Finding You

A week later, things had changed. Mr. White had suggested Arthur come home with him, since Jared's mother would never allow Arthur back into the house. Jared had reluctantly agreed, and had left after giving Arthur a few numbers on the back of a piece of paper (which he had later learned to be a phone number). It hadn't taken long to move Arthur into Mr. White's house, considering he didn't really have anything of his own to bring. Mr. White even suggested that Arthur change his name, since Arthur wasn't a name commonly heard anymore.

He had decided upon Bradley. Bradley James. There was no real reason behind the name. Some of the characters in the books he had been reading from Mr. White's bookshelf had that name. He just liked it, he didn't know why.

Mr. White made a fuss over buying clothes for him, but the clothes still felt strange and awkward on him. They were odd fabrics, fitting him strangely and scratching him in weird places. Mr. White spent most of his time reading, sitting in that stuffy room of his and flipping through book after book, trying to find Merlin.

But there was no luck. Merlin was not found and those weeks turned into months.

Arthur grew bored with staying inside the house. Sometimes he would wander around town, trying to figure out what the numerous shops meant, what the signs meant. He spent some of his time inside a local pub, which was different than the tavern Merlin and him had spent countless nights in, but it was mostly the same and that comforted him.

They had a strange device that showed words to a song on a T.V. and another strange device that seemed to amplify a person's voice when they sang into it. They called it karaoke. And Arthur spent most of his time watching this as people seemed to make fools out of themselves.

He spent months like this. Months feeling a stranger in an alien world. Every morning he woke up feeling empty and afraid. And no matter how much he learned to accept this world and all the strange things in it, he didn't feel like he belonged. He would sit in his room, propped up on his bed, thinking, just thinking of old times. He felt lost and confused and alone. Mr. White proved to be good company and they had supper together almost every night, but it wasn't the same. He asked Arthur a lot of questions about Camelot and Merlin, but Arthur couldn't answer them anymore. It pained him too much. There had never been a time where Merlin wasn't at his side. He missed Guinevere, he did, she was his wife after all, but something felt so wrong about being without Merlin. Merlin had been there, beside him, through everything since the day he had met him.

At one point, he had even had Mr. White drive him out to the lake just so he could stand on the shore. Part of him hoped Merlin would be there, just waiting for him with that bright smile of his that of course Arthur hated. Of course. But he wasn't and instead Arthur spent the better half of the hour just letting sand fall through the cracks of his hands and watching the tall steeple in the center of the island.

One night at the pub, Arthur was just sitting at the bar, drinking a glass of water because for once he really didn't feel like drinking, watching two girls sing their hearts out. They were barely dressed, wearing that stupid jean material as a skirt that cut off right below their crotch. It wasn't attractive to him. It was immodest and stupid.

Suddenly, someone bumped into his elbow, causing him to spill his water. Annoyed, Arthur yelled over his shoulder, "Watch were you're going, idiot."

The man stopped mid-laugh, his face instantly turning apologetic. "Hey, I'm sorry, man. I didn't see you there," when his apology did nothing to wipe the sour face off Arthur, he held his hands up, "truly sorry. But hey, you look seriously familiar."

"I've never met you." Arthur said before turning back to order another drink.

"You're here all the time." The guy pointed out. "You never talk to anyone. And you always look sour."

He swears this could be the reincarnation of Merlin if he didn't know better. He shrugged, "Well it doesn't seem to be bugging anyone."

"I'm Kyle." He held his hand out to Arthur, expecting some kind of response.

I'm Merlin.

He shook his head and then shook the man's hand. "I'm Ar-Bradley. Bradley James."

Kyle took a seat next to him and ordered a beer. "Are you from around here?"

Arthur laughed, taking a sip of his drink, "Not exactly."

"Where from then?"

Arthur ignored the question, messing with the napkin under his drink, ripping off the corners and rolling them into little balls in between his fingers, "Are you from around here?"

Kyle nodded eagerly. "Well, I go to school here. I'm originally from America. I'm studying abroad."

"America?" He bit his tongue, immediately after saying it. He wasn't supposed to bring suspicion to himself, "I haven't been to America before."

"You're not missing much." Kyle laughed, "I love it here. I mean America isn't bad, it's just I needed a change of scenery."

"I can understand that."

"So what's up with you? Why you always look so down? Broken heart, maybe?"

