How to Overcome Writer's Block: A Guide By Merlin Emrys [Part 2]
Thursdays were now Merlin’s favorite day in the entire world.
Ever since that dream crept inside his head, there had been nothing but ideas flowing out of him. It was as if he had taken a pill to cure all illnesses and he was now back on the road, typing like there was no tomorrow.
It was insane, the way everything just kept flowing and flowing out of him. His imagination had widened considerably and he was now so connected to what he was writing that he completely lost track of time and just kept going, letting himself drown in the incredible images, emotions and adventures that were spinning in his head.
He reached a considerable amount of words by the end of the week, and felt completely relaxed when Nimueh contacted him to check on him. She said there wasn’t enough words, which she always said anyway, but congratulated him on his progress and reminded him to check on Gaius, his editor, too - which he did. After those affairs were resolved, he finished a scene that had been nagging at his brain and saved the document. He re-read what he had written and once again, found himself immersed in his own words.
He was watching everything as if he had been there, and maybe it was because he’d been sleep deprived again, but he couldn’t help but picture Arthur as the King while he read.
He laughed-in his haste to get things done, he had forgotten about the blonde bloke who had saved him in that alley back on Tuesday. It was such a pity that someone as handsome as he had been so nuts. Merlin was lamenting this when another thought crossed his head.
He did look a lot like the imaginary version he had envisioned of the King. Maybe it was a bit more romanticized in his head, like a blurry image to which he added unnecessary details, but now that he had seen someone so real as Arthur, the image was crystal clear.
This was unbelievable. He was pondering on the fact that he was a reincarnated figure! He laughed again.
“That’s it, bedtime for Merlin,” he announced as he closed the document and turned off his computer, standing up and going to his bedroom. He let himself fall into the bed with the same clothes that he had worn during the day (which hadn’t changed in a few days, and were still his pyjamas, so it was okay) and let sleep find him, already planning out another conflict for his characters.
*
Days were passing by pretty quickly, and before he realized it, the day of Elena’s wedding had arrived.
He freaked out when he realised that it was a Tuesday, and tried not to let it show when Lance picked him up from his flat (and also tried not to swoon at the sight). They were picking up Gwen next, and for a brief moment Merlin feared that something would go wrong, like the car engine would break down or that Gwen’s dress would be stained and they would have to wait and then they would be late and it’s not like Elena minds about those things, but still.
“Merlin, stop thinking, please; it’s just a day,” Lance had parked outside Gwen’s home and they were now waiting. “Besides, haven’t you been writing on Tuesdays too? Nothing bad has happened, right?”
Merlin scowled. “Not exactly, but that’s because I was glued to the computer. I’m sure that if I had showered or something the water would have been cold or it wouldn’t have come down at all,” he folded his arms and looked across the street into Gwen’s house. “And it’s not like I’m thinking something bad will happen,” he pointed out, still looking away. “It’s just-who marries on a Tuesday?”
“Rich people,” Lance answered, and then his face broke into a smile when he saw Gwen walking through the door. She looked magnificent, to say the least. Merlin had to bite down something when he saw her beam at Lance as he exited the car in a hurry to open the door for her.
Nothing bad happened on the way, and they arrived at the chapel just in time. Gwaine caught his eye and winked, and Merlin couldn’t help but grin at him. They settled at the middle of the church and sat down, waiting for the ceremony to start. Merlin was looking at the chandeliers and praying for them not to fall down when there was a rush of movement at the altar, so he fixed his attention there and froze.
His eyes were probably lying to him, because there was no way in earth Arthur was talking to Gwaine and laughing with him.
He didn’t have much time to react because the music started playing and everyone turned around to see Elena walking down the aisle.
There was an orchestra piled up at the corner of the church, taking quite a lot of space but it didn’t matter-as the first notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D started playing, everybody fell silent. It was a magical sight, and Merlin wondered for a moment if lighting effects were being used, because the halo of light surrounding Elena, who was still standing at the door, looked too ideal. She was beaming, and that seemed to shine more than the entire universe at that moment.
She took a step forward and it looked like she was floating, her iron-grip on her father’s arm being just a secondary thing; there was nothing wrong happening, she wasn’t tripping down, her eyes were still shining, the illusion wasn’t breaking.
