The diagnosis. That’s always the toughest part, isn’t it? It’s when you realize that your happy little life in which you found yourself so fortunate was fatally flawed. It’s the discovery that reality can never be truly perfect, and maybe that’s what had drawn Eames to the idea of forgery in the first place. In a dream he could live any life, replicate any story, instead of focusing on only one – his own.
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Arthur walked into his apartment, furious and shaking. The sweet smell of coffee filled the air and enveloped him in a sense of bliss for a single moment. Eames was there. Though the bliss couldn’t last long when the shocking reality of his diagnosis hit Arthur full force once again. Why didn’t he tell him? Why would he lie?
He made his way into the kitchen, his gaze instantly drawn to the forger’s brown hair that shone in the sunlight peeking through the kitchen window. He was looking down at some folders scattered on the table