Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin.
Warnings: discussion of eating disorders, language.
A/N: Just realised I forgot to explain the words in bold! They're taken from an amazing poem by Philip Gross called The Wasting Game.
~III~
"It's the Dark Ages now. I believe
in possession, in demons that speak
in crone voices out of eighteen-year-old lips"
Arthur's picked Merlin up before. They've known each other nearly eight years, there's been plenty of times when Arthur's thrown Merlin in the swimming pool or given him a piggy back or just simply hoisted him in the air to annoy him.
They've always joked about how skinny Merlin is, but he was never this light. Never this angular and sharp edged, pointed elbow and knee scraping against Arthur's stomach as he carries him towards the nurse's office.
Terrifying words like diabetes and cancer thrust their way into Arthur's mind as he strides down the corridor, because something's clearly very wrong, an eighteen year old boy should not weigh so little. But he pushes the thoughts away and walks faster. Merlin's eyes are not yet open.
The nurse isn't in when he reaches her office, but he kicks the door open and enters anyway. As he lays his friend down on the threadbare sofa, Merlin's shirt rides up slightly on his stomach. And Arthur doesn't shock easily but he can feel a jolt run through him when he glimpses the concave hollow of Merlin's stomach. He reaches out a shaking hand to pull the shirt further up Merlin's chest and sucks in a breath as every rib bone stands out in stark detail.
Merlin's eyelids flutter and Arthur tugs his shirt back down quickly. His friend comes around slowly, almost as though even opening his eyes is a massive effort.
"What happened?" he says, and his voice is slightly slurred.
"You passed out," Arthur says, trying to sound calm and reassuring. "You're in the nurse's office."
"I passed out?" Merlin repeats dully.
"Lucky I was there to catch you," Arthur says but his smile doesn't reach his eyes.
He's looking at Merlin, really looking at him for what feels like the first time in ages, and everything he sees is troubling. There are dark shadows round Merlin's eyes, his cheekbones have hollowed out, and he's so pale he's almost translucent. Arthur's eyes travel down his friend's body, taking in the thin wrists, the loose jeans. What the hell had happened?
"You've lost a lot of weight," he says finally, and it sounds foolish so blandly stated like that, but he can't think of what else to say.
Merlin blanches but recovers quickly.
"I don't think so," he says evenly.
Arthur's mouth is dry.
"Have you looked in the mirror recently?" he says carefully. "You look quite different."
Merlin shrugs as best he can in his supine position.
"Everyone looks different recently. We're still growing and that, right?"
"But you… Merlin, you look terrible."
Merlin visibly flinches.
"Thanks," he says, swinging his legs off the couch so he can hoist himself into a sitting position.
"No, I didn't mean… I mean, you look like you might be ill."
"Seriously, thanks."
"Merlin, listen! You've obviously lost a load of weight and you just fainted for God's sake, that's not normal. Have you been feeling sick recently? Have you been to the GP?"
"Nope. I feel fine." Merlin says, straightening his shirt.
"I know it's scary," Arthur says softly. "But you know as well as I do that sudden weight loss and dizziness can be symptoms of certain types of illnesses. I'm not saying there's anything wrong; I'm just saying you should go to the doctor and have a check-up."
The word cancer looms ugly in his mind's eye, and he pushes it away again. Not Merlin, not that. There had to be another explanation.
"I'm not going to the doctor just 'cause I fainted. People faint sometimes. You fainted when we watched that sex ed video in year eight." Merlin points out, and normally Arthur would laugh or threaten him for bringing that up, but he's too worried right now to joke around.
"Look, I really think-"
"Arthur, stop!" Merlin's tone signifies this conversation is over, and as he rises to his feet Arthur springs up too, ready to object that he should at least stay to see the nurse. But there's no need because the minute Merlin stands, his legs buckle under him again.
Arthur's there before he falls, supporting him back onto the coach and making him put his head between his knees. There is silence for a few minutes as Merlin takes long, slow breaths and Arthur tries to think.
When Merlin finally raises his head, he looks straight at Arthur.
