Author's Note: So…I really, really love this. Like, really love this.

Disclaimer: I am not…whoever owns Inception. I am also not Eminem or Rihanna. That is all. :D

"But that's alright because I love the way you lie..."

"I hate you, Eames! I fucking hate you!" Arthur's hands clenched into fists. His face contorted in rage. Whirling on the forger, he began again. "I don't know what the hell I even saw in you...and now, now I don't even know why I'm still here." Eames said nothing, his eyes cast downward, as Arthur made his way to the door. "I'll be back for my stuff in the morning...Then I'll be gone. Forever."

But they both knew it was a lie. Arthur would be back in Eames's arms by midnight that night.

"You ever love somebody so much,
You can barely breathe,
When you're with them?"

Eames laughed, holding the slighter man to his chest, leaning back on the couch to shut his eyes tightly. He wanted to remember this moment forever. It was too perfect to be true.
Arthur snuggled closer into Eames, inhaling his after-shave. He grinned as he peaked up through his lashes to see Eames's eyes shut, his face broken open in a smile so perfect it took Arthur's breath away.

"Got that warm fuzzy feeling,

Yeah, them chills, used to get 'em,

Now you're getting' fucking sick of looking at 'em."

Eames groaned, his head in his hands. "I don't see why it has to matter, Arthur. It was a year ago and—"
Arthur's eyes flashed, and he stood up from the couch. "We're in a relationship, Eames. How could it not fucking matter?" He yelled, not caring if the other hotel guest could hear him or not. He was beyond caring for anything other than himself now—he'd spent too much time caring for someone else.

The forger looked up, eyes shining. "Not right now, darling. We're on a job. The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves…"

Arthur ground his teeth together, and his arms crossed over his chest of their own accord. He struggled to control himself again. "Since when have you not wanted attention, Mr. Eames? Certainly not last October."

Eames jumped up, blue eyes suddenly ablaze. "I said drop it, Arthur." His voice was barely a whisper, yet his words dripped with venom.

"It's only the truth, Eames."

Without a second thought, Eames launched into a kick with his right leg, connecting with the point man's side. He went sprawling onto the ground, clutching his side.

Arthur looked up, his eyes wide, the same hurt look on his face he always had after things like this. "Eames…"

Eames didn't even have time to realize Arthur was back in front of him, standing, or that his fist was being pulled back before it was too late. The point man's fist collided with his face with a sickening crack. Eames touched a hand to his face, wincing in pain, and gasping when it came back bloodied and red.

It was the first time Arthur had ever struck back.

"Spewin' venom,
And these words,
When you spit 'em,
You push,
Pull each other's hair,
Scratch, claw, bit 'em,
Throw 'em down..."

Once a week they came to blows at night. Once a week they broke up and Arthur stormed out. Once a week they got right back together. Once a week they wondered what they'd done to themselves.

Everyday they wished they remembered what love felt like.

"Wait, where you going?

I'm leavin' you.

No you ain't, come back.

We're running right back…"

Arthur set his suitcases on the cold sidewalk, pulling out his cell phone, and dialing the cab company's number. Looking up at the smog-filled New York sky, he gave his information, and was told his ride would be here in fifteen minutes. He checked his watch, the corners of his mouth turning down; Eames would be home from his dinner with a potential client in the same amount of time.

Eames couldn't come home before Arthur left. Arthur wouldn't be able to leave if he did. He wouldn't be able to take the hurt look in the forger's eyes.

That was the reason Arthur was still here. Every time Arthur would go to leave, Eames would catch him at the door, eyes wide and full of tears. He'd plead with him not to go. And Arthur couldn't.

He couldn't say no to Eames.

He blinked as headlights appeared down the street, temporarily blinding him. Recognizing it as a taxi, he picked up his bags, making his way to the curb as it started to rain. Opening the door, he jumped back realizing there was already a man inside.

Eames.

"A-Arthur, love? What are you doing out here? It's raining cats and dogs." The forger's lips drew into a thin line and his eyebrows knit together.

"Eames…" Arthur took a step back, dropping his bags as Eames exited the taxi. "I—I…." He froze, looking into the forger's eyes.

The cabbie broke the silence, rolling down his window and calling, "Ya needed a cabbie, man?"

Eames, who had pulled the point man in to an embrace, arms around his waist, let go immediately. "Darling?" Arthur ignored the way Eames tried to catch his eye, staring at the ground. He didn't answer.

The British man raised Arthur's chin, forcing them to lock eyes. "You were going to leave. Weren't you, love?" When Arthur nodded Eames felt his eyes pool with tears. "Again. Arthur, this is the second time this goddamn month…I'm so sorry…I—I just can't control it." The forger pulled the other man close so they were nearly chest-to-chest.

The cabbie honked his horn.

Arthur stuttered slightly. "I—I know. I'm the same way…I just don't know if…" He trailed off, getting lost in those eyes again.

Eames's jaw shook…and so did his voice. "I'll get help, darling, I swear. I—I'll do whatever it takes to fix this. I don't want to…I don't want to hurt you any more; I love you Arthur."

And Arthur believed him. Again.

Author's Note: Still loving this!

Peace, Love, Mark, and Iggy.

Kierstin.