ruffians | i'm gonna leave you

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i'm gonna leave you

[The last few months with Arthur have been... Nice. Really, really, nice. In some ways he's been happy that he convinced Arthur to take that day off, because it's opened them up to spending more time together for reasons other than sex, (though the sex, as always, has been outstanding,) and Eames has enjoyed it. A lot. It's something he hadn't ever thought of as missing in his life, but he could get used to it.]

[That's a problem.]

[He's seen relationships undo enough people in his line of work that that alone makes him hesitant, but with Arthur, well. Sleeping with a cop is fun, and mutually beneficial, but there's no long-term to something like that and Eames can't let himself get attached. He respects Arthur enough too, to at least do him the decency of talking to him and explaining himself instead of just vanishing. Arthur's more than good enough to track him down and shoot him if he did anyway.]

[He's been going over it again and again, and eventually he just decides to let himself in one night, waiting for Arthur to get home in his living room so they can just get this over with.]

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[Arthur faces at the wall with a deep frown, eyes darting back and forth. He can feel his heart physically aching at the prospect of never seeing Eames again. It's a feeling he's confident he's never felt for another person before.]

There has to be another way. Unless you-- [His stomach lurches.] Unless you just don't want me anymore.

[Maybe that's it. Maybe Eames is lying and this was all just an elaborate plan. Arthur can't think of why but he's not doing great at the rational parts right now in general.]

[That makes something twist in his chest, breath catching in his threat, expression for a moment like he's actually been physically hurt.]

Arthur--

[He just barely stops himself moving over to Arthur, hands balling into fists at his sides in determination to see this through.]

The problem is that I very much do. All the time.

[Arthur's looking down at the floor, working his jaw as a distraction from feeling the emotions swimming around in his chest. It takes a second to speak so he can make sure his voice won't waver, but it's definitely weaker than before.]

Then why won't you take the time to solve this?

Solve it how?

[He shakes his head, voice edging on frustration. He wishes Arthur would just agree and they could move on, go their separate ways and get over it.]

You've got to see it; every bit closer we get to eachother, this becomes more and more of a liability to both of us. And I like you, Arthur, but I like being alive and unincarcerated a lot more.

[Arthur shakes his head stubbornly.]

There has to be something else that can give.

[He turns his head to look at Eames and it's like a punch to the gut. He didn't realize how much this would hurt, how much the idea of Eames leaving could tear him apart. All the drastic solutions rush to mind but he knows he's being emotional and he needs to retain at least a little pragmatism, even now.]

It's not like either of us are about to quit what we do on the off chance this could go somewhere.

[And that's really the only solution he can think of, but if Arthur's willing to do that then Eames isn't really sure he's even the same man he thought he was.]

[So that's it then. In that moment Arthur decides the best thing to do is just to start that closing off process. He hates it. He hates it so much and it hurts but if this is how it's going to be then he has to get used to it. His expression goes a combination of tired and angry and a little sad as he looks back down at the floor. Away from Eames.]

I'm such an idiot.

[This is it then. Eames sighs and turns a little toward the window he came in through, ignoring the ache in his chest. He can deal with that when he gets home.]

We both are.

[Should've known better than to get invested.]

[Arthur needs something to numb what's happening in his chest, to combat the way his whole body feels heavy and tired. He didn't feel this way fifteen minutes ago. He wishes he could tell Eames how he feels, maybe convince him it doesn't need to end like this, but cutting things off is cleaner. Eames is right.]

Just get out.

[Eames doesn't say anything, he nods in understanding and climbs out the window with another sigh. It's going to be a long week.]

[Arthur doesn't watch him go. He doesn't even have the heart to lock the window yet, he just stands rooted to the floor until his legs start working again, and then he starts drinking.]

[He doesn't go to the work the next day. He goes the day after that but he's angry and antisocial about it, and it only takes a few days before his sargeant quite forcefully suggests it might be time to take some sick leave. HR finds out he hasn't taken any significant time off in years and they say something like "why don't we start with a month," to which Arthur protests, but the fact is that he only wants to work to distract himself from the pain, so he doesn't protest hard enough. It's clear to everyone that something has changed, as hard as Arthur wants to bury it and get on with his life.]

[So for the time being his existence is semi-normal, but usually sometime in the afternoon he takes a beer and a stolen cold case file and settles in to distract himself with the puzzles of old crimes. It's enough to keep his mind off things, to ignore the fact that the healthy thing to do would be to work through his feelings and figure out what he actually wants his life to look like. He doesn't feel ready to touch that puzzle just yet.]

[If Eames did what he did for the love of money, this time would be a real boon. Any time he's not working a job is spent on sleep or picking someone up at a bar when he can't get out of his head. It hurts and he's exhausted but for Eames it just seems like the best way to deal is to try and be the person he was before Arthur, go back to the way things were. He loved it at the time.]

