Reposting The Big Break Up - needs spoiler 3x11 warning
Reposting The Big Break Up (part 4)
They carry on ignoring each other, though Arthur can't help but look at Merlin sometimes, just because he feels like it, just for old time's sake.
Currently he's staring at his boxed salad as if he could turn it into something more appetising by virtue of glaring at it, when Gwen sets her tray on the table and sits down next to him.
“You're boring holes into his head,” she says.
Arthur picks up his plastic fork and decides that he should tackle the salad. “I should have gone for the leek pie.”
“Arthur,” Gwen says reprovingly. “You are, there's no point deflecting.”
Arthur puts down the fork and turns in his chair to address Gwen. “He's done a lot of fraternising with that Gilli boy.”
“He has friends. That's normal.” Gwen shrugs it off and of course Arthur doesn't really care.
He doesn't care about Merlin's sudden, Gilli-inspired peal of laughter or the fact that he's clinging to his mobile even when he shouldn't according to the school's regulations. Whose call is he waiting for anyway?
“You owe me an answer,” he says.
Gwen sticks the tiny straw into her orange juice carton. “It's 'no', Arthur,” she says candidly, though he can see that it pains her. “Whatever you're doing, you're doing it to prove that you're tough. Or you're over Merlin. Morgana says it's a rebound and... if you still feel the same way after some time has passed, then I'll be happy to go out with you.”
Arthur understands where she's coming from, but he can't help but frown. He wants to regain control over his life and people just won't let him. He opens his mouth to say as much, but once again Merlin steals the show or Cenred does for him.
He saunters up to Merlin's table and when he's close enough, he pushes his tray of food off it, Merlin's lunch goes flying everywhere.
He says, “Oops,” and sneers.
Merlin springs to his feet and Arthur can already tell it's stupid and ill advised. Cenred has what amounts to a western film posse, and Merlin doesn't.
“I think you owe me thirty quid,” Cenred says.
“I think I don't,” Merlin tells him defiantly. And that's Merlin for you. He never bends. Whatever might happen.
Arthur is halfway over there, instinctively moving even though he's told himself countless times that he has to put a stop to this need he has to poke his nose into Merlin's business, when he hears Cenred say, “Thirty or I'll grass.”
Merlin's face morphs under Arthur's eyes. His becomes a mask of terror; his mouth is tightly clenched. He's rocking back and forth and he's breathing so quickly Arthur suspects he might be hyperventilating. And then he fishes a tenner out of his pockets and says, “That's all I have for now.”
Cenred nods, victorious, and grabs the money Merlin's throwing at him as though he could afford it.
“I want the other twenty by tomorrow lunch-break.” So saying, Cenred waltzes off, the undisputed winner of this face-off.
Gwen has come up to Arthur in the meanwhile. She puts a hand on his shoulder and Arthur says, “What the hell? That's not... That's not Merlin right there. He'd never...” he trails off. What he wants to say is that Merlin wouldn't let anybody pick on him. Has always refused to cower and now he's paying the school bully to get him off his back?
“It's wrong,” Arthur says.
“There's something the matter with Merlin,” Gwen agrees.
They carry on ignoring each other, though Arthur can't help but look at Merlin sometimes, just because he feels like it, just for old time's sake.
Currently he's staring at his boxed salad as if he could turn it into something more appetising by virtue of glaring at it, when Gwen sets her tray on the table and sits down next to him.
“You're boring holes into his head,” she says.
Arthur picks up his plastic fork and decides that he should tackle the salad. “I should have gone for the leek pie.”
“Arthur,” Gwen says reprovingly. “You are, there's no point deflecting.”
Arthur puts down the fork and turns in his chair to address Gwen. “He's done a lot of fraternising with that Gilli boy.”
“He has friends. That's normal.” Gwen shrugs it off and of course Arthur doesn't really care.
He doesn't care about Merlin's sudden, Gilli-inspired peal of laughter or the fact that he's clinging to his mobile even when he shouldn't according to the school's regulations. Whose call is he waiting for anyway?
“You owe me an answer,” he says.