"Something like that." Arthur responded, throwing another paper bowel on the counter, "You know, you remind me a lot of my friend. It's….nice."

"This friend must be pretty awesome." Kyle joked, downing the rest of his drink.

"He was completely oblivious to social boundaries, too. No offense. The first time I met him, I was a complete prat. And he didn't even care." He looked over to Kyle, who looked slightly offended, "No! I mean. Damn. I'm really bad at the whole friends thing."

"I can tell." Kyle laughed, "You talk about your friend in past tense."

It wasn't a question, but Arthur felt like it was asking for an answer, "Yeah. We haven't talked or seen each other in a long time."

Kyle nodded, "I have some friends like that. Ever since I came here, we don't talk. It's like they forgot about me."

There was an awkward moment of silence before Kyle spoke up, "You know, man, I don't do this very often, but you seem lonely as shit and my buddy is having a party, do you wanna come?"

Arthur blinked at him, studied him. He normally wouldn't go anywhere with a complete stranger, but this man reminded him of Merlin. And as much as hated to admit it, he missed Merlin or really anything familiar. He nodded, waiting as Kyle paid. He stopped as soon as he dropped the dollar bill, "You're not a murderer are you?"

"Not that I know of." Arthur tried to smile, but it looked pain.

"Good. Now let's go, Bradley."

And that is the beautiful tale of how Arthur (Bradley) became friends with Kyle.

Of course, Kyle ended up introducing him to Mike, his roommate. And there was something about those two that just made it easy for Arthur. They were easy to be around, easy to talk to, and everything Arthur needed right now. They took him places, to bars, to clubs, to sporting games. They introduced him to music that he had never heard and it was loud and the singing was too fast for him to even understand what they were saying. They were huge fans of Katy Perry and Miley Cyrus, posters hanging everywhere in their two bedroom apartment.

Mr. White encouraged him to continue hanging out with Mike and Kyle. Told him it was better to distract himself with friends until they could find Merlin. Of course, Merlin, the idiot, was nowhere to be found which was upsetting to Arthur, but he tried not to focus on it.

Then, six months after Arthur had came gasping to the surface, he found himself sitting on Kyle's couch, a beer in hand, sitting among some of his best mates and trying to imagine them as Merlin and Gwaine. They were talking about the most random of things like girls, and sports, and everything Arthur had learned to talk about in the last few months.

The T.V. was in the background, playing some talk show about the people who were considered "famous" (something Arthur had recently learned about). It was just background noise to them at moment, but then there was a lapse in conversation, Arthur's beer raised to his lips. Kyle reached to turn the volume up, leaning back and resting his feet on the coffee table.

"- to Splitsville, USA, population: two. Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth officially called it quits. Oh em gee, is there such a thing as Hollywood love, people! I'm your host, Chelsea Briggs coming to you from Hollywood and you're watching Hollywood Hot Minute"

Kyle laughed, taking another sip of his beer. "I'll tell you what, I don't blame him. After the VMAS, I would have dumped her too."

Mike poked his head in from around the corner where he had been doing dishes in the kitchen, "Are you talking about Miley Cyrus?"

"Yes." Kyle laughed again, "She's up for grabs now."

Mike smirked, before his eyes caught something on T.V. and he groaned, wiping his hands on the washcloth he was holding. He gestured to the T.V., "I want to go to his concert so bad."

"Aren't tickets like five hundred dollars?"

"Yes. And for crappy seats."

Arthur turned his attention to the T.V. to see what they were talking about. The annoying reporter was apparently talking about some concert that was happening nearby.

"-was seen greeting fans at the airport. Morgan will be playing at the Motorpoint Arena Sheffield tomorrow night, where tickets are said to be sold out. He will –"

Just then, in the corner of the screen, a picture of the singer appeared, causing Arthur to choke on his beer. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. There, in the picture, was none other than his manservant, Merlin. His hair was cropped short like Arthur had always remembered him having, his teeth were painfully white, and his skin flawless. He wore a black t-shirt, and his arm wrapped around a young fan and despite the two thousand years that had passed, he didn't look any older than when Arthur had last seen him.

Arthur was sure that was him. There wasn't a doubt in his mind. His mate asked if he was okay and all Arthur could manage was a nod, a finger pointed towards the T.V. and a weak, "Who is that?"

"Who? Him?" Kyle pointed to the T.V. where they showed a picture of Merlin posing with a young girl, her eyes puffy from crying. "That's Colin Morgan, man. You haven't heard of him?"

