Arthur

I'm dead. I'm gone. Forever. It had to be said Arthur, because I know you, and I know you are in denial right now. I am never coming back. In a perfect world, one we once knew but now I'm not so sure, I would never leave you, you would never have to face the world alone, and now you're going to have to go on with out me. You may have this piece of paper, my words, etched here forever (unless you lose it or use it as a shopping list, which could happen), but you won't see me again, and I won't be seeing you. BUT -now listen closely - you can NEVER use that as an excuse not to live, you will use it as an excuse TO live. You have to keep moving forward, moving on up.

This letter is one of 10 envelopes I have left for you. Don't go looking for them; the next envelope will contain the remaining ones and I am trusting you not to just read them all at once. Each one has a set of instructions. You must promise to follow EVERY SINGLE ONE and only open the next letter when you have done them. Understand? Comprendo? Good. Because I have an army of willing spies, ready to force you into doing them :P actually it's not so much of an army, more just Morgana but she is one scary woman when she wants to be.

Now my love, your first set of instructions (you know how much I love my lists) :

1. Get out of the house. Go running, meet up with Morgana, go to the pub with the guys, I don't care! Just for heaven sake, get out of the house!

2. Take my shopping list off the fridgeand throw it away, it is NOT a keep sake. You can buy whatever the hell you like now. I know that you secretly hated all of the things that I have on it anyway, especially the vegetarian stuff!

3. Buy something new for the house. It can be anything you like, absolutely anything. A goldfish bowl (you could even get a goldfish, shock horror!), a new cushion, a statement of modern art or whatever the hell those framed squiggly lines are supposed to be; just make the house your own. Buy something new every month.

Off you go, my love. And good luck :)

M x

Arthur let out a breathy chuckle, tears streaming down his face, his hands shaking. His Merlin was gone forever. In the past five months he had watched the love of his life wither and die before his very eyes. He had held Merlin in those final moments; held him as his last breath shuddered through his small frame; he had held him as he lay lifeless, lost forever; held him tight in his arms, never wanting to let go.

The last five days had been pure hell. Every time the door opened, his head would snap up, his heart desperately hoping it had all just been a mistake; that it was Merlin walking through the door. He hadn't eaten, he barely slept, barely drank, barely moved off their sofa (but it wasn't theirs anymore was it? Arthur thought to himself bitterly, nothing would ever be 'theirs' again). He was missing a limb. There was a gaping hole in his heart. He couldn't move.

They had known it was coming but they had seen it too late. 5 months ago, Merlin had started complaining that his chest was tight. He hadn't done anything about it - he was always to busy to find time to go the doctors, he was one of those people who just never stood still. 4 months ago, Merlin had collapsed, unable to breathe and had been rushed into hospital. 82 days ago (that awful day never left his mind) the doctor had told them in a quiet voice that Merlin had lung cancer. 81 days ago, Merlin had been admitted to hospital to start treatment. 59 days ago, they had been told the cancer was too advanced. Merlin was going to die.

The words screamed in his head, even now, the doctor's patient voice was a dagger, stabbing him repeatedly in his broken heart. 20 days ago, Merlin was only just able to breathe on his own. 15 days ago, he had to wear an oxygen mask all the time. 10 days ago, they had put that thing up his nose (Arthur had never been to sure of what it was called despite the fact they had told him pretty much every day) so he could breathe. 5 days ago, Merlin had started falling asleep after just five minutes, the physical activity too much for him. 4, 3, 2, 1, time was up. Merlin was dead.

He read the letter again. It was just so… Merlin. So full of fun and life. So happy and excited; ready to tackle whatever the world threw at him. Tears tumbled down his cheeks as he thought of Merlin. Of his salvation, his life, his one and only. His Merlin. No one would ever compare to Merlin. His whole body ached, his brain thumped against his skull and it hurt so much. He could almost see Merlin writing the letter; painstakingly deliberating over the words, smiling and crying at the same time as he remembered why he had to write the letter at all. But Merlin was right as usual he did need to get out the house, staying inside was doing him no good at all.

A cold shower and a piece of toast later and Arthur was pounding the streets, music blaring in his ears. It felt amazing to be out of his own head for a while; focusing on the music, on the drum beat of his feet against the pavement. But nothing could block out the ache in his chest; the visions of Merlin that ghosted round his mind. On every corner, Merlin was there. He saw the dorky grin, or the giant ears and mop of hair disappearing round the bend, but when he called out, he wasn't there.

