ooo
PREFACE
ooo
Sometimes life throws us grand adventures and daring quests for glory. Sometimes life has other plans. And then it's up to you to make the most of it.
Everyone makes lists. Shopping lists, wish lists, lists of names and addresses and all the things they need to remember to do in the near future.
Buy eggs, milk, and toothpaste. Get your hair cut. Pay your phone bill. Call mom. The little things, the everyday chores that help make your own personal little world go round, taking up the time you'd rather spend doing other, more fulfilling things.
But a lot of these more fulfilling things remain vague notions, stored away for some alternate universe or hypothetical future in which you'll miraculously find time to do them.
And the sad truth, of course, is that a lot of people never do find the time. We spend our lives so afraid of dying that we forget to live at all, and so to quell our fears of roads left untraveled, we make bucket lists.
Despite its unromantic name, a bucket list is, at its core, a list of dreams. A plan for a perfect life, a checklist to present at the final gates leading to whatever afterlife you believe in, all boxes hopefully neatly ticked. Your personalised diploma for successfully having completed this particular human experience.
The problem is that most bucket lists are written with the optimistic assumption that you have time. Time to save up for that hike in the Himalayas, or for that cruise around the world, or for collecting a coin from every country, or for writing that book.
Ironically, this is why the points on a lot of people's bucket lists never get ticked off at all. Because despite our best laid plans, no one really knows how much time they've got left.
Except sometimes they do. And when a person suddenly doesn't have the luxury of time, suddenly, the idea of a bucket list becomes as concrete and immediate as your list of ingredients for cooking dinner tonight. And with it comes the discovery that a life – however long or short – can be lived to the fullest.
This is a story about making the most of life, whatever deck you've been dealt, and about two very different people discovering just how little effort is needed to turn an ordinary life into an extraordinary one.
ooo
JANUARY
ooo
Friday, January 15
Tonight was going to be a disaster, he already knew it. Arthur shared a long-suffering look with his reflection as he straightened the tie Morgana had given him for Christmas, wondering for the hundredth time how the hell she had managed to wrangle him into this.
The art scene just wasn't for him, no matter what his sister said about him needing to expand his horizons. The people were rude and stuck up (not that this was any different from what Arthur was used to, but still - as a general rule, rich people didn't feel like they had something to prove), and the art - if you could even call it that - made Arthur feel like the little boy in The Emperor's New Clothes; wondering why everyone else were oohing and ahhing when there was nothing there to see. Quite frankly, displays like these were mostly just embarrassing for everyone present, and he didn't know why he had to suffer the freak show along with those poor bastards who didn't know any better.
But he would go, of course, because it was Morgana who asked him - and you didn't say no to Morgana. This was an irrefutable fact which Arthur had spent most of his life learning the hard way.
He surveyed his appearance one more time, running his hand through his light hair to give it a more dishevelled look. Couldn't look too posh and put together now, after all; he didn't want to stick out like more of a sore thumb than his designer suit and London accent would already make him do.
He sighed, straightening his tie one more time before stepping away from the mirror - trying not to feel as if he was walking to the gallows.
It was just one evening out with Morgana's weirdo friends, after all, and before he knew it he'd be back home in his flat with a beer and a rerun of tonight's football match, and he could forget any of it ever happened.
ooo
The gallery was exactly as dingy and uninviting as he had expected it to be: the white walls were cracked and the light came from sharp, naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling. All around him, artist types that were clearly very busy trying too hard were milling around each other, trying to make themselves seem more important than they really were.
And then there was the actual art – although that wasn't a word he would ever associate with the atrocious creations willingly. Colourless papier-mâché blobs were displayed on marble busts like they were diamonds, and paintings that looked like they were done by children (very disturbed children who were only allowed to paint with blacks and greys, anyway) adorned the walls.
In short, it was Arthur's worst nightmare come to life. How could Morgana ever have thought he would enjoy this?
He stood nursing his drink in the darkest corner he could find, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible - and hoping that he didn't just look like a creeper who'd snuck in for the free alcohol.
Although then again, at least if he got chucked out it'd give him a legitimate reason to go home, and Morgana couldn't even blame him for it.
