An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Inception (2010)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Characters: Arthur (Inception), Eames (Inception), Ariadne (Inception), Yusuf (Inception)
Additional Tags: Homelessness, Prostitution, Drug Addiction, References to Past Child Abuse, Toxic Environments, Suicidal Thoughts, Heavy Angst, Established Relationship, Eames is Prison, references to past underage prostitution, Drug Use, Heavy Drinking, New Beginnings for Arthur, Soulmates
Series: Part 19 of Cigar Box
Summary:
When Eames goes to prison, Arthur has to learn to cope with their desperate circumstances on his own—and fails miserably.
Suffocating in the grip of his addictions, homelessness, and trying to stay above water while Eames frantically worries day and night for him behind bars, Arthur has to make a choice:
Arthur used to think that ‘growing up’ would be exciting, a whole new world of unlimited access right in his eighteen year old hands with this plastic ID and the wide eyed picture of himself trying his hardest not to smile. A new start, a change, a big change that meant them both moving forward, not backwards. A ticket to a bank account, for one. Legal cigarettes for another, which was a necessity for handling his stress. But most importantly, turning eighteen was an all access pass to an adult shelter he’d be able to walk right into with Eames without the threat of being hauled off by a social worker, which also meant no more Davids, no more nights spent outdoors or crashing on the floor of an apartment filled to the brim with junkies and the trappers that supplied their habits... Arthur's habit.
Habits, now.
He grimaces, taking a drink before he pours out a splash on the stone, earning glares as he toasts to Eames.
At least this time he couldn't say it was his fault that everything had gone south. They had had to abandon the car in favor of hiding in Yusuf's apartment once Eames’ demons from Chicago finally caught up to him. Three months of living a life of pure luxury in that old station wagon with its no battery, no wheels, and no gas, but it had been theirs, one promise of Eames’ fulfilled. And it had been permanent, parked in the industrial garage like a mobile home. A home.
Gone.
“Maybe a month or two in a shelter and we can circle back to the car once Travis can get the parts we need to actually get that piece of junk on the road. Then,” Eames had said, “we’ll be out of here for good.”
Only, Travis never got those parts and Eames never got to follow Arthur to the shelter. Arthur had gotten them a bed, went to sleep, woke up and Eames was still gone. No goodbyes, not a hug, nothing. Just the threat of an eight year prison sentence and the promise of deportation back to England for a stupid armed robbery.
“Don't worry about that, baby, you know your Eames always finds a way to get back to you. I'm not going anywhere.”
But even Eames didn't sound confident, not even after the trial was over.
“Two years. We can manage that... right?”
Arthur knew Eames’ tone had nothing to do with being afraid of prison. Eames wasn't afraid of anything.
Except Arthur himself, or rather the kinds of trouble Arthur could get into now that he was on his own again.
“Just keep your head down, boy, stay in the shelter as long as you can, and for god's sake, stay out of the streets.
And damn if he hadn't tried. He'd stayed put in the shelter, he’d kept pace with his medication, even jumped at the chance for free testing at the clinic on the second floor! He'd hustle once a week to keep their money growing in the account, he'd kept his head down just as Eames had told him to, tried his best to be civil with his new cot neighbors, and had done his best to stay the hell away from Yusuf, Nash, and anybody else with drugs.
But as always, ‘trying’ was just a fucking delay for the inevitable.
Even hiding out in a shelter couldn’t protect him from the one thing that had ruined him long before drugs did: men. The male counselor with his ‘clumsy’ hands, the creep in the cot closest to the bathroom, a brand new stalker…
And him.
Arthur’s been wandering the streets on a binge since spotting him, the one monster that’s been haunting his every step since puberty.
David hadn't seen Arthur but Arthur had seen him as that man loaded groceries into his minivan, a brand new batch of kids bouncing around him and his wife in excitement. Save for one boy. One scrawny little nothing sulking quietly as one of the bigger kids shoved past him.
It was enough to send Arthur into a tailspin. Even when he'd been on his own in this city, way before meeting Eames, he still hadn't ever been this scared, this sick, this damaged as he was with that monster standing just on the other side of the parking lot of where Arthur had been bouncing in a trucker’s lap for Eames’ commissary funds.
Arthur's not even sure how long he's been staring at the payphone on the sidewalk. He's been riding on a high all afternoon but it's fading. He's lonely and growing more and more sick as his anxiety starts to build up again, but he's far too terrified to call… anybody, really, certain that Yusuf and Ariadne must have tossed out his bag by now, thinking him dead in a ditch or the river after weeks of no sign of him.
