This was going to be longer. Sorry I'm shit.
Warm hands. Warm blankets. A warm hazy sheen draped over his brain. Merlin was in a cocoon of pleasure, lying on a mattress of goosefeathers, and surrounded by white sheets fit for a detergent commercial. The god of sex himself hovered Merlin, straddling his hips with sculpted, tanned thighs (how does one even go about getting a tan in that location?). The latest excuse to get Merlin upstairs and into his bed was playing in the background, because Arthur was far too proud to say, "I'm incredibly attracted to you and I want to shag you four ways till next Tuesday." No; with him it was always, "Oh, Merlin, come up to my room and listen to the new 'We the Kings' album…"
And although it wasn't half bad, Merlin was not paying it even the slightest mind. Arthur's hot mouth was biting down on his collarbone and all he could really hear was every ounce of blood in his body rushing south.
Today, Arthur was tender; sweet like candy and soft like a whisper. They'd just had a nasty fight the day before but Merlin couldn't help but think that every single hurtful word had been well worth it to get to this point.
His name fell from Arthur's lips like a prayer. He was touched like an idol, worshipped in kisses, lavished in the endless praise the flowed from Arthur. Oh my god, Merlin, you're so beautiful. So sexy. So gorgeous. Oh god. Oh Jesus, fuck, I love you. I love you so much. You're perfect. Fuck, perfect, oh, fuck, so beautiful…
Adulation streamed from him like he couldn't hold it back, a bubbling brook of compliments that sounded more like music than the actual music playing. The words settled around his brow like a crown. Even though he was flat on his back with his legs spread open, it felt like he was King of the world, dripping in ruby kisses and amethyst love bites.
Arthur only quieted when his tongue was otherwise occupied, brushing against Merlin's or climbing the pale underside of his jaw. Merlin rewarded him affably for his devotion, giving delighted gasps when Arthur hit a sensitive spot, lustful moans when Arthur's words made him shiver.
Merlin's own hands swept up the broad expanse of Arthur's chest, gliding through sparse golden hairs, the hot skin under his fingers both hard with muscle of manhood and yet silky smooth with the inexperience of youth. Perfection. His palms kissed Arthur's ribs on their way to the wide plains of his back, eager to taste every inch; Arthur was a buffet and Merlin was a man starved. His hands tangled in the shirt still rudely keeping Arthur from venerating eyes. This, and some thin cotton pants were the only physical barriers that separated two hungry bodies. Merlin longed to feel the whole of their flesh pressed together with a desire so strong he thought he might weep.
"Arthur…" He crooned, tugging at the hem in wanton desperation.
"Leave it."
It wouldn't be the first time they'd failed to remove all their clothing, when they were quick and impatient, when the absence of entwined bodies was paramount to death. Trousers pooled around ankles, shirts pushed up like scarves, too desperate for each other to break contact even for a moment. But this was a slow burn, and Merlin wanted to drink it all in.
"Arthur…" he tried again, tugging more insistently, "please… Arthur…"
A firm grip encircled his wrists, redirecting his hands to golden locks, and Merlin grabbed greedy handfuls of feathery hair as lips attach to his chest and he was quenched for a while. Thighs and hands held him in place as soft lips turned to hard, unforgiving teeth, clamping over taunt nipples and pulling until Merlin was left gasping in pleasure and pain.
He arched off the bed, hips jutting forward against Arthur's in ways that sent adrenaline zinging through his body, lighting him up like a pinball machine. He groaned loudly, just as Arthur liked, and dragged clawed hands from his hair down his back. The feral sensation of scratching one's lover was wholly diminished by the feeling of polyester under his nails, instead of skin.
Merlin slipped his hands deftly under the hem, sweeping a path under and up, pushing the fabric away.
Arthur grunted. "Don't." He said, firmly this time, using one hand to tug it back down.
"Arthur!" Merlin protested, positively writing, "please... take it off! I want to see you…"
His passion turned from wild lust to untethered rage, quicker than lightening can touch the earth. "You wanna see me? You wanna see me? Fine!" Sitting up, he grabbed the edge of his shirt, wrenched it off, and threw it forcefully to the ground, the affection in his eyes burned away by red-hot indignation.
And Merlin sees he's not the only one who's been adorned in red and purple.
"Is this what you want!? Are you happy now!?"
"Arthur... What... What...?" His chest was covered in nasty splotches… his ribs, his stomach, his upper arms, all covered in bruises. But the explosion burst of fury then faded, and Arthur's voice was left in broken pieces.
"Why... Why can't you just listen Merlin..."
It's too much. Merlin could barely process what he was seeing.
"Arthur, I don't understand!" he leaned forward, lightly running his fingers over Arthur's discolored breast, "What happened?" he breathed.
Arthur covered Merlin's hand with his own, pulled it instead to his face. It was wet.
