Love Is a Murder
Title: Love Is a Murder
Author: chaostheorem
Team: Angst
Prompt: Fear
Word Count: 1227
Rating: PG
Warnings: Does there need to be a warning for no happy ending? If so, let this serve as one.
Summary: "You are worth everything, Arthur. Everything I have in this world. But I can't give you what I don't have."
Originally posted here at the ae_match.
Fear not only anticipates misfortunes that never happen, it also precipitates some that would not otherwise have happened. - Anonymous
Closing and locking the door behind him, Arthur slumped against the wall wearily for a few seconds before trudging down the hall to the living room and lying face down on the couch.
"How was it?"
Arthur raised his head over the arm of the couch to peer through the door of the kitchen. He could just make out Eames standing at the counter chopping something on the cutting board.
"It was exactly what one would expect from an eight-year-old girl's birthday party. It was exhausting," Arthur answered. "I wish you would have come," he said, not intending anything by the words other than to let Eames know that he enjoyed having him around.
Eames sighed as he cupped the food he had just cut in his hands and dropped it into the hot skillet waiting on the stove. "Cobb likes me as a forger, Arthur. Not as a friend. He wouldn't want me at his daughter's birthday."
Arthur sat up and reached for his laptop on the coffee table to check his emails. "That's not true," he said over the sounds of sizzling vegetables. "Cobb even asked about you today."
"Oh, really? Does he have a job lined up?"
"No. He just asked why you didn't come."
Eames leaned backwards so that he could look at Arthur through the doorway. "Why would he think I would come? I don't know Phillipa."
"But you know me. I'm important to the Cobbs, and you're important to me; ergo, you are welcome at their house."
Eames disappeared from view, effectively ending the discussion. Arthur caught up on the news while Eames continued to cook.
"I don't want to do this anymore," Eames said.
Arthur looked up from his laptop to see Eames stepping farther away from the rest of the ingredients he had laid out for dinner. He let out a huff of playful annoyance. "Don't think you're getting out of cooking just because you don't want to. I always cook. It's more than your turn."
Eames walked out of the kitchen and into the living room to lean against the wall. His head rested next to the scaled down print of Picasso's Guernica that Arthur had picked up a few years ago. "I'm serious, Arthur. This...thing we have," he said, waving a hand back and forth between them, "whatever it is...I'm done."
"'This thing we have'?" Arthur repeated incredulously. He closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table before getting up and standing a few feet away from Eames. "It's called a relationship, Eames." His mind raced. He'd suspected Eames would do this at some point, but he had never expected it to be so soon.
"Exactly, Arthur. Relationships aren't something that I do." Eames ran a hand over his face wearily; apparently, he'd been thinking about this for a while. "I'm sorry. I really am."
Arthur looked at Eames. He really did look sorry, which made Arthur's heart clench more than anything Eames had said. It was one thing if Eames was being a heartless bastard, but it was another thing completely seeing Eames's face as the very picture of anguish. He looked right at home next to the painting, with the subjects' faces contorted in agony.
"Why?" Arthur asked. "If you're going to do this, I deserve to know why."
"I told you. I don't do relationships," Eames said, dropping his gaze to the floor.
"Not good enough," Arthur countered. "We've been together for over a year, and practically living together the entire time. That sounds like a relationship to me. What's changed?"
"Nothing's changed. It's just..." Eames sighed heavily, falling silent.
A couple minutes passed in which neither man said anything. Eames stared at the floor the entire time. Finally, Eames spoke, still not looking up. "Our anniversary last month got me thinking. I've never had a one-year anniversary, and there's a good reason for that. I...I don't do relationships because I don't want them. I've never wanted to settle down and raise a family like society expects."
"Jesus, Eames. I don't want kids either!" Arthur exclaimed.
Eames ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Bloody hell, that's beside the point, Arthur," he growled. "I'm not ready to spend the rest of my life with you!"
Arthur's head spun. He felt like the conversation was soaring right over his head. "You're not making any sense! We've never even discussed a future together. When did marriage and growing old together come into play?"
