Arthur sits on his bed alone, another night another fight. His father has just finished yelling in his drunken rage, and was now sitting on the couch watching something on the cable he made Arthur steal from the neighbors. Arthur isn't bruised today, but he's still hurt. Arthur looks at his hands, he closely examines the skin, wondering how God could have put him in such a useless body.
I've never been so disappointed.
You're worthless, Arthur, worthless.
Morgana is going to college, you can't even pass math.
Stupid fucking idiot son.
Faggot son, panzy son, like your fucking uncle, you're both a bunch of fucking homos.
Arthur picks up his phone and goes through the numbers looking for someone who can save him from himself, he instinctively reaches for his hip, holding his hand there. He doesn't want to but he feels like he has to, he feels the need to be free again.
There aren't many numbers in his phone, not a whole lot of people like Arthur, let alone give him their number. His father had taught him via the belt that you don't speak unless spoken to, so Arthur doesn't talk a lot unless he's with Gwaine or Lance, the only two people in the world he feels alright with. The only two people in the world who understand him.
But tonight, they're busy double dating at some fancy restaurant that Arthur "cannot afford": the excuse that he uses when his friends ask him to go out. Arthur envies his friends, considering that he has never been in a relationship. Arthur lays back on the bed and thinks over his life, thinks about the friends he used to have.
One time long ago, before his mother died and Uther started to drink, Arthur had stayed over at a friends house, Mike. Arthur and him had fooled around, you know, stuff kids do when they're seven and curious, but Mike's mother had walked in on them in the middle of the night. Arthur's shorts and briefs around his knees and Mike holding Arthur's penis in his hand
Being a devout Catholic, she took a ruler to both of their backsides and then called Uther at three in the morning, demanding that he pick Arthur up and that Arthur never have contact with Mike again.
When Uther did pick Arthur up, Uther noticed that Arthur had wet himself from either the embarrassment or the shame and that he was standing outside in the cold, shivering. Any normally parent would have cuddled with their child in the front seat before giving him a change of clothes back at the house, but not Uther, no. Uther had made Arthur sleep in those clothes that night and then forced him to go to school in them the next day. When the teacher called Uther that day and asked why Arthur smelled of urine, he simply responded, "I don't know, he dresses himself, you know, independence and all that, so he must have put on a pair he soiled." and when asked if he could bring him an exchange he replied, "Oh no, I wish but I'm about to go into a very important business deal and Ygraine is sleeping, late shifts at the hospital, do you think he can manage throughout the day?" To say that day was the worst day of Arthur's life would be an understatement and Arthur never looked at another guy the same way he looked at Mike for a long time after that.
When Ygraine died, two years later, she had been driving Arthur home from his first football game. Arthur had been telling his mom about how they wanted him to be quarterback because he had such a good throwing arm. His mother was praising him and she took her eyes off the road.
They went through a red light.
A large school bus had collided with the driver's side of the car.
Arthur woke up a week later in the hospital with a fractured skull, a dead mother, and a perpetually drunk father. Uther blamed him, for the next month Uther blamed him with his hands, his belt, his feet, his words. This is when Arthur learned that he could block things out, shade the world grey so good was bad and bad was good.
Arthur knows its the only reason he's still alive today.
Morgana was lucky to get out early. Uther had never hit her, not once, but she still took the edge of a few drunk words. When she was fifteen she got accepted to a boarding school and during the summer she stayed with their grandparents. Arthur had confided in Morgana, she was his rock, the only thing that kept him sane, but once she left, Arthur found himself alone.
And Uther only became more violent.
Arthur's trip down memory lane is interrupted by a pounding on Arthur's door. Arthur instinctively touches his hip bone.
"Arthur! Arthur, God Damn it I need the fucking rent money." Uther screams behind the chipping oak. Arthur sighs and gets up, he walks over to his night stand and gets a few hundreds that he's saved up from his job as an over night janitor at the local convenience store. It's technically not legal that Arthur work that late on school nights but he gets paid under the table so he prefers it.
Arthur opens the door and everything starts to shade to gray. Arthur knows this feeling, he knows it because its how he deals with what's about to happen. Uther is standing in front of him, fist raised, and Arthur knows he's about to be hurt.
The quick blow sends Arthur recoiling across the room before the back of his leg catches on the bed, forcing him to flop down on the mattress. Uther strides across the room and grabs whatever he can of Arthur's short hair. He snatches the money from Arthur's hands and throws Arthur down onto the bed. Arthur lays there, watching the colors of the room flash from gray to red to blue to white to black to gray again. When he's like this, he can't feel pain, he can't feel anger or hatred, when he's like this he can only feel colors, something that he doesn't quite understand.