"It was my fault." Arthur was crying. It was the most frightening thing Merlin had ever seen. Arthur did not show weakness like this. Not even in private. Because if he didn't acknowledge it, it was easy to pretend it didn't exist.
Merlin stroked his cheek with his thumb.
"It was my fault... I made him mad. I pissed him off. God, I was so stupid!"
"Arthur..." his heart was cracking, "Arthur, who...?"
"Uther! God, Merlin, you can't tell anyone!"
"Your... Your dad... He...?"
"Yeah, Merlin, please!" there was desperation in his voice, panic in his eyes. Seeing Arthur like this was not only unnerving, it was downright wrong. "You have to promise me not to tell!"
"But... I don't... What happened?" He wiped a stray tear from Arthur's perfect face, because all he wants to do is help somehow, to fix it. And maybe if he got rid of all the outward signs, he could pretend it didn't exist, too...
"Merlin!" Arthur did not let up. "Promise me you won't say anything!"
"Is this the first-"
"Promise!"
"Okay, alright, alright, I promise, Arthur, not a word."
"You swear it?"
"Yes, Arthur! Yes, I swear it!"
Arthur hesitated.
"On my life! On my mother's life! On- anything! Arthur, please, I won't tell anyone!"
Arthur dove in quickly for a heated kiss, but pulled back just as suddenly, before Merlin could even respond properly.
"I love you so much," He breathed, "tell me you'll always be here... Promise you'll never leave me."
Merlin does not even hesitate.
When he tried to bring the incident up three days later, Arthur walked out of the room.
888
"Terminator marathon this weekend," Arthur said, sliding deftly into the desk across the aisle, "you in?"
"Didn't know you were a fan." Merlin smirked at him, a pencil twirling between his long fingers as they waited for class to start.
"What? A fan of the movies?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I mean sure… but…" he scooted in close and stole a quick glance around before bowing their heads in close to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "What I'm really a fan of is getting your ass in my bed and keeping it there forty-eight hours straight."
Merlin couldn't help but shiver, and he saw Arthur smirk out of the corner of his eye. He was in a good mood today. "Is there… some sort of special occasion?" He asked hesitantly.
Arthur positively glowed. "Oh, nothing much…" he flicked imaginary dust from pants, "just that you're looking at the recipient of a full soccer scholarship to Yale University... I don't know if you've ever heard of it…"
"Arthur!" Merlin squeaked, delighted. Arthur had been dying to go to Yale since he knew what it was. Merlin didn't see any sort of reality in which he was also afforded such an education, but he kept his mouth shut.
The boys had talked only a little- which was to say once- about their post graduation plans. It had gone something like this:
"Arthur… what's going to happen when we graduate?"
"Obviously Merlin, I'll get into a college and then we'll get you into that same college."
"How the hell are we going to do that?"
"We'll figure it out. We'll be roommates and everything. Now shut up, this is the best part."
How they were going to be sharing dorm rooms in one of the top universities in the country with Merlin's $0.00 college budget was beyond him, but he didn't want to spoil the arrant smile that was invading Arthur's face, so he stuffed the hurt down. He loved him. They'd stay together.
"Congratulations! That's amazing! They'd be crazy not to take you."
Arthur preened at the praise, leaning in again with a smile on his face that seemed to be a personal challenge to the sun. "That's not even the best part… Morgana promised to fuck off for the whole weekend, so we'll have the place to ourselves." His voice dropped several octaves, just like Merlin's self control. "I'm looking forward to hearing you scream." He straightened up, without even a fifth of the blush that was coloring Merlin's cheeks. "I'll see you Friday?" he winked.
Merlin managed to squeak out something along the lines of 'yes.'
888
Merlin had only seen Uther Pendragon once before in his life, from a distance. Much like the four out of five dentist approved toothpaste, it had been close enough.
He had been riding his bike over to Arthur's, for what was promised to be a secluded Saturday night alone, his mind completely filled with all the wonderfully dirty things that he was no doubt going to have done to him.
It was a pleasant way to spend the long ride, given that he no longer had the leisure of a car, even if it did leave him uncomfortably hard upon arrival.
But Uther Pendragon turned out to be the perfect solution to that little problem (feel free to write that one down, fellas).
He was in the driveway, wearing a pressed and pristine business suit, about to step into a, well. Merlin didn't know much about cars, but it was cherry red and looked damn expensive. But he wasn't alone. Arthur stood in front of him, thick arms crossed, face that, even from this distance, Merlin could tell was set in a deep scowl.
Immediately, Merlin slowed his pace. He was positive that Uther was not privy to their little private party, and that it was to stay that way. There was no way he could coast up their driveway while they were standing there, and he really didn't want to have to ride past and then double back. So he stepped back on the brakes ever so slightly.