Arthur shook his head. Mike laughed behind him, "then you've been living under a rock. He's an amazing singer. Like he's not anything like Justin Bieber or those other gay ass boy bands. We listen to him in the car all the time," Arthur took a moment to think back to the numerous songs they listened to in the car, none had sounded like Merlin. And Merlin could sing? Since when? "His concert's tomorrow," he sighed, "like I said, I wanted to go."

Arthur stood, a little shaky, and looked down at Kyle, "Can you drive me home?"

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded, "yeah sure, man. You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine." Arthur just headed towards the door, while a worried Kyle followed.

The ride home was awkward. Kyle kept attempting to make conversation, but all of Arthur's answers were short and rushed. The entire time he just tapped his fingers on his knee and looked out his window at the passing trees. Kyle mentioned something about the pub that night, but Arthur didn't pay attention. He just gave a short wave and sped to the door, fishing his keys out of his pocket and nearly dropping them in the process. How could Merlin be that guy on the screen? It had looked exactly like him, but it didn't make sense for Merlin to hide in the spotlight.

As soon as the door was open, Arthur was down the hallway yelling, "Mr. White!"

The man came out of his study, his glasses on the edge of his nose, and a thick book in hand, "Arthur, what on earth are you hollering about!?"

"Merlin." He breathed, "I found Merlin."

Mr. White closed his book, readjusting his glasses as he gave Arthur a strange look, "Are you sure? Where is he?"

"Morgan, um, Chris. No, no, oh!" He snapped his fingers, "Colin Morgan. The, er, singer?"

Mr. White turned to walk back into his study, sinking into his chair by his desk. He was silent for a moment, before he turned back to look at Arthur, "Colin Morgan, huh?"

"I'm pretty sure. I'd have to see another picture to know for sure."

"Well I suppose that would make sense. I'm shocked I didn't think of that before." He scratched his chin.

"How? How does it make sense for him to hide where everyone can see him? Such an idiot." Arthur laughed. Because of course, of course Merlin wouldn't hide.

"He's not hiding. That's the point," Mr. White folded his hands in front of him, "He's out in the open where you can find him. No matter where you are. He made himself an international superstar, that way it'd be almost impossible for you to miss him. Genius, actually." He gestured him to his side, pulling open his laptop (which was still a bit strange to Arthur) and typing into the search bar "Colin Morgan". Arthur hadn't thought about the fact that maybe that's what Merlin was trying to do. He was eliminating the amount of time that Arthur would have to spend searching for him.

Mr. White leaned back, "30 million hits," he chuckled, "here, click on images", suddenly a thousand pictures of Merlin, er, Colin Morgan came onto screen. He was exactly the same Merlin Arthur remembered. Same smile, same kind eyes, he just looked wiser and maybe sadder. Arthur had started to notice Merlin changing a few months before the battle that had claimed his life. He hadn't looked the same way as he used to.

Mr. White moved, gesturing for Arthur to sit down in front of the computer. Arthur clicked on the first picture, a headshot of Merlin smiling at something off screen. His smile was the same, his hair a little longer in this picture than the one Arthur had seen on T.V., and very little stubble growing around his mouth. He looked different, but the same all at once.

He clicked on the next one, which was a picture of Merlin with a microphone (like the ones he'd seen people use at Karaoke at the pub), singing, his eyes screwed shut, his mouth open. He had one hand outreached towards screaming fans who all looked to be clawing their way to him, a few having latched onto his wrist and refusing to let go. Here, he looked different. His hair was messier, sticking out in different directions that could be seen as attractive to fans. On his wrist was what looked to be a tattoo? Arthur didn't know. The Druids had had tattoos on their wrists, but Arthur had never pegged Merlin to be a guy who would ever get it done.

It was a sparrow, the wings and head on the underside of his wrist, while the tail and edge of the wings wrapped around to the other side so you could see it when his hand was face down. On his forearm, which was visible just enough in the picture to see he had tattoos, were some strange symbols, probably another language. On the inside of his arm, on the bicep, were two words in a language Arthur didn't understand.