Eames snapped his head up and he met Arthur's eyes for the first time since the exchange began. "If I don't leave now, I won't leave at all," he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked like he wanted to take them back.
Arthur took in the new information and tried to make sense of it. When he felt he had a handle, he said slowly, "So you're leaving because you're happy and that scares you?"
"I'm not scared," Eames spit out. "I don't want a relationship, and yet, here I am, in one. I'm leaving because this is what I want, and I'm sorry if that hurts you in the process, but it's not fair to either of us for me to stay if I'm not happy."
"You're a coward," Arthur said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're happy, but you don't think we can last, so you're leaving now before it gets any harder."
"That's not -" Eames began, but Arthur interrupted him.
"Don't deny it. Just...please don't." Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head, his anger chased away by desperation. "I know you, Eames. I knew when we started this relationship," he said, emphasizing the word heavily, "that you were the 'love 'em and leave 'em' type. I knew it, and it scared the crap out of me, but I was willing to try because the possible gains were worth the risks."
Arthur opened his eyes to see that Eames had closed his. He reached out and cupped Eames's face with both hands. Eames opened his eyes, but he didn't jerk his head away, so Arthur took that as a good sign and continued speaking. "Am I not worth the risk?" he asked.
"God, Arthur," Eames breathed, closing his eyes again. He sounded absolutely broken. He reached up and grabbed Arthur's hands with his own, moving them between them and holding them in one hand. With his other, he reached up and caressed Arthur's cheek with his thumb, his gaze following the movement. His eyes met Arthur's after several seconds. "You are worth everything, Arthur. Everything I have in this world. But I can't give you what I don't have."
Eames pulled his hand away and took a few steps toward the door.
"I love you," Arthur said. He didn't yell or cry or whine. He just stated the words as the fact they were.
Eames stopped and turned his head only enough so that Arthur could see his profile. "You shouldn't."
Eames left. Arthur stood there, numb, until the burning smell emanating from the kitchen forced him to move. He dumped the ruined food in the trash, and then threw the skillet in, too.
Sequel posted here
Author: chaostheorem
Team: Angst
Prompt: Fear
Word Count: 1227
Rating: PG
Warnings: Does there need to be a warning for no happy ending? If so, let this serve as one.
Summary: "You are worth everything, Arthur. Everything I have in this world. But I can't give you what I don't have."
Originally posted here at the ae_match.
Fear not only anticipates misfortunes that never happen, it also precipitates some that would not otherwise have happened. - Anonymous
Closing and locking the door behind him, Arthur slumped against the wall wearily for a few seconds before trudging down the hall to the living room and lying face down on the couch.
"How was it?"
Arthur raised his head over the arm of the couch to peer through the door of the kitchen. He could just make out Eames standing at the counter chopping something on the cutting board.
"It was exactly what one would expect from an eight-year-old girl's birthday party. It was exhausting," Arthur answered. "I wish you would have come," he said, not intending anything by the words other than to let Eames know that he enjoyed having him around.
Eames sighed as he cupped the food he had just cut in his hands and dropped it into the hot skillet waiting on the stove. "Cobb likes me as a forger, Arthur. Not as a friend. He wouldn't want me at his daughter's birthday."
Arthur sat up and reached for his laptop on the coffee table to check his emails. "That's not true," he said over the sounds of sizzling vegetables. "Cobb even asked about you today."
"Oh, really? Does he have a job lined up?"
"No. He just asked why you didn't come."
Eames leaned backwards so that he could look at Arthur through the doorway. "Why would he think I would come? I don't know Phillipa."
"But you know me. I'm important to the Cobbs, and you're important to me; ergo, you are welcome at their house."
Eames disappeared from view, effectively ending the discussion. Arthur caught up on the news while Eames continued to cook.
"I don't want to do this anymore," Eames said.
Arthur looked up from his laptop to see Eames stepping farther away from the rest of the ingredients he had laid out for dinner. He let out a huff of playful annoyance. "Don't think you're getting out of cooking just because you don't want to. I always cook. It's more than your turn."
