A Shell of a Former Life

Prompt: Eames (unintentionally) hurt Arthur when they were young and Arthur was desperately in love with Eames. Arthur disappears from Eames' life and Eames has been searching for Arthur since. Years later, Eames happens to see Arthur again across a crowded street. To his utter surprise and devastation, standing beside him is a beautiful woman and a child with Arthur's dark curls and adorable frown. What breaks Eames' heart is how happy Arthur seems with them.

I regret that day every moment I spend without him. A simple misunderstanding has hollowed me out, leaving barely a shell. Looking for a trace of him, the smallest inkling of his existence, consumes my every hour. All my searching ends up empty-handed. None of his previous companions speak to me, saying that if they knew his whereabouts, they'd never reveal that. Not to the wanker who supposedly tore up his heart like one tears up rubbish.

That day, seven years ago, remains so fresh and accurate in my mind. Revisiting every moment and mistake makes it my reality, my never-ending hell. Every possible lead of his location has run dry, but I still feel my heart stammering every time someone with his bone-structure passes me on the street. Could it be? It never is. I am beginning to believe he never existed and I have simply created his memory due to some type of mental illness. I truly don't believe this, but it almost makes living bearable. Almost.

Collapsing upon my bed, I prepare myself to dream of that day again. Seeing the flash of long, blonde hair and red lipstick attack me before hearing Arthur's sharp and sad disappointment. An old fling had decided I was still her sexual property. She caught my lips right when Arthur had entered the pub. I followed after him, through the pouring rain, begging him to please listen. To just let me talk. He had promised me that much in the morning.

Morning came and Arthur was gone. His apartment cleared of his dearest possessions, leaving only meaningless things, namely things to do with me, behind. My favorite picture of the two of us, lay on the ground in a broken picture frame. That said picture is still folded up inside of my wallet, worn and faded from all the unfolding and refolding over the years. I look daily only to see his smile and the boundless love resonating in his eyes. Every time, it feels as if someone is shoving a dagger into my heart, reopening the wounds that have only started to heal again, twenty-four hours prior. But I can't avoid the masochism; I need to see his face and remember what once was.

Once my hope of locating him had diminished sensibly as my depression mounted, I found the cheapest studio available in an obscure area outside of New York City. It makes me feel closer to him, knowing he only truly felt alive enveloped in that sleepless world. He loved? loves? the quick pace, the restlessness, the feeling that so many other people felt the same drive as he did. In a distant lifetime, Arthur thought he was destined to shine musically, thus the original appeal of the city. Reality and surprisingly, dreams, took hold and made him lose sight of his deepest admiration of things musical. A life that introduced him to me and to subsequent heartbreak.

Morning rolls around far too soon. It always does with the constant reminder of loneliness. I briefly reflect on the man I once was. So full of life, quick with a joke, devilishly charming and handsome (to a fault, I suppose). Now, I mope in my self-pity.

Against my better judgment, I collect some clothing and go for a long shower. The day is beautiful and perhaps, better spent in the bustling crowds of the city to block out the constant unwanted thoughts.

Arriving just before noon, the streets are already crowded with people with purpose, trying to get from a to b. Whereas they move with certainty, I drift amongst them looking for a sign.

That sign comes rather bluntly while strolling through Central Park that afternoon. At first, I feel like my eyes are playing tricks on me. But there is no mistaking that bone structure, the slight curl to his hair when it has grown out slightly. I stare at him, feeling my heart race. His beautiful face enveloped in a gorgeous smile.

My heart drops when I see the reason for his smile; a young boy runs toward him, dressed in a school uniform. The boy looks very much like Arthur, same gorgeous hair and ridiculously charming pout. Arthur picks the boy up and spins him around. A woman walks up to them, a slight little thing, and pecks Arthur on the cheek sweetly.

I know I should avert my eyes and move on, as Arthur had. I can't. Seeing him, even with his beautiful family, feels like I'm home again. As the agony slowly builds in my chest, I curse myself for not trying harder to find him in years past.