And speak of the devil.
"This is absolute crap," Morgana exclaimed happily as she approached, high heels clicking against the peeling stone floor. She flashed a blindingly white smile in the direction of the group of disgruntled artists huddled in a protective circle a short distance away. "Isn't it fabulous?"
"We need to work on your definition of 'fabulous,'" Arthur grumbled, raising his eyebrow at her and taking in her outfit – where usually his sister wouldn't be caught dead in anything but the latest off high street, tonight she was sporting jeans and a loose-fitted grey t-shirt with artistic splashes of colour. Clearly she was doing a much better job of blending in than he was. He rolled his eyes. "You can't honestly tell me that you're enjoying this."
Morgana's only response was a tinkering laugh. She reached out a hand and beckoned, and a moment later, a pretty girl appeared by her side as if from nowhere, closely followed by a thin, dark-haired and scruffy-looking man in jeans and a wrinkly t-shirt, whom Arthur immediately wrote off as one of those artist types.
This man was exactly the type of person whom Arthur might have expected to find in a place like this. He was pale, tall and skinny, and looked to be about Arthur's age, even though his wry, unimpressed smile made him look much younger. His hair was black and tousled, and a bit of stubble adorned his face. And, like the gallery, he was dressed all in shades of grey and black. He wore dark, tight-fitted jeans and a dark grey t-shirt, covered by a black leather jacket - in fact, his dark purple hi-top trainers were the only bit of colour on his entire person. Except for his eyes, which shone a strikingly clear blue against the bleakness of the room at large.
Taking his eyes off the man, whom Arthur was annoyed to realise seemed to be silently judging him the way Arthur himself had been doing, he instead focused his attention on the girl, giving her as polite of a smile as he could muster. "And who's this, then?" he asked, flashing Morgana a smile, though his eyes held what he hoped was a clear warning. Arthur might not know exactly who this girl was, but it hardly mattered - he knew why Morgana had brought her here, and he was already cursing himself for not realising his sister's intent from the get-go.
Suddenly, her insistence that he come with her to this farce made a lot more sense. He really should have known.
"Oh," Morgana said, oblivious - or more likely pretending to be oblivious - to Arthur's discomfort, "this is my friend Gwen. I have been wanting to introduce you two for ages."
Gwen, Arthur noted, had the grace to blush as she glanced, wide-eyed, between Morgana and Arthur, and two spots of pink appeared high on her dark cheeks. Clearly, she had been no more aware of this obvious set-up than Arthur himself. That immediately made him feel a little bit warmer towards her, and he did his best to make his smile as genuine as possible.
"Pleased to meet you," he said politely, sticking out his hand. The girl - Gwen - shook it, returning his smile bravely. Steeling herself, he'd wager, for the formulaic small talk that would inevitably follow.
"You too," she smiled, cheeks dimpling. "Oh, and I don't think you've met my friend Merlin...?"
For a moment Arthur didn't realise who she was talking about until he remembered that the girl hadn't come over here alone.
The man - Merlin, evidently, and what a stupid name - was standing off to the side, pretending to be interested in one of the horrendous paintings (or, Arthur realised with dread, maybe he was genuinely impressed with the monstrosity). He made no indication that he'd heard Gwen speak his name.
"Merlin!" Gwen hissed, elbowing the man in the side, and the man yelped and scowled at her. Arthur had to suppress a laugh - well, at least this evening was beginning to get a little more entertaining.
"What is it, Guinevere?" Merlin hissed back, narrowing his eyes at Gwen before glancing over and seemingly noticing Arthur for the first time. "Oh, hello. Arthur, right?" he asked, and his tone was so carefully disinterested that Arthur wanted to roll his eyes. But that would be rude, and Arthur had been taught by his father never to be rude to strangers (until he was certain that their acquaintance would in no way be beneficial to him, anyway). So he settled for a tight-lipped smile.
"Pleased to meet you, too," Arthur forced out, even though this time he decidedly wasn't. He stuck out his hand again, more out of habit than anything else, and Merlin eyed it for a second as if Arthur was offering him something vile. But after a moment he seemed to realise that it would be rude to refuse, and grudgingly extracted his own hand from his pocket to shake Arthur's.
