
…and he could swear he heard somebody plugging into an amp.
"The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help feeling…"
A full on rock band filtered into Arthur's ears, and a voice sang along with him from the microphone next to his, over the sounds of exuberant cheers, "We could have had it all…"
It was Eames.
Eames and Radical Notion had come out and started to play with Arthur, with the rest of the orchestra.
Apparently, he'd gotten the message.
"Rolling in the deep… You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat."
Arthur turned, lowering his violin for the moment, eyeing Eames down as he sang, "Baby, I have no story to be told, but I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn."
Eames looked right back at him, a corner of his mouth turned up as he responded by singing, "Think of me in the depths of your despair, and make a home down there 'cause mine sure won't be shared."
The choir piped up from behind all of them, "You're gonna wish you-"
"The scars of your love-"
"-never had met me-"
"-remind me of us-"
"Tears are gonna fall-"
"They keep me thinking that we almost had it all…"
"Rolling in the deep…"
Arthur couldn't believe how willing the other students were to jump into his defiance, but admittedly it was far too cool to currently worry about. He was having fun which was more than he could really say about any of his previous performances in his life, and he no longer cared if the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, if Jacobson, if his parents thought he was a failure.
…because it wasn't about fame or impressing people or money. It was about music, and he'd be perfectly satisfied living on the streets as long as he could play the violin. He understood what Eames had been talking about before, about how the schooling didn't matter nearly as much as the passion. It was like he was seeing the world through new eyes, and his only regret was that he hadn't realized it sooner.
They sang the chorus again, and then everyone, seemingly on the same wavelength, dropped out so that it was just Yusuf banging an under-beat over their voices as they sang at each other, mouths cracking into face-hurting smiles, "Throw your soul through every open door; Count your blessings to find what you look for; Turn my sorrow into treasured gold, and pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow…"
Arthur and Eames just gasped while the chorus started singing, "You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
"We could have had it all…" Arthur crooned, closing distance between them so they were standing nearly nose to nose.
"Tears are gonna fall," the choir sang.
"We could have had it all," Eames wailed back.
"Rolling in the deep… You're gonna wish you-never had met me…" the choir belted out unabashedly in harmonies they must have memorized on their own time.
"It all, it all, it all…" the two of them sang, and then Arthur threw himself back into a violin solo even more ridiculous than the one he'd played the first time, and he didn't care, he didn't care, because he'd never been so goddamned happy in his entire life.
The crowd was going so wild that for a moment Arthur didn't even know if anyone could hear his violin, but then he realized they were actually cheering for him. For him.
No wonder Eames and Radical Notion liked playing for big crowds. The adrenaline rush he got from their excitement was infectious. How had he ever feared performing in front of them? This was awesome!
"We could have had it all, rolling in the deep; you had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat!"
Arthur was pretty sure he could do this forever. The swell of music, of the togetherness of every single musician doing what they wanted and loved to do, the way Eames was looking at him like he'd never been more in love with anyone in his whole life, everything was just perfect.
Screw the protestors. Screw the paparazzi. Screw his parents. Screw Jacobson. Screw anyone who refused to take a chance and try to understand. He didn't care about any of that. He didn't need any of that. All he needed was his music, his true friends, and Eames.
This was everything.
"We could have had it all, rolling in the deep; you had my heart inside of your hand, but you played it, you played it, you played it, you played it to the beat…"
The song came to a close and Arthur threw his arms around Eames's neck, not caring about the sudden blinding flashes of cameras, not caring that Eames's guitar was digging uncomfortably into his groin.
"I'm so sorry," Eames whispered. "It was all a big game-we thought it was reporters-it was just Nash and Yusuf and me playing around, I swear on my mother's life-"
"I know, I know, don't worry about it, I never should have let you go in the first place," Arthur stammered, breathing in his scent like he'd never smell it again. "Fuck, you're supposed to stop me from doing stupid things."
"You didn't stop me from doing stupid things," Eames countered, and the two of them broke apart, but only just barely.
Arthur looked out at the crowd, all of them screaming wildly, throwing their hands in the air, waving their signs.
"They love you," Eames whispered and then grabbed the microphone. "He's fucking ace, isn't he!" he said, and the crowd got impossibly louder. "Fuck, he completely schools me in everything I ever did in my early twenties, though I'm only twenty-six so… Also, how about all the rest of these brill motherfuckers?" He indicated the orchestra and the chorus, and the crowd erupted even more, shouting so loud that Arthur for a long moment couldn't even hear. "Damn… I think I should register for school there. Oh, and of course, my mates are always great, as well, clearly."
"Thank you," Arthur said humbly, delayed of course, as always. "Eames."
"Don't thank me, darling, for being yourself," Eames laughed and mussed up Arthur's hair. "Another round of applause for these right ace students."
"Eames," Arthur said, still blinking back the white flashes of cameras from his eyelids.
Eames looked back at him as he went to set his guitar on the stand, smiling absolutely brilliantly, and Arthur's heart just melted. Arthur could see all of the apologies Eames was still making through his eyes, and Arthur for one couldn't think of anything he still needed to apologize for.
Three weeks.
Most people would have said it was stupid, that it would never last, that no one could be in love after that short amount of time. If someone had told Arthur the exact story they had lived out a month, two months, a year ago, he would have scoffed at them and passed them off as absolutely loony…
…but he knew what was real, and Eames was real. He felt stupid for ever doubting him in the first place.
Arthur jumped on Eames, wrapping his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, and he kissed him on the mouth and didn't care who saw.
After all, the only opinions that mattered in their relationship were theirs.
When Arthur finally released his lips, chest heaving, Eames leaned over the microphone again and said, "Put that shit in your papers. I love this man."
"I love you to the stars and back," Arthur replied, and he kissed him again with the sounds of cheering still ringing in his ears.
All we're waiting on is the epilogue, huh. I'll work on that when I get home from work. ;)