Arthur watched as Merlin went deathly pale, looking glazedly from the window of the restaurant to his spaghetti and meatballs.

"Merlin?" he called softly. His friend didn't look up from the suddenly very interesting food.

"Merlin." he called, more forcefully. This time his eyes flickered up to him, back to the window, and down again.

"That's it." he growled waving the waiter over. He gruffly shoved a wad of bills at the flustered waiter and hauled the now shaking man out of his seat. Merlin did not look up, not once, and kept his gaze firmly on Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur led them both out to his car, a fancy sports car his father had bought him, and shoved Merlin into the passenger seat, his legs hanging out the door. He crouched in front of him and took his hands.

"Merlin," he said forcefully, "I don't know what you see, but I need you to look at me."

Merlin raised his gaze quickly to Arthur's, then made to look back at the windows of the store. Arthur grabbed his face in both hands and turned it towards him.

"Don't look." he hissed. "I know you want to, I know you want to help them, but they're dead, Merlin. There's nothing you can do."

"But-" Merlin stuttered, his skin clammy and cold beneath Arthur's hands.

"No!" Arthur growled at him, giving him a slight shake. Merlin winced and looked away. Arthur's voice softened considerably.

"Look, I know some of them look horrible, and it hits something inside you that can't help it when you see a person in need, but I'm your best friend, dammit! I need you to focus on me, not them."

Merlin nodded shakily and Arthur released him, confident that he wouldn't try to look again. There were slight tears in his eyes, as there was every time Arthur pulled him away from one of the things that tormented him. The big sentimental idiot couldn't handle seeing the gore that ghosts sometimes kept if they had violent deaths, or at least that was what Arthur saw. He couldn't see them himself, but if what Merlin described was true - and he had no doubt it was - he didn't want to see the gruesome images. It killed him a little to see happy-go-lucky Merlin suddenly go pale and shaky every time he saw a ghost with his skull smashed in, brains spilling out the side of his head.

Arthur let out his own shaky breath and stood up, ready to drive them home, and away from whatever nightmare Merlin would be having that night.

(A/N) This randomly popped into my head after I went to see a movie with my Grandma and siblings. I have no idea why, as we were seeing Ferdinand, so my brain is weird. *shrugs* What can you do?