Chapter Three: When the world comes crumbling down (I've got you to piece it back together again)
Saturday rolled around much quicker than Merlin had anticipated. His professor had already reassured him that he’d passed the exam he’d been preparing for for weeks in advance on numerous occasions, but Merlin still felt nervous about it and, as a result, was entirely unfocused and unprepared for the busy night.
Avalon had a new set to play and had advertised in every conceivable place. Merlin had even seen a poster taped to a loo door on campus. He’d groaned and imagined that it wouldn’t be a big deal since Gawain had called Freya to come in early and asked Will to work the bar, as he did on the occasional big night.
Gawain was wearing the tightest black shirt that he could fit into so girls and guys were immediately flocking to his end of the bar. Still, it ended up being the busiest night of the year, even more packed than when they’d had that famous guy from America stop in with his girlfriend. What was his name? Zack Efflong or something.
The night dragged on, and on, and on. Avalon played three rounds of encores mixed with their best oldies - as old of songs that a two year old band could muster up on cue. Merlin was all for the first round, but once they did two more, he was more annoyed than anything. He had other things to do and needed the bar cleared to do them.
When the bass player -Arthur -came and sat at the bar after everyone had finished swarming around him to ask questions and take pictures, Merlin was already nearly done for the night. He was just finishing up drying the last clean glasses.
“How’s it going?” Arthur asked with a stiff smile.
“Splendid.” Merlin didn’t hide his disdain. “What drink would you like tonight?”
“None,” Arthur said.
Merlin blinked at him. His annoyance went down a few notches. “What’s up with you anyway?” he asked as indifferently as possible.
“It’s… Merlin, I need to discuss something with you,” Arthur responded.
“Look, I’m really tired, I’d rather we do this some other time,” Merlin said, polishing the last glass until it sparkled. “It’s your fault we’re here till five in the morning.”
“Excuse me?” Arthur’s voice went surprisingly sharp.
“I’d rather you just leave,” Merlin said. “We’re not friends just because you play for Gawain.”
“Fine,” Arthur stood abruptly, slamming his palms onto the counter. He left without another word.
“Is there something the matter?” Freya’s voice said timidly behind Merlin.
Merlin smiled at her fondly. “Nah, he’s just being a big arsehole. Excuse my language.”
Freya smiled. “Sometimes people who love you can be that way.”
He was almost certain that his jaw was hanging open when Will slung his arm playfully over his shoulders. “Lover’s spat?”
“I’m pretty certain he hates me as much as I hate him,” Merlin hissed. Freya gave him a big-eyed stare.
“Are you kidding me mate?” Will asked. “That man is frillier than those bloody cocktails he orders from you.”
“No,” Merlin glanced at the door, but it would sort of make sense. He shook his head. “He’s straight. You don’t learn bass and act that prattish when you’re gay.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You’re in denial.”
“And being very liberal with the gay stereotype, Merlin. You’d think you dance around in leather pants and spandex in bright colours the way you’re talking,” Freya added, and Will hi-fived her. She looked a bit put off.
“Alright everyone,” Gawain thankfully intervened from the other side of the room. “As much as we’re all enjoying the image of Merlin in fluro spandex, let’s call it a night. Avalon’s coming in tomorrow evening as well which means we’ll probably be just as busy.”
***********************
If Merlin could do one thing in his life, it would be to translate the magic tomes that Gaius had left him. His eyes would ache after hours of trying to decipher the old English writing.
That night - or rather, that morning - though, he stumbled his way his way down to the cellar where the vintage wine racks full of aging bottles swung back to embrace Merlin in the pungent stench of old books and dried herbs. He sat in his beanbag, the only spot that wasn’t covered in inches of dust and grime.
One of the books had shiny pages, so he pulled it out to trace his fingers over the gold letters. Sometimes they would rearrange themselves into images of the plants and beasts it possibly described - he hadn’t gotten around to translating it yet.
“Hey cuz,” Gawain’s voice whispered from the still open hidden entrance. “Long night eh?”
“Yeah,” Merlin rubbed his eyes. “Figured I’d skip on REM so I don’t screw up my sleeping pattern.”
Gawain only gave a conceding grunt. He made his way slowly around the perimeter of the room, dragging his fingers along the book bindings until he was behind Merlin. “My father spent his life collecting and compiling this library. When he adopted me, he convinced me he was cool enough by dragging me to every antique store imaginable.”
Merlin leaned back. “He used to tell me about how awful you were. Running around breaking things. Said he bought more glass vases than would fit in this entire pub.” Gawain laughed, but the silence afterwards was heavy with memories.
“Merlin?”
“Hmm?”
“I know you’re having a rough go at things right now, but treating my star bass guitarist so horribly really isn’t you. I don’t know what you’ve got against him, but sort it out,” Gawain said, touching Merlin’s shoulder lightly.
“He drives me up the wall. He’s just...he’s...” Merlin trailed off, and even as he said it, he still couldn’t put his finger on why.
“He’s nothing like Val. Arthur’s a good guy.” Gawain squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “We have a long night later, you should get some rest, cuz.” He patted where he’d squeezed and left the room.
**********************
Merlin hadn’t gotten any rest the night before and already it was nearing the end of the second evening of chaos. He yawned for the umpteenth time that night, nearly knocking a glass to the floor when he went to lower his fist, but barely managing to stop it with a quick flick of his eyes. He looked up only to find that Lance was in a catching position and Gwen ready with a towel. They smiled.
