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“Darling, how did you know I was in Mombasa?”
”I’m a good pointman.”
— — —
Arthur was a good pointman.
But it was something else that always drew him to Eames.
He wasn’t as emotionally constipated as people perceived him to be. He’d already acknowledged that his attraction to Eames wasn’t just pure aesthetics. That his own banter fell into the realm of exasperated fondness. And of course, the fact that with every piece of Eames that he unraveled in an offhand comment, or an unguarded grin, Arthur fell a little more in love with him.
Arthur knew that Eames didn’t love him back but his heart yearned for what it couldn’t have anyway.
It pulled at him, as if yanked by a leash, like it couldn’t bear being away from Eames for any longer. Every day without Eames brought him dread at facing the world by himself when he felt so, so lost without him.
But the worst part was when he was with Eames. Because even if they were in the same room, maybe even sitting within arm’s reach, it was never close enough.
So when Cobb announced he’d be visiting Eames that day in Paris. Arthur’s heart lurched against his ribcage, desperately reaching for south-east, four thousand miles away. And Arthur easily said: “Eames? He’s in Mombasa.”
— — —
The pull was stronger when they were close (never close enough), and it was getting stronger. Like Eames was approaching him from behind, slowly. Sneakily…
“We’re not supposed to know each other.” Arthur said without turning around.
He heard Eames sigh (he could envision his shoulders dropping, his slight frown). “I can never seem to get a jump on you.”
“Maybe you should work on that.”
“Are you staying somewhere, darling?”
Arthur stayed silent, eyes fixed on the baggage carousel, and Eames simply shuffled closer, murmuring into his ear, “Come home with me.”
— — —
Home turned out to be a hotel room, but Arthur was finally chest to chest with Eames, their hearts beating in time, and it was finally close enough. With only the barrier of skin and bone stopping Arthur’s heart from bursting between them and taking its reserved place in Eames’ chest cavity. And Eames squeezed his arms around Arthur even tighter, like he also couldn’t bear being any further away. Like with that extra squeeze their atoms could fuse together and they could be one.
And it was finally close enough.
(And it was home enough).