Merlin dared look at the altar and felt his stomach flop at the intensity of the two men’s gazes. Gwaine looked as if he had just found Paradise and Arthur-Merlin’s heart started beating way too fast for a quiet ceremony like this-Arthur looked magnificent. On top of his already graceful features, the way he was looking at Elena was breathtaking. He was glowing, just as Elena was, and Merlin couldn’t understand if that was a thing his brain was making up or if it was literally happening-either way, it made him feel like a moth to a flame, so he looked away and tried to focus on Elena, who was now reaching the altar.
Despite his attempts, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Arthur the entire ceremony. He was religiously following every single thing the man did, which wasn’t good at all. No, because the man was crazy. He had to tell himself that every time he saw him smiling softly at the couple before him.
There was a point in which he had to repeat it like a mantra, because looking at him was unbearable, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away. Merlin’s hands were fisted, and his jaw clenched. How could someone he barely knew (who was crazy) affect him like this? He’d been attracted to people before, but that had never made him feel the way he was feeling while he looked at Arthur fumbling with his feet, or looking distractedly at his hands, or smiling wistfully when Gwaine held Elena’s hand. Merlin’s head was spinning, he wanted to run away again, this couldn’t be. The things he was feeling weren’t natural.
He was scared.
But then when Gwaine and Elena were proclaimed husband and wife, the world stopped. Arthur’s eyes met his and oxygen no longer existed. He felt the strongest pull at his chest, a wire of energy running from head to toe, curling at his toes and sweating his palms.
Arthur smirked at him, and Merlin felt the world swallow him completely.
*
He was still in denial by the time they arrived at the reception. Lance had gotten them all drinks and was now making cow eyes at Gwen, who was just as immersed in the task as he, so they didn’t notice the way Merlin was fidgeting in his seat nor how he was looking around anxiously. They wouldn’t mind if they did, anyway. They’d probably think it was because of the Tuesday thing.
Which reminded him that it was Tuesday so of course something like this would happen. He bit back a response to Lance previous comment because he wouldn’t understand it at all and also because if he did, he’d have to explain the Arthur situation, which was something Merlin didn’t even want to think about-even though he was in fact thinking about it.
He scolded himself and took a sip of wine. If he was condemned to suffer through this damn party he might as well be intoxicated enough for it. He knew Gwaine would probably make him swallow an entire barrel of beer in the near future, so he told himself he was “practicing” and swallowed more of the whiskey Lance had managed to sneak into their cups.
He tapped his foot anxiously and looked around again, not searching for Arthur but for something to entertain himself with, since the newlyweds were nowhere to be seen.
But then of course Arthur came into the picture, looking radiant, shaking hands with people Merlin didn’t know and embracing others. He seemed to be in a very good mood, and for one second Merlin wondered who the hell Arthur was, because basically everyone knew him.
He was about to ask Gwen this when Gwaine and Elena arrived to their party and everyone cheered and stood up to welcome them. They looked like movie stars, all smiles and embracing people. Merlin bowed to make his proper congratulations later, when the fuzz decreased.
It took a while for that to happen, as people gathered together for pictures and more hugs and kisses; there were a few old ladies crying and holding Elena’s face between their hands, saying things that made her laugh. She had always had a bubbly laugh-the first time Merlin met her they both tripped down (not at the same time, though it would’ve been a little less awkward than walking and falling with two seconds of difference) and she laughed out loud, throwing her head backwards and shutting her eyes, enjoying the moment.
She was doing that now, as the old lady’s hands traded Elena’s face for Arthur’s.
He looked gently at the woman before him, and for a brief moment, Merlin wished he could be near enough to eavesdrop, because Arthur was listening intently to whatever the woman said, and then he raised his eyes and met his again. Merlin skipped a breath and tore his eyes away. What the hell was he doing, anyway?
He decided to leave it at that and try to engage in conversation with his friends, but when that proved to be impossible, Merlin stood up and resolved into going to congratulate the married couple by himself (though he still didn’t understand where he had gotten the courage to go without Gwen, who was his primary link to them in the first place).
Merlin tried to play it cool and pretend he wasn’t feeling extremely nervous about going in Arthur’s direction, because the godamned guy was still standing next to Elena, and now Merlin was thinking what a horrible idea this was, and as he attempted to turn casually and run away, he heard a shout.
“Merlin!” it was Elena, who was beaming at him. “It’s been so long!”