“It’s a good thing we’re here,” Gwen and Lance said in unison. Sometimes they were like a circus show with their perfect timing and synchronized laughing. They looked at each other and both let out a soft laugh, before Lance leaned over and kissed Gwen lightly on the forehead.
Merlin gave Lance a sheepish smile. “Books.”
“That explains everything,” Gwen said over the announcements the band was making to end the night. “If you didn’t need sleep I think you’d spend all that time studying.”
“I’ll have you know, I quite enjoy sleep. I look forward to the days when I can go back to ten or twelve hours and not lose most of my day in the process,” Merlin replied, pouring drinks for Lance, Gwen, and himself.
“Avalon’s going off tonight, aren’t they?” Lance asked, gesturing to the stage with his drink. Merlin nodded and made a humming sound, which he hoped feigned indifference. If he noticed Lance raise his eyebrows, he didn’t let on, turning to the couple beside Lance and Gwen and filling their orders.
“Merlin’s in denial,” Freya said, appearing out of nowhere and leaning over the bar towards Gwen and Lance, speaking in a low tone.
“Is he now?” Lance replied, a smirk finding it’s way onto his face.
“I am n-” Merlin started, but he was cut off by Will, who bumped his shoulder into him roughly and started speaking over the top of him.
“He’s completely in denial. He’s got the hots for Sir Bassman up there and hates it, and he can’t admit that Arthur hanging around after every gig to talk to him and order his poncy, frilly cocktails means that he wants to get in your pants pronto.” Will turned to Merlin and stuck his tongue out. Merlin gaped at him, his mouth involuntarily opening and closing as he struggled with something to say.
“You know I’m right,” Will said, throwing an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and squeezing.
“Right about what?” asked a new voice, and without looking, Merlin knew it was Arthur.
“Oh, Jesus-fucking-Christ, kill me now,” Merlin groaned, burying his face into Will’s shoulder momentarily before raising his head and looking at Arthur.
“Great set, mate,” Lance said, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur grinned and kissed Gwen on the cheek in greeting.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Arthur replied, pulling up a chair at the bar. “Leon had it right when he said we needed to throw a few ballads in. What do you think, Merlin?”
“You’re no Flea or Gene Simmons, but it was a little catchy.” Arthur smirked in a self-satisfied way. Merlin couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “But you completely lost the tempo at points.”
“How on earth could I lose the tempo, you idiot?” Arthur asked, clearly unable to stop his voice from rising. Merlin noticed in his peripheral vision that Gwen and Lance had started to make their way into the crowd behind him. “I wrote the songs. I think I’d know them.”
“You asked,” Merlin replied. He reached out in front of him and started to wipe the bar. Arthur leaned forward and grabbed the towel, stilling Merlin’s movement.
“I’m not sure what I’ve done to offend you, but I wish you’d enlighten me. All I do is come up here and talk to you a couple of times a week - that’s all I’ve ever done. I’m just... I’m not sure what I’ve done,” Arthur said, staring at Merlin with piercing blue eyes.
Merlin was unsettled and could feel the guilt building in his stomach; it felt wretched. Unable to form the words, he took a cocktail glass from under the bar and placed it on the counter, his other hand still trapped between the towel and Arthur’s hand. Arthur pulled away.
“Scotch and dry tonight, I think,” Arthur said, running his fingers through his hair and looking up at Merlin.
Merlin’s heart dropped. He felt irritated with himself - and his friends - for having convinced him that he would have a chance at all. Not that he wanted one, he reasoned soundly. Instead, he nodded silently and placed a tumbler on the bar, pouring a shot of scotch in and topping it with the soft drink from the hose. He pushed it across the wood bar towards Arthur, but spoke as Arthur went to pick it up.
“Hang on,” Merlin said, looking thoughtful and reaching for something that turned out to be a little cocktail umbrella. He opened it and placed it on the edge of Arthur’s drink, a soft smile on his face.
Arthur looked between Merlin and the glass and placed it back down on the counter.
“I’m not a fan of green,” he said, looking pointedly at Merlin. Merlin didn’t miss a beat, snagged the green umbrella, took a yellow one, and placed it in the glass.
“Better?”
“Yellow? What am I - a five year old girl?” Arthur replied, reaching into the small container filled with umbrellas and plucking out a blue one, placing it in his drink.
“Predictable,” Merlin snorted. “I had you pinned for a red or a blue and I was right!”
“We’ve already established that your colour choices for my drink garnish are unacceptable, Merlin,” Arthur replied taking a long sip of his drink and eyeballing Merlin with a mocking grin. Merlin stuck out his tongue, grabbed a handful of umbrellas, and dropped them unceremoniously in Arthur’s drink.
“I aim to please. Now bugger off, I’ve got cleaning to do.” Arthur’s response was a deep chuckle. Merlin bit his bottom lip to stop from laughing -- he didn’t want to encourage the bloke.
But it didn’t stop his heart from pounding when Arthur downed his drink and gave him one last shameless grin before sneaking off to grab his gear from the stage.
“I’ll see you next week,” Arthur shouted across the empty bar. Merlin tried not to wave, but couldn’t stop himself.