His handshake was surprisingly firm, Arthur noted, for someone so pale and wiry. Thankfully, it was also brief.
"So," Morgana said, reaching out a manicured hand to place it on Gwen's arm, effectively steering the conversation back on track. "Gwen here works as an architect, isn't that right?"
Gwen smiled modestly. "Well, I'm actually only working part-time at a small firm right now while I complete my degree. It's nothing, really." She bowed her head, her curly dark hair falling forward with the action. And Arthur had to admit it - Morgana might not have got it totally wrong this time. Too bad he really wasn't looking for anything like that right now.
A disbelieving noise came from Gwen's other side, and Arthur's eyes strayed back to Merlin. "Right, except they always ask for your opinion on their ideas, and want you to bring in suggestions, and use your designs all the time..."
"That was one time," Gwen mumbled, casting her eyes down and looking embarrassed but pleased.
Arthur was, despite himself, a little impressed. Not just by Gwen and her charming modesty, but by Merlin, who was clearly fiercely proud of his friend and not afraid to show it, even after Morgana had directed the focus away from him somewhat rudely.
"And what do you do, Merlin?" Arthur asked - half to spite Morgana and half because he actually found himself a little bit curious.
When Merlin's eyes met his, the disinterest was still there. But it was tinged with just a little bit of amusement; clearly Merlin saw Morgana's plan as clearly as Arthur and Gwen did, but unlike them, he was finding the entire thing funny.
"I'm studying for my Ph.D, actually. Art History. I'm, well, taking a break right now, but yeah." He had a slight lilt to his accent, which Arthur thought might have been Welsh, and he sounded a little defensive for some reason.
Art History. Of course. "So... your work is up there, I assume?" Arthur waved his hand, indicating the room, already wondering which of these horrors could have been created by this man (who, despite his ruffled appearance, had seemed fairly normal).
Merlin's laugh was loud and startling in the suffocating quiet of the gallery, and Arthur found it a surprisingly welcome reprieve. "God no," he said empathetically. "This is all rubbish. I like to think my paintings are at least a little bit more tolerable."
Arthur glanced over at the group of artists, and found that they were all glaring at Merlin angrily. Arthur snorted, and couldn't help himself; he gave them a little salute and they turned away in a huff as if one organism, back into their muttering little circle. Probably plotting their messy and painful deaths, Arthur reckoned.
But what the hell. "I certainly can't imagine it being any worse," he said, and Merlin laughed. The sound echoed around the room, filling it with warmth. Arthur didn't realise how sombre the mood in the gallery had really been up until now.
Next to Merlin, Gwen was looking distinctly uncomfortable, her eyes darting in the direction of the artists, whose mutterings had intensified in volume. Arthur almost felt bad, but he couldn't; this was much closer to having fun than he'd thought was possible tonight.
"Hey, listen," Merlin said after a short, uncomfortable silence, "I'm gonna go outside - do you smoke?"
It took Arthur a moment before he realised that the question was directed at him. "Oh," he said, glancing at Morgana, who was narrowing her eyes at Merlin. Merlin only smiled at her benignly for a moment before turning back to Arthur, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.
And Arthur, recognising this for the opportunity it was, grinned. "I don't, actually, but I could use the fresh air, I think. I'll join you."
"Excuse us, ladies," Merlin said smoothly, touching Gwen's shoulder gently before nodding at Arthur. Gwen looked back at Merlin with a disapproving frown, but said nothing. Morgana was fuming.
With a quick, apologetic smile at Gwen (choosing to completely ignore Morgana and her stare of death), Arthur followed Merlin, weaving in and out of the mass of people - and giving the artists themselves a wide berth - until they reached the exit.
Once outside, Arthur leaned against the building, exhaling heavily and watching his breath fog in the frigid January air. "Thanks for the reprieve," Arthur said. "It was getting a bit claustrophobic in there."
Next to him, Merlin leaned back too, his posture slightly slumped. He carefully extracted a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his coat before glancing sideways at Arthur and shrugging - the image of disinterest, but Arthur thought he saw a spark of mischief in his eyes.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "Mostly I just wanted to get away from some of those sculptures. That giant eye thing is going to give me nightmares."