She was two feet from him in an instant, despite the oddly shaped dress she was wearing, and draped her arms around his shoulders in a graceful manner. Merlin made a strangled noise as she squeezed him in her arms and nuzzled her cheek with his. “I’m so glad you’re here!” she squealed, letting him go with a soft peck on the cheek. Her eyes were shining-everything about her was shining.
Merlin couldn’t help but feel happy for her, and so he let Gwaine bear-hug him tight too and smiled at them both. “I’m happy you invited me,” he said, patting Gwaine’s shoulder after he released him. “Congratulations,” he felt his cheeks coloring. “I wish you the very best.”
They both jumped at him and tucked him in their arms, spinning him around until they were facing Arthur, who had his arms folded and an amused expression on his face. When Elena caught sight of him, she jolted and turned around.
“How stupid!” she said, laughing. “I haven’t introduced you two yet!” she grabbed Merlin’s arm and yanked him forward, giggling. Every bit of Merlin was internally screaming stop! but there was nothing to be done; Arthur had raised his chin and the corners of his lips quirked up.
“Merlin, this is my brother, Arthur.” Elena smiled and Merlin froze. What?! “He’s been incredibly interested in meeting you,” she flashed Arthur a sly smile, making him scowl. He looked so different here, Merlin noted. It was a completely different side of him-not that Merlin knew that much about him anyway. Wait, did she just say that he’d been wanting to meet him?
“He doesn’t admit it, but he found my copy of that first book of yours and he might or might not have bought the entire collection,” she winked now, her smile spreading-if that was possible at all-and Gwaine laughed.
“He can’t stop talking about them!” he said, palming Arthur’s back and purposely missing the glare the blonde sent him. “When he knew Elena knew you, oh, Merlin, you should’ve seen his face. And the way he pleaded for a meeting!”
“Shut up, Gwaine.” Arthur bit out through his teeth. His cheeks were a little pink, and Merlin’s heart fluttered-wait, no. It didn’t flutter, that’s stupid. “I feel like they’re creating the wrong image for you,” he said next, his blue eyes piercing through Merlin’s.
“I can imagine.” He retorted, narrowing his eyes. Poor Elena, she probably had no idea her brother was insane. Merlin had to give him credit for looking so composed in public-but that only made him more dangerous, he thought. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Arthur,” saying his name tasted funny in his tongue. It was almost familiar, yet new; Merlin scowled because he couldn’t be thinking about those stupid things again! He bowed his head in a semi-mocking manner (because Elena does look magnificent and he feels as he must do something inferior-like about it) and turned on his heels, praying to whatever God might be listening to please let me escape now.
“Wait!” Elena cried. “You two should talk!” she looked from one to the other, and there was a split second after meeting Arthur’s eyes again in which the man looked hurt, but it was gone as soon as it came. Merlin sighed and forced a smile.
“I wouldn’t want to impose, you seem to be busy so I’m just-“
“I’m not,” Arthur answered in a breath. “Busy, I mean.”
Merlin forced another smile.
“My friends are waiting for me.”
“Who? The couple that was sitting with you? They’ve been gone for five minutes now,” Merlin’s head spun abruptly, searching for his friends, and realized that Arthur was right. The bastards.
He sighed.
“I don’t know what you wish to discuss with me, but I’m sure it can wait,” his smile looked forced, he knew; he knew he probably looked and sounded like an ass, but he wasn’t going to go who-knows-where with the crazy man that thinks they’re both from the past.
Arthur’s eyes flared with the same intensity they had when Merlin was at his house.
“I’m afraid not, it can’t wait,” he replied with the same condescending tone Merlin had used before. He stepped forward and placed one big, warm hand on the back of his neck and Merlin jerked away at the touch. Arthur didn’t seem to mind-only that his eyes flared again, but that was probably because the lighting in that place was too intense-and took his arm and pulled him along.
“Hey!” Merlin protested, but no one seemed to care.
*
“What the hell?” Merlin spat when they were outside, yanking his arm free from Arthur’s grip. He turned and glared at him, crossing his arms and keeping as much distance as possible-even though his body didn’t really want him to.
Focus, Merlin!