Gwen sticks the tiny straw into her orange juice carton. “It's 'no', Arthur,” she says candidly, though he can see that it pains her. “Whatever you're doing, you're doing it to prove that you're tough. Or you're over Merlin. Morgana says it's a rebound and... if you still feel the same way after some time has passed, then I'll be happy to go out with you.”
Arthur understands where she's coming from, but he can't help but frown. He wants to regain control over his life and people just won't let him. He opens his mouth to say as much, but once again Merlin steals the show or Cenred does for him.
He saunters up to Merlin's table and when he's close enough, he pushes his tray of food off it, Merlin's lunch goes flying everywhere.
He says, “Oops,” and sneers.
Merlin springs to his feet and Arthur can already tell it's stupid and ill advised. Cenred has what amounts to a western film posse, and Merlin doesn't.
“I think you owe me thirty quid,” Cenred says.
“I think I don't,” Merlin tells him defiantly. And that's Merlin for you. He never bends. Whatever might happen.
Arthur is halfway over there, instinctively moving even though he's told himself countless times that he has to put a stop to this need he has to poke his nose into Merlin's business, when he hears Cenred say, “Thirty or I'll grass.”
Merlin's face morphs under Arthur's eyes. His becomes a mask of terror; his mouth is tightly clenched. He's rocking back and forth and he's breathing so quickly Arthur suspects he might be hyperventilating. And then he fishes a tenner out of his pockets and says, “That's all I have for now.”
Cenred nods, victorious, and grabs the money Merlin's throwing at him as though he could afford it.
“I want the other twenty by tomorrow lunch-break.” So saying, Cenred waltzes off, the undisputed winner of this face-off.
Gwen has come up to Arthur in the meanwhile. She puts a hand on his shoulder and Arthur says, “What the hell? That's not... That's not Merlin right there. He'd never...” he trails off. What he wants to say is that Merlin wouldn't let anybody pick on him. Has always refused to cower and now he's paying the school bully to get him off his back?
“It's wrong,” Arthur says.
“There's something the matter with Merlin,” Gwen agrees.
They carry on ignoring each other, though Arthur can't help but look at Merlin sometimes, just because he feels like it, just for old time's sake.
Currently he's staring at his boxed salad as if he could turn it into something more appetising by virtue of glaring at it, when Gwen sets her tray on the table and sits down next to him.
“You're boring holes into his head,” she says.
Arthur picks up his plastic fork and decides that he should tackle the salad. “I should have gone for the leek pie.”
“Arthur,” Gwen says reprovingly. “You are, there's no point deflecting.”
Arthur puts down the fork and turns in his chair to address Gwen. “He's done a lot of fraternising with that Gilli boy.”
“He has friends. That's normal.” Gwen shrugs it off and of course Arthur doesn't really care.
He doesn't care about Merlin's sudden, Gilli-inspired peal of laughter or the fact that he's clinging to his mobile even when he shouldn't according to the school's regulations. Whose call is he waiting for anyway?
“You owe me an answer,” he says.
Gwen sticks the tiny straw into her orange juice carton. “It's 'no', Arthur,” she says candidly, though he can see that it pains her. “Whatever you're doing, you're doing it to prove that you're tough. Or you're over Merlin. Morgana says it's a rebound and... if you still feel the same way after some time has passed, then I'll be happy to go out with you.”
Arthur understands where she's coming from, but he can't help but frown. He wants to regain control over his life and people just won't let him. He opens his mouth to say as much, but once again Merlin steals the show or Cenred does for him.
He saunters up to Merlin's table and when he's close enough, he pushes his tray of food off it, Merlin's lunch goes flying everywhere.
He says, “Oops,” and sneers.
Merlin springs to his feet and Arthur can already tell it's stupid and ill advised. Cenred has what amounts to a western film posse, and Merlin doesn't.
“I think you owe me thirty quid,” Cenred says.
“I think I don't,” Merlin tells him defiantly. And that's Merlin for you. He never bends. Whatever might happen.