Arthur huffed out a laugh. He watched as Merlin fumbled with the lighter before lighting the cigarette, then lifting it to his mouth and looking at it contemplatively. He didn't seem very inclined to actually smoke it.
"You know, I think you're supposed to actually put it in your mouth and suck on it," Arthur said
Merlin's head snapped towards him, his eyes wide, mouth dropping open. It took Arthur a moment to realise what he'd said, and he felt his own eyes widen, frozen in a sort of catatonic embarrassment.
Merlin stared at Arthur for a moment, and Arthur stared back - and then, just as Arthur was contemplating making a run for it to avoid the awkwardness, Merlin's eyes dropped to the cigarette still extended in front of him and he barked out a laugh as comprehension settled in; Merlin laughed so hard he doubled over, and after a moment Arthur forgot about his complete embarrassment because Merlin was laughing, and it was ridiculous, and then he was laughing as well, bracing himself against the wall for support.
"That-" Merlin managed, still gasping a few minutes later (every time the laughter had begun to subside one of them would catch the other's eye and they'd be set off all over again), "-was probably-" another gasp, "-the best unintentional come-on I have ever heard in my life." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Mind if I use that at parties?"
Arthur's shoulders were still shaking, and he was still grinning as he replied, "Only if I can watch from a distance as you get slapped by every girl in the vicinity."
Merlin opened his mouth as if to reply, then seemed to think better of it as he caught Arthur's eye again. He shook his head, his laughter fading to a curious smile as he studied Arthur for a moment. Then he seemed distracted again by the cigarette, which had been slowly burning away without either of them realising. Merlin flicked it away and reached back into his jacket to get another one.
"So I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that you're not actually a smoker," Arthur remarked, raising an eyebrow as Merlin lit the second cigarette (this time inhaling as he lit it up, the way he was actually supposed to). "Why start now?"
Merlin looked at him through his lashes, taking a drag and then coughing slightly as he exhaled. "Just thought I'd see what all the fuss was about."
He sounded so casual about it, taking another drag and not coughing this time, and Arthur thought he saw a flash of the nonchalant, bored artist type which Merlin had appeared to be when he'd first seen him - but having seen Merlin bent over with laughter, gasping for breath in a completely undignified way, Arthur was pretty sure it was all an act. He wondered if all art students were given a handbook, 'How to Be Hipster' or something equally ridiculous, when they started their course.
That was why Arthur didn't hesitate before letting out a snort and saying, "That is an incredibly stupid reason to start smoking, Merlin. Those things will kill you."
Merlin stayed quiet, leaning against the wall and letting himself exhale the smoke slowly. Arthur winced; maybe he'd misread the situation and the other man was now mortally offended.
But Merlin only shrugged again. "You're as bad as Gwen. I didn't say I was going to start smoking. Only that I wanted to try it," he said. And even though the smile he shot Arthur was a little tight, it was a smile nonetheless. Arthur let out a relieved breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in.
"So is it everything you thought it would be?" He asked, finding himself not able to look away from Merlin. He'd never given a thought to smoking himself (it was counterproductive, a pointless indulgence that he had no need for), but as he watched Merlin's lips close around the cigarette he suddenly, inexplicably found himself a tiny bit curious.
"I'll have to get back to you on that," Merlin said quietly, still smiling. There was a strange energy in the air at that moment, and Arthur found himself drawn into the movement of Merlin's hand as he lifted the cigarette to his lips again, and the tendrils of smoke curling through the air as he exhaled. It was completely illogical – there should be nothing appealing about watching someone smoke, after all. And yet…
"Oh, there you two are!"
Both men started at Morgana's voice, and turned to see her emerging from the gallery, Gwen trailing behind her.
"Couldn't stand another minute?" Merlin smiled, unceremoniously tossing his half-smoked cigarette and moving to help Gwen put on her coat.
"They kept staring daggers at us after you two left, we thought we'd best head off before we actually became part of the exhibition," Gwen grinned up at him. "'Stuffed Heathens,' they'd call us."