He looked at Arthur expectantly, waiting for a response, but found himself staring at his features instead. He couldn’t help but compare the image to his own personal picture of the King, and frowned. There were different things-like the nose, the King’s nose was broken, most likely from fighting, and so it curved slightly to the left, while Arthur’s nose was perfect, untouched. His teeth were different too-the King had crooked, yellow teeth, whilst Arthur had a perfect row of white teeth. His pout was the same though, as well as the blonde of his hair and the set of his jaw. His eyes were bluer than Merlin had previously imagined, and his body was a little slimmer than the King’s, probably because Arthur didn’t have to fight epic battles with barbarians and enemies to the Crown.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. For a brief moment an odd thing happened, and it was as if he was in Camelot, his King folding his arms and frowning at him-an image too familiar, too personal, overlaid with this image of Arthur, folded arms as well, frowning too. It made him want to vomit.
“What do you want?” he squawked, resting his hand over the top of the balcony, feeling dizzy.
“Just to be listened to,” Merlin made a face at that and rolled his eyes, which wasn’t a good idea because he was feeling incredibly unsteady.
“Arthur, there is no way we were-“
“Just listen, okay?” Arthur pleaded and Merlin closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath.
“I still don’t see how this is a plausible thing, but go on,” he waved his hand and clutched at his stomach with the other.
“Are you okay?” Arthur was hovering around him now, and pardon, personal space? Merlin pushed him away and groaned.
“Yes, just get on with it!”
Arthur stared at him for a brief moment, as if calculating his words, and rested his lower back on the edge of the balcony.
“I’m not here to repeat what I said,” he started, and Merlin frowned. “At least-not now. I understand it’s hard to get, and it sounds ridiculous, but I’m not lying, Merlin.” He looked at him with an insistent look. “I’ve always felt like there was something missing, but never could place my finger on it,” he stopped looking at him and stared into space. “I’ve always had whatever I wanted, and yet, there was something-“ he frowned at the night and pouted. “You heard Elena, I found her copy of your book and took it, but I never thought I would actually read it,” he smiled softly. “until I couldn’t ignore it. It was as if it was calling me, I don’t know how to express it.” He locked eyes with Merlin again, and the latter felt his heart start to race. “When I started reading, I started remembering. Your books made me remember, Merlin. Because it’s truth. At first I thought I was hallucinating, because I could remember the way I felt in those moments, I could sense them as if I were still there. It was too much for me, I wasn’t ready,” he looked at the floor now, and Merlin couldn’t move from his spot. “I kept putting it away,” he murmured, barely audible. He then ran a hand through his hair and smiled ruefully at him. “Don’t get me wrong, the writing is great, but every time I touched the book, a memory flashed in my head, and I was scared I had lost my mind,” Merlin snorted, which made Arthur’s face break into a smile.
“At one point I decided to see if it was my head the one making things up and bought other books, read bits from them, and waited for my memories, but they never came. I kept wondering then why I reacted the way I did with your book, so I tried researching.”
“How can you possibly research something like that?” Merlin smiled, and Arthur’s cheeks flushed pink. If his eyes lingered on Merlin’s mouth, Merlin decided to ignore it.
“It took a while, and a few nights without sleep, since everything I came up with were books about memories and Alzheimer,” he scooted closer to him, and Merlin couldn’t help but still. Arthur looked away, trying for nonchalant. “I had to call a few people who wouldn’t think I was insane.”
“Did it work?”
“Of course not, they all wanted me to go to a psychologist.” Merlin laughed out loud, stealing a smile from Arthur. “I did go to one, I confess,” he drew near again, slowly. “And he was very helpful. He suggested that I finish the book and see what happened-it turned out I ended up remembering a life in another time, when I was a King. Which is ridiculous,” he was very close to Merlin now, looming over him. “I bought the rest of the books and finished them in less than two days,” Merlin actually raised his eyebrows at that, and Arthur smirked, his face inches away from Merlin’s. “They’re really good,” he whispered, putting a hand across from him, which only made them closer.
Merlin bit his lip.
“You think? I see you’re a good storyteller as well,” he whispered back, leaning just a little bit forward, watching Arthur’s Adam apple bobble as he swallowed.
“Do you still think I’m lying?” they were ridiculously close now, lips ghosting over lips, and Merlin’s mind was on fire, already fallen for what seemed to be the perfect trap.
Then he snapped back to reality.