Riding toward this scene was nothing like riding toward the romantic evening he was headed to a minute ago. This was more like pedaling straight into a brick wall.
Uther was gesturing,one hand tossing his briefcase onto the passenger's seat while the other swept a clean line through the air between him and Arthur. That's it, it said, Enough. It's finished. What was 'it'? Merlin didn't know. But Uther seemed pretty pissed about it.
Arthur was on the defense, his stance stiffly and carefully arranged to say 'I don't care,' as he shrugged his broad shoulders, his neck tilted away. Uther reached out, one concilatory hand bridging the gap between them, coming in for a landing on Arthur's right bicep, but it never made contact. Arthur batted it away, his sneering lips forming words Merlin couldn't hear, forming words Uther didn't like. Lightning fast, he grabbed the front collar of Arthur's shirt, dragging him a full step forward so he was right in front of Uther's red face. Arthur nearly lost his balance, and he stumbled forward, his face almost colliding into Uther's stark white shirt, his hands reaching up to clasp Uther's wrists, his eyes wide, vulnerable, and filled with fear. Merlin had never seen that look on his face before. On anyone's face. His blood chilled.
Uther snarled something, right into Arthur's pale face, he snarled, his teeth bared and face twisted. Arthur nodded quickly, frantically, and he was released, falling backwards but catching himself at the last minute, saved from a spill on the blacktop. When he straightened up, Uther was already climbing into the car, the door slamming shut hard, loud, and out of place on this beautiful day like applause for a play before the scene properly ended. Arthur turned, his back to Merlin, his arm wiping across his face as Uther's car let out a throaty purr and began to gracefully glide away.
The whole thing was so fast, Merlin was barely sure he saw it. He might have thought he imagined it all (exercise induced hallucinations, of course. The product of a bored mind on a bike. Yes, exactly, that was it) except for the fact that Arthur Pendragon, macho-man extraordinaire, soccer captain, tall, broad-shouldered, arms thick as tree branches, fit and tough and hard, Arthur Pendragon had been, for all his muscle, small and quivering. A child being yelled at. A puppy being cornered. As delicate as a bird; one with clipped wings. The image was burned onto his eyelids- into his memory. No way it was imagined. No way it was a product of his own mind.
His heart was pounding, his skin sticky by the time he finally rode into Arthur's drive way, so unlike the way he thought it would be. The red car had already turned the corner. The birds were singing, the sun shining, wind blowing. Everything was the same. Sort of. Arthur watched him approach with dark, hooded eyes.
"Hey." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but he was afraid. Arthur wouldn't like more.
"Come on, then. I need booze."
They got fantastically drunk. And they never talked about that scene that Merlin was never supposed to witness.
The same man stood in front of him now. Same clean pressed shirt (though now in emerald green), same soft laugh lines, same stiff harsh and untouchable posture. Different expression. What was once full of reckless anger had undergone a perplexing transformation. He was jovial, paternal looking, even. And the grease the caused these particular wheels of change to turn? No doubt the pretty brunette he wore on his arm and the aftershave scent 'day drinking' that followed him like an angry swarm of bees.
A swarm that, by the look on Arthur's face, he might've swallowed.
"Father," He said, his face white, his voice shaking just enough so that you would miss it if you weren't looking for it, "What-? I thought you weren't coming home until Monday...?" It was clear he thought they had been had, but Merlin thought perhaps he needn't have worried. There was no hint of recognition, understanding, or even surprise on Uther's face, just a slight pink flush. And there was no reason for anything else, really. The TV was still on, after all (Kitchen Nightmares- on Merlin's insisting), and, clearly, they had sprung away from each other quickly enough. Uther could not have known that Merlin's tongue was halfway down his son's throat a second before he walked in. They were safe. But even so, his heart was pounding, and, obviously, so was Arthur's.
"Negotiations went much better than expected!" Uther said.
"Oh, I-"
"Who's your friend?" he boomed, loudly, but not unkindly.
"This is Merlin."
"Is he staying over?"
Merlin wanted to say no, he's not, not anymore, anyway. He instinctively knew that that's what Arthur wanted, too. But there was simply no denying the duffle bag by the couch. He and Arthur looked over at it in what felt like perfect unison.
"Yeah." Arthur said stiffly.
"In the guest room, I hope. Wouldn't want people to think you were some sort of faggot!" He laughed. "I would have thought you'd have brought a girl over, Arthur, on a Friday like this. Not…" He waved in Merlin's general direction, "But I guess even the best of us can't catch one every night, hmm?" He laughed again as his hand clearly slid down from the women's waist to her… lower area.
Merlin's stomach twisted painfully. Suddenly he was very eager for this night to end. Things were no longer easy and comfortable, but stiff awkward and frightening. ...Was this how Arthur felt all the time?