Merlin laughed. "Immortalised as part of that nightmare? I couldn't imagine a worse way to go."
Gwen blanched, and Arthur imagined she was probably picturing how horrible that would be.
"Right, well," she said after a moment, seemingly having gathered her composure, but still shooting Merlin worried looks as though he was going to offer her up to the artists as a tribute, "we should probably go, actually, if we want to catch the tube before it closes."
Merlin's eyes darted to Arthur and Arthur found himself saying, "You don't have to go yet, the night's young. Why don't we head to the pub down the street?"
As he finished speaking, he frowned, because what had happened to his wild desire for this night to be over? And yet… he found himself holding his breath that the others would agree. He suddenly didn't want to go home at all.
Morgana raised an eyebrow, but Arthur ignored her. Gwen looked at Merlin questioningly, and the other man smirked. "You sure you don't want to go home and do... whatever it is you idle rich do with your time?"
"Merlin," Gwen hissed. "You're being rude."
But Arthur only rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. "Come along, stuffed heathens. Drinks are on me."
ooo
Not fifteen minutes later, the four of them had squeezed into a tiny booth at the pub around the corner, and were nursing pints. Well, except for Morgana, who had ordered a scotch.
"I'm never going back to that place," Gwen declared, setting her glass down on the table with such force, it looked as if she was declaring war. "I don't care how many cupcakes you bribe me with, Morgana."
Next to her, Merlin snorted. Arthur shot Morgana a sideways look, amused. So that's how she made her friends agree to go on blind dates with her workaholic half brother they'd never even met. He filed that away to tease her about later.
"Just out of curiosity," Merlin said, a sly tone to his voice that indicated he'd reached the same conclusion as Arthur, "how many cupcakes?"
Gwen caught Arthur's eye for a brief moment, and he was relieved to see she looked amused rather than embarrassed. No hard feelings, then. "More than is probably good for me," she shrugged, lifting her drink to hide her smirk.
Morgana let out a long-suffering breath. "Well, it wasn't my fault that the art-" she gave Arthur such a pointed look, there could be no question to anyone present what they were really talking about, "-wasn't as engaging as I thought it was going to be."
An awkward silence descended over the table as Arthur tried and failed to come up with some sarcastic reply that wouldn't offend Gwen. The truth was, she was lovely. Truly. Arthur felt like half a fool for not at least trying to get to know her. But after his relationship with Mithian had fizzled and died in such a truly pathetic fashion a few months back, he just wasn't up for committing to anything romantic right now.
And honestly, he'd been far more interested in getting to know Merlin, who seemed a contradiction in terms and therefore fascinating in a way that no girl had seemed for a while. But Morgana would never understand that; she had been obsessed with finding the one for him since they were teenagers. A fact he privately thought probably said more about her own dysfunctional love life than it did about his.
To his surprise, it was Merlin who broke the heavy silence. "Well, you know what they say. Sometimes a really eye-catching painting is just a splattering of paint on a canvas when you see it up close." When Arthur looked up, he found Merlin looking right at him, eyebrows raised as if in challenge, eyes sparkling with amusement. And Arthur found his own lips quirking up into a smile, knowing that Merlin's thinly veiled insult was meant as a distraction. And it worked. Next to Merlin, Gwen snorted into her pint, and though Morgana let out another sigh, he thought it sounded a little relieved.
"Honestly, I've never been one for art," Arthur shot back easily. "Nor artists. A bunch of stuck up pretentious clowns, the lot of them."
Gwen gasped, but Merlin's smile was wide and brilliant as he easily replied, "Pretentious. Coming from you, that's almost a compliment."
Arthur grinned. "You wouldn't know, it's probably the first you've ever gotten."
Gwen was now looking between them, wide-eyed, seemingly stuck somewhere between second-hand embarrassment and fascination.
Next to Arthur, Morgana was texting, clearly bored with the juvenile turn the conversation had taken.
"Well," Merlin said, eyes never leaving Arthur even as he drained the last of his pint, "I think the next round's on me."
ooo
Sunday, January 31
"Fuck, my feet are freezing."
Arthur snorted into the phone, scooting down on the sofa until he was lying with his head propped up against the arm rest. "That's your own fault for wearing those ridiculous shoes. Aren't they made of hemp or something?"
