Chapter Four.

Merlin lived for the end of the day. By the time he left work, it had nearly been a full twenty-four hours without a dose, and he knew he would have to find a way to fill his empty pockets. He found a local bar, and in it was a pretty young thing sipping Merlot. Her name was Julia, she was engaged to a wealthy producer in Cardiff, and she was in town for the weekend visiting her mother. She said her fiancé was a good man: Everything she'd ever dreamed. Merlin flashed her a handsomely crooked grin and, after a quick and dirty in the ladies' room and a bit of supernatural thievery, her large diamond ring was in his pocket. He managed to pawn it for enough money for a fix.

He met Jack in the back of an old video shop, and he shot up something pretty dismal, but it got the job done. He was feeling better already. Jack assured him that what Merlin just received was nothing compared to what his friend from Glasgow had in supply.

"I'm headed up there tonight for my share," he told Merlin. "You wanna see what the real shit's like—you come with me."

Merlin didn't think it was a bad idea.

They took the train the Glasgow, and arrived in the early hours of the morning. Most of the day was spent finding the supplier, and then testing his top shelf heroin. "For you, only the best," he told Merlin, and Merlin returned the favor by putting both he and Jack under a sleeping spell and making off with all the stash he could fit in his jacket pockets.

That night, he went to a club and found a good-looking man who reminded him somewhat of Gwaine—but maybe it was just the hair. The man invited Merlin back to his flat, and they smoked a hit before Gwaine-look-alike taught Merlin the true meaning of the word blowjob.

In the morning, Merlin found the man's wallet and emptied it of its contents—only about fifty pounds—and used the money to make his way back home.

Merlin came crashing through the door and stumbled to the floor, and the first thing he saw were Arthur's shoes at eye level with him. He glanced up tentatively, finally reaching Arthur's glaring expression and tightly crossed arms. Merlin grinned innocently.

"Mind helping me up?"

Arthur threw his arms in the air in defeat and stalked towards the kitchen.

Merlin's smile fell, and he eventually pushed himself to a stand and followed Arthur's path. He could smell something cooking, and realized distantly that it must have been around dinnertime.

Good, Merlin thought. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

"Smells good," Merlin told Arthur when he reached him, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, but Arthur grabbed a kitchen knife from the block and swung it towards Merlin's throat, missing purposefully by a fraction of an inch.

Merlin had almost forgotten how skilled Arthur was with a blade. It was like riding a bicycle, he supposed—a lethal, pointy bicycle that Arthur had been trained to wield since birth.

Still, the reminder didn't make Merlin any less angry that the knife had been used on him. He jumped back.

"What the fuck, Arthur!"

"What the fuck?" Arthur repeated, his tone dripping with anger. He let out a hollow laugh. "Figure it out." He stabbed the tip of the knife into the battered linoleum of the counter and turned away from Merlin to pull a small meat pie out of the oven. It was from a frozen package that clearly only served one, but Arthur looked disgusted by it when he placed it down on the counter to cool.

Merlin blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's been three days, Merlin," Arthur said, trying to stay calm, but he was gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles. "Where have you been?"

Merlin looked at his shoes and shrugged. "Just around," he said. "Just out."

"I thought you were—" Arthur bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself.

Merlin snorted a laugh. "What? Dead? Don't hold your breath."

Arthur looked hurt by this, and he took in a steadying gasp after a beat. "I can't do this, Merlin," he said definitely.

Merlin felt like all the air had been ripped from the room. "Do what?"

"This," Arthur said, toggling his index finger back and forth between them. "You. Us."

Merlin let out a laugh. Arthur was obviously losing his wits. "Are you breaking up with me?" he asked lightly. The thought was ridiculous.

"Yes."

Merlin's smile dropped, and the situation turned from humorous to infuriating in that single syllable.

"No," Merlin said dryly. "You're not."

Arthur squared his jaw. His mind was made up. "I'm sorry, Merlin. But I've done a lot more research over the past three days—and a lot of thinking, too. All the prevention websites say I need to give you an ultimatum." Merlin sneered at him. He was doing this because of a stupid intervention website?

"This is the ultimatum."

He began to leave the room, but Merlin outstretched his palm towards Arthur. His eyes flashed gold, and Arthur stopped dead—frozen in place.

"Merlin, let me go," he demanded, his voice shaking with the strain it took to speak.

"Do you know how long I've waited for you? Do you have any idea?" It wasn't a question. "And now you're just going to leave?"

"Merlin."

Merlin lowered her arm, and Arthur's body slackened but he did not walk away. Instead, he turned to face Merlin.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"You don't get to be sorry!" Merlin shouted, and the meat pie flew off the counter and slammed against the kitchen wall seemingly by its own volition. "Every day, I went to Avalon looking for you. Every day for over a thousand years—everyone else left you! They left me!" He felt tears streaming from his eyes, but he didn't know why. He hated those tears. He hated Arthur. "You left me! All on my own!" He swallowed passed the lump in his throat.

"It was only a matter of time until you left again," he said, shaking his head. He could no longer look at Arthur. He kept his eyes fixed to the countertop, and there was a silence so definite that Merlin was certain Arthur had gone.

But then he felt Arthur next to him, grabbing at his shoulders and turning him around. Arthur placed his warm palms on Merlin's cheeks and tilted his head up to catch his eyes.

"I don't want to, Merlin," he said softly. "I don't want to leave you when you need me."

"I need you," Merlin said, letting his tears flow. "I'm sorry. I need you."

He brought his lips to Arthur, and Arthur let Merlin kiss him deeply.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered in between desperate kisses, giving Arthur promises he didn't know if he could fulfill, like "I'll stop," amongst the repetition of "Oh god, I need you." Arthur gave in and wrapped his arms around Merlin.

Safe, Merlin thought. He felt safe. And so cold.

"Stay," Merlin begged. He couldn't lose Arthur; not again. Not ever again.

"C'mon," Arthur said, taking Merlin by the hand and tugging him towards the hallway. "Let's get you cleaned up."