It catches him off guard. One minutes he feels fine and the next he just wants to lie down and do nothing for the rest of his life. He holds his hand up, staring at it for a moment as it trembles uncontrollably. Merlin sighs, looking skyward and thinking, 'Why does it always happen at the most inconvenient time?' Does the universe have a problem with him having an uninterrupted shopping trip? Taking a seat on a bench, Merlin reaches into his bag, digging around until his hand finds his testing kit. His fingers fumble a little with a test strip and the poker, but soon enough he's watching the countdown on the screen and then he's staring at the number displayed there. 59. Merlin's eyebrows lift a little.
Well, no matter. He stows his test kit and starts searching blindly for his bottle of glucose tablets. Some people hate the taste, but Merlin thinks they're pretty good for a medical product. Besides, if he tries to use candy or juice he finds it hard to stop himself from using it up too quickly. Better to have something that he doesn't feel the urge to consume while watching Doctor Who reruns in his flat. After a few moments Merlin's brow creases in a frown. He could swear he left the bottle in there. Oh, there it is. Merlin pulls the glucose tablets out, feeling triumphant, only to groan in frustration a moment later. It's empty. Of course it's empty. And of course Merlin forgot to swap it for a full bottle before he left his flat. Resigning himself to having to wander around the mall while feeling like shit, Merlin tosses the empty bottle and heads to the elevator. He remembers a candy shop a few floors down. He'll just get something there.
There's only one other person in the elevator. Were Merlin feeling less like a useless sack of bones he might be more inclined to notice how blond and fit the guy is. As it is, he leans against the elevator wall and asks the man to hit the button for floor 2. Merlin can feel his t-shirt starting to stick to his back with sweat and all he wants to do is stuff his face with food. Thank god he'll be at the sweet shop soon. And that, of course, is when the lift breaks down between floors 3 and 4. As if Merlin's day can get any worse.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" the blond man mutters. He presses the call for assistance button and starts angrily demanding that someone fix the elevator "right the fuck now before I start having people fired!"
"Yeah, 'cause threatening people always makes them want to help you," Merlin can't help but mutter. The blond man hears him and glares at Merlin over his shoulder before going back to yelling into the intercom. Merlin rolls his eyes. With a tired sigh he slips to the floor. He doesn't bother to shift around and try and get comfortable because experience tells him that there is no comfortable position when in the throes of low blood sugar. He once sprawled out on his bed in his boxers in a valiant attempt to accomplish this and it barely seemed to make a difference. Distantly, Merlin realizes that he should probably mention his current medical emergency to the people (hopefully) repairing the lift at this very moment. Just then, he realizes the blond man is staring at him.
"You don't look so great," Blondie says. No shit, Merlin thinks. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead and the tremble in his hands is much more visible now. "Are you claustrophobic?" Merlin blinks, shakes his head a little to clear it. After a moment he finally processes the question.
"Oh, no," Merlin says. He lifts his hand and shakes it, drawing attention to the medical bracelet he (for once) remembered to put on that morning (his mum would be so proud). "Type 1 diabetic." Merlin has found that it is, in fact, necessary to clarify which type he has ever since one girl asked him, "But don't you have to be fat to have diabetes?" Granted, she hadn't been the sharpest tool in the shed, but seriously? Blondie looks alarmed.
"Are you going to pass out or something? Or have a seizure?"
"Depends how long we're stuck in here. By the way, if you could mention that there's a diabetic with low blood sugar in here, that'd probably move this along faster."
Immediately, Blondie turns back to the intercom and relays the message. He looks back at Merlin. "Should there be an ambulance on stand by?"
"I don't know," Merlin mutters, rubbing a palm against his forehead. Thinking isn't the easiest thing at the moment, but Merlin forces himself to focus on the situation at hand.
"Do you have something to eat?"
Merlin stares at Blondie. "Obviously not, or I'd be eating it right now, wouldn't I."
"What kind of idiot are you?" Blondie scoffs.
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Merlin snaps. "Jesus..." His head thunks back against the elevator wall. Taking off his shirt is really tempting, but that also takes a lot of effort that Merlin isn't really willing to expend right at this moment. Silence settles over the elevator for a long moment. Merlin pulls out his test kit and tests again, ignoring Blondie's curious eyes on him. People either can't stand to watch or stare like it's the most fascinating thing on the planet. Merlin doesn't get it, but to each their own.
52. Not much lower, but obviously still on the way down. He looks up at Blondie. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat on you?"
"Like what?" Blondie asks.
"Literally anything. I mean, obviously some things are better than others, but I can hardly afford to be picky right now."
Blondie frowns thoughtfully and begins sifting through his trouser pockets. To Merlin's delight, he pulls out a handful of butterscotch candies. He holds them out to Merlin. "Will these work?"
"Brilliantly. Thanks mate." There's four candies. Merlin wastes no time unwrapping one and shoving it in his mouth. His eyes close in bliss. "Mmm, butterscotch." Impatiently, he pushes the candy around his mouth, biting down on the sides to break off little bits so he can chew and swallow as quickly as possible. Blondie watches him with interest and a little concern.