Arthur is halfway over there, instinctively moving even though he's told himself countless times that he has to put a stop to this need he has to poke his nose into Merlin's business, when he hears Cenred say, “Thirty or I'll grass.”
Merlin's face morphs under Arthur's eyes. His becomes a mask of terror; his mouth is tightly clenched. He's rocking back and forth and he's breathing so quickly Arthur suspects he might be hyperventilating. And then he fishes a tenner out of his pockets and says, “That's all I have for now.”
Cenred nods, victorious, and grabs the money Merlin's throwing at him as though he could afford it.
“I want the other twenty by tomorrow lunch-break.” So saying, Cenred waltzes off, the undisputed winner of this face-off.
Gwen has come up to Arthur in the meanwhile. She puts a hand on his shoulder and Arthur says, “What the hell? That's not... That's not Merlin right there. He'd never...” he trails off. What he wants to say is that Merlin wouldn't let anybody pick on him. Has always refused to cower and now he's paying the school bully to get him off his back?
“It's wrong,” Arthur says.
“There's something the matter with Merlin,” Gwen agrees.
They carry on ignoring each other, though Arthur can't help but look at Merlin sometimes, just because he feels like it, just for old time's sake.
Currently he's staring at his boxed salad as if he could turn it into something more appetising by virtue of glaring at it, when Gwen sets her tray on the table and sits down next to him.
“You're boring holes into his head,” she says.
Arthur picks up his plastic fork and decides that he should tackle the salad. “I should have gone for the leek pie.”
“Arthur,” Gwen says reprovingly. “You are, there's no point deflecting.”
Arthur puts down the fork and turns in his chair to address Gwen. “He's done a lot of fraternising with that Gilli boy.”
“He has friends. That's normal.” Gwen shrugs it off and of course Arthur doesn't really care.
He doesn't care about Merlin's sudden, Gilli-inspired peal of laughter or the fact that he's clinging to his mobile even when he shouldn't according to the school's regulations. Whose call is he waiting for anyway?
“You owe me an answer,” he says.
Gwen sticks the tiny straw into her orange juice carton. “It's 'no', Arthur,” she says candidly, though he can see that it pains her. “Whatever you're doing, you're doing it to prove that you're tough. Or you're over Merlin. Morgana says it's a rebound and... if you still feel the same way after some time has passed, then I'll be happy to go out with you.”
Arthur understands where she's coming from, but he can't help but frown. He wants to regain control over his life and people just won't let him. He opens his mouth to say as much, but once again Merlin steals the show or Cenred does for him.
He saunters up to Merlin's table and when he's close enough, he pushes his tray of food off it, Merlin's lunch goes flying everywhere.
He says, “Oops,” and sneers.
Merlin springs to his feet and Arthur can already tell it's stupid and ill advised. Cenred has what amounts to a western film posse, and Merlin doesn't.
“I think you owe me thirty quid,” Cenred says.
“I think I don't,” Merlin tells him defiantly. And that's Merlin for you. He never bends. Whatever might happen.
Arthur is halfway over there, instinctively moving even though he's told himself countless times that he has to put a stop to this need he has to poke his nose into Merlin's business, when he hears Cenred say, “Thirty or I'll grass.”
Merlin's face morphs under Arthur's eyes. His becomes a mask of terror; his mouth is tightly clenched. He's rocking back and forth and he's breathing so quickly Arthur suspects he might be hyperventilating. And then he fishes a tenner out of his pockets and says, “That's all I have for now.”
Cenred nods, victorious, and grabs the money Merlin's throwing at him as though he could afford it.
“I want the other twenty by tomorrow lunch-break.” So saying, Cenred waltzes off, the undisputed winner of this face-off.
Gwen has come up to Arthur in the meanwhile. She puts a hand on his shoulder and Arthur says, “What the hell? That's not... That's not Merlin right there. He'd never...” he trails off. What he wants to say is that Merlin wouldn't let anybody pick on him. Has always refused to cower and now he's paying the school bully to get him off his back?
“It's wrong,” Arthur says.
“There's something the matter with Merlin,” Gwen agrees.