Warnings: I don't know, angst I guess? One bad word.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the characters or the song. I just own the evil plot bunnies in my head.

A/N: This is just a short drabble based on the song 'Somebody That I Used To Know' by Gotye. I apologise, it was one of those stories that kept leaping round my head til I set it free... Enjoy. (If you want to listen to the song, it's here: www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=8UVNT4wvIGY&feature=relmfu )


The weather was grey and muggy on the day Arthur saw him again. He was walking down the road from work with Gwaine, trying to find somewhere for a quick lunch that wasn't slightly stale and overpriced when he saw the tall man with dark hair and flashing blue eyes walking in the opposite direction. And with that one look, that one meeting of the eyes, everything came back to him.

The evening they met, at an office function where Arthur was bored shitless of pretending to be interested in conversations about numbers and Merlin was the cheeky barman who kept sneaking him free drinks. The extra vodka in his system made Arthur more inclined to giggle, enjoy himself, and flirt with his cute barman, and the first time Merlin properly let himself go, threw his head back and laughed, Arthur found himself speechless for the first time in years. He asked for Merlin's number that night (aided heavily, he must admit, by a good amount of Dutch courage), and texted him as soon as he got home. His smile lasted days.

The night they first slept together, all tentative touching, eager kissing and nervous laughter whenever either of them fumble, or miss, or their teeth clash. It is far from perfect, and nothing like how Arthur expected, but that was fine. More than fine. It was wonderful - the moans of ecstasy, the knowledge that he was inside his boyfriend. And the love. In that moment, he had never loved anyone more, or been loved by anyone more. They fit together like two sides of a coin, and it was in that moment that Merlin whispered that he was so happy he could die.

The morning Arthur first considered that maybe they weren't perfect for each other. They'd had a bit of an argument the night before, nothing major, nothing they hadn't already fought about 20 times, but this morning Arthur couldn't be bothered anymore. He honestly couldn't find the energy or will to apologise and sort things out, he just wanted to sit quietly with a cup of tea, however much Merlin wanted to talk it all over. He told himself to sort it out, because they were right for each other, that they were in love, but later that day, as they cuddled on Arthur's large white sofa and watched rubbish TV, Arthur found himself feeling lonely. He didn't admit it to himself yet, he told himself that he was in his lover's arms, and that he was happy. But that's where the feeling started.

The routines they fell into. The fights, the careful selection of words and topics designed purely to hurt each other, the tears - from both sides, the angry sex, themaking up, the quiet uncertainty, the brief happiness before the cycle started again. It was almost like an addiction for both of them, but as time went on the passion started to fade -from their fights as much as their lovemaking, until the point where they both seemed resigned to the fact that it would end, just delaying the inevitable for as long as they could.

The day they had the talk. For once, they hadn't been fighting - not for days, actually. But they hadn't been doing much of anything else, either. It was Merlin who brought it up. He said he couldn't take anymore of feeling guilty when he'd done nothing wrong, of second guessing himself, of living his life trying to read into every word Arthur said in an attempt to anticipate and avoid any potential argument. They talked for hours, but found that they couldn't make sense of each other anymore, and couldn't make sense of themselves when they were together. They cried, they hugged, Merlin promised they would remain friends, then he left.

He left.

The next time they saw each other, which was a few weeks later at a mutual friend's party. Despite Merlin's promise, he did what he must have known would hurt Arthur most. He acted as if they were acquaintances who'd met perhaps once before, instead of exes who'd spent nearly a year loving and kissing and fucking and fighting and who knew each other inside out. He smiled, said hi, and moved on. It wasn't as if Arthur wanted his love again - they'd proved that couldn't work, however much he missed him - but to be treated like a near stranger cut like a knife.

The afternoon a few days later when a thoroughly mortified looking Gwen and Lance showed up on his doorstep saying they were there to pick up Merlin's record collection, please, and they hoped he was ok. He was, as ever, the perfect host, handing over the records without so much as a hint of argument, helping them carry them to the car, offering cups of tea and trying to look surprised when they turned them down. After they'd left (speedily, with assurances that they hadn't picked sides and would stay in touch) he texted Merlin (still saved in his phone as 'My M') as calmly as he could asking why he couldn't pick up his own damn music.

The status report he'd received a few moments later to say the text couldn't be delivered because the number was no longer in use. He tried texting and ringing several more times before he believed it. When he'd calmed down, he tried reasoning to himself - it wasn't like he needed Merlin's number, they weren't together anymore, he had just liked knowing it was there. Just in case. And he didn't want to ring any of Merlin's friends to try to get his new number, he didn't want to be that guy.

The way he'd carried on with his life like everything was normal, like there wasn't a Merlin-shaped gap next to him at all times, until the pain paled to a dull ache and the people around him started to forget. Occasionally he had evenings where he sat and thought about Merlin, and what he might be up to now, and if he'd found someone new, and whether or not that person appreciated his ridiculous sense of humour. Sometimes he considered trying to get in touch with him, but could never quite work up the guts - or give himself a reason why he should.

So that day, when their eyes met across the street, he settled for a nod and a smile, watching as Merlin reciprocated the gestures before breaking the eye contact and continuing on about his day as if nothing had happened.

"Who was that?" Asked Gwaine

"Who, him?" Arthur said, ignoring the change in his heartrate and his apparent sudden inability to breathe. "Oh, just somebody that I used to know."