"Yeah..." A bit of color was beginning to return to Arthur's face, his voice grew a bit stronger. He relaxed slightly as it became clear Uther was none the wiser. "I see you brought a friend of your own over."
"Yes!" Uther said excitedly, "Well, Arthur, you've met Nimueh before. She's come to help me, ah, celebrate. Marvin, this is my friend Nimueh. We… work together."
Merlin didn't bother correcting him as Nimueh smiled, her face leering at him over pale breasts that popped out of a green bodice. She turned her head toward Uther and a few words slid out between ruby red lips to his ear. Uther straightened up.
"Yes, of course, my darling. Boys, Nimueh and I will be upstairs. I trust you not to get into too much mischief… but of course, boys will be boys." He winked. Merlin tried to smile as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He was 100% positive the 'mischief' they had been planning on getting up to was not what Uther had in mind. He felt it best not to share this with the group.
Uther and his friend walked past them on their way upstairs while Arthur sat very still and looked straight ahead. Nimueh's dress rode up dangerously high on her thighs, but neither boy bothered to look. In fact, Merlin was feeling vaguely sick.
On the television, Chef Ramsey was cursing wildly at a restaurant owner for having cockroaches in the kitchen, but the room had never seemed so silent. The plush pillows had never seemed so uncomfortable. Merlin didn't know what to say. So he said nothing.
"It's just good we caught him when we did." Arthur said, so quietly it was like he was speaking only to himself, "You know, buzzed but not angry yet?"
888
Merlin hadn't bothered to bring a sleeping bag or blankets, for obvious reasons, but Arthur managed to rustle up some sheets and an extra pillows for the guest room. Merlin had seen it only once before, during the party at the beginning of the year, the one that started it all. Looking at it now, it was charming. Small but neatly decorated- no creepy artwork. The walls were powder blue, the carpet lush and the bed squishy… it was all wrong. It was like he was banished, or unwanted or homeless. Only, he wasn't of course, everything was fine. He just had to stop complaining. Things could be worse. Look at him, complaining about a bed to sleep in and a roof over his head.
"Sorry about this." Arthur murmured, barely audibly. Ever since his dad came home he'd been stiff (not in the way Merlin wanted him to be), quiet, and afraid. He didn't talk much, couldn't make eye contact, couldn't even brush against Merlin without his lips pursing, his eyes darting toward the nearest door like he expected a news crew rushing over ("This just in: Arthur Pendragon, high-schooler, is gay! Gay, gay, gay! More, at eleven").
"It's alright, Arthur." Merlin smiled. But it wasn't, really. Being here, knowing Mr. Pendragon (plus one) was just down the hall (and hadn't emerged from the room since he'd arrived, though there had been some squeals. Presumably of delight) made him feel like his very blood had turned to wriggling worms in his veins. He was looking forward to leaving the next day. Home would be a relief. He just wished he could take Arthur with him.
Arthur looked pained. He leaned forward fingers clenching Merlin's face tightly and pressing a searing kiss to his lips so fast Merlin barely had time to process it, let alone savor it, before Arthur was gone.
Merlin flopped down on the bed, biting his lip hard, until it hurt. It was eleven o'clock. Just a few more hours until he could leave politely.
888
Merlin's mother was crying. Harsh sobs that seem to echo around his living room.
"I just don't understand why, Merlin," She said, her voice muffled by her hands. Merlin wanted so badly to comfort her, but he couldn't reach the couch she was sitting on because his feet were stuck fast to the carpet at the other end of the room. He tried to reach toward, flatten himself over the carpet and army crawl forward, only the carpet was quicksand, and he was quickly getting sucked in.
So that's what he was doing. His body beginning to fall into the world beneath the floor, struggling to keep his head up and breathing fresh air while his mother sobbed uncontrollably.
"There, there. It's alright, Mom! It's okay!" he was calling to her. But he didn't understand what was wrong in the first place.
"Why, Merlin, why?" She was going on and on, "Why did you do it? I don't understand!"
And Merlin was trying to tell her that he didn't know what he was supposed to have done, trying to ask what the hell was going on, only it was difficult to get the words out correctly.
"Mom," he managed, "What-?" When she finally turned her face to look at him. Their eyes met for only a moment. Before she projectile-vomited all over him.
He was covered in thick, slimy, sick, trying to wipe it off with his hands, get it out of his eyes. Then he realized it wasn't his mother being sick, it was him who was throwing up. Not in his living room, but in Arthur's guestroom, down the front of his shirt, dripping off his chin in putrid chunks, and landing all over the pristine white sheets. That was going to stain. This was so embarrassing, how was he going to tell Arthur that he was just sick all over, he might as well have pissed the bed, he'd just have to just clean it up himself. Could he use the washer without anyone noticing?
