[undefined verse] 001: This love affair is cruel

[littlspecificty]

[ Note: Continued from this thread and the corresponding textsArthur left the bar and went back to his apartment, having decided to rent one instead of living out of a hotel room for this job. He ended up getting out his own bottle of vodka and took a few swigs of that over the next hour, glaring at and avoiding Eames' newest text that he had

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[artfulforger]

When Arthur didn't answer the text, Eames started with calling. And calling. And calling again. He called when he walked out to hail a cab, and he called in the ride back to his hotel. What he should have been doing was sleeping, was catching enough sleep to be sane and calm and ready to handle this. Instead he called before he took a shower, and then standing there, dripping and cursing before stalking to the closet

[littlspecificty]

Arthur's ringtone, luckily for him, had been a song he liked so, through all those calls he thought he had just fallen asleep with his iPod on again (and on repeat apparently

[artfulforger]

Deep down Eames knew he was handling this wrong. He should take time, give them both a couple of days and then start easy. A text answered. Maybe an email. Hell, he could go with flowers and a bottle of that vodka he knew Arthur drank and try it that way. That would have been the logical answer, one that might do some good.

Instead he was banging on the door with the side of his fist.

"Open the door," he called, not caring if neighbors were watching. He had to do this. Face to face. If Arthur threw him out, told him goodbye - mostly sober and to his face - then fuck it, he'd go. He wouldn't let him tell him off in text though. Not when he made it perfectly clear that he thought so little of Eames that he didn't even consider that all the years of flirting and fighting and snarking had just been what? A long and drawn out seduction?

Thinking about it just made him pound harder on the door.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur made another miserable sound and pressed a pillow he had reached for blindly to one side of his head, trying to block out that sound.

If Arthur hadn't been so hungover or still half asleep, he would have moved to get his gun. But he was hungover and still half asleep. So he didn't do anything but groan into the cushions and try to will his head to stop pounding so hard it felt like it would burst his.