"Cotton, actually, organic blend," came the disgruntled reply. Arthur could hear cars in the background and imagined Merlin walking along some busy London street, trying to avoid falling on his ass and being splashed by cars. Both would be funny - but probably not so much if Arthur wasn't there to brush him off or stop his fall, so he rather hoped Merlin was looking where he was walking.
He bit his lip to stop himself actually saying that out loud.
Arthur had only just sat down with a mug of coffee, putting his feet up on his immaculate coffee table because screw it, when his phone had rung. He'd been unsurprised to see Merlin's name flash up on the screen, and answered immediately.
Merlin had been making his way home, he'd told him, from some fundraiser Gwen had dragged him to. Arthur had ignored the initial, illogical stab of jealousy he'd felt that no one had invited him (why should they? Gwen hardly knew him, and Merlin, well... they'd hung out a few times, but there was no reason to expect an invitation every time Merlin went out), and instead settled back into the sofa, content to keep Merlin company as he made his way home.
They'd talked about a little of everything, really, and Arthur had quite forgotten about the fact that he actually didn't much like talking on the phone. Somehow, with Merlin, it felt different. Everything felt different with Merlin. It was odd, that.
"You live in a really posh neighbourhood," Merlin said then, apropos nothing.
"What of it?" Arthur said, feeling oddly offended.
"Just that you'd think they had people to actually clear the streets in this weather, even if it is bollocks-o-clock on a Sunday night," Merlin said, and Arthur could hear the smile in his voice.
Arthur frowned. "How would you know whether or not they cleared my street?" he asked, bewildered - only to have his sentence cut off by the buzzer on his door. "Hang on," he said distractedly, moving to get off the sofa. Who could be calling at this hour?
"Because I'm on it. You gonna let me in?"
Oh. Arthur couldn't help the grin that spread over his face even as he rolled his eyes. "You better not get my carpets wet, you wanker," he grinned into the phone before hanging up, pressing the button allowing Merlin to enter the building and unlocking his door.
He stood back, feeling strangely light-headed all of a sudden. Usually, unannounced guests would leave him unsettled and even a bit annoyed, but Merlin... Arthur had just been wishing they could have been talking in person, and here he was. He really needed to stop grinning before Merlin got up here, he probably looked like a crazy person.
After only a few more moments there was a knock on the door, and by the time Arthur opened it he had composed himself, showing only the appropriate amount of enthusiasm at having a mate come over (even if the mate in question was the strangest mate he'd ever had). Merlin only smiled brightly at him, despite the fact that he looked like he was half frozen solid, and let himself into the flat, dripping wet and getting slush all over the floor in the small corridor. For some reason Arthur didn't mind at all.
"It's disgustingly cold out there," Merlin said as he removed his soaked coat, and Arthur took it from him without thinking, finding a hanger and taking it to the bathroom so it could dry in the shower cubicle. Merlin toed off his boots and followed Arthur, placing the boots in the shower as well without asking. They grinned at each other for a moment, feeling oddly proud of their little shared accomplishment, and Arthur indicated his head for Merlin to follow him, and led the way into the kitchen.
"Well, you'll have to stay here until your coat dries," he tossed over his shoulder, and Merlin let out a sound of relief.
"Thank god, because if you'd told me to get lost I might have had to egg your windows."
"That's ridiculous. Where would you get eggs?"
"I'd borrow them from your neighbour. And slag you off in the process. So see, you really don't want to mess with me," Merlin smirked, arms outstretched in triumph.
Arthur laughed. "You're a lunatic."
"And you let me into your flat," Merlin quipped, taking the beer Arthur offered him. "Guess we're both mad, then."
They fell into a comfortable silence, sipping their beers and leaning side-by-side against the kitchen counter. And really, Arthur thought, this should feel strange. He hadn't known Merlin for very long at all, and the man was practically a stranger - but there was just something about him, something indefinable, he couldn't put his finger on it.