"Don't start," he says. "Just residual dizziness."
"Bullshit," Arthur says but then the door opens and the nurse enters.
"Oh hello boys, didn't know anyone was in here." She says, eyes quickly flicking over Arthur and dismissing him, then settling on Merlin.
"It's Mr Emrys, yes? How are we feeling?"
"Fine," Merlin says, just as Arthur says "He fainted."
"Oh dear," The nurse says, crouching down in front of Merlin. "Did you hit your head at all?"
"No, but he just tried to stand up and it nearly happened again," Arthur puts in and Merlin glares at him.
"Did you have any breakfast this morning?"
"Yes."
"Something hearty? Not just a chocolate bar, I know what you boys are like." The nurse smiles encouragingly but Merlin only scowls back.
"I had cereal."
And Arthur figures there's something not right about that, because Merlin's never been a fan of cereal, always had toast when he stayed at Arthurs. Said something about not liking that much milk in the morning.
The nurse places his hand on his forehead.
"Well you're a little warm, and you look quite pale. Are you feeling sick at all?"
Arthur can actually see Merlin forming the word no, then, in a split second, he seems to change his mind.
"Yeah, actually. My throat's a bit sore and I've got a headache." Merlin blinks up at the nurse. "My mum's got the flu and I've been looking after her, do you think it's that?"
And there it is. A blatant lie. Arthur happens to know for sure that Hunith hasn't been here for a week, she's gone to visit her sister in Dewsbury. He knows this because Gwaine somehow cajoled it out of Merlin and then attempted to organise an impromptu house party at Merlin's, which eventually Gwen and Freya put a stop to on account of Merlin's obvious discomfort.
Why would he lie?
The nurse nods, satisfied.
"Dizziness is very common with the flu. I recommend you go straight home to bed and don't come back in until you feel better." She smiles. "Catch up on some daytime telly for a few days."
Merlin doesn't look entirely pleased but he nods in agreement, and gets up from the couch. This time he does not sway and Arthur only just manages to get to his feet before Merlin's out the door.
"I'll drive you home," he says.
"I can get the bus," Merlin mutters.
"Don't be silly, I've got two free periods and then lunch, I can easily do it." Arthur insists.
The nurse smiles approvingly at him and for a short second Merlin looks completely panicked, then his face smoothes out and he shrugs in acquiescence.
~III~
The drive back to Merlin's is only twenty minutes and Arthur has no intention of wasting a second of it.
"Why did you lie?" he demands, the minute Merlin fastens his seatbelt.
"What?"
"You said your mum had the flu. She's not even here."
"Yeah well, she was going on and I had to say something. I told you I felt okay but clearly no-one believes me so I may as well get a day off school."
Arthur is silent for a few moments, absorbing this. Then:
"You don't like cereal."
"Excuse me?"
"You said you had cereal for breakfast, but you don't-"
"Jesus, is this the fucking Spanish inquisition?" Merlin explodes. "No, I didn't have breakfast because I forgot, can you blame me for the not wanting the healthy eating lecture from the school fucking nurse?"
Merlin rarely swears. And he rarely shouts at Arthur either, outside of the banter they share. The only times Arthur's seen Merlin shout before were the times when he was really distressed. Like when Hunith was in that car accident and doctors wouldn't let him in to see her, or when Freya's boyfriend had given her a black eye, or when he caught Valiant picking on the gay kid in the year below.
"Why are you being so defensive?" Arthur says quietly.
"Why are you asking so many questions?" Merlin shoots back.
"Because I'm concerned." Arthur says simply, and Merlin falls silent.
There is a long, uneasy pause.
"Thank you for trying to look out for me," Merlin says haltingly after a while. "But honestly, I'm fine. If anything, I'm just a bit stressed about my English coursework."
The pressure in Arthur's chest eases slightly. Merlin is legendary in their friendship group for being a perfectionist, he's always the one who goes most crazy at exam time, and spends the longest on his coursework and class projects. Stress combined with skipping breakfast does seem like a fairly obvious cause of fainting.