[It's an easy distraction, that's why Eames doesn't even notice how poorly he's coping. It's little things, the way he becomes less affable with people he knows and how little time he spends on himself all of a sudden. Even the sex he has is... Well. There's a definite difference in temperament there, but it takes a few weeks for him to hit that event horizon. One night when he's staking out Arthur's place the way he used to, before they fell into habits and routines, that's when it hits him that this isn't what someone does when they're okay.]

[He spends a little while just thinking, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in frustration and impatience, but eventually he decides, fuck it. He knows Arthur's in alone, that's good enough. Climbing up to his window and picking the lock is still second nature to Eames, something he could do with barely a thought, and he pulls himself into the apartment through the living room window with a huff of annoyance like this is Arthur's fault.]

You've really fucked me up, you know.

[Hello.]

[Arthur's tipsy and it would be a lie to say he hasn't imagined the sound of his window opening more times than he can count, so it takes until Eames is actually speaking for him to turn and register that the man is actually in his apartment and is accusing him of fucking him up. As if the fact that Arthur hasn't shaved today and there's no product in his hair and he's only wearing a t-shirt and boxers and the coffee table is littered with disorganized files and papers isn't an indication that the reverse is probably more true.]

[He scoffs as he stands up from the couch.]

Excuse me?

Edited 2019-04-20 21:02 (UTC)

You're always in the back of my mind. And it's pretty much all I can do to keep it at the back.

[He huffs and works his jaw, staring daggers at Arthur like he's done him wrong.]

You know I had a visit from a couple of officers the other day, and I found myself hoping it was you until I opened the door.

[Arthur lets out a humourless laugh and throws his hands up.]

Well that's the thing about sick leave: they don't send you to people's doors. They don't let you do anything, actually. So you can rest easy knowing I won't be showing up to arrest or interrogate you for at least another couple weeks - or until I can hide the fact that you fucked me up so bad that I can't do my fucking job right.

[HE should feel bad about that, and part of him does, but more than that he's just annoyed and tired. It shouldn't be this hard to get over someone, it's never been this hard to forget about someone before.]

[He shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest.]

So we're both idiots and we're both fucked up. That's great.

[Eames sighs, going quiet and looking down for a moment in an uncomfortable silence.]

I know I did this-- I know it's my fault and I'll leave if you want me to, but I don't know how to move past this. [he swallows] I don't know if I can.

[Arthur clenches his jaw and thinks about how he should order Eames away, tell him to fuck off so he can keep trying to get over him. Pretending he wants that would be the bigget lie he's every told though, so he shakes his head and sighs miserably.]

I don't want you to leave. This whole time, all I could think about is you coming back.

[Another laugh. His head's swimming a bit.]

I don't even like my fucking job.

You must like something about it.

[He doesn't dare move further into the room without an invitation, so he leans against the window frame, looking from there at Arthur with a frown.]

I'll admit I don't know the finer details, but you don't become a detective by accident.

You have no idea how much bullshit I have to do to get to the part I actually like.

[He sounds miserable, a little loose from the four or five beers he's had in the last few hours, gesturing to the files as he sits back down on the couch.]

And then they just get to tell me to stop? What the fuck am I even doing? If you had just given me some fucking time, we could have figured something out.

[The words come tumbling out of him like they've been caged up in his head for weeks, and they have. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, trying to just sort things out for a second.]

How would I have done that?

[He's not annoyed or anything of the like, if anything his tone is mostly concerned. He doesn't really know what to do here, how to help or fix this. Maybe he just shouldn't have come back, but he's here now.]

I'm sorry, I am, but it's hardly the sort of thing you call ahead for.

[He sets his mouth in a hard line and sits up again, turning his face a little more in Eames' direction but looking at the floor.]

Problems can have multiple solutions. I don't know why you thought you should just skip ahead to the only one you could think of instead of talking it out with me first. Do you really think I wouldn't have agreed with you? Tell you what we had was sustainable forever?

[He looks up at Eames, a challenging look in his eye.]

No, but...

[Well now he looks guilty, and he looks down at the ground with a sigh.]

I couldn't tell what other solutions there are. I still can't.

[Under his breath:] Well that's why you're not the fucking detective.

[He stands up and shakes his head, turning away towards his kitchen. He needs another beer.]

It could at least have been mutual. We could have agreed on it together if we saw no other way.

[Wow okay, rude. Eames definitely sucks in a breath at the detective comment but he doesn't say anything because he's not a complete idiot.]

It could've been a lot of things.

[Doesn't matter now.]

[Arthur leans against a wall opposite Eames and takes a sip of beer.]

Is this really what you want? Is this what you want to suffer through?

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