“I still don’t get why I get to be the Merlin in this scenario of yours,” he pushed him away, suddenly aware of the things that were happening and his head started spinning out of control again. “If you had a revelation with my books, that’s, er, good, I think, but,” he shook his head, trying to clear it. “that doesn’t explain me being that Merlin, and why you’re obsessed with me.”
“I’m not obsessed with you,” Arthur replied, clearly upset about his move having gone wrong. “I just want you to understand-“
“What, Arthur? What exactly do you want me to understand?” his head was hurting now-he ran his hands through his face and down his hair.
Arthur fell silent for a moment, and Merlin looked at him. His head was just getting worse, and he was hallucinating, he knew-flashes of the King’s chambers appeared and disappeared around them. Arthur dressed in chainmail and then back in his tuxedo. Himself, carrying dishes and buckets of water, feeling their weight-Merlin shook his head weakly, or at least he thought he did.
Arthur’s mouth was moving, he was closer now. His words didn’t quite reach Merlin’s ears, so he just stared dumbfounded at Arthur’s mouth, feeling a little offended at how different it was from the King’s-but no, it wasn’t. The lips were the same. He was sure his tongue was as well.
His tongue-another horde of thoughts crashed inside his head, so intense it took Merlin aback. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, while his mind reeled on the memories of another time, another setting, with the tongue in question exploring his mouth, his neck, every inch of his body and soul.
He was sure he was going to faint.
“Merlin!” Arthur had taken his face between his hands and was looking intently into his eyes. “Merlin,” he repeated, pleading, and Merlin jumped.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarled and took a step back. Arthur still tried to reach out to him, but Merlin spat his hands away from him.
"You're remembering, aren't you?" He said slowly, and Merlin had a sudden urge to punch him.
"Stop it!" he cried, pressing his fingers to his right temple. He took another step back and tried to remember if there had been any opportunity in which Arthur could've poison him, because the feeling was becoming rather unbearable. He remembered the whiskey and laughed.
He was drunk! Of course he was, and all the things Arthur was saying, all the things he was doing, were affecting Merlin's creativity, not triggering false memories!
Arthur was dangerous, he concluded, trying his best to step away from the man without him following again.
Arthur was shaking his head again, as if Merlin was the problem here. Merlin really wanted to punch him now, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He felt angry, really angry at this guy, who was so obviously taking advantage of him, and before his back could hit the wall he pushed past him and stormed into the party.
"I'm not feeling well," he told Gwen and Lance when he arrived at their table, fuming. He got a big angrier, if that was possible, when he caught the disheveled clothes, Lance's ruffled hair and Gwen's touch up-or rather, her fail attempt to cover the mess they'd done. "I'm gonna head back home, try to sleep or something," he was going to write, oh, he was definitely going to write. If Arthur was supposedly his number one fan, he wouldn't mind his alter-ego's fate tonight. “Tell Gwaine and Elena I had to go.”
He ignored the looks his friends cast him, and before Arthur could find him, he escaped.
*
Merlin felt a pang of guilt at the base of his stomach, but refused to let it show. He could see Arthur’s back from this angle, a few steps ahead of him. Merlin clutched at the torch as the King bent down to get inside the cave. They’ve been going like this, up and down through the impossibly large road, and Merlin felt the walls closing in on them every time they walked further and further into the caves. He tried to avoid looking around, but eventually they found them.
Merlin was thumping at the keys viciously, knowing he would regret doing this and that it wouldn’t even make sense but telling himself at the same time that he’d find a way to make it work.
He adjusted the screen angle and kept typing furiously.
The arms that held him and passed him around the group of bandits were strong, and as he glanced towards his companion, he could see him fighting already. The tangle of limbs as they fought was messy, and Merlin lost sight of him for a moment. Then he was being thrown in front of the biggest man of them all, and he heard Arthur roar behind him.
“Merlin, would you mind?!”
He knew Arthur meant his magic. Merlin looked up and down at the man before him and clenched his fists.
The man smiled.
Merlin’s mind was spinning again. He was once again picturing everything in his head, making everything go haywire. Arthur fighting, sweat dripping down his face and his neck. His roars, the dizziness of the moment. Merlin, cornered in the midst of a group of men. He could even feel the air and smell the scents of blood and alcohol those men emanated. He felt sick.
Arthur. Arthur.
No, this was wrong.
He closed his eyes and focused, hitting the keyboard again.