The house was cold when he returned. Cold and empty. No smell of Merlin's cooking wafting from the kitchen and filling the house; no music blaring from the radio, no Merlin joining in; no laughter. The desolation overwhelmed him. He was completely alone, no one to care. The tears came from no where, cascading down his face like a waterfall. His legs gave in beneath him, making him collapse against the door. Screaming. It was all he could do. Scream and scream and scream. Merlin was gone. Merlin was lost. He would never see Merlin again.

He pulled Merlin's letter out of his pocket; his hands still shaking, the tears still falling. One task down, two to go. The letter made him laugh. His Merlin was still here in a way, he was safe, guided by his love, his Merlin. Right then, onto task two then he thought.

He heaved himself up. Walking was hard; it felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He couldn't change the house, he didn't want to. If he started to move Merlin's things, take down his lists, change their furniture, nothing would ever be the same. Without Merlin's little quirky things, without Merlin's choices in picking the sofa or which dining room table to get, the house would never be theirs again. By pulling down Merlin's shopping list, he was pulling down his connection with Merlin. With out the list, Merlin would never have to come back for it (Arthur chuckled as he remembered the first time Merlin had gone shopping… without his list… and had returned 30 minutes later with no shopping. Merlin couldn't shop without his list), another link to him gone.

Standing in their kitchen, Arthur took in everything. The barren cupboards, the tidy work services, and the utensils exactly where they needed to be; it wasn't right. It was cold, quiet, the ticking of the clock eerily loud. The kitchen had always been warm and welcoming, Merlin's area. Arthur wasn't a bad cook; he just didn't need to when Merlin was around. Morgana had once joked that cooking was Merlin's mistress - Arthur could always see why, Merlin's food was pure porn.

They had a plain white fridge/freezer that had cost the earth. At least, it had been plain. Merlin's lists and love for all things magnetic covered the fridge in a whirlwind of colour; words were spelt out in silly letters, photos of them were in every available space. The mess made Arthur smile sadly. Arthur's life had been so structured before Merlin. Everything had a time and a day; everything had a place or a box or little cupboard with little white sticky labels. Then there was Merlin. When they say opposites attract, they really do mean it. Merlin had been like a tornado of madness. He never put things away and his favourite thing to mock Arthur about was his labels ("Who the hell has labels for everything, Arthur. I don't even think the queen has sticky labels in her wardrobe!"). Merlin had relaxed him, released some of the tension from his shoulders and allowed him the freedom his father never had.

He could see the list clearly. The very last list Merlin had added. He had been planning to go shopping the afternoon he had been admitted to hospital and the list had been long since forgotten. Until now. Gingerly, he walked towards the fridge, suddenly terrified. It was such a simple task, one of the mundane things that normal people would find terribly easy. But not Arthur. Not someone whose whole world had just fallen out from under them. As Arthur's hand touched the crinkled paper, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel. He could see Merlin's panicked face as he hurried to scribble down the items before he forgot what he needed. Could see the glint in Merlin's eye when he added strawberries and cream planning their meal for that evening. Could see the cheeky smile he wore as he placed the letter 'L' ("for 'list' obviously, Arthur!") over it to hold it in place. It warmed his soul, seeing Merlin so clearly in his minds eye. Breathing deeply, he pulled the list down and held it tightly in his shaking hands. Come on, Arthur. Bin it! He clicked the lid of the bin open, gripping the list close to his chest… he let go. The list floated down and landed softly on top of the pile of rubbish. He let the lid go. The letter was gone.

Arthur plonked himself down on the sofa again. He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, not thinking, not feeling; but it was dark when the phone rang.
"Hey, Arthur" a soft female voice came through the receiver
"Hey, Gana" he replied quietly. This was the first human contact he had had since Merlin had died; it was weird hearing another human's voice.
"Do you fancy coming over?" She was avoiding the question, Arthur could tell.
"I'm not… I'm not ready yet, Morgana"
"Oh Arthur" she whispered, "Do you want me to come over?"
"Maybe tomorrow"
"Okay… I love you Arthur. Remember that. I'm always here for you"
"Thanks" he replied brokenly, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Bye, Arthur"
Arthur hung up. He couldn't face another goodbye. Goodbyes hurt. Goodbyes were permanent. He never wanted to say goodbye to anyone ever again, that would mean losing them forever; losing them like he had lost Merlin.