Uther grumbles as he goes through the bills.
"Where's the rest of it?" Uther screams.
"It's all I have, Father." Arthur answers monotone. His voice is as empty and hollow as his eyes are. Uther doesn't notice, instead he brings a fist up into the air and slams it into Arthur's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"If this is all you have next week you better find another fucking place to live, you hear?"
Arthur flinches as Uther slams the door shut. Arthur hears his footsteps fade as he walks down the hall to his room. The colors in the room begin to fade back and Arthur clutches his stomach. He rolls over, tears streaming down his face. He gets up and weakly walks into the bathroom, shaking hands reaches under the sink and Arthur finds his case, his favorite black case. Inside he pulls out a scalpel and drops his pants and boxers. He stands in front of the mirror looking at himself, naked save for a shirt. He runs his eyes over his face, seeing the slight red hue stain the tanned skin right on his cheekbone. He doesn't think it'll bruise which is good, now people won't ask questions. He eyes over his slightly hairy legs, his knees, he tries to think of what kind of man he would need to be to earn his father's love. He stares at his own cock, gently coated with blond hair, hanging slightly from his pelvis. He stares at it for a long time and he wonders if he slammed it into some girl, if that would make his father love him. Maybe if he got married to a woman, maybe if he made love to one, maybe if he wasn't such a fucking faggot–
Arthur tightly grips the blade in his hand and brings it to his side. Fresh red lines cross the white skin and he follows them like a stencil, reopening the old wounds, letting blood flow down his leg. Arthur chokes out a sob and continues to drag the blade into his skin.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Arthur rolls his eyes into the back of his head and stands there. The blood is running down his leg, seeping into his red boxers. Arthur sighs and grabs the blood stained towel he keeps under the sink, he applies pressure to the cuts and sits own on the toilet seat. He's panting, the pain from Uther's rage is leaving him now, his body is shaking in a post-euphoric high. This is his pain, these are his scars, they belong to him.
After what feel's like an eternity pulls the towel from his leg. He puts everything back where it belongs and walks out into his bed room, the clock catches his eye: Nine Thirty.
"Shit", Arthur says under his breath. He quickly throws his coat over himself, walks through the house; out of the door, and heads to his overnight job.
Arthur doesn't get back until three. He quietly unlocks the door and walks into the house. He immediately sees Uther lying on the floor, half way into the kitchen. A puddle of vomit only a few feet behind him. Arthur sighs and grabs a towel, quickly cleaning the mess.
"W-What the fuck... What are you doing?" Uther grumbles.
"Clean up your vomit, Father." Arthur replies and continues scrubbing the carpet until only a fait stain and scent are left behind.
Uther tries to sit up and looks at Arthur as if he's going to hit him but instead just slumps back down onto the ground.
"Do a good job." Uther mumbles before falling back to sleep, snoring against the tiled floor.
As soon as Arthur is done cleaning he gets a pillow from the couch and puts it under his father's head. He drapes a blanket over him and walks back to his room. He pulls out his phone and flips through his texts. Apparently Gwaine and Lance had a great night. Lance got laid, Gwaine didn't Arthur chuckles to himself before remembering the earlier events. He instantly becomes jealous of Lance, his cock throbbing in his pants at the thought of getting "laid", more so because of the potential acceptance but a part of him really wants to know what its like to love someone with more than just words.
Arthur shakes those thoughts from his head and undresses. His thigh is sore but its healing over nicely. Arthur applies a thin layer of disinfectant from his nightstand before covering it with gauze and bandage tape. He pats it and then crawls into bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
Arthur wakes hours later to the gentle ring of his phone. Arthur was never a heavy sleeper and, luckily, could function well with only a few hours of sleep. Arthur pulls himself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water wakes him up and he begins to remember his dream from last night as he soaps his body. He was hanging out with Lance last night, they were on a date.
"So Arthur, did you know that I love you?" Lance asked.
Arthur choked on his grilled cheese.
"I really do Arthur, I really really do. You're good enough for me, hell, you're good enough for anyone."
Arthur began to blush.
"Love me, Arthur, please?" Lance asked.
Arthur drops his soapy hand to his groin, he strokes himself gently, feeling it swell in his hands. His other hand is washing his chest, his cock reacts every time he brushes over a nipple, so Arthur doesn't stop rubbing them.
All of a sudden they're in Arthur's room. Lance is kissing Arthur, licking his lips, biting his neck. Arthur is trying not to moan, he doesn't want Uther to hear. Lance drops to his knees and begins working on Arthur.
Arthur is quickly stroking himself now. His dream ends there but his imagination is running away with him.
