In Spite of Everything, Part III
“You know, Merlin’s a really great guy,” Percy mentions casually, taking a swig of his beer. “I like him. I think he’s good for you.”
They’re camping out in Percy’s studio flat, waiting for Arsenal football match to begin, and also for Gwaine to arrive with takeaway. Arthur doesn’t know why he bothers inviting Gwaine, since he’s almost always late anyway.
He smiles slightly at the words. “D’you think?”
“Yeah. No one’s ever made you seem so humble before,” Percy teases. “Then again, he also brings that confidence back to your shoulders, like you’re worth something again.”
Arthur frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Uther always tore you down, made you feel like you didn’t matter and would never amount to anything. Merlin has restored some of that to you.”
“Though I’m sure you did some of that yourself,” Lance adds. “After all, it takes nerve to spurn the support you’ve had all your life, just so you’re able to live as you like. Anyone would feel pretty good about themselves after that.”
“You actually mean that?” When they both nod their affirmation, Arthur smiles brightly. “Thanks for that. Sometimes I feel like I made a really stupid decision, because really, would reading business be that difficult, if it meant that Father was paying my tuition and my rent and everything? But you know, thanks for sticking by me on this. I’m sure it’s not always easy being friends with me.”
“You’re definitely right about that,” Lance toes at Arthur’s ankle. “But don’t worry. Merlin is charming enough for both of you. If you keep him at your side at all times, your annoying qualities are completely invisible.”
Arthur pulls a face at him. They’ve known each other long enough that they all know they’re taking the piss, and that’s fine. Arthur’s a little pleased that they’re all so fond of Merlin. He’s never really told any of them that they’re dating, of course. He doesn’t want to put the cart in front of the horses, and announcing to his friends that Merlin’s his boyfriend seems like the worst way to get nowhere.
But still, they must know, with the way they’re talking. They must understand that he and Merlin aren’t just friends, even if they’re nowhere near calling themselves a couple. They must realize how happy Merlin makes him, just by being a part of his life, if they’re able to see how much Merlin has changed him.
“Merlin is pretty amazing,” he decides. “I’m really lucky to have gotten such a perfect flatmate.”
Percy hums his agreement, plopping down on the couch with him and passing him a bottle. “I’m jealous of you, mate. I wish I had a flatmate as free as that.”
Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, his mouth dipping into a frown. “Free?”
“Yeah, he’s so - what did they call it in the States? - free love, like the hippies who didn’t believe in marriage and had love children.”
“Are you saying he’s… easy?” Arthur hesitates on the word, his head tipped to the side. He would describe him as the exact opposite. Even if they hooked up rather regularly for a while, Merlin has been fairly chaste with him since they started seeing each other.
“Well, yeah,” Percy said with a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he practically dragged me into Lance’s bedroom at that party.”
“Oh, I did not need to know that.” Lance feigns horror at the thought. “Really, now, why did he have to use my bedroom? He couldn’t’ve just used the bathroom?”
“Relax. We didn’t shag on your bed. He just went down on me.”
“Wait.” Arthur’s voice sounds strained, like it’s emerging from a tight space. “This was at Lance’s party? The one two weeks ago?”
“Yeah.” Percy frowns. “Wait, is he not putting out for you? For fuck’s sake, if he likes sex that much, you’d think he’d be going right after you; you’re his flatmate. Easy pickings. And you’re fit. Sorry, mate.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything. He feels like his stomach has slid down into his shoes, cramped between his toes. “I’m not feeling very well,” he says quietly, setting his beer on a coaster on the coffee table. “I think I’ll head home.”
“Oh, Arthur, I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, I know. It’s not your fault, or anything. I’m fine.” He manages a smile, rubbing his hands on his jeans before pushing himself to his feet. “I’m fine. I’m just - I’m really tired, so I’ll just head off.”
He considers walking home. It’s three miles, but he could use the air, the opportunity to keep himself from panicking, to let himself calm down before seeing Merlin, having to confront Merlin. Instead, he takes the Tube, the low rumble and rock of which lets him slip off into a daze. He doesn’t think. He can’t think, yet. He has to let Merlin explain.
When he steps into their flat, Merlin is standing at the kitchen counter, humming “Ode to Joy” and frosting cupcakes. He smiles at Arthur. “You’re back early,” he comments. “I didn’t expect you until late. I’m making chocolate cupcakes, with that mint frosting you like.”
Arthur melts a bit, his shoulders sagging. And he almost considers not saying anything, not telling him that he knows, because this Merlin, this man he thinks he may love, is so wonderful, and so sweet, and looks at Arthur like he is so delighted to see him every time he comes home, no matter how short a time he’s been away, that he can hardly imagine why sex even matters in their relationship.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, closing the door carefully. “I need to speak with you about something.”