Merlin hesitated for a moment, and that moment was all it took for them to strike. The guilt grew in his gut, and he couldn’t help but look at Arthur again. He was looking intently at him, and before Merlin could grasp the meaning of that look, a huge man ran behind him and-
Merlin groaned, hiding his face in his hands.
The entire scene was wrong.
He wasn’t feeling it anymore. His head was going somewhere else, somewhere where Merlin kicked everyone away, saving the day like he always does. But Merlin didn’t want that. He was angry, angry at himself, angry at Arthur and his existence and the fact that he couldn’t stop picturing him as the King, and he wanted his Arthur to fall, if only for a moment. Just to see what would happen.
But no, it wasn’t right. He knew it wasn’t. He was hating everything and groaning again when Arthur came back to his mind with his tuxedo, echoing his words and the ridiculousness of them. He remembered his breath on his face, the way that felt so right and yet he pushed him away, because no, it was not right, no matter what his lonely groin said.
He groaned again, letting himself fall down in his chair. Why was it so complicated? The man was crazy, that was it. He didn’t need to be thinking about him, let alone picturing him as his main character.
This was wrong in so many levels.
He stared at what he had written so far and, with a sigh, pressed the back key.
*
This wasn’t good. Merlin had been writing with extreme ease after that little dispute in his head, and he’d advanced significantly in his book, but there was just something upsetting him. Something other than the fact that he was now picturing things more and more vividly, and that Arthur was now basically the King.
He’d been hiding in his apartment, content with the knowledge that Gwaine and Elena were on their honeymoon, so Arthur couldn’t ask them about him, nor get his phone number or anything. Still, he felt a little sad that he wasn’t making any effort. Not that Merlin wanted him to, but it just didn’t click with him. If Arthur was so crazy, he should’ve made a move already, shouldn’t he?
He was definitely not thinking this because Merlin wanted to see him. Because he doesn’t fall for crazy people, he doesn’t. Not even if they are constantly featured in his dreams wearing chainmail and pressing kisses to every bit of his body.
He’s losing his mind, he’s sure.
*
It was another Tuesday when he decided to call Gwen.
He tried to avoid the unnecessary questions about his whereabouts the whole week and instead went straight to the point.
“Do you know Elena’s brother, Arthur?” he didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but he couldn’t help it.
“Um, yes, I do,” she paused. “He’s a bit awkward, actually,” Merlin could hear movement through the device, Gwen was probably busy.
“Is he?” he said, nonchalantly, picking up his pen from his desk and trying to act casual-though no one was watching him. “It’s just, well, that day at the wedding, he helped me out,” lies. “and I was thinking about saying thanks and all, so yeah. Do you have his number or something?”
Okay, this was bad.
But he wasn’t thinking about that, no. He was still holding the pen just above his nose, and was pondering using it as a mustache, when Gwen’s voice rang through his mobile.
“How did he help you?” Merlin made a face and placed the pen between his nose and his mouth, pouting so it could hold still.
“He just did,” he said after it fell down. “Do you have his number?”
Gwen sighed. “No, but maybe Lance does, after Gwaine introduced the two they have become rather inseparable,” she sounded whiny about it, which was stupid because Lance spent his entire life worshipping her and doing as she said. Merlin saved his comments to himself.
He thanked her and hung up, dialing up Lance’s number when his mobile started vibrating. The screen changed and it showed an unknown number, and thinking it was probably Will with another big tale that somehow landed him in jail, Merlin picked up.
“Hello?”
“Merlin?” He froze. This was unbelievable. “Um, is this Merlin Emrys’ phone?”
“Uh, yes! Yes, it is!” he said a bit too enthusiastic. “How did you get my number?”
“I called Lance,” Arthur replied, sounding small. “I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me, and I thought you needed some time. Er, do you still need time?”
Merlin smiled in spite of himself. “Well, I still think you’re crazy.”
“I know,” Arthur breathed, making Merlin melt a little.
“And I don’t know if I should trust you.”
“You should.” Merlin laughed, getting up and going to the kitchen. “I’m not lying.” Arthur insisted.
“Are we going to have the same conversation over the phone? Man, I thought you had some imagination, at least take me out or something,” Merlin bit his lip when he reached the fridge, leaning against it. His pulse was maddening, and he had no idea of what he was doing. Was he really asking Arthur out?