"If I recall correctly, chewing hard candy is bad for you teeth," he comments. Merlin gives him an unimpressed stare as he pops the second candy into his mouth.
"I think my blood sugar level is a little more important than my teeth right now," he states. A beat of silence. "What's your name, anyway? I'm Merlin." Blondie raises an eyebrow, but otherwise makes no comment on Merlin's name.
"Arthur," he offers. Merlin snorts.
"You're kidding."
"Arthur is a perfectly normal name," Arthur defends. "You're the one named after a mythical wizard."
"A bird, actually," Merlin says. "My mum named me after merlin falcons because apparently they were my dad's favorite bird."
"Ah."
"What's your excuse?"
"I already told you, Arthur is a perfectly normal name."
Merlin smiles suddenly. (He's on the third candy.) "You know, technically, you're named after a wizard too."
Arthur scoffs. "Arthur Weasley was created after I was born, therefore I can't have been named after him."
"Whatever you say."
Before Arthur can reply, the lift suddenly starts moving again. Thank god, Merlin thinks, they're finally getting out of here. Arthur helps him to his feet. As soon as he lets go of Merlin's hands, Merlin slouches, still feeling his symptoms pretty acutely. The doors open to the face of a concerned security personnel.
"Do you need an ambulance?" he asks immediately. "We weren't sure if we should call one." To Merlin's surprise, Arthur looks like he's about to tear into the man. It's kind of endearing, considering they're almost complete strangers, that Arthur apparently feels like he has to defend Merlin. Endearing, but unnecessary.
"It's fine," Merlin cuts in before Arthur can even get one word out. "Nothing a bit of food can't cure." He smiles at the security guard, who apologizes for the lift malfunction and then returns to whatever his exact job is. When Merlin finds the nearest bench and collapses onto it, Arthur follows him.
"Something serious could have happened," the man grouses.
"But it didn't," Merlin says. Arthur looks like he wants to argue the point so Merlin glares until he shuts his mouth, grumbling a little under his breath. It's incredible really. Merlin can clearly see that Arthur has a good, kind heart, but he is a complete and total prat. It's quite a contrast. Probably the sort of thing scientists would like to study in a lab because it is a huge accomplishment to be an ass and a genuinely kind person at the same time. That, or Merlin needs a bit more sugar in his system.
"I'll buy you something to eat," Arthur suddenly blurts.
Merlin sits up. "That's really not necessary."
"I think there's a smoothie shop on this floor, will that be okay?" The man is shifting around on his feet looking...nervous. Strange, in Merlin's opinion, considering the amount of of arrogance Arthur was exuding earlier.
"Uh, yeah, sure. But really, you don't have to do this."
"What flavor do you want?"
Merlin takes a moment to just stare at Arthur, who is looking more uncomfortable with every passing moment. He isn't sure what else to say, so he says, "Um, strawberry. Just a small will do."
"Alright."
Arthur strides off into the crowd. Merlin slumps back down on the bench. The day just keeps getting more and more weird. But Merlin's always been a go with the flow kind of guy, so he stays put and waits. He still has one butterscotch candy left. After some deliberation, he slips it into his bag. Where he'll probably forget about it, but that's just life sometimes.
Fifteen minutes later Arthur reappears and hands Merlin a small strawberry smoothie. Merlin smiles, thanks him, and sucks in a huge mouthful of sugary, strawberry flavored slush. He can't help but moan a little at the taste. This is one of the greatest strawberry smoothies Merlin has ever had. Arthur sits down beside him on the bench, clearing his throat awkwardly. His cheeks are a little flushed.
"Didn't get one for yourself?" Merlin asks.
Clearing his throat again, Arthur replies, "No, I, uh, I don't need one."
"You sure?" Merlin waves his smoothie in front of Arthur's face. "They're awfully delicious."
"And bad for you."
"So what, you just never eat sugar? Ever?"
"It's fattening."
Merlin gapes. "Fattening? I mean, yeah, of course it is, but that's why you don't have it very often."
"Or ever. Not everyone can be a twig like you."
It takes a moment for Merlin to suppress the urge to dump his smoothie all over Arthur. He mainly resists because he can recognize a body image issue when he sees one and knows Arthur's probably just lashing out. They lapse into silence, the only sounds the constant chatter of the crowd and the slurp of Merlin's smoothie. By the time it's gone, Merlin feels pretty much back to normal, which is a relief because he still has to buy a birthday present and he still has no idea what to get.
"Well," Merlin says, getting to his feet, "I gotta get back to shopping. It was nice to meet you Arthur. Kind of. When you weren't being a prat."
"Excuse me?"
"Anyway, thanks for the smoothie." He walks away, leaving Arthur on the bench to gape after him incredulously. It isn't until he's on his way home later that Merlin thinks it might not have been a bad idea to get Arthur's number.
A/N: Technically speaking, I should have used mmol/L instead of mg/dL, as that's what they use in the UK, but I went ahead and stuck with the measurement that was more comfortable for me. Anyway.
Written rather quickly after reading what was, in my opinion, a rather insultingly inaccurate fic in which Merlin had diabetes. This goes for all types of writing: do your research. Even a pit of poking around on Google can make all the difference.