The clouds were painted across the sky like sheets covering a bed that had previously been slept in. Merlin was taking a nap. It had been five years since the day he lost everything. There were many days when Merlin could not move because her mind was so heavy with words. Words that would never be said. Then there were days when he would awake with the desire to suck the marrow out of life, living with light and with hunger. Just before, he was flitting about the kitchen, waiting for Gaius home. Every now and then that window would catch his eye, calling him to glimpse the outside. The window with yellow framing and white fringe curtains. Framing that was the colour of Arthur's hair. Curtains the colour of snow.
Merlin had stared out this window many times before. Just in the distance, one could spot the Amper River, guiding a silver line directly through the place where the sun is swallowed by the earth itself. Many times, he told herself he would go there. He came close one day. But just within a mile of the place, Merlin began to cry tears of anger and of loneliness and of longing. He yearned for something. Arthur. But Arthur was gone, as was his heart. His heart had climbed out of the window many years ago.
In a discontented slumber, Merlin's eyelashes rested against his cheeks. They were the black needles, harshly contrasting his porcelain skin. The wind whistled through the window with the lemon-colour panel. The front door creaked, but Merlin did not stir. A man stepped into the house. As soon as he set foot to floor, the sharp black needles flew. Merlin was awake.
There, in the doorway, stood a man whose hair colour was that of the window frame. A man who was surrounded by light and laughter and thievery and excitement. A man who belonged to the name Arthur. Blue eyes found grey, and Merlin did not make a sound. His throat was grasped by black hands dripping in blood, the blood of his father and mother and of Arthur.
Suddenly, Merlin rushed forward and unforgivingly landed his tightly curled fist square into Arthur's nose. He was screaming, pitching, wailing, shrieking profanities at him.
Bastard!
Fucking-
Arsehole!
Five years!
Arthur stood as a frozen soldier, blood streaming from his nose from Merlin's swing. Finally when the shouting receded, Arthur caught Merlin's fists, and felt his knees sink to the ground as Merlin collapsed into his embrace. Like the waves washing over the sand, Arthur pulled him in and brushed his cheek with his fingertips. He breathed in the smell of his kindness, the way he smelled of words. He listened to Merlin's voice, like his tongue and teeth elicited the sounds of the universe.
In his moment of weakness, Merlin looked up at Arthur with eyes that could crack the earth in two.
Five years.
Five years, and my heart went shortly after that.
He still did not say anything, and Merlin choked out another sob.
Why didn't you return before?
Still nothing.
Arthur, I loved you!
Arthur, the words only meant something when you were here!
Arthur, I've loved you since the day you jumped into that river to save me!
I've loved you ever since.
Arthur looked at him, looked into the days his eyes had seen. The white days, the red days, and the black days. Merlin reached his hands up to him and he caught them and pressed them both to his lips.
He grinned.
How about that kiss, dollophead?