Arthur must’ve been pondering the same, because it took him a while to answer. “Not if you run away again,” he said, making guilt grow at the pit of Merlin’s stomach.
“You can’t blame me for doing so,” he hummed, scratching at the fridge’s door. “You should’ve listened to yourself. Very convincing, but still crazy.”
“Does that mean you’ll run away from me again?”
“Does that mean you’ll go out with me?”
“Don’t do this, Merlin,” Arthur said, suddenly serious, and Merlin’s blood went cold. “Don’t play with me. I get it that you can’t get used to the idea yet, but don’t mess me around while you figure it out. I want this to be serious.”
“And what exactly is this?” he asked, feeling a little breathless.
Arthur sighed.
“You should’ve remembered something by now. Even if your idiotic self is trying to shut it down, there are things you remember, aren’t there?” he sounded desperate. Merlin bit his lip again.
“Meet me for coffee,” he said instead, and Arthur groaned.
“Don’t change the subject!”
“I’m not changing it! It’s just,” he closed his eyes, already feeling the blush coloring his cheeks. “I want to see you-for this, to discuss this. I want to see you to, um, talk about this.”
“I don’t understand you,” Arthur replied, a little accepting, though hesitantly. Merlin straightened himself from the fridge and waited, his heart thumping. Arthur sighed again. “But okay, tell me where to meet you.”
Merlin’s heart fluttered.
*
He was still thinking he was an idiot by the time Arthur got inside the room. Merlin couldn’t help but gape at the man as he made his way towards him. It was beyond his looks, or the way his presence just silenced the entire world-there was something about him, something so familiar it made Merlin ache and know that no, this meeting wasn’t a bad idea.
He was nervous, Merlin noted. They both smiled awkwardly at the other before Arthur took a seat before him, the silence stretching to an unbearable point.
“Okay,” Merlin said, breaking the lull and leaning in, just a little bit, startling Arthur-who hadn’t spent the entire time staring at him. “Okay,” he repeated, lower, to himself, gaining strength. “I am a writer. I have a lot of imagination,” he started. “I can create an entire story about an apple if I’m inspired,” he said, and Arthur frowned. “I tend to overreact about a lot of things, and I always think before I do anything.” He looked down at his hands. “It’s not that I don’t believe in you-it’s just that it’s,” he laughed, “it’s like a fairytale. You, coming from nowhere, telling me that you’re my King and I’m your Wizard,” he looked up, bashful, and met Arthur’s gaze. “I want to believe in you, really,” Arthur was looking at him so intently it was making it difficult to focus. “But I don’t know how-I don’t know if this is just another crazy thing my mind made up.” He looked down again, frustrated, and jumped when Arthur’s hands reached out to hold his.
Merlin lost himself on the blue of his eyes, the warm of his hands, and for a brief moment he wanted to cry. “I’m real,” Arthur said, too soft, too gentle, and Merlin was about to burst into tears.
The little squeeze Arthur gave to reassure his statement seemed to be good enough for him to continue. “I know.” Merlin breathed, gaping a little at how intense this little gesture felt. “I do remember things,” he croaked out, his eyes watering without his consent. “But I can’t tell if they’re my imagination or if they’re real,” he sobbed, letting go of one hand to cover his face. Meeting here was a bad idea. Now everyone would see him crying.
Arthur’s other hand was gone in a flash, and Merlin panicked that it had indeed been a dream. But then Arthur’s body collapsed against his, holding him so dearly it made him cry harder.
He hid his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck and circled his arms around him, feeling protected, safe, at home. Arthur rubbed at his back softly, and it didn’t matter that they were in a public place. He had his King to protect him.
He turned his face towards Arthur’s and touched his face experimentally, feeling the heat of it and the texture. Arthur’s breath was ragged on his face, and his eyes were shining with tears. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered against his lips, and Merlin didn’t think, he just crashed his mouth against Arthur’s, taking hold of his face with his hands, and Arthur replied instantly, pressing his body tighter against his.
In less than a second, Merlin’s mind crashed. It was like an explosion, releasing so many things at once, overloading his capacity and making him numb. He remembered everything and nothing. It was as if nothing had happened, just as normal as waking up; all his senses bloomed, and he felt it, the magic that entwined him with Arthur. One soul in two bodies-two sides of a coin.
He pulled apart from Arthur and smiled so much it hurt, but it didn’t matter.
Everything made sense now.