He woke up, blinking hard, watching the ceiling come into focus. Two things quickly became apparent to him. First: It was dark- sometime in the middle of the night. Second: He wasn't throwing up. But someone else was.
He could hear it, the tell tale "HhhUUuuulllcchhh" and spatter as it hit the porcelain toilet in the bathroom across the hall, muffled slightly by Merlin's closed door. Was Arthur sick? He tossed back the covers and was greeted by a wave of cool air.
The knob turned quietly, and Merlin peeked his head into the hallway. A light squeezed out from the ajar bathroom door, illuminating his black surroundings to dull gray-orange. He padded across the carpet, his bare feet sinking so far into the soft carpet that for a moment he remembered his dream. Gently, he wormed his way into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him, only to find that it wasn't Arthur who was sick after all. It was Uther's "friend," (what had her name been? Nimueh?) that was hugging the toilet with surprisingly slim arms. She had on a pale pink nightgown that barely covered her. Merlin could see the swell of her breasts in the plunging neckline, the dark circles of her nipples through the gossamer fabric. It draped downward in ruches that, while beautiful, did such a poor job of concealing her curving figure that the thin black strap of her thong stuck out quite plainly.
She looked up at the sound of the door closing, and Merlin got a good look at red, puffy eyes with heavy lids, squinting through flyaway hair at him.
"Oh. It's you. If you gotta piss you'll have to go downstairs." Her voice is hoarse and scratchy, like she'd been sick with thumbtacks. She turned and spat brown into the bowl.
"Oh, no, I'm…" But he really had no idea what he was, and no reason for being there, so his shaky words trailed off into an even shakier silence, during which Merlin stared at his bare feet until he heard the sound of more retching.
Nimueh was bent once more over the toilet, frizzy hair curtaining her face from view. Merlin crept hesitantly toward her, pausing before he reached out to touch her. She flinched when his hands first grazed over her hair, but made no protest, (or perhaps she just wasn't able to while her mouth was preoccupied) so Merlin continued gathering up her hair.
From here the bruises were far more obvious. A light smattering of pale lavender trails under her eye, down her sharp jaw and sloping neck, and seems to join into a heavier stream. Both dark, royal purple and pale, faded yellow the flow gets heavier as Merlin's eyes scan, as if the bruises themselves are migrating down to her feet and off her body, eager to find a happier place.
It was a surreal moment. The kind that made Merlin wonder how exactly had wound up here, holding back a strange, battered, adult's hair as she heaved in his secret boyfriend's bathroom.
"Paper towel," she moaned weakly, reaching her hand back for one. Merlin handed her a wad of toilet paper instead, but she didn't comment on the difference as she wiped her mouth clean and reached up to flush, resting her sweaty forehead on the seat.
"You and Arthur?" she asked. And without turning toward him, without so much as looking at him, she cut him to the core, struck a bolt of fear into his body so cold and so pointed he felt his stomach drop. But for some reason, one he didn't understand and certainly couldn't explain, he did not deny it.
The fact remained that she could see his secret like it was written on his body just as clearly as it was on hers. She was far closer to being nude, but both saw each other bear. This woman he had barely met spotted what close family and friends could not. He did not want to admit it; he did not want to give her the same power over him that he had over her just by viewing her body.
So he remained silent, feeling thick-lipped and clumsy and rather stupid.
"He's just like his father." Nimueh said in a tone that was half dismissive, half sympathetic.
"He's not." Merlin said quickly. This was as good a confession as any, he knew, but he couldn't let her say such things, Such obvious lies, when she knew nothing- nothing- about Their situation. She could keep her nose where it belonged- out of his business.
She laughed, and Merlin felt his anger swell up like a thermometer on a hot day. "Maybe not yet," She crowed, "but fear does strange things to people."
But what does she know? he asked himself later, as he tossed and turned. He answered his own question. Nothing, that's only thinks that because her life is so shit. The poor woman. She'd see that same despair anywhere she went, because the problem was inside of her.
"You know," Merlin muttered to himself as he yawned, "I just feel bad for her."
888
"I just don't like the way he treats you sometimes."
"I know, Gwen, but none of that is for real. He's just acting so people don't catch on. He's not like that in private."
"But it is real, in a way. I mean he really treats you that way. He doesn't do that to his other friends, so why does he have to do it with you?"
"Gwen, you don't get it."
"I know! That's why I'm trying to understand, Merlin, please."
"He's just really scared of someone finding out."
"I dont think anyone would if just treated you like his regular friends!"
"Gwen, I appreciate that you're just trying to be a good friend. But you don't know how hard it is to be openly gay in high school. It's not- it's not like that stupid musical! We are not all in this
together. You know what happened at my last school when people found of about me?"
"No... No, you're right, I'm sorry..."
"They beat the shit out of me. I was in the hospital for two days. Why do you think I'm here? You said yourself no one transfers senior year without a good reason."
