A/N: Wow, thank you SO much for the reviews for the first part! This next part is a little longer than the last one, but not too much so. The last chapter, after this, though, will be the biggest AND stuffed with the most angsty bromance! Here's the second part; please review and enjoy! :)

When It All Comes Crashing Down

Part Two: Confrontation

Merlin shrugged his arm out of Arthur's grasp and let his eyes flicker to the floor. "What are you talking about?" he asked softly, wishing his master would just leave him alone and let him finish his chores in peace. He needed the mind-numbing work to keep his mind off things. That's what he told himself, at least, but it was becoming painfully obvious that even polishing Arthur's armor and mucking out the stables didn't do much to keep his mind off of his dark thoughts.

He knew that he was bottling everything up inside and that it could be dangerous to do so, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly talk to anyone about it – he'd get his head lobbed off for unloading his troubles on anyone in this kingdom because pretty much everything he was grieving about was enmeshed in magic.

He could talk to Gaius about it, of course, or his mother, but he wouldn't, refused to do that to them. They worried enough about him as it was – if they knew that he was in this much pain… He couldn't allow them to lose sleep over him.

He had a feeling that Gaius suspected something, though – apparently he had changed and Arthur wasn't the first one to comment on his pallid expression and loss of weight. Gaius had been the first, then Gwen, and even a few of the kitchen staff (the kitchen lady, Betty, had literally shoved him in a chair and force fed him a succulent pork stew, bless her). Merlin had managed to put on that smile, the smile that he was known for around here – slightly crooked, extremely dopey, usually disarming. But there was no life behind that smile anymore. He just hoped that no one else knew that, although judging by the way Gaius had raised his eyebrow the last time Merlin had tried "the grin," his guise wasn't as foolproof as he had hoped. Then again, Gaius was no fool.

Neither was Arthur, apparently.

When Merlin drew his eyes off the floor and plastered that one-of-a-kind, all-too-empty smile on his master, the churning emotions in Arthur's eyes just grew more dangerous and his lips curved down another centimeter. "Nice try, Merlin." Merlin noticed that Arthur didn't put stress on the first syllable like he usually did ("Merlin!"), which usually meant Arthur was distracted, worried, or sad. Perhaps all three. "I've known you for nearly three years now. I know you well enough to realize when you're sincere and when you're not. So talk."

Arthur couldn't believe what an idiot Merlin could be sometimes – actually, he could, but in this case Merlin's idiocy reached new bounds. How could he possibly think that just by forcing himself to smile and lying through his teeth would make Arthur believe he was fine? Arthur could see right through his mask, and even if he couldn't – although it would take someone even more stupid than Merlin not to see that the servant was faking it – the drastic shift in his actions and appearance should be clue enough.

He watched as Merlin's false grin faltered and his eyes found the floor again. Unconsciously the boy reached behind his head with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. Arthur could feel the emotions rolling off of his servant – anxiety, fear, and more angst than anyone as carefree and friendly as Merlin should ever have to face. Again, he spoke. "Nothing, Arthur. It's nothing. I'm… fine."

Arthur crossed his arms over his muscular chest, trying to hold back the worry that he knew was warring for dominance over irritation in his blue eyes. It was then that he noticed Merlin swaying where he stood. Instantly, Arthur was at his side, lowering him down onto the floor and allowing the wavering manservant to lean against the wall. The worry intensified, rebelling against his composure and trying to shove the other emotions out of the way for dominance.

Merlin sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. Arthur knew that he wasn't about to say anything unless prompted – Merlin was stupendously stubborn for someone of his unimpressive stature – so he urged the young man to speak by asking a question. "Haven't you been eating?"

Merlin laughed bitterly. "You won't believe how many times I've heard that question today."

Arthur glared at him. Merlin was purposely avoiding the question. "Well, have you? Because when you're as thin and frail –"

"Hey!" Merlin interjected indignantly and Arthur could see the ghost of smile lines on Merlin's face, but only for one fleeting second, and then the moment was gone…

"—as you are anyway, let alone now, I'm not surprised everyone's been asking about your diet!"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

Arthur stared him down. "Answer. The. Question. Now."

His servant grimaced, "I've been eating. Not as much as usual, I guess, but I just don't feel like eating the way I used to." He clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening as if he had just said something incriminating. Maybe he had.

Arthur looked him up and down. "Why not? Are you sick?"

Merlin smiled humorlessly and tried to sound sarcastic although it was painfully obvious he was just trying to distract Arthur with banter. "Are you actually worried about me, Arthur?"

"Shut up, Merlin. Stop changing the subject. Now I want you to answer – why haven't you been eating enough? Why are you so pale? And why do you always look so sad?" Arthur blinked as he realized that the lack of cheerfulness on Merlin's face bothered him just as much, if not more, than the weight loss. Merlin was such a happy person – he loved life, and even though he could be a pessimist, he was a cheerful pessimist, no matter how much of an oxymoron that may be.

Merlin stood up, wavered for a moment, and snapped, "I'm fine, Arthur. And what do you care? You're a prince, I'm just a servant. You remind me of that enough."

Arthur winced, remembering the exchange that had happened between he and his servant in the inn when they went to search for Balinor. I know I'm a prince, so we can't be friends…

As Merlin angrily stormed – well, stumbled would be a more accurate representation – from the prince's chambers, obviously beyond reason. No one was supposed to walk out on their prince, their master like that. But Arthur wasn't angry. He was just sad that Merlin was suffering and didn't feel he could tell Arthur about it. Maybe he was even a bit hurt that Merlin didn't want to trust him with whatever it was.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Arthur went about getting himself ready for training, resolving that he would go to Merlin's room – yes, he was actually going to seek a servant out, heaven help him – and try to convince Merlin that whatever secrets he was harboring, whatever pain was devouring him, he didn't have to do it alone.

It seemed it had reached a point where appearances didn't matter. Arthur could pretend he didn't care, pretend Merlin wasn't really his closest friend – and let Merlin become lost to his own pain in the process. Or he could take on the challenge of actually trying to be a friend to the distraught boy and pray that it wasn't too late to pull him out of the despair.

He shook his head wearily as he left his rooms and strode in the direction of the training field, wondering when exactly Merlin had become so difficult to deal with. He chuckled – Merlin had always been hard to deal with. Merlin's welfare hadn't been directly infused with his stubbornness in the past, though. Arthur somehow knew that if anyone was going to get through to Merlin, it would have to be him. It wasn't exactly a responsibility he wanted but it was one he was willing to shoulder nonetheless.

For Merlin.

A/N: There you go; hope that next part was to your liking! One more part left; we'll find out everything next chapter and get to the "truth… sort of" part next chapter! Please review and I'll update ASAP! :)

~Emachinescat ^..^