Just finished this an hour ago and really wanted to upload it. I got the concept from the song 'Blue Cassette' by Friendly Fires and thought it was really intriguing!.
My writing playlist:
Set Fire To the Third Bar - Snow Patrol
Blue Cassette - Friendly Fires
Love Make - Dog and Panther
Radical Face - Wrapped in Piano Strings
Breathe Me - Sia
So yeah, suggested listening I guess haha. Enjoy!
He was sitting in the grass of their backyard. In front of him was a freshly dug hole, surrounded by scattered piles of dirt. The shovel lay forgotten to his side. His fingernails were smeared with the brownness of the earth. The box, unearthed and discolored with age, sat heavily in his lap. His chest ached. His hands shook. He hadn't blinked in minutes, just sat there, staring at it.
Merlin and Arthur, til death do us part, and even longer after that. June the 9th, 2001.
The words echoed painfully in his head. Til death do us part, til death do us part. At the time, they didn't know how real that concept was. Slowly, shakily, he opened the lid of the box but didn't yet look inside. He couldn't.
In primary school when the teachers told you that the earth was moving, spinning beneath your feet at this very moment, moving thousands of kilometers every hour, you just couldn't believe it. It seemed impossible that something that big can be moving that fast and no one notices.
For months after it happened, it was like he could feel it. The earth moving. Suddenly his world, which had seemed so perfect, so solid and stable and safe, was spinning at thousands of kilometers per hour and he couldn't catch his breath. His head was frantic; his body was numb.
He opened his eyes and ran his fingers down the sides of the open box in his lap. He remembered when they had buried it.
"I picked out all my favorite photos of us," Merlin had said, twirling absentmindedly on the kitchen stool. Arthur put down his collection of items to go in the box on the counter and walked over to his boyfriend.
"You know you can't put that in there." Arthur said, wrapping his hands around Merlin's. The other boy's eyes widened and he looked up at Arthur with a frown.
"Why not?" he asked, opening his fingers to reveal his yellow walkman.
"Because I know you," Arthur said. "If you put it in there, you're just going to want it back next week and I'm going to have to go out in the middle of the bloody night and dig up this stupid box so you can listen to your tapes." Merlin pouted.
"It's not a stupid box." Arthur sighed.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his forehead falling against Merlin's. His thumbs brushed along the sides of Merlin's wrists.
"S'ok." He smiled. "Besides, we met over this cassette player, remember?" Arthur smiled; yes, he remembered. "First time I ever came into your father's shop I was so nervous I let you talk me into buying a new cassette player-"
"Even though you didn't need one," Arthur interrupted, losing himself in the memory and Merlin's eyes.
"Even though I didn't need one," Merlin repeated. "I've always said you were too persuasive." Arthur chuckled.
"I've never heard you complaining before." Merlin rolled his eyes, pulling Arthur to him and capturing his lips.
He took out the stack of photos, aged by the passing of ten years, and looked down at the first one. It was the two of them, their arms around each other, Merlin's face contorted in laughter at something Arthur had just said. They were at Gwen and Lance's engagement party; he recognized their suits. God, their faces looked so young. His hair was brushed and neatly trimmed, not grown out and scruffy and unmanaged; his eyes were a bright shade of blue, so much more alive than they were these days.
His heart lurched. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. He had spent months walking around like a zombie, feeling nothing, saying nothing, doing nothing. Overdoses were frequent. Drinking was expected. But nothing helped. Nothing filled the emptiness that was left after he died. If it weren't for Gwen and Morgana, he probably wouldn't have been able to survive those first few months.
Everyone had said it would get easier, but they were wrong. The black hole that seemed to be devouring him hadn't gotten any smaller. The pain in his chest hadn't gotten any lighter. The constant yelling in his head hadn't gotten any quieter. He had just become numb, to everything, everyone.
He put the photos aside. He would look at them later. He knew each one of them by heart anyways. With trembling fingers he reached into the box, pushing past ticket stubs and a copy of Othello, his favorite of Shakespeare's, and pulled out the yellow walkman. His heart dropped. It looked the same as it did the day they buried it. It felt like forever ago.
He traced his fingers along the buttons, worn down from constant use. The color on the edges had rubbed off and left a dull silver in their place. God, he remembered every time they had used this; listening to bad tapes at three in the morning when neither of them could sleep, that night they had slept in a tent in the backyard just to get out of the house, Arthur sitting by Merlin's bedside at the hospital when he got tonsillitis, even though Arthur hated hospitals.
Through the clear front window, he could see the reels of a blue cassette inside. He opened it up slowly and looked down at the front of the tape. Written across it in permanent marker were two words: PRESS PLAY. He couldn't remember writing that, in fact it didn't look like his handwriting. He closed the cassette player and his finger instinctively found the play button. Absently, he pushed it down.
AN: part two is on the way, I promise! Comments are lovely and much appreciated, thank you! *hug*