Mixed Emotions 3/50
Title: Mixed Emotions
Prompt: #16 Message
Author: alifeofourown
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Rating: Teen
Summary: I hate everything about you.
Warnings: Love, hate, broken.
Dedication: barefootdoll who requested word warring and created this mess.
Disclaimer: Inception merely incepted itself into me. I don't own it.
Author Notes: I feel like I haven't written in so long. This felt really good to get out, even if it doesn't make sense.
I hate you.
I hate everything about you.
The way you act, the way you talk, the stupid way you button your shirts and tie your ties and all of that. I hate every single bit of it. You’re so uncaring, so stupid. I hate the way you think perverted jokes are the worst things in the world and I assure you, I hate how you have your hair. It’s so, so beyond disgusting. All slicked back and whatnot.
I hate how you think it impresses me too. It’s ridiculous.
Some days, I want to just reach up and fix it; make your hair look like a normal human being’s. Some days, I want to grab onto those ties and pull them off. I want to rip open the top three buttons of your shirt and make you lose all composure. I want to see you at your worst but you’re like a robot; artificial and perfect.
Do you want my advice?
Let go.
Be human.
You’re not a robot. You don’t need to be prim and proper twenty-four/seven. You don’t need to reply to people like you’re emotionless and uncaring. People want you to care; want you to act like you’re someone. You’re heartbreakingly stupid sometimes, and I hate it.
I wish that I could get you to be childish; to let all of your feelings out. God, I wish that I could get you to stop being that stupid adult that you’ve probably been since you were five. What happened to you? What in the world caused you to be such a cold-hearted, professional freak?
And no, I don’t really think you’re a freak. I just think that you act like one sometimes.
I wish I could understand you. What goes on inside that head of yours? I mean, of course, you’ve told me some things, very few things, that is, but at least you’ve told me something. I guess it’s more then you tell other people. Seeing as you freeze up anytime someone asks you about anything that has to do with your personal life or past, that is.
But what is it that’s made you this way? I really, really do want to know.
You worry me, dear. You worry me so much that I’m not sure what to do about it. Is there anything that I can do to help you? I know I sound like an over-worried parent who should probably just mind their own business, but I can’t. You worry me and I can’t let that slide.
Please talk to me. Please tell me what it is that’s happened in your life. Please give me something, anything that I can use so that I can help you. I worry about you, darling. I really do.
I hate you so much, don’t you see?
But at the same time, I love you.
I love you.
Prompt: #16 Message
Author: alifeofourown
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Rating: Teen
Summary: I hate everything about you.
Warnings: Love, hate, broken.
Dedication: barefootdoll who requested word warring and created this mess.
Disclaimer: Inception merely incepted itself into me. I don't own it.
Author Notes: I feel like I haven't written in so long. This felt really good to get out, even if it doesn't make sense.
I hate you.
I hate everything about you.
The way you act, the way you talk, the stupid way you button your shirts and tie your ties and all of that. I hate every single bit of it. You’re so uncaring, so stupid. I hate the way you think perverted jokes are the worst things in the world and I assure you, I hate how you have your hair. It’s so, so beyond disgusting. All slicked back and whatnot.
I hate how you think it impresses me too. It’s ridiculous.
Some days, I want to just reach up and fix it; make your hair look like a normal human being’s. Some days, I want to grab onto those ties and pull them off. I want to rip open the top three buttons of your shirt and make you lose all composure. I want to see you at your worst but you’re like a robot; artificial and perfect.
Do you want my advice?
Let go.
Be human.
You’re not a robot. You don’t need to be prim and proper twenty-four/seven. You don’t need to reply to people like you’re emotionless and uncaring. People want you to care; want you to act like you’re someone. You’re heartbreakingly stupid sometimes, and I hate it.
I wish that I could get you to be childish; to let all of your feelings out. God, I wish that I could get you to stop being that stupid adult that you’ve probably been since you were five. What happened to you? What in the world caused you to be such a cold-hearted, professional freak?
And no, I don’t really think you’re a freak. I just think that you act like one sometimes.
I wish I could understand you. What goes on inside that head of yours? I mean, of course, you’ve told me some things, very few things, that is, but at least you’ve told me something. I guess it’s more then you tell other people. Seeing as you freeze up anytime someone asks you about anything that has to do with your personal life or past, that is.
But what is it that’s made you this way? I really, really do want to know.
You worry me, dear. You worry me so much that I’m not sure what to do about it. Is there anything that I can do to help you? I know I sound like an over-worried parent who should probably just mind their own business, but I can’t. You worry me and I can’t let that slide.
Please talk to me. Please tell me what it is that’s happened in your life. Please give me something, anything that I can use so that I can help you. I worry about you, darling. I really do.
I hate you so much, don’t you see?
But at the same time, I love you.
I love you.