Chapter Text
If he sits alone in his room long enough, he thinks, maybe it will ease the embarrassment. The sun is seeping through the blinds, rays of light cover his face because he forgot the close the curtains before he went to sleep last night. There is no point in rolling over and going back to sleep because he's wide awake now and his bladder is screaming. Laying here staring at the ceiling however, sounds infinitely better than moving. He reaches for his phone and of course, no one has tried to see if he's fine, not that anyone would notice he even left school early yesterday. People, outside of his family, never seem to care about him in general.
It’s Saturday morning and at some point, his mother will come knocking on his door, like she did last night, multiple times, to ask him if he was ok and tell him that he needs to eat something. But, if he is honest with himself, he'd rather starve to death. That way come Monday he won't have to go back to school. His parents, however, would not be so keen on that plan.
So, finding some strength, he hurls himself out of bed, he makes his way to the bathroom before he has to explain to his parents that he pissed himself and there is enough embarrassment going around as it is. He stops at the mirror on the way out long enough to ask himself why is this his life and multiple other existential questions that will never be answered before making his way to the kitchen, pleased to see that no one happened to be up yet, or at least hasn't come down. If he's fast enough, he can grab some food and make his way back to his room without seeing anyone and can still tell his mother he ate. It’s a win-win honestly or was, until he got to the fridge and saw a note on it. "Tell Arthur Eames called" was written in his mother's handwriting. All of the color drained from his face and he froze. Arthur's brain immediately raced with all of the possible reasons why Eames would call his house to talk to him. How did he get his number? What did he want? To pummel him into oblivion probably and no, he would not like to be told that over the phone, thank you very much. Why is this life, he thought for the second time in less than 15 minutes and was very much hoping that the universe would supply him with an answer. Why do these things have to happen to him? When will high school be over so he was can get the hell outta this town and never come back? He shook his head, let out a shaky breath, grabbed some food and retracted back to his room.
He knew he was over exaggerating just a bit. His teenage brain was telling him that his behavior was completely logical and that Monday would be the worst day of his life, well second to yesterday.
There was a knock on his door and before he could even ask who it was, his sister stepped in. Though they look very much alike, some people doubted that they were actually related. Ariadne was Arthur’s little sister. The brunette was one of the most popular girls in school, even though she was only a sophomore. Scuffing, digging into his mashed potatoes, green beans, and steak from last night’s dinner, he moved over to let her sit next to him. She flips her hair over her shoulder, sighs and says, “So, are you going to tell me what happened and why you haven’t called Eames back yet?” There’s no way this much embarrassment is appropriate for one person. “I just woke up Ari, plus I have no idea why he even wants to talk to me”.
“He wants to talk to you about the note”
He looks at her sideways, but her hair is in her face and she can’t see him, with rage in his eyes.
“What note?”
“The note I left in his locker from you”, she says from behind her hair and about completely as innocent as she has ever sounded in her life.
He set his plate down and brought his hands to his face, sighing deeply, whispering to himself, “So that’s why he wanted to talk to me yesterday”.
“Look, I was just trying to help. Don’t be mad at me”
“Trying to help me with what?” Arthur said as calmly as he could muster.
“I just…do you think I can’t here you mumbling about him in your sleep or how you stare at him in the halls? Like, God, it’s so cliché”
“You…I…I mumble in my sleep?”
Ariadne nods.
Before he could even begin to question her further, the law and order theme song started to play. The number on his phone wasn't recognizable.
"Hello?"
"Arthur?"
His heart sank into his stomach and his skin paled. He shot a look at Ariadne as he saw her quickly taking her exit. There is only one person who could make his name sound that good.
"Arthur? Is that you? Arthur, please, just, can I talk to you?”
"How did you get my number, Eames?"
"It was in the note you left me. Look, I'm sorry if I'm out of line..."
Of course she did, he thought, I'm going to finish her.
"What do you want?"
"I...I was...you...you ran off yesterday before I got to talk to you."
"..............."
"Arthur, look, I don’t know what- "
“Eames, I have no idea what that note said because I did not write it. Sorry if whatever it said upset you. I have to go”, was all he said before he hung up and says, “Ari”.
“What did he say?” she says from outside of the door, voice full of fear.
“Come in here, please.”
“No, I’m good where I am. Actually, I think I hear mom calling me” is all she says before scurrying off. It’s not but a few moments later, when his phone rings again.
Reluctantly, he answers.
“Arthur, let’s just meet up today, ok? Clover Park at, um, uh, noon” Eames says flipping through something from the sound of it.
This was not good. This is not good he thought. What if it was an ambush? What if he never showed and had a great laugh at him with his soccer friends on Monday? But, the hopeful part of him did take into consideration the fact that Eames sounded liked he very much wanted to talk to him.
Why must mom have instilled in us respect for others.
The worse thing that could actually happen, already had, or so he assumes given he has no idea what this note Ari wrote says, so why the hell not.
“I’ll be sitting by the monkey bars. See you then” Arthur huffs out and hangs up without waiting for Eames' reply.