Sometimes
Sometimes Merlin dreams of a different life. He sees bright smiles, gold hair in the sunlight, blue eyes, silver chain mail, a red cape with a golden dragon. he sees a red neckerchief, a blue tunic, golden eyes. He feels fingertips on his skin, a voice whispering 'Arthur'. He hears moans, silk sheets rustling. He feels the ghost of lips fluttering against his throat, hands gripping his hips. He whispers, 'I love you'.
Merlin wakes up shaking, sweating, bones aching, head pounding. He scratches the scruff on his cheeks and walks barefoot in Y fronts into his kitchen, plugs the coffee maker into the wall. He munches on toast, flings his knapsack onto his shoulder, and bikes to work. He calls Will as he leaves work, meets him at their favourite club. They get drunk on Johnnie Walker Blue and dance until their limbs ache and their skin is soaked through with sweat. They stumble in the front door of their flat, lips and hands everywhere, and collapse into bed, desperate and lonely.
Merlin dozes off at 5am, dreams of a golden Arthur in his mind, trading in the warmth of Will's limbs tanged with his for Arthur's. He sighs, happy and content, even though he knows he'll wake up in two hours to choke down paracetamol and head off to his dead end job and repeat the process of the lonely queer living a lie in London.
Sometimes he wishes his dreams were real. That this Arthur from his dreams could be his soulmate, his lover. They would meet somewhere romantic, like in a bookstore or a coffee shop and they would argue over things like Eccleston, Tennant, or Smith being the best of the new Doctors or what the odds were of them meeting Prince Harry were. They would go to bars and fuck like Brian and Justin on Queer as Folk and laugh at being so in love and too afraid to admit it. They would take long showers and make each other breakfast in bed and be happy. Merlin wouldn't want to cry every night over the death of his family. He wouldn't have to fuck his best friend every night to escape the hurt. He wouldn't have to get drunk to feel numb, to snort coke to take his mind off things. He would be happy. Arthur would be all he needed.
Merlin contemplates taking a whole bottle of sleeping pills so he can never escape his dreams. He didn't know why he was alive anyway. Everything had been taken away from him except Will. At least in his dreams he meant something. He wanted to sink in to them, to keep the dream going, and the only way that could happen was to sleep forever. He craved that numbness, that sleep. He wanted it.
Someday, Merlin thought to himself as Will's arms tightened around his torso. Someday he would be brave enough to spend eternity with Arthur. But not tonight. He had too many mistakes to make tomorrow and too many bad choices that were yet to happen. Someday, but not today.