“Yeah?” Merlin’s smile doesn’t waver. He steps backwards towards the cabinet, reaches in for a small plate and brings it back to the table so that he can place a cupcake on it for Arthur. He pushes it across the table. “Talk while you eat. All bakers think their desserts taste good; I need an objective opinion.”
Arthur quirks a smile, sits down at the table. “I’m hardly objective.”
“You’re more objective than I am. And you’ve never hesitated to tell me when my cooking’s been bad before.”
“You’re the only person I know capable of charring pasta, Merlin.”
“It was one time, and I’m fairly sure a certain flatmate of mine was distracting me by kissing my neck at the time.”
Arthur hums vaguely.
“Alright, you’re all distracted and no fun at all, so out with it. What did you want to speak with me about?”
He hesitates again, unsure if he wants to do this. What they have is so wonderful. Merlin does things like make him his favorite cupcakes and rent the action films he likes, even though Merlin abhors them, and he reads the books on Arthur’s shelf so they can talk about them, and patiently asks questions when Arthur starts to veer too much toward speaking like he’s in one of his seminars and Merlin loses him in the pedagogical speech, and he is always touching, like Arthur isn’t real unless Merlin has his hands on him.
So why isn’t that enough?
“Percy told me you hooked up with him at Lance’s party,” Arthur rushes out, in one breath, all one word running together. “And I was wondering if that was true.”
Merlin’s face shutters so fast that Arthur can’t remember when it was open and smiling at him. He looks down at the table, a cupcake poised in one hand, butter knife in the other. “Yes, that’s true,” he says quietly.
“But - why?” Arthur wishes he sounded angry. He wishes he didn’t sound so desperate and needy and like he wants so much. “Can you explain it to me?”
Merlin shakes his head, not meeting his eyes.
“Is he the only one or-?” Merlin is shaking his head again before Arthur can even finish the question. “I don’t understand, Merlin. Do you not - is this not what you want? Our relationship?”
“It is,” Merlin murmurs, like a scolded child, setting the un-iced cupcake on the table.
“Are you not attracted to me? Is that - I mean, we’ve been together that way before, when we weren’t dating. I thought you wanted to take things slow, but you’re just going elsewhere. I - what do you want from me?”
He doesn’t answer.
Arthur’s anger flares. “If you don’t want to be with me, you should have just said so,” he hisses out, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m not some delicate flower, Merlin. It would have - it would have hurt, a lot, but no more than one of my best friends telling me you slept with him, and him not having a clue that we had anything between us, since you won’t let me tell people you’re my boyfriend.”
“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Merlin looks up at him for the first time. “I really am. I’m sorry.”
“I get it though.” Arthur laughs bitterly. “If we weren’t official, you could sleep with whoever you like. You’re not cheating because we’re not a couple.” He shakes his head. “This was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, dating my flatmate. We should never have done it.”
“Arthur…” Merlin chokes on his name. “I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him, as fights always do when there’s no pushback, and he swallows hard. “Merlin, you don’t have to be sorry. I’ve already - we’ll just go back to mates, alright? It’ll be fine.”
Merlin looks at him so helplessly that he almost takes it all back. Instead, he just leaves the room.
***
As far as Arthur can tell, Merlin gets over their split rather quickly, and thoroughly. It was only two days later that he woke early for work and found Gwaine creeping from Merlin’s bedroom.
“Sorry, mate,” Gwaine said far too cheerily for seven o’clock. “Would you mind if I get in the bathroom first? I’ve lecture in half an hour. I overslept a bit.”
Arthur didn’t speak, since his throat had closed, and he waved him on, hurrying into the kitchen to make himself the strongest cup of coffee he could manage, if he was going to get through the day.
When Merlin emerged twenty minutes later, after Gwaine had tornadoed through the flat and out the door, he stood barefoot and big-eyed in the kitchen doorway, staring at Arthur, more petrified than defiant, and then spun on his heel and stomped into the bathroom.
Despite Arthur’s every attempt to get things back to normal between them, the air in the flat has been rather thick and tense, like a tightly-wound violin string. Arthur remembers too well taking lessons as a young boy, being instructed to twist the peg so carefully, his chest tightening with anxiety just as the string tightened, only to gasp when it snapped and struck his face. He expects the same sting from this situation.
He wonders if Merlin is doing it on purpose. On some level, he must be. His goal must be to hurt Arthur. And yes, it hurts. It’s horrible. But he mostly feels sad, that they couldn’t figure it out, that Merlin wouldn’t talk to him so that they could make it work. He’s sad that they missed an opportunity to be something great.