Lance pulls him into the bed and Arthur lays back, Lance lubs up his fingers and slides them inside Arthur. Lance continues to work on Arthur's cock as he fingers him open. Arthur grabs the sheets and twists them in his hands.
Arthur reaches behind him and plays with himself, mimicking what he thinks Lance would do. He's so close to climax.
Arthur moans loudly and Lance gets up on top of him. Lance slowly slides into Arthur, never breaking eye contact. Arthur smiles up and him and pulls him into a kiss. When they break Lance drops to Arthur's neck, he kisses and bites around his ear and neck.
"You're good enough for me, Arthur."
There's a pounding on the door.
"What? No, shit." Arthur says as he starts to back down from his orgasm. He palms himself expertly but he can't seem to bring it back.
Uther barges in, his eyes are thick with fury. He quickly grabs Lance and throws him onto the floor. Uther leaps at Arthur and slams his fists into him, breaking his body apart.
Arthur can feel himself deflating until he's completely limp. "God damn it!" Arthur screams. He punches the tiled wall of the bathroom with his right hand, wincing as a wave of pain radiates through his bones and knuckles. Arthur washes himself off; his balls aching from the lack of release. He rips his fingers through his hair, doing his best to get the shampoo out so he can quickly get dressed and forget.
Even in my fantasies he's always there, tormenting me. Arthur thinks, he can even hear Uther's voice in his head, "S'what you get for being a faggot.".
Arthur calms himself down and gets dressed. He walks past Uther's body, still sleeping on the floor, and resists the urge to kick him, bludgeon his head in, end it all here. He raises his foot to do just that and he wonders what the police would say, wonders if he could blame it on self defense. All Arthur can see is Uther's head smashed into the ground, brain matter and blood covering his shoe. It would be freedom.
But then Arthur remembers the better years. He remembers when he and Morgana were little, during Christmas when Uther and his mother had gotten them both large and extravagant gifts. Arthur had gotten a Playstation and Morgana had gotten a huge doll house to play in. Uther had hugged him that day and told him that he was the best son a dad could wish for.
The best son a dad could wish for.
Best son.
Arthur can't shake the fact that he still loves his father, so he lowers his foot and he gets a glass of expired juice and washes down some stale bread, ready for another day at school.
He gets a text from Gwaine as he walks to the bus station. The cool Autumn air is gentle on his face.
How was ur day yesterday? - G
Fine. - A
Y didnt u txt me back last nite? - G
Work. - A
O thats rite. Fuckin dad still makin u work huh? - G
Of course. Someone has to pay the bills. - A
Dam well u cumin 2 my party 2nite? Bunch of hot girls. - G
Maybe. Dunno what shift I'm working tonight. - A
Just one drink? - G
Arthur sighs as he gets on the bus. He and Gwaine have been best friends since he was six. He knew that his father would be furious but maybe if he stayed out late enough he could sneak back into the house after his father went to bed. He sits in the back next to some Asian girl that always tries to tell him about her love life. He pretends to listen, too tired each morning to tell her off. He replies quickly before she can start rambling on about Khan Cho.
Fine, but there better be booze and enough of it to make me forget. - A
Forget what, mate? - G
Stupid English slang, Arthur thinks as he fingers linger over the keys for just a minute. He wants to tell Gwaine everything, that he's a pansy, that he likes cock, that he wants to run away, run as far and as fast as he can until his heart explodes, instead he just types a simple response, and tucks his phone away in his pocket, getting ready to hear the useless droning of Chatty Chang.
Everything. - A
Arthur is stopped before he reaches his first class. Its his favorite teacher, Mr. Anderson. Arthur knows this can only mean trouble considering he's been borderline failing his class all year, something about Math just puts him off. Numbers don't make as much sense as words to and while Arthur could write all day, he has a difficult time multiplying two one-digit numbers together, even on paper.
"Arthur, can I talk to you for a moment?" Mr. Anderson asks. Arthur knows that its a rhetorical question so he just nods his head.
"I've been worried about your grades and I've talked to the principal about it. If you're interested we have a very unique proposal for you. Would you like to go over it?"
Arthur thinks for a second. "I have to get to class, I don't think Mrs. D will tolerate me if I'm late for class again."
"That should be no problem, I'll write you a slip for today." Mr. Anderson replies. Arthur thinks over it for another second and then nods, following Mr. Anderson down the hall towards the main office. Arthur thinks in his head how this could possibly be good.
Mr. Anderson leads Arthur into a large meeting room. At the end of the table is a young slender man, someone Arthur has seen before a few times in the school. Beside him is Mrs. Krane, the school guidance councilor. Mr. Anderson motions Arthur to sit at the opposite side of the table, next to where he's taking his seat.
