For Eames, being close to another person, especially someone like Arthur, means having to be honest about his feelings. It means having to stay the next morning, be where Arthur is and to finally tell him the truth about his name. It also means not leaving the country at the first sign of trouble.
Eames hasn’t been that close to someone in years, and it’s terrifying.
He’s learned to repress the side of him that yearns to settle down with someone he loves and cares about, to stop running and to finally find a place he can call home. He’d given up on that dream a long time ago, and so has Arthur by the looks of it; the cynicism in his tone whenever the topic of serious relationships comes up in idle conversation.
They don’t know each other all that well, and yet they don’t have to. Because lying there together in the dark, they show each other what they can never put into words.
But it all fades away in the morning, when Eames walks out the door, leaving Arthur alone on the bed.
Eames hates that he has to leave, but if he stays he knows he’ll fuck it up and break his heart.
Better to leave Arthur with the memory of a good night than to stick around long enough for him to see his bad side.
He closes the door as gently as he can when he walks out, so as to not wake Arthur up. Because he knows he’d be tempted to stay if he did.