After his trouble in the shelter, Eames had told him to go back to Ariadne’s place with his things where he could at least be safe from strangers even if it meant putting an end to his quest for sobriety, but Arthur had wanted to stick it out, stay clean, and prove to Eames that he could handle himself. After seeing David though, he couldn't handle the shelter any longer. Just being near a man sober sent him right into a panic attack.
It was like coming home, as easy as peeling a slice of cheese off its plastic, he'd quickly found some of Nash’s fellow junkies, though thankfully not Nash himself, and had silenced that panic. Hard.
Heroin, he found, didn’t clear out his pockets nearly as fast as coke did. How anybody could pass up cheaper, stronger drugs when high, Arthur didn’t know, but once that quick trip to the clouds was over? Replaced with puking and more puking and other fun things coming out of other fun places? He was more than happy to leave heroin forever and spend more money on a drug he could trust, one that was familiar, rather than risk any more bad trips. Unlike heroin, coke didn’t make him feel so bad so quickly. Coke didn't judge. It only held him close and kept him safe, alert, but he’d never been high on the streets by himself before.
Anxiety was one thing, but uncontrollable paranoia had had him clinging to that high just to pluck up the courage to show up at Yusuf's apartment, relieved beyond words when the squatter outside his door told him that Ariadne had left and gave him as good of an address to go find her that the dozing girl could muster.
It took him the rest of the evening and the last of his coke to find the apartment complex but he'd managed, still looking like a battered wreck after that fuck up with the truck driver.
But it didn't matter. Just like how his aunt would rush to his mother no matter how scared or how bloody her mouth was or how it stained the front of her dress, Ariadne had opened the door and hugged Arthur tight. Her long lost, chosen little brother.
It was nothing like Yusuf’s place. Small, simple, but clean and dry and safe. Even the streetlights looked that much brighter coming in through her open windows as Arthur sat at her kitchen table and let her dab days-old blood away from his busted lip. She gives him a pack a frozen broccoli to hold to his swollen cheek.
“I'm not going to preach to you, or judge or… anything… right now. I'm not even going to try to stop you. You've been through enough already.”
For some reason hearing that made him panic. He shook his head quickly. “No, no, I'm not, well, I only relapsed a few days ago.”
“Days? Arthur, you've been missing for weeks now. Eames’ been worried sick. So was I. Anything could have happened to you… and it looks like… anything did happen… Arthur--”
“I got sick and puked on a trucker in his cab so he beat the shit out of me. It's nothing--I’m going to get clean this time. I'm totally done, I promise.”
That promise had hung in the air between them, waiting for Ariadne to accept those words, but she waved them off, as disbelieving as Arthur had felt just repeating that promise himself. Even he knew he was nowhere near ready to handle a withdrawal.
It was soul crushing in its truth, but rather than leave him in that pain alone, Ariadne had gotten up to give him a hug. She’d held him for a small eternity before she’d wiped her eyes and looked at him earnestly.
“You don't have to make me any promises. I care about you, Arthur, and that’s not conditional. That being said, I'm really, really hoping that you don't go off in search of drugs while you're here, but...if you need them, then...okay. Yusuf and I are still friends even if…Just say the word and I'll get it for you. Whatever you need until you are ready to quit. Okay? Just...please stay. Everybody's so worried about you, Arthur. But you're here now, and you’re safe, and alive, and that's all that matters. We will figure out the rest later.” She'd paused, frowning even as she lowered her voice and asked, “Do you need...something...right now?”
He’d just nodded at the table, fidgeting so much he’d tangled his hands in his shirt, unable to say or do anything else without falling apart hearing her words.
“Arthur?”
He’d tried to say a simple thank you, but all he could process was David and his constant reminders that Arthur was worthless. “I don't deserve this. Especially not from you. I don't deserve any of this. I shouldn't have come here. You have your life in a good, good place here. I'm so sorry.”
“No, no, no. Why not?”
“Because…” He’d opened his mouth, ready to read off a mental list but with her rubbing his hands, even while holding them tightly to stop him from leaving, he couldn't seem to find one. He sat back in silence, staring at his hands in his lap.
whats your favourite vertebrae verse that you've written? :)
Of the ones written so far... It’s definitely a tie between Metatarsus and Calcaneum. Of the ones not written yet? Definitely when Arthur and Eames find Leya. That one’s going to be very important. X3333
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Inception (2010)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Characters: Arthur (Inception), Eames (Inception)
Additional Tags: Homelessness, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, References to Underage Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Reference to Past Domestic Violence, Toxic Environments, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, Prompt Fill
Series: Part 17 of Cigar Box
Summary:
Arthur has a bad toothache and the best birthday.