Eames walked out of the kitchen and into the living room to lean against the wall. His head rested next to the scaled down print of Picasso's Guernica that Arthur had picked up a few years ago. "I'm serious, Arthur. This...thing we have," he said, waving a hand back and forth between them, "whatever it is...I'm done."
"'This thing we have'?" Arthur repeated incredulously. He closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table before getting up and standing a few feet away from Eames. "It's called a relationship, Eames." His mind raced. He'd suspected Eames would do this at some point, but he had never expected it to be so soon.
"Exactly, Arthur. Relationships aren't something that I do." Eames ran a hand over his face wearily; apparently, he'd been thinking about this for a while. "I'm sorry. I really am."
Arthur looked at Eames. He really did look sorry, which made Arthur's heart clench more than anything Eames had said. It was one thing if Eames was being a heartless bastard, but it was another thing completely seeing Eames's face as the very picture of anguish. He looked right at home next to the painting, with the subjects' faces contorted in agony.
"Why?" Arthur asked. "If you're going to do this, I deserve to know why."
"I told you. I don't do relationships," Eames said, dropping his gaze to the floor.
"Not good enough," Arthur countered. "We've been together for over a year, and practically living together the entire time. That sounds like a relationship to me. What's changed?"
"Nothing's changed. It's just..." Eames sighed heavily, falling silent.
A couple minutes passed in which neither man said anything. Eames stared at the floor the entire time. Finally, Eames spoke, still not looking up. "Our anniversary last month got me thinking. I've never had a one-year anniversary, and there's a good reason for that. I...I don't do relationships because I don't want them. I've never wanted to settle down and raise a family like society expects."
"Jesus, Eames. I don't want kids either!" Arthur exclaimed.
Eames ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Bloody hell, that's beside the point, Arthur," he growled. "I'm not ready to spend the rest of my life with you!"
Arthur's head spun. He felt like the conversation was soaring right over his head. "You're not making any sense! We've never even discussed a future together. When did marriage and growing old together come into play?"
Eames snapped his head up and he met Arthur's eyes for the first time since the exchange began. "If I don't leave now, I won't leave at all," he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked like he wanted to take them back.
Arthur took in the new information and tried to make sense of it. When he felt he had a handle, he said slowly, "So you're leaving because you're happy and that scares you?"
"I'm not scared," Eames spit out. "I don't want a relationship, and yet, here I am, in one. I'm leaving because this is what I want, and I'm sorry if that hurts you in the process, but it's not fair to either of us for me to stay if I'm not happy."
"You're a coward," Arthur said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're happy, but you don't think we can last, so you're leaving now before it gets any harder."
"That's not -" Eames began, but Arthur interrupted him.
"Don't deny it. Just...please don't." Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head, his anger chased away by desperation. "I know you, Eames. I knew when we started this relationship," he said, emphasizing the word heavily, "that you were the 'love 'em and leave 'em' type. I knew it, and it scared the crap out of me, but I was willing to try because the possible gains were worth the risks."
Arthur opened his eyes to see that Eames had closed his. He reached out and cupped Eames's face with both hands. Eames opened his eyes, but he didn't jerk his head away, so Arthur took that as a good sign and continued speaking. "Am I not worth the risk?" he asked.
"God, Arthur," Eames breathed, closing his eyes again. He sounded absolutely broken. He reached up and grabbed Arthur's hands with his own, moving them between them and holding them in one hand. With his other, he reached up and caressed Arthur's cheek with his thumb, his gaze following the movement. His eyes met Arthur's after several seconds. "You are worth everything, Arthur. Everything I have in this world. But I can't give you what I don't have."
Eames pulled his hand away and took a few steps toward the door.
"I love you," Arthur said. He didn't yell or cry or whine. He just stated the words as the fact they were.
Eames stopped and turned his head only enough so that Arthur could see his profile. "You shouldn't."
Eames left. Arthur stood there, numb, until the burning smell emanating from the kitchen forced him to move. He dumped the ruined food in the trash, and then threw the skillet in, too.
Sequel posted here