"Okay," he says and gives his friend a smile. "Promise me you'll just chill out today?"
"Promise," Merlin says, smiling back.
Arthur feels reassured. Jumping to melodramatic conclusions like cancer really had been a bit ridiculous in this situation. Merlin was just a bit overwrought.
~III~
Arthur insists on walking Merlin up to the flat.
"I'm gonna make sure you're all cosy on the sofa with a cup of tea before I go back," he says firmly and Merlin concedes.
True to his word, he forces Merlin to sit down while he goes into the kitchen to boil the kettle.
"Milk, sugar?" he calls out.
"Just black," comes the response.
Merlin's kitchen is pleasing in its familiarly – small like the rest of the flat, but with a distinct air of homeliness. There are postcards stuck up on the walls and photos; Hunith and Merlin out walking, Merlin on his sixteenth birthday, Merlin and Arthur sticking their tongues out alongside Blackpool Tower. Arthur smiles at that one. How old were they there? Thirteen, fourteen? It had taken a few months for their friendship to warm up when they first met at secondary school, but by year eight they were inseparable. Arthur can't remember ever having a friend like that before; someone that thought the same as him, had the same sense of humour, the same outlook on life. He never laughed so much with anyone else as he did with Merlin.
"This wind chime new? I don't recognise it," Arthur calls, brushing it aside as he opens the mug cupboard.
"Had it a few months," Merlin replies.
A few months? When was the last time he was here?
Arthur does a few quick calculations in his head and is surprised to realise he hasn't set foot in Merlin's flat since before Christmas.
I practically used to live here.
He spent a lot of time at Gwen's last year, he is aware of that, and the last few months he seemed to be flitting from Mithian's to football practise to coursework and… He doesn't know. He just doesn't seem to have found the time to come round.
Feeling slightly guilty, Arthur pours the water into the mug and begins hunting round for some food to make Merlin. Maybe some beans on toast or a bit of spaghetti, something to fill him up.
But when he opens the fridge it's almost completely empty. A jar of mustard and a tube of tomato paste, as well as some margarine and a bunch of slightly mouldy looking carrots. Frowning, Arthur turns to rifle through the cupboards. There was no cereal of course, Hunith didn't eat it either, but there was not much of anything else. A few assorted tins, some lentils and various condiments, but nothing of substance. Nothing to really eat.
Arthur walks slowly back into the living room.
"I wanted to make you lunch. But there's no food."
Merlin doesn't look round.
"Yeah, I get a bit lazy when Mum's away. Been eating takeaway and that."
"No cartons in the bin," Arthur says.
"I took the bin out last night." Merlin turns, squinting. "You're not starting again, are you?"
The image of Merlin's ribs from earlier flashes in Arthur's mind, and like one memory triggers another, he suddenly remembers a conversation he and Merlin had that time at the cottage in Wales.
Arthur had made a glorious fry up for breakfast and Merlin was laughing, protesting that there was too much food.
"No such thing, mate," Arthur said, helping himself to more scrambled eggs. "Food's the best thing ever."
"But don't you ever get full?" Merlin said, and it wasn't quite as jokey as it should have been.
"Yeah, but not for long." Arthur said, then looked at his friend. "Bet you never feel full, you eat like a bird."
"I do get full!" Merlin protested. "I just… don't really like it."
"Like what?"
"Feeling full." Merlin was staring at his plate. "If I eat a lot I feel really weird, like I've done something bad."
Arthur was going to say how mental that was, but something about Merlin's tone stopped him.
"Is that why you don't eat much?"
"Sometimes," Merlin said, and for a second he looked very fragile. Then his expression cleared, and he grinned at Arthur.
"But you eat enough for both of us."
"Oi!" Arthur said, flicking a crust of toast at Merlin, and the subject was forgotten.
Arthur blinks.
"You don't have flu or anything like that."
"Yes, I know." Merlin sounds annoyed.
"You passed out because… you're not eating."
The words hang heavy in the air between them. Arthur can see Merlin's chest rising up and down, the slow in and out of his measured breath.