Merlin just felt like he fit into his life. It was illogical; as far as he knew they came from very different backgrounds and had very little in common. And yet. It felt like they'd always been doing this, this easy companionship that was half bickering and half laughing about ridiculous things that a week ago Arthur never would have given a second thought. Merlin was, in some strange and flowery metaphorical way, like a lightbulb which had been switched on and now illuminated the room of Arthur's life - the room which Arthur hadn't realised had been dim for far too long.
He snorted as he realised that he was seriously comparing his life to an empty room. Merlin was right, they were both insane.
"What?" Merlin smiled, his mouth halfway closed over the head of the bottle. Arthur blinked, transfixed for a moment on the movement. That was strange, too.
"Just you," Arthur shrugged. "Being here." He suddenly felt a little awkward - he didn't quite know how to label this. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
Merlin took a swig of his beer and (thankfully, it was distracting) lowered the bottle. He was quiet for a moment, looking lost in thought - and Arthur was already running through safer topics in his head, ways to save the night from the awkwardness he had just enforced upon it, when Merlin spoke quietly.
"I guess it was just my thing, that I wanted to do today. Come here, I mean."
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, surprised by Merlin's serious tone.
Merlin swirled the remainder of his beer around in the bottle, seeming to contemplate his answer. "I have this pact with myself. I want to do one new thing, every day. It doesn't have to be a big thing or anything important, just... if there's something I want to do, then I do it." He shrugged, as though it was no big deal - but Arthur could see that the admission had cost him something. He looked suddenly shy, completely devoid of any of his usual carefully composed cockiness.
"Wow," Arthur said, "that sounds... brilliant, actually."
When Merlin smiled at him this time there was no sarcasm or bravado; it was hesitant, and open. Arthur found he liked it. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Absolutely. It's brave," Arthur said, and watched in fascination as Merlin's ears turned red and his smile widened. He had to remind himself to compliment Merlin more often, if this was how he reacted. As refreshingly abrasive as Merlin had been at first, this more candid side of him was something Arthur realised he wanted to see more of.
He wanted to see more of Merlin. The realisation shouldn't have surprised him - they had, after all, formed a real friendship over a short span of time - and yet it did.
"Wait," Arthur said suddenly, frowning, "was I on your list? Like, 'befriend the most unlikely person at the party,' or something?" He didn't know why, but the thought made his stomach clench unpleasantly.
Merlin smiled, somewhat sheepishly. "No, actually, that day my new thing was..." He paused, studying Arthur for a moment. Seeming to make a decision, he nodded to himself. "Well, see for yourself."
Merlin turned around, bending over to rummage in his backpack and pulled out a small leather diary. He leafed through until he found the correct day, January 15, and Arthur moved to lean over his shoulder to read: Smoke a cigarette.
"Oh, this explains a lot!" Arthur exclaimed, barking out a surprised laugh. Then he frowned. "What a stupid task to set yourself, though."
Merlin shrugged, turning his head to catch Arthur's eye. "Yeah, it kind of was. Maybe I should actually change it to Meet Arthur." Arthur watched as he reached back into his backpack and pulled out a pen – without a lid, of course, because this was Merlin after all – and crossed out Smoke a cigarette. Underneath, he wrote, Meet the biggest prat on the planet.
Arthur felt like he should at least try to act offended at that, but he couldn't help but laugh, inexplicably pleased. "So," he said, still leaning over Merlin's shoulder, "can I see what else you've done?"
To his surprise, Merlin shut the book with a snap, turning his body slightly as if anticipating that Arthur would reach over and try to snatch it out of his hands. "It's mostly been stupid stuff, really," Merlin hedged. "I've been trying to think of better ones. Still got the better part of a year left, after all."
"Oh," Arthur said. He wasn't disappointed, he told himself - Merlin was allowed to keep his secrets. "Well, then, got anything exciting planned?"
Merlin lit up. "You can help me think of things to add to the list! It'll be good to have a sparring partner."
"What about Gwen? Or that friend of yours, Will? Didn't they have good suggestions?"
"Ah. Er," Merlin said, scratching his neck, "I haven't exactly told them I'm doing this."
This caught Arthur by surprise. "Why on earth not?" And why did you choose to tell me? he wanted to add.
