Ok, maybe I'm a little angry. Just. Give me a minute.
[ Ugh, he got himself all worked up and now he feels like he's been hit by a train. Emotions are exhausting. There's thirty seconds of silence, because he's putting himself back together and pulling the blinds down on the rage. ]
Right, I don't want to work with anyone else either. We could retire tomorrow and I would feel the same, but you know I'd lose it if I stayed idle for too long. In case it wasn't obvious, I'm a headcase without something to do.
Well, at least you buy a house when you've a day off. That's sensible.
( He breathes slowly for a minute, the sound of rushing traffic through his window. Eames feels almost like reality is slipping away from him, and he has to fight the urge to check his totem. Instead, he cradles the phone to his ear. )
The thing is, I thought it would be easy. I take jobs halfway across the globe because I want to prove to myself that I don't -- that I'm not attached to you. And then I spend the entire time miserable because you're not there to bitch at the rest of the team, you know? And that would be fine if it were purely professional, but it isn't. Because I want more. I want to take you home at the end of the day, I want to make you smile because you have a gorgeous smile and every time I see it I feel as though I've been suckerpunched. Maybe if I hadn't had you smile at me like that I wouldn't be this much of a mess, except I've been in love with you for much longer than that.
( A rattling exhale. )
I love you. Even if the thought of it terrifies me.
[ He doesn't regret it, though. Not when he's got the first floor nearly situated to his standards. Not when he's had Cobb and Ariadne help draft up ideas with their architectural expertise. Arthur's made his decision and he's sticking with it.
And maybe one day, it won't be just him living in it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe– ]
Come over. When you've sobered.
[ This is what he can offer, because he's no good at words, even worse when he has to express himself, and Eames? What Eames is saying to him is a flood, a deluge, and it feels like he can't breathe with the intensity. ]
I wish I had something more useful to say, but– just, come over. You know where I am.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
( He couldn't have called. Because calling meant that he'd have been ready. )
Darling, don't be angry. I didn't want to tell you like this. It's just I can't lie. I don't want to work with anyone else.
( A long pause. )
I actually don't give a shit about work. We could retire tomorrow and I'd still be crazy for you.
no subject
Ok, maybe I'm a little angry. Just. Give me a minute.
[ Ugh, he got himself all worked up and now he feels like he's been hit by a train. Emotions are exhausting. There's thirty seconds of silence, because he's putting himself back together and pulling the blinds down on the rage. ]
Right, I don't want to work with anyone else either. We could retire tomorrow and I would feel the same, but you know I'd lose it if I stayed idle for too long. In case it wasn't obvious, I'm a headcase without something to do.
no subject
( He breathes slowly for a minute, the sound of rushing traffic through his window. Eames feels almost like reality is slipping away from him, and he has to fight the urge to check his totem. Instead, he cradles the phone to his ear. )
The thing is, I thought it would be easy. I take jobs halfway across the globe because I want to prove to myself that I don't -- that I'm not attached to you. And then I spend the entire time miserable because you're not there to bitch at the rest of the team, you know? And that would be fine if it were purely professional, but it isn't. Because I want more. I want to take you home at the end of the day, I want to make you smile because you have a gorgeous smile and every time I see it I feel as though I've been suckerpunched. Maybe if I hadn't had you smile at me like that I wouldn't be this much of a mess, except I've been in love with you for much longer than that.
( A rattling exhale. )
I love you. Even if the thought of it terrifies me.
no subject
[ He doesn't regret it, though. Not when he's got the first floor nearly situated to his standards. Not when he's had Cobb and Ariadne help draft up ideas with their architectural expertise. Arthur's made his decision and he's sticking with it.
And maybe one day, it won't be just him living in it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe– ]
Come over. When you've sobered.
[ This is what he can offer, because he's no good at words, even worse when he has to express himself, and Eames? What Eames is saying to him is a flood, a deluge, and it feels like he can't breathe with the intensity. ]
I wish I had something more useful to say, but– just, come over. You know where I am.