He says as much to Morgana over coffee, or he might have if he wasn’t so intent on being angry.
“Honestly, he’s acting as if I somehow betrayed him, so he’s therefore showing me how much he doesn’t need me by being with as many men as possible in the shortest amount of time.” He splays his hands on the table, helpless. “He even ran into Leon last week and propositioned him. It’s like he forgot Lance was my friend first! And then when Leon said no, he brought Cenred home. You remember him? He was reading Chemistry here when Morgause was? He apparently still lives in the area and is now sleeping with my flatmate. God.”
Morgana listens quietly until he’s fallen silent, staring morosely into his cup. “Seems to me like you haven’t heard his side of it all,” she says slowly. “Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding.”
Arthur snorts derisively. “He had no intention of explaining himself, Morgana; I told you that. He just said he was sorry and stood there staring at me.”
“Well, he’s sorry!” Morgana points out, chipper. “That’s something. He could be completely unapologetic about it, and then where would you be?”
Arthur tips his head back, eyes her. “You’re defending him.”
“Stop it. I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t waste too much of your energy being angry with him,” she reasons.
“Liar. Why are you defending him?”
She sighs. “I just know Merlin very well, alright? I know his background.”
“So do I!”
“Do you?” She looks at him sharply. “Because I’d think you’d be a little more understanding, if you did.” At his expression of hurt and bewilderment, she sighs again, looping her hair around her ear. “He’s told you about his father, yeah? How he left him and his mum alone when Merlin was a baby?”
“Yes. We talked about our dads on our first date.”
Morgana snorts. “I’m sure you were very attractive after that conversation.”
“Morgana.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She raises her hands in surrender. “It’s just - don’t you think maybe there’s some psychological stuff going on there? A need for love or affection for Merlin? Look.” She rests her hand on the table, pursing her lips at him. “Merlin had no dad in his life, yeah? He only had his mum, and she’s worked so hard to support him, so she wasn’t around much. Merlin’s life has been really lonely. Don’t you think he would have learned really early on to combat that loneliness in any way he can?”
“I don’t understand.”
Morgana bites down on her lip for a moment. When she presents him with a sad smile, he is amazed as always that she has no lipstick on her teeth. “Maybe he doesn’t look at sleeping with other blokes as cheating on you. Maybe he’s just showing affection as he knows how.”
“By sleeping with everyone he knows?”
“Well… yes, if you want to say it like that.” Morgana is the only person alive who can make shrugging look elegant. “He’s incredibly physically affectionate, and he identifies as gay. Who knows how secondary school was for him - or college? He could have had it drilled into him that the best way to show people he cares about them is to sleep with them - and maybe it’s the easiest way to keep people from leaving him.”
Arthur sighs, a sharp uncomfortable feeling stabbing at his chest. “God, Morgana.” He rubs his forehead. “You’ve managed to make me never want to have sex with him again. Thanks for that.”
Morgana’s mouth twitches up in some semblance of a smile. She slicks back her hair. “I don’t think he dislikes sex,” she offers. “I think he doesn’t have it for the right reasons. He’d probably like it a good deal more if he was sleeping around because he enjoyed it and not out of some strange anxiety disorder.”
“Why aren’t you studying psychology?” Arthur demands suspiciously. “You should be afflicting everyone you know with this scathing psychoanalysis.”
Morgana throws a spoon at him. He deflects it and it clatters to the table. The barista makes a disapproving noise. Morgana refuses to look apologetic. “Stop deflecting,” she scolds. “You know I’m right, at least on some level. What are you going to do about it?”
“What am I supposed to do?” he demands, anger flaring up. “I - I gave him a chance. I asked him to explain it to me, and he refused to. How am I meant to do anything about it when he won’t even tell me why.” He presses his lips together, swallows hard. “He actively kept something from me, Morgana.”
Morgana takes a deep breath through her nose, and releases it through her mouth. “I understand,” she says quietly.
They sit in silence for a long time, and Arthur shifts awkwardly in his chair, making it creak slightly. “You know what the worst part is?” He meets his sister’s eyes. “He - I mean, he was willing to do everything with me, be… intimate with me - don’t make that face; I’m trying to open up to you - until we starting dating officially. I thought he was being considerate, because I told him I hadn’t been with that many people, but he was just…” He runs his hand through his hair, presses his fingertips into his eyes.
“It sounds like he was trying, Arthur,” Morgana says gently. “I mean. He messed up. But maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“So what should I do? Forgive him? Give it another shot?”
“It’s up to you. But he makes you so happy. You have to see that. At least talk to him.”
Part IV.