"I- I-"
"So believe it or not, I actually have no problem with how Arthur treats me in public, alright? I'm not eager for people to find out, either. I know you're just worried but you can stop because I love being with Arthur-"
"..."
"..."
"The bell has rung, Mr. Emrys. . I believe you both have a classes to get to."
888
Merlin was all nerves, twitchier than a crack addict in need of a fix, with half circles of sweat developing under his arms. He found Gwen at her locker almost simultaneously with the dismissal bell. His hand closed around her upper arm.
"Gwen," He said, voice tight, face pale, "How much… how much do you think Mr. Aredian heard of our conversation? Earlier? Do you think he heard…?"
It had been on his mind all day, weighing him down, hogging his attention. Had he just let slip his own deepest secret? To school faculty? It would be disgustingly ironic. And if one person knew, then everyone knew. It was just a matter of time. And if Arthur found out, he would be so angry, angry at Merlin for letting it slip. He should have been more careful. He should have known better than to talk about their relationship in broad daylight where anyone could have heard.
"Merlin, it's alright," Gwen said, leaning in to whisper into his uneasy expression, "I'm sure he wasn't eavesdropping on some silly students. And, anyway, even if he was," Merlin gulped, "Who would he tell? He's not going to go around telling people you're dating… I mean, he's a teacher, for goodness sakes. He has to, you know, be discreet. Professional. I don't think you have to worry."
"I should have been more careful, Gwen. One teacher knows, then all the teachers know, then all the students know, and next thing you know people are following you home and- and drawing stupid cartoons about you and complaining to the gym teacher that they can't change in the same room as a faggot…"
"None of that is going to happen." Gwen said firmly, "Not here. He didn't hear anything. I promise. Look, you said so yourself, no one knows anything, right? As far as anyone knows, you're just friends, right?" She asked, giving him a significant look.
"Yeah, I mean- yeah."
"Right, He's not going to assume anything based on a tiny piece of a conversation that he definitely didn't even hear." She gave him a smile, which he returned, albeit weakly, and she wrapped her arms around his thin middle.
"I'm sorry about everything that happened last year. I didn't know."
"I know you didn't."
"Merlin." There was a tap on his shoulder. "Read to go yet? Have you even been to your locker yet?"
"Uh, hi, Arthur," Gwen said, standing up awkwardly.
"Gwen." He acknowledged, politely. Somewhat politely. "Merlin, can you get a move on if you want a ride home? Unlike you, I do have things to do."
"Yeah, I'm sure the X-files aren't going anywhere."
"Merlin!" His eyes were touched by the subtlest of smiles… something only Merlin could catch. It made him grin.
"I'm coming," He rolled his eyes. Knowing he was going to spend the rest of the afternoon with Arthur was already lifting his spirits.
888
a part of him, a large part, if he's being honest, did not want to go. Because the hand on his upper arm was angry, and the face that was leading him outside was dark, nebulous, full of questionable content.
Behind the gymnasium there were no windows, and beside the bleachers there would be no witnesses. Everyone likes to leave early on Fridays.
"What happened?" Arthur parked him up against the bricks, keeping him walled in with his muscle. "What didn't you tell me?"
"I- I don't know, Arthur! What are you-"
"Mr. Aredian knows, Merlin!" Arthur exploded. His fist hit the wall next to Merlin's ear; his eyes wide and threatening, a vein pulsing in his neck. And even so, he was shaking. Even so he was white with fear. "He fucking knows! He knows about fucking us!" Again, his fist hit the wall, but he made no indication that he felt any pain.
Merlin reminded himself that he was safe here. He was safe with Arthur.
"How do you-"
"Just now! He said-! And he knew! Someone must have told- someone knows! Who did you tell?"
"Arthur! Calm down! You're not making any sense. What happened?" But even as he tried to take this logical path, Merlin's heart sunk.
So he had heard. Aredian had heard it all. Gwen had been wrong. It was not going to be okay, after all. A shiver ran down his spine as Arthur began pacing back in forth in front of him, already spouting off again, one hand gripping a handful of his own hair.
"In the hall, Merlin!" For all his desperation to keep this a secret, he was near shouting, with unbridled, cornered panic leaking from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears, unable to be contained in his body.
"He said- he fucking said congrats, he'd heard about fucking Yale! And I said thanks very much- and he said he was a fucking. Shame. They didn't know what kind of faggoty fucking student they were really getting! Faggoty fucking888!" His frantic footsteps stop as he made a strangled noise deep his throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair and bending double over his stomach like he was about to be sick or collapse or... or…
Arthur stood up, and with a wordless yell, a cry that sucked the last of the air from Merlin's lungs, he punched the wall. One. Two. Three times. When he pulled away, his knuckles are dipped in red. If he noticed, he pretended not to. Merlin's felt a bead of sweat run from under his arm down his ribs.