He awoke the next morning. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa again. As he stretched out his arms above his head, he wondered for a moment where Merlin was, wonder whether he needed waking today. Reality fell on him like a tonne of bricks a moment later and he started to scream again. As the sun rose, Arthur cried and wept. He wept for his lost love. Wept for the life he could have known. Begged that Merlin could come back; who he was begging to, he didn't know, he didn't care.

He dressed in silence, lost in his own thoughts. There was so much he needed to sort out; people needed telling, Merlin's clothes needed clearing out, appointments needed cancelling. All these things were final. They cleared Merlin not only out of his life, but out of the world forever; there would be no coming back.
He spent a while stroking Merlin's clothes, the soft fabric cool and loved; still smelling of Merlin, his musty odour filling his nostrils, fainter now than it used to be, but still there and still the only smell he would ever need. It hurt and it healed. It proved Merlin had lived, proved he had been there, proved to Arthur he hadn't made Merlin up.

Another cold shower. Another run. The same route as yesterday familiar and constant in his mind, unchanging. The thud of his feet on the pavement soothed him, gave him something to focus on that wasn't the ache in his chest. The winter air was cruel, the wind biting. There was no warmth in his heart; the love and tenderness Merlin's smile radiated was lost forever.

When he returned home, he knew he had to do the third task. Again he read the letter, again it hurt. But task three was all that mattered now. Merlin knew Arthur hated buying stuff for the house, always allowing Merlin to choose (the only rule being "No pink, baby. Our house is going to be pink free. Okay?" Merlin had smiled at him and agreed; the house was pink free), yet here he was, faced with the arduous task of shopping. God Arthur hated shopping. Ah well, I might as well get it over with.

IKEA. The sin of the earth in Arthur's eyes. A big jumble of DIY furniture that no normal person could fit together without drilling some new holes themselves which really defeated the whole object of IKEA. But it was only 10 minutes from the house and it had quite a big selection of stuff (most of which Arthur had no idea what it was meant for but oh well, it was a big selection) so he must be able to find something.
IKEA was horrific. Arthur hadn't realised how much time had passed since Merlin… died. A whole week… which meant Fuck I came to IKEA on a Saturday! Arthur groaned inwardly, running his hands through his hair. He was sure this had to be the worst decision of his life. People were everywhere, throwing heaven knows what into their baskets; kids were screaming, parents were stressed; the shop floor was covered in cardboard boxes, plastic backs, bits of cable that someone was going to trip over soon; it was mayhem. He didn't want to face this much disaster.
All he needed was one item, yet even that was a struggle. What could he even get? He slipped a copy of the letter (the letter itself was tucked away at home, so as to not be damaged) out of his pocket and re-read task three. "Goldfish bowl… cushion… art…" he muttered to himself, completely lost as to what he was doing. "Cushion" he decided firmly, cushions would be easy… surely. Wrong. Cushions, it seemed, came in all different sizes, shapes, colours and fabrics. No matter what cushion you needed, Arthur was sure it could be found here somewhere. I need something to match the house… blue or red… soft and fluffy… snugly… so I can snuggle into it… shit I sound like a girl… I really hope no one is telepathic here… this really isn't the time for this train of thought… I'm supposed to be choosing a cushion not thinking about telepathy… focus Arthur… THAT ONE THERE! Arthur snatched the red cushion tightly to his chest; glancing left and right to make sure no ne had seen him. The soft fabric was warm and as he looked at it he gently traced the embroidered golden dragon with his finger. It was perfect. Merlin would have liked it he thought suddenly, his eyes beginning to water, his hands shaking.
He sped to the checkout, not caring who he bumped into; he had to get out of there. The walls had started to close in, the stuffy air was suffocating him, he was drowning as he watched everyone else breathing. Outside the store he collapsed onto the nearest bench. The world was spinning beneath him, the ground waiting to swallow him up whole; he wanted Merlin back, he needed Merlin back. Without him his life meant nothing and no one could convince him otherwise.

It took him an hour before he could head home. He was light headed and dizzy for the rest of the day. He lay, curled up on the sofa, cradling the new cushion and his favourite picture of Merlin tightly to his chest, wrapped up in Merlin's dressing gown. His world was empty. His heart was broken. His life wasn't worth living. He couldn't carry on.

Little did he know, Merlin was going to be helping him again very soon.