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It was spring, but the rain interrupted the mirth of the sky. Ariadne breathed the petrichor. She shuffled through her papers to study, content of how the day was ending, taking its apparent continuation and becoming.
There was a knock that disrupted her absorption, her thoroughly processed acceptance.
She opened the door and saw him. Ariadne didn’t know how to react. He returned.
"Ariadne, this is my weakness." Arthur said, slipping the words out hurriedly. He was struggling, trying to find the subtlest of words to make her realize his defeat against consequences thought out before finally pursuing a choice. His eyes never lost their intensity, though.
But she understood. "I don't care," and they looked at each other for a while, as if longing was not enough.
She welcomed him and he went in.
***
He pushed her through the wall, spreading hungry kisses all over her body. She was occupied as well, trying hard not to rip his three-piece suit as he sucked his shoulder.
"I wanted to do this for months." He confessed, trying not to bite her left breast. She was past the step of disheveling his meticulously well-formed hair.
"Oh please, the letters and voicemails were enough."
"Bad answer."
"You need me."
"You missed me."
"That's not the point."
"Still thinking?"
"Getting too cocky there, Arthur."
"I know you'd appreciate it."
"I do. Now."
"But, of course."
There were no more coherent retorts that came out after. He thrusted in her. So deep and hard and wet. There was no necessity for the assurances of what each would've preferred at that time. They just needed to feel each other. Finally, when Ariadne half-screamed with Arthur joining him with a grunt in their release, he couldn't help repeating to her that this is really worth the shot.
***
Ariadne ran. The thorny smilaxes on both her sides create a maze, but were aggressively closing in. The danger digging through her body painfully, her arms bloodied. She couldn't feel her heart. The sun continued to set, and no stars appeared to guide her when darkness took over. The space grew smaller and smaller, her own subconscious shaking her.
Arthur disappeared.
She ran, not knowing where her feet would take her. She started to break, but she realized: Faith. She remembered a childhood memory and the first time they made love. She used to ask her mother how come the vines were dancing, intertwined altogether and eager to grow, creating their own eccentric world. It made her happy to see the little flowers blooming. Arthur was making love with her, on top her, holding her, kissing her, inside her, making her come. She felt she was beautiful.
She loved the vines that ran through their fences. She came. She felt her heartbeat started thumping loudly.
She reached the end of the labyrinth Arthur created for her and was blinded by the whiteness of the sky by the hill. She saw him standing at the edge, welcoming her.
Despite fear.
"You know it in your heart I'm here." Arthur said, smiling.
Ariadne cried, slowly walking to him, unable to bear his aching presence in her life.
"Remember, Ariadne. The subconscious can never defeat emotions."
He held her hand firmly. She knew that he knew that she couldn't live without him anymore. He looked at her reassuringly and they jumped.
Conscious resurfaced.
When Ariadne opened her eyes, Arthur was already taking out the needle from the PASIV out of her arm.
"Let's never do that, please." Ariadne phased hurriedly. She cried, voice cracking. She was holding on to Arthur like a lifeline.
"Alright, I won't let go of your hand again." He kissed her hand that never left his. He continued, "But we have to find other methods to train you if we will continue doing this."
***
There was a heavy gravity in the setting. Ariadne knew she was walking and breathing underwater. She was at the center of an empty house. The ceiling was too high and there were incomplete corners of what may seem to be abandoned halls in a 1920s Copenhagen home. There were no lights. Yet she could see in blue, like the view with the sun as you swim in the ocean. The windows were barely there, clayed.
She found the stairs on her back and went up. There were too many rooms, each doors carved and made differently. One was spiral, the others shielded with platinum or sentimentally wooden and too small even for her. It was as if the entirety of the hallway was representing her life.
She wanted to see all of it, all of her, but her feet were weak. She stepped.
Of all else, she wanted to go home. She moved.
She stopped to the weaved door of somehow black and white and went in. She saw him, sleeping soundly on their bed. He didn't steer, so she just tangled her limbs with his and closed her eyes. The clock started to tick.
Ariadne woke up with a laughing Eames, beaming at Arthur on her side.
"Lovely, letting our princess slobber all over your pristine." Eames grinned wildly, retaliating from wherever he and Arthur were in their verbal war. He waved his shot of vodka, letting some of it slosh on Arthur, most likely to further piss him off.
"Thank you for forgetting a subject, Eames."
"Oh, sorry, Arthur." Ariadne interjected, voice full of sleep. She lifted her head off of Arthur's shoulder and saw the mess she made. She tried to rub her drool from his suited arms, but to no avail.
"I'm perfectly fine." Arthur smiled genuinely. Dimpled, of course. This has also something to do with physically restraining himself from this abnormalcy to avoid anything that might come out of Eames' mouth about them.
Eames eyebrows shot up. "To think you could actually change the bloody git."
Sort of a perfect act.
***
The bench was carved carefully, she noticed. The park fits them both perfectly, but she couldn't remember who once had the idea anymore. They were sitting on the bench, enjoying their stillness. Even the garden filled with azaleas and osmundas was unremarkable.
"Where are we?" She asked.
"In our fourth level."
"Limbo?"
"But with you, yes." He turned to her and kissed her head, smelling the scent of her hair.
"I'm losing track."
"We have exactly twelve years, three months, and two days left here."
"... I think I'm getting tired."
"Of what, Ariadne?"
"I can no longer feel my body out there."
"Shall we?"
"Go? No, we will endure this together." This confusion and happiness. She gripped his hand on hers. So hard, she actually thought Arthur would break free, but he didn't.
Ariadne didn't know how it was even possible to be overwhelmed with love. The azaleas and osmundas seemingly bloomed even more.
***
The projections were long gone. They were alone. The ones they built were starting to deform, but the sun was shining brightly and the waters continued to stir the sands. They were walking through the places they created.
"It's pure creation."
"There's nothing quite like it."
"But Arthur, we're old." Ariadne was fragile as she eyed everything. But, she was more than satisfied.
"We're almost there." Despite it being aged, that lopsided smile never leaves his face.
"This entire lifetime..."
"Spare it when we wake up." He hushed her.
The driveway was clear. The ensemble was ending. Its appearance was begging for its non-existence. Right in front of the straight line, a railway intersects. They stopped in the middle of it lying, his face in front of hers.
"This is the spot. It's time."
The train was approaching.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
The sound of the train was too loud. Then it started to rattle her body until she felt it-
***
They woke up.
"Arthur?" The moment she laid her eyes on him, her soul was singing home.
He kissed her like he had never done it before.
"Nothing beats this." He said, clutching her hair softly.
Reality.