"Now I know he didn't fucking see anything. And I sure as fucking hell know I didn't tell anybody!" He rounded on Merlin, rounded on him as he was frozen up against this brick wall, and he could feel Arthur's tenuous thread of control, of sanity, break with an almost audible ping!
"So who did you tell?!"
and... He was afraid. Merlin was actually afraid. Because the person bearing down on him here was not the self- conscience, passionate, leader he fell in love with. This was a man whose life had come undone, one dangerously close to losing it all and gone half mad with the need to re-wrap what had unraveled. There was no telling what a man might do when he thinks he's lost it all. But even so, Merlin found it quite impossible to lie. It would have been far too obvious. Besides, Arthur had already made up his mind.
"Wwellll..." Merlin said, desperate to keep his voice from shaking, "I didn't, I didn't tell anyone, now, Arthur," He said slowly, holding out his hands like he could ward off Arthur's dense, heat-like anger, "But… Gwen did sort of… figure it out…." It was close enough to the truth.
He was only admitting to what Arthur already held as self-evident truth. He's only revealing so much as Arthur already knows. But it didn't stop his eyes from going wide in disbelief.
"Gwen knows? She knows! All this fucking time, I knew there was something fucking wrong there. How could you be so fucking careless, Merlin? This is all your fucking fault!"
He saw it coming, like time slowed down just so that he could see his life crumbling away in HD. The elbow cocking back, the curled fist hurdling at him so fast it was a blur. His eyes were shut tight, teeth gritted, hands up to shelter his face, his whole body hunched back into the bricks like he could morph right through them. But the blow never came.
After five long, silent, pregnant seconds, he peeked through his lashes.
Arthur was staring down at his own hand, now unfurled, in utter horror, looking like it had acted of its own accord. He watched a ruby-red bead of blood jump from his knuckles to the ground. Not Merlin's blood.
"Ohmygod." If Merlin hadn't seen his lips form the barely-audible whisper he would not have believed that words could come out of those two, pale lips, stunned numb with shock.
His left hand moved to grip his right wrist, like his hand might fly off and attack someone else if he didn't keep it contained. He staggered backwards, allowing Merlin enough room to stand up, come off the wall.
"All this time… I thought I was different… but I'm just the same." He wasn't talking to Merlin. Merlin wasn't even sure he was aware he was talking. His beautiful golden skin shone with a coating of sweat though the afternoon was far from hot.
"oh my god."
He said it again. And again. Like his braid had broken, like he couldn't process anything else.
"Oh... Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Oh god! Oh god, no!"
Hysteria bloomed over his face like the dawn, consuming him fully, taking him from the rational world into a place where Merlin could not follow.
"...Arthur?" His own voice was barely more than the creak of an old door, soft, hesitant, and unsure.
Arthur looked up in a frenzied confusion, taking a few more trembling steps backward. He looked like he didn't know where he was. "Merlin! Merlin, I didn't know, I swear I didn't!" He was like Merlin had never seen him. High-pitched, cowering, and full of undiluted terror. His eyes were the black ocean during a storm, dark crashing waves, pure power with no outlet.
"Arthur, it's okay… Just-"
"It's not okay!" He wailed like a child, already retreating, still holding his right wrist so tightly it was shaking and looking at Merlin like… Arthur was looking at Merlin like he'd just killed a man. Like he had just killed Merlin.
When he was ten feet away, he turned and ran.
Merlin did not follow, but sank down to his knees in the dirt and cried.
888
The car that rolled into his driveway was unfamiliar, but the blonde at the wheel was not. Merlin was off his bed like it was a springboard. He'd never been much of an athlete, but nothing stops a force of nature. Not even a smarting ankle. He doesn't shut the door behind him, doesn't stop to put on shoes before he's barrelling outside, the warm sun in the sky a mere lightbulb compared to the one stepping out of his car.
"Arthur!" He wasted no time, flinging his arms around his neck and burying his face into his neck. "You didn't answer my calls or my texts, I..."
Overwhelming excitement trailed off into uncertain silence. Arthur, although he did not rebuke Merlin's probing, affection hands, he did not encourage them. Or, acknowledge them, for that matter. His body, always a work of art, was more statuesque than ever because he stood as still as stone.
His arms were held out to the sides so not as to touch Merlin, his neck turned away in such a manner that Merlin Could see his veins sticking out. He pulled back. The underside of Arthur's jaw down, disappearing under his shirt collar, was one massive purple splotch.
Merlin bit his lip. "Uther-?"
"Don't." Arthur said, sharply. Then, seeming to realize his brusqueness, gave a shaky laugh. "It's alright. I'm, just a bit sore."
"What's going on?"
"I was going to write you a note, but I had to... I had to do this in person."