As if sensing the unspoken question, Merlin's cheeks reddened - and Arthur found himself oddly transfixed for a moment by the way the colour spread over his cheekbones, back towards his ears.
"Dunno," he mumbled. "I guess I just wanted this to be... mine. Something I did for myself."
Arthur arched an eyebrow. "But you're telling me about it now." He wasn't sure why he was pushing, why this detail suddenly felt very important.
Merlin grinned. "Please, I hardly know you. It's not the same."
And as he opened the book again and turned to the back pages, Arthur studied his profile for a moment. It had sounded like a brush-off, and some people might have taken it as an insult, but Arthur felt strangely warmed by the words. It's not the same.
He smiled, and leaned slightly into Merlin when he turned back to look at the book, trying to convey without speaking that he understood what Merlin meant. And if the way the other man pressed slightly back against him was any indication, Merlin understood.
"So yeah," Merlin said, clearing his throat and pointing to a long list. "These are some of my ideas that don't really need to be on specific days, you know? Some of them are stupid," he hastened to add, sounding almost apologetic about it, "and I might not do all of them. Most days I've just randomly found something to do that I hadn't before... but I just thought I'd start collecting ideas, for days when I can't think of anything."
Arthur ignored Merlin's babbling and scanned the list. He couldn't help but snort at some of the entries - karaoke, really? How cliché was that? - but most of them just seemed so inherently Merlin, he felt a sudden, strange urge to just hug the other man. He dismissed that as soon as it came over him though. That was just ridiculous. Sometimes with Merlin, he felt like a five-year-old who'd just found a new playmate.
"Hmm," he said, just to fill the silence, as he let himself read back over the list again, taking in the entries.
"I told you, they're dumb," Merlin said after a few more moments, keeping his head down-turned as though reading the list alongside Arthur, even though his eyes didn't move at all. He looked up in surprise when Arthur grabbed his shoulder.
"These are not dumb, Merlin, they're brilliant," Arthur said honestly. Merlin shot him a grateful smile in return, and Arthur had a strange idea that if he was the one with the list, today's entry might read, Make Merlin smile. Now that would be dumb, wouldn't it?
"So... which of them should I do tomorrow?" Merlin asked, his eyes turning to scan down the list again.
"You've already done one today?" Arthur asked, feeling a bit put out - he quite had his eyes set on Teepee a house.
Merlin laughed. "Why do you think I'm at your place?"
"Wait, you came to my house to tick off a point on your list?" Arthur asked, feeling a bit put out and taking an automatic step away from Merlin.
Merlin turned, his eyes widening. "Oh, no, it wasn't like that. I just meant..." He sighed. "Look. Arthur, this list, I do it because I want to. Just because Go to Arthur's flat was my new thing to do today doesn't mean that I wouldn't have gone if I'd done something else new today, too. Although," he added slyly, "I might have asked you to meet me at the pub instead and come by tomorrow. You learn to ration your first-time experiences pretty quickly when you're doing this, you know."
"Hm," Arthur said, frowning, but he wasn't really upset. Really, he was just glad that Merlin was here at all - and wasn't that a little pathetic? Whatever, Arthur didn't care.
Day 1:
Be a little pathetic.
"Look, I can go if you-" Merlin started, looking resigned, but Arthur cut him off.
"Run a mile," Arthur said quickly.
Merlin stopped mid-sentence, then smiled widely. "Done."
And so it began.
A/N: Welcome to another monster of a Merthur fic! A fair warning: there will be angst, and sensitive subjects will be explored. Ultimately, what I am hoping to do is to tell a story of two people brought together by chance, who choose to explore this silly little thing called life. Merlin keeps secrets (would he really be Merlin if he didn't?), and those secrets are dark. But the story is not, and my aim isn't to break your hearts and leave you depressed and broken (the series finale already did that, after all).
As with Tributes, I'll refrain from stating outright whether or not there will be character death in this story, but you can send me a private message, and I will tell you. And I'll re-iterate: I am not setting out to break your heart, merely to tell what will hopefully be a memorable story. So please read and enjoy, and I'd very much appreciate you taking the time to leave your feedback so I can keep improving my craft.
Chapter 2 will be posted on or before May 15.