Arthur sits and slightly winces at the few seconds of awkward silence before Mrs. Krane begins to speak.
"So, Arthur. We're here to talk to you about your slipping grades in Algebra." Mrs. Krane explains. "You are a very smart boy, you scored very high on your state exams in English but not in Math, we think Merlin here," she points to the scrawny kid, "can help you with that."
Arthur only nods. Merlin extends his hand. Arthur looks at it for a few seconds before accepting. He flinches as Merlin's first shake irritates the knuckles that collided with the tiled wall this morning. Arthur can't help but find "Merlin" attractive. He's tall, much taller than Arthur, he guesses that Merlin is about five foot ten? Where as Arthur himself is only five six. He knows he's still growing but that doesn't put off the fact that Arthur likes tall men.
"Can I have my hand back?" Merlin awkwardly asks.
"Oh." Arthur gapes, "Y-yums?"
Oh my god what just came out of my mouth.
"Yums?" Merlin asks?
"I was going to say um but I started to say yes and... it didn't work out well?" Arthur tries to explain. He begins to blush a bright red and Mr. Anderson saves the day by interjecting, "Well, Arthur, Merlin here is a brilliant Math student and he's agreed to tutor you."
Arthur shakes his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't afford that. I can barely make rent."
Mrs. Krane looks at him confused and she opens a folder with Arthur's name on it. "Make rent? Arthur you don't have a workers permit listed here."
Arthur stammers and then quickly catches the lie. "I meant my father can barely make rent. Sorry, I'm not really awake yet."
Mrs. Krane chuckles, "That's quite alright dear. Reguardless, Merlin is tutoring for free, its part of his Outreach program for his Senior Project. He'll work with you during your third period study hall starting today and work with you every day until your final exams."
"Just me?" Arthur asks. "I thought tutors has multiple subjects."
"We usually do," Merlin answers, "But my project is about helping one student reach his full potential instead of helping ten reach just above passing. I want to work with you and make you an A student, not a C+ student."
Arthur thinks this over in his head. "So, no payment and free tutoring?" Arthur asks.
"Yup." Mrs. Krane responds. "Mr. Anderson is willing to let you retake your tests as well. We want to do get out of this place Arthur, see the world, we think this is the best way to make that happen. You'll report here instead of the usual study hall from now on unless told otherwise. It's much quieter here and Merlin's study has shown that a quiet environment with little distractions is the best place to work"
Arthur nods in response and gives her a smile. They all get up and he shakes hands with both Mrs. Krane and Merlin, being careful not to let his hand linger too long this time. As they leave Mr. Anderson walks him to his second period class and he talks about the opportunities that he wants Arthur to have, like entering some of his writing into contests and submitting them to publishers.
It seems like for the first time in Arthur's life things are going well.
Arthur anxiously walks into the meeting room. Merlin is already there sitting at the end of the table. He has multiple books spread out and he's reading a paper. Arthur can't help but take in how attractive Merlin is. Thick black rimmed glasses that are both stylish and sleek, giving Merlin the appearance of being sophisticated and intelligent but not pretentious or arrogant. Merlin looks up and catches Arthur's gaze.
"Hey, glad you could join me." Merlin says smiling. Arthur's swallows and smiles back. Merlin extends his hand to the seat beside him and Arthur takes the cue.
"So," Merlin begins as Arthur takes his seat, "I've been going over your tests to see where you're making the errors and it seems that most of it is coming from the graphing parts of the math."
Arthur nods his head. "I've never been very articulate visually, I can work out some math on paper but it all jumbles together in some large chaotic explosion which either ends up with me ripping the paper up or walking away and forgetting about it."
Merlin starts to laugh and Arthur looks at him confused. "Quite the colorful vocabulary, huh?" Merlin asks.
Arthur blushes for the second time that day and nods. "I like words."
"Words, eh?" Merlin thinks over, scratching the stubble on his chin. Arthur wants to reach out and touch it. "I can relate to that, I like numbers and I think I know how we can fix you up."
Arthur only smiles and nods, he feels like he does that too much but he doesn't care.
I can't believe I'm sitting in a room, alone, with a hot guy who's about to teach me to divide numbers. How can I learn anything about division when all I'm thinking about is how to divide his legs. Did I really just make that joke? Oh lord, I did.
"What's so funny?" Merlin asks.
Arthur quickly straightens up, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. He hadn't realized he'd been laughing.
"Nothing, nothing." Arthur hastily responds, "So this is called a parabola?"
A/N: This fic is a WIP but I plan to be done with it within the week. Thank you all for reading and I'm sorry I haven't started on The Now: Underworld yet. I promise to work on it soon! Thanks for reading and don't forget to review, its your reviews that keep me going!