So this was how it ended? Merlin's stomach dropped.
"So I guess when I said I wouldn't leave you, that same promise didn't extend to you, huh?"
Arthur's swallowed hard. "It was unfair of me to force you to make that promise."
"Oh, great, A loophole. Looks like you're off the hook, then."
Arthur's jaw clenched. "I didn't come here to fight with you."
"Course not," Merlin replied, sounding only slightly hysterical, "you've come to break it off with me. Had enough of cock and jumbo ears, have you? Putting a lock on your closet door?" He was being unfair, he knew, but he couldn't help it. His insides were smarting, his pride was burned.
"I'm going away."
"What are you...?" Merlin's angry question trailed away once he caught sight of Arthur's backseat. It was filled with two bulging duffel bags, and one large cardboard box, the top neatly folded down into place.
"After what happened-" he cut himself off, shook his head, started again. "After I almost punched you in the face, I rushed home. I started packing. I knew I couldn't stay here- there- under that roof anymore. I was... Not myself. Screaming at Uther, telling him I couldn't take it anymore, screaming I was gay, screaming that I wasn't going to end up a hateful, greedy, lonely bastard like him and that I was leaving."
"Arthur, that was two days ago."
Arthur gave a rueful smile, and Merlin was startled to see he was missing a tooth. "Yeah. Well, he didn't take it so well. We fought... He, uh, he's actually been holding back all these years. Who knew?"
"Oh Arthur..."
Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "He forbade me to leave the house. I couldn't if I'd wanted to, that first day. I was pretty hurt. But, after that he watched me. Promised he'd beat it out of me. Said he'd been too soft. Said he was going to pull me out of school. That's where he is now, actually. Doing some sort of paperwork with the principle. Might be done by now, though, I suppose."
"he just left you alone? After all that?"
"Well, he took my car keys with him. And my bike keys. And my cell phone, all the credit cards, laptops... Ripped out the landline, too. Sent Morgana somewhere... Kicking and screaming, I might add. To a friends, I think. I doubt she'll hang around much longer after I..."
Merlin had forgotten all about Morgana. He felt a twinge of guilt. He'd been so preoccupied with Arthur. "Does he... Morgana...?"
Arthur shook his head. "Not a finger. He doesn't blame her, does he?"
"For what?"
"My mother's death."
There's a pause of silence. "So how did you get here?"
"Jogged to the nearest dealership. Good thing I turned 18 last month, huh? And that I had the credit card number memorized."
Merlin's eyes nearly pop from his head. "You bought a car?"
"Nah. Uther did though." Arthur gave a small smirk. "He's gonna shit a brick when he sees that bill... Mind you, he'll shit one anyway, when finds out I've done a runner." He shrugged. "I've been lying low since then, waiting till I was sure you'd be home from school."
And then it started to be real- the idea that Arthur was really going to be gone. Merlin was really going to be alone. When did his life turn into a soap opera?
"Arthur, what are you gonna do? Where are you gonna go?"
"My Uncle Gaius' place. Well, he's not really my uncle, technically, but he's is a very old family friend."
"So you'll just show up on his doorstep, will you?"
Arthur frowned. "No. Well. Yes, but he knows about... Well, I think knows. I suspect he suspects. He's always said if I ever needed a place away from home, if I ever found myself in trouble that his door was open. Only problem was that he's halfway across the country."
"People always say that, Arthur. They don't mean come live with me!"
"I already talked to him about it."
"You said uther room your phone." If he could point out enough flaws, enough logical inconsistencies then maybe it wouldn't be true.
"There are plenty of other phones and laptops in the world."
"It's not like you to run away."
Arthur clenched his jaw. "I'm not running away. I'm getting help. Gaius said he'd- he said we could get someone to help me. A psychiatrist. So that I- so that I don't end up like... Him."
"I don't want you to go." It was his last excuse.
Arthur acted like he hadn't heard. "The second thing," he said, "is that I haven't had my head on straight for a long time, and I can see that now. There's no excuse for the way I treated you. I'm sorry. You deserve so much better, Merlin."
"So.. what? That's it? We're over?"
Arthur's shoe scuffed at the ground as he shrugged. "I don't think I'm in a position where I can be anything more than your friend, Merlin."
"More like pen-pal."
"If that's what you want."
"It fucking isn't."
"I'm sorry."
"Well, that makes it all better."
"I should go. I have a long drive."
Merlin said nothing as Arthur lowered himself into the car halfway, looking pained, before standing up again.
"Just- maybe- and you don't have to answer now, Merlin, but, in the future- if, if I were to... if I were somehow able to deserve you...?"
Merlin leaned in, and pressed their lips together.
"Yes."
He watched Arthur pull out of the driveway a short while later, a look of determination set on his face. It sent sparks down Merlin's spine and into his toes.
And he just knew that they weren't over.