The next picture was Merlin shirtless at a beach, pointing at something off screen. Arthur was stunned by his change. He had never really seen Merlin shirtless all that much, Merlin was usually a private person, but he had always imagined Merlin to be thin and wiry under his tunic. Arthur had always feared – well feared wasn't the right word – that someone would just break Merlin in half one day. In this picture, however, Merlin was different. He was angular and muscular, his abs defined and shoulders' broad. His arms held definition, and he looked healthy. Healthy and strong. On his ribs appeared to be a large tree, the trunk tattooed into his hip and the branches reaching as far as his shoulder blade. On his wrist was a small tattoo Arthur couldn't make out. The next picture was of him holding hands with an extremely attractive girl, a hat on his head and his face cast downwards.

"So is it him?" Mr. White said, causing Arthur to jump because honestly he had forgotten Mr. White was even there.

"Yeah, it's him." Arthur whispered.

"Here, click on that link." He pointed to the screen.

The link led him to a video site known as YouTube. He had been on it before thanks to Kyle and Mike constantly showing him videos of naked men running into glass or a guy freaking out over a double rainbow.

The video was of Merlin dancing, his body covered in sweat. He moved gracefully and quickly, the dance foreign to Arthur. There was a suggested video right below it of a girl asking a series of questions to Merlin. Another video of Merlin walking down the street, his hood up and avoiding all questions. Another one of him signing autographs. And another and another.

Mr. White eventually left the room and the house, talking about running errands and the rest of the night was spent watching YouTube videos of Merlin singing or walking down the street or waving to fans, stupid things that apparently were important to everyone else. Arthur brushed his hands through his bangs, feeling overwhelmed with everything. He clicked on a link that led to one of Merlin's songs, labeled TKO.

Baby, everyday you're training to get the gold

That's why your body's crazy

Now that Arthur was straining his ears for it, he could recognize Merlin's voice. His eyes scanned the words on the screen, and he couldn't believe Merlin would actually write something like this. It didn't seem like him

I don't understand it, tell me how could you be so low?

Been swinging after the bell and after all of the whistle blows

Tried to go below the belt, through my chest

Perfect hit to the dome, dammit babe

This ain't the girl I used to know, no, not anymore

He reached up, pressing on the search link and very, painfully slow typed in "Colin Morgan phone number". Nothing came up. He typed in address (which he had slowly learned about through Mr. White) and all it came up with was a picture of a castle like house.

Arthur listened to the rest of the song in frustration, then replayed it, and replayed it again. And again.

Eventually, Mr. White came back into the room, around midnight. He had a couple of Euros with him, which he proceeded to hand over to Arthur. "This should be enough to buy you a ticket to his concert."

"No, this is your savings."

"I don't care. You need him." He gestured to the screen and Arthur really didn't like the fact that people thought he needed Merlin. "There should be enough in there to get to the meet and greet. That will be your time to tell him it's you."

"Tickets are sold out, Mr. White."

"The initial tickets are. People always buy them at cheaper prices and then sell them online for more money. Here," He motioned for Arthur to get up as he took a seat in the chair, "I'll look."

Arthur paced the room, he didn't know what else to do. Thirty-five minutes later, Mr. White stood, "I'm printing your tickets right now," he smiled, "You're gonna see Merlin again."

Arthur wanted to hug Mr. White, he did, but he was horrible with affection so he just patted him on the shoulder and walked away.

Arthur set the tickets on his dresser and tried not to pay attention to them. He tried not to think about the fact that he had to buy tickets just to go see his manservant. That his manservant could be that famous.

Mr. White pushed him to get his haircut the way he had it when Merlin had last seen him, that way Merlin would recognize him. He pushed him to pack up what clothes he did have because more than likely 'he would be going home with Merlin'.

The night before the concert was bittersweet as they sat down to dinner, Arthur across from Mr. White. Their last night together. Mr. White put the bowl of chili in front of him, sitting down across from him. Arthur didn't eat at first, instead stopped to acknowledge Mr. White, "Thank you."

Mr. White nodded.

"No really. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."

Mr. White looked up and they held eye contact for a moment, "I truly hope you find what it is you're destined for."

"Me too." Arthur whispered, slowly picking up the spoon to start eating.

They didn't say anything else. They didn't need to. Their relationship had always been simple, always understanding without words and Arthur was truly grateful for him.

The next morning, when Arthur woke up, Mr. White was already gone to the library. There was a note on his ticket on the counter that said "Good luck. Keep in touch" and his phone number just below it. Arthur smiled, stuffed it in his pocket and went to wait for Kyle, who had agreed to drop him off at the meet and greet at 5pm.

Five hours left.