Arthur turns his head and our eyes lock. We both recoil slightly, especially me, as I never thought he would notice me. Arthur frowns before offering me a half smile. I run after that. I run until I reach the train station. My chest aches as I lean up against a pillar. I can't catch my breath as seven years of emotions bubble up over my senses.

The train ride goes by quickly as I try to contain the pain. I wander aimlessly through the streets until I reach my apartment building. Running up the flights of stairs to my studio, I open the door and locked it tightly behind me before stumbling over to the couch. I always thought when I saw Arthur, I would have the opportunity to explain and maybe rekindle a romance.

No. Not going to happen.

The rest of the day and night pass by without me noticing. Not until I hear a knock on my door the next morning, do I notice so many hours passed without consequence. Pushing myself up and off the couch, I walk to the door and open it.

I gasp silently when Arthur is standing on the other side of the door. I try to apply my old charm after recovering slightly, but I can't manage it.

"Hello, Mr. Eames."

"Arthur." I step aside, allowing him entrance. He walks in a couple of feet and stops. I close the door and turn to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"I still have many connections. It is not hard to track people down, you know this."

I bite back a bitter laugh. "Unless they are you."

He gives me a sad smile, "I know you've been looking since…" He trails off, uncomfortably. "I just couldn't, Eames. I was so desperately in love with you. Seeing you with that repulsive woman, it broke all of my sensibilities. I didn't know up from down, right from wrong. So, I ran. My sister took me in and I helped her raise her newborn son, her boyfriend split soon after his birth. I spent my time, hiding in the same place, completely undetectable. Until yesterday."

"Why are you here?" I am uncertain of his motives, but I need to know.

"Morning has come, Mr. Eames. I do believe you owe me an explanation." His voice quivers as he swallows heavily.

"But what about—" Oh. "So that woman and boy yesterday…"

"My little sister and her son."

A rush of relief courses through my body. So much relief that I grab the nearest chair and sink into it as my legs shake. "She was an old fling. Mindlessly drunk. I spent the entire night pushing off her advances. The one time I let my guard down as I was searching for you, she planted a kiss on my lips. Of course, the universe decided that you would walk in, just at that moment. I have spent the last seven years, turning this world upside down for the littlest of leads. I have visited every possible place I could think of. I—"

I am silenced as Arthur pushes a finger against my lips, "You're rambling. Unbecoming for the person I remember you as. Charming, funny, eccentric. But you've changed, I see. You've lost that spark which drew me to you, all those years ago. And I know that's my fault. But after seeing you yesterday, I spent the entire day lost in my memories of you. Things I haven't visited in years. Remembering what is like to kiss you, to have your arms around me, to feel you touch me." His voice clouds with lust and desire. "I made a mistake seven years ago. And I am willing to change. To make up for that mistake. To slowly heal you and me, for us to be what we once were. Because I can't go back to not knowing you. To not kissing you. Being without you. I can't. I knew all these years that I probably overreacted, but not until yesterday. Not until yesterday did I truly realize it. The way you recoiled and ran. I knew what you thought. You thought I had moved on, found a wife to settle down with. But I have been lonely. Trying to replicate you is impossible."

I stare at him, dumbfounded. "Arthur." I whisper his name.

He smiles and wraps his arms around my seated form, my head resting in his chest. I can hear his heart racing and feel the slight tremble to his body. "I love you. I never stopped. And all it took was one encounter to realize that."

I pull him down onto my lap and hold him tightly, hoping that it will convince me I am not dreaming. Without thinking, I place my hand in my pocket and feel for my totem, a thing I have not used in years. It confirms reality. He smiles and shakes his head, knowing what I have done. He lifts my chin and kisses me properly. My nerve endings explode with white-hot desire. I pant heavily as I deepen the kiss. How I have missed his lips, his fingers, his everything. As we break apart, I rest my head against his shoulder and whisper, "I love you too, Arthur."