Six and a half years later

The phone is ringing off the hook.

"Fuck, Merlin, please get the phone!" shouts Arthur. He's shaving because he and Merlin are – God, it's still weird – groomsmen in Lance's wedding to Gwen. They're not even close to being ready and honestly, Arthur's panicking because it's his ex-girlfriend's wedding and he still feels a little bad about it but mostly he's just happy but what if he fucks it up – he'd never forgive himself for fucking up Gwen's wedding. But Merlin's been calming him down all afternoon, being lovely and supportive as usual.

But that doesn't mean he's going to answer the damn phone.

"Can't, love!" shouts Merlin without an ounce of sarcasm what the fuck, "I'm busy!"

"Goddammit," mutters Arthur. More loudly he shouts, "You're fucking dead to me!"

"Love you!" shouts Merlin back cheerfully.

Arthur drops his razor and slams the phone against his shaving-creamed face.

"Hello?" he asks somewhat grumpily.

"Hello," says a voice. "It's your past."

It's Sophie.

"Shit," breathes Arthur automatically. "I mean – hi – um, how are you?"

Sophie laughs and it's still girly, light, but it's less shrill than he remembers. Of course, he's tried to block a lot of her existence from his brain, truthfully speaking.

"Brilliant," she says, and Arthur can hear her smiling through the phone. "Well, listen, I'll get straight to the point," says Sophie, which sounds nothing like his ex at all, but Arthur's just going with it. "I wanted to thank you," she says, "for what you said to me all those years ago."

Arthur's mind stretches back to the last time he heard from Sophie, six and a half years prior.

You've taught me that to love someone, truly love them, you have to take pride in yourself. And when you realize that, Sophie, I can't wait for you. Because you'll be unstoppable. But until you do, until you start to value yourself, you don't have the faintest idea of how to love someone.

"Oh," says Arthur vaguely. "Right. And why's that?"

"Because I got engaged last night," says Sophie, and Arthur's jaw actually falls open like in a cartoon.

"—W—Wow," stammers Arthur. "Congratulations. And I – I helped?"

"Absolutely," says Sophie. "It took me a long time to realize that you were right. But I did, finally, when I hit bottom and nearly died –"

"What?"

"—I had done too much cocaine the night before, totally burned my brains out. Anyway, when I recovered medically, I served some time – "

"What?"

"—and entered rehab. I've been clean, completely clean, for about three years now and met my fiancée a year and a half ago, and he just proposed finally last night. But the thing is – the thing is, I only realized I had to go to rehab when I was lying in my hospital bed, half-dead, and I thought to myself, I'm better than this. And suddenly your voice was in my head and I knew what I had to do." She pauses thoughtfully. "You saved my life, Arthur."

"Fuck," breathes Arthur. "I—I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," says Sophie. "I just needed to say that. You've been on my mind lately. I also – I also wanted to apologize. For that day at your flat."

"Yeah, well," mumbles Arthur. "We both fucked up that day."

Sophie laughs quietly. "Things end up alright with Mystery Boy? Merlin, yeah?"

Arthur glances over his shoulder to where Merlin is eyeing himself in the mirror dramatically. Unable to resist smiling, he says, "Yeah. Things ended up alright."

"I'm glad for you," says Sophie.

"You too."

There is a short pause. "Well," says Sophie, "I should go. But we should – my fiancée and me and you and Merlin – we should all get coffee or something sometime. Would that be okay?"

"I think so," says Arthur. "It was nice to hear from you." And he means it.

"Bye, Arthur."

"Bye, Sophie."

Arthur leaves the room feeling dazed.

"Who was it?" asks Merlin quickly, pretending he hadn't been admiring himself in front of the mirror.

Arthur smiles. "It was – it was Sophie, actually."

Merlin's eyebrows skyrocket.

"She wanted to tell me that I saved her life."

Merlin does not looked as shocked as Arthur thinks he probably ought to in this situation. Instead, he fiddles with the sleeves of his tuxedo – always fiddling. He smiles at Arthur awkwardly.

"You've got a habit of doing that," he murmurs to the floor. "Because you kind of saved mine too."

Arthur swells with something he imagines is pride and love and humility. He walks over to Merlin, wrapping his arms around his skinny torso.

"I love you, Merlin," says Arthur firmly, and he's still surprised how happy it makes him to say. "Now come on, you sod, we've got a wedding to go to."