This is kind of inspired by a line from Mayday Parade's "Terrible Things,"

I can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me.

And the title is from a John Mayer song of the same name.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as per usual.

Heartbreak Warfare

*.*.*.*.*

Arthur's gaze is piercing and intense when he looks at Merlin. It is soft and piercing and gazing and intense and it lights a fire in Merlin that he does not understand some days, and that he pretends not to understand on others. Because it isn't right, Merlin tells himself as he works through his tasks mindlessly, the way Arthur looks at him, and the way be looks at Arthur in return. It isn't right because Merlin is but a servant, and Arthur is so much more than that, and it isn't right, really, for them to look at each other like they are so taken and so in love.

It isn't right, Merlin tells himself, forcing his eyes to stay away from Arthur whenever he can help it, whenever it is possible.

It isn't right.

But... It doesn't feel right to not look at Arthur like that anymore either, it doesn't feel right to avert his eyes when he sees Arthur's on him like that, doesn't feel right to pretend he can't feel Arthur's pain across the room when Merlin does not return the look.

It does not feel right to love him, and yet it does not feel right to do anything else either.

He wonders if Arthur cares much—or at all—that Merlin is not allowing himself to look as he was before, if he misses Merlin looking at him as much as Merlin misses looking at him, but, Merlin reminds himself, even if he does... He will get over it, soon enough. He will grow used to Merlin not looking in the same way that Merlin has grown used to not looking, and things will be better for it, truly.

Except Arthur still looks at Merlin—still looks at Merlin like Merlin is responsible for the air he breathes, and he will suffocate if he looks away for too long, and it makes Merlin shiver at the prospect of him meaning as much to Arthur as Arthur means to him. And it is almost enough up make his resolve weaken, to allow his eyes to drift to Arthur in that loving, familiar, easy way of theirs. But that would ruin all the hard work he has put into not looking, would make it all for naught...

So his eyes stay away and his gazes stay guarded when they are forced Arthur's way in his daily routine.

And that is simply how things must be.

Arthur, however, does not seem to be getting the message, does not seem to understand what Merlin is doing, because his eyes are burning on Merlin one day, much more intense than they usually are, and Merlin cannot help the way he looks up at the other, eyes less guarded than they have been in ages now, and his breath catches in his throat at the emotion in Arthur's, nothing hidden, nothing veiled, everything obvious and easy to read, and by the Gods does Merlin wish he was illiterate right now, because he isn't sure if he can do it anymore, not when Arthur is looking at him like that now.

"Sire?" He says then, eyebrow high on his forehead with his questioning tone. He is unsure what he is expecting Arthur to reply with, unsure what he wants the other to say, unsure what he is even asking, but... he needs to ask something, needs to say something, because Arthur's gaze is too much and the silence is not helping.

"Merlin." Arthur says in response, the word seeming to fall from Arthur with some hesitance.

He takes half a step forward, then, sets his sword down on the table before moving towards Merlin slowly, and Merlin can only stand and watch as his king moves towards him, his hands stuck on the basket holding Arthur's dirty clothes that he is meant to be leaving to wash now. There is something, however, in the way Arthur is walking towards him and a look in his eyes that keeps Merlin right where he is, makes him swallow, a pain shooting through his heart that he almost doesn't understand until Arthur is standing right in front of him, jaw clenched, teeth hard on his bottom lip in a way that makes Merlin worry his next few words will be stained with his blood in the worst sort of way.

"I..." Arthur says, chewing on his lip for another moment before releasing it. "Are you... not in love with me anymore?" He asks, his eyes wondering and sad in a way that makes Merlin's heart skip a beat, his brow creasing as he thinks over the question.

Love.

It is not a word that has ever been spoken or a feeling that has ever been acknowledged between them before, but... It has always been there, nonetheless. Merlin has always known it, has always felt it between them, has always... has always known, it feels like, has always loved Arthur, and he has always known that Arthur feels the same, has always been able to see it in the other's eyes, as he is sure it has been reflected in his own eyes for many, many years now until... Until recently. Until he started trying to hide it, tuck it away to try to save both of them from what could never be.

He never expected for Arthur to be the one to bring it up, to acknowledge it first. Not Arthur.

"What?" Is all Merlin can bring himself to say in response.

"You heard me." Arthur replies, swallowing thickly as though those three words are even more difficult to say than his initial question had been. And maybe it is, for Arthur, at least, because he is Arthur, and... Merlin thinks this cannot be easy for him, any of this. It's not easy for Merlin either, of course, but, he's the one doing it; if the situation were reversed, if Arthur were to suddenly start doing what Merlin is doing... It would be frustrating. It would hurt.

And the thought that Merlin is still causing Arthur the pain he was trying desperately to avoid leaving him with to begin with makes his chest ache, makes everything in him feel hollow and almost defeated, because it has all been for nothing, he is still hurting Arthur, is still hurting himself. No matter what he does, what he feels, he is still doing nothing but causing pain for the both of them. And he isn't sure how much longer he will be able to stand it.

"I... did." Merlin replies at last, nods slowly.

"And?"

"And..." he trails off, wondering for a split second if he should play the role of the fool he oft falls into anyway, if he should pretend he isn't sure what else Arthur wants from him in this moment.

But he cannot do it, really, not when he throws his attention back to Arthur and sees that the blond is still looking at him like that. He simply does not have it in him.

"And I... I do, I... am." He sighs at last, defeated with the sentence, undoing all his hard work, all his suffering, all Arthur's pain, making it all perfectly worthless.

Arthur nods in response, and Merlin wonders for a moment what else there is to say, what else there is to do—what Arthur is going to say or do. But he does nothing. Nothing but swallows, nods again, and takes in a breath, lets it out far too slowly.

And for a long moment, that is all he does. All there is in the room is Arthur and Merlin, and Merlin is staring at Arthur in anticipation, and Arthur is staring back, something heavy and almost frightening behind his eyes that Merlin almost hates, can only guess at the true meaning that is there.

Until he doesn't have to guess anymore, until Arthur is nodding more soundly and says, "And... I you. It's... I feel the same."

Merlin tries not to let his heart skip a beat, tries to ignore the way his stomach twists in a frighteningly pleasant sort of way at Arthur's words, but... for all his magic, he cannot seem to shake the hold Arthur has over him, cannot seem to overcome the power the other seems to have over him, over his heart, and it would be unfair if he wasn't so sure that he has the same sort of power over Arthur, even if neither of them will say as much in so many words.

Merlin nods back soundlessly, heart aching when he realizes this is how they are going to leave things, this is how things are going to stay. Because it does not matter that they are in love, it only matters that neither of them are truly allowed to have what they want.

Arthur's gaze is piercing and intense as he looks at Merlin for another long moment before turning away. It is soft and piercing and gazing and intense and it lights a fire in Merlin that he does not understand some days, and that he will pretend not to understand from this point on. Because the pain will be intense and sharp and it will last forever, it feels like, for the rest of their days, and the only solace to be had, Merlin thinks, is that they both feel the same love, and they will both feel the same pain, and somehow, it will all be alright.

*.*.*.*.*