3 - and i know perhaps my heart is farce

[tink_sky_reid]

~*~

part 3: and i know perhaps my heart is farce

~*~

Jessica handed him a large yellow folder. “That's everything we'll be doing this year, you have lecture plans and lists of books you'll need, assignments - everything.” She was talking fast, probably in a hurry to get to class. “I tried to get us moved somewhere more... accessible,” she said apologetically, and Arthur knew what was going to follow, “but they won't move an entire class for only one student. I'm sorry.” And she sounded genuinely so. Arthur was grateful she even tried.

He was the only disabled student majoring in bio-engineering and medical biology. Most of his professors were very forthcoming, helping him whenever and however they could, but their good will only went so far. Arthur still had to work pretty hard to manage everything and keep up. He found that he didn't mind much. Having a lot on his plate and little free time was good; it left him exhausted and didn't give him much space to pity himself. When he had to work a lot, he felt more... capable.

“That's all right,” Arthur said with a smile. The folder was heavy in his hands, but when he put it on his lap, he couldn't even feel it anymore. He focused on Jessica's face. “Thank you, though.” He smiled at her. She looked away. Arthur recognized the look on her face. He remembered seeing it on other people. Before the accident. He blushed.

“Right, well. Um, I've gotta go, I have class. Have a good day, Arthur.”

Arthur watched her leave. She was only an assistant, young and beautiful and smart, hardly a few years older than him. He liked her. At the same time, he was happy there was no chance anything would ever happen between them. He couldn't imagine being with Jessica, taking her out for a walk without actually being able to walk, having to ask her to lean over when he wanted to kiss her, taking her to bed. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could do that; he hadn't had an erection ever since the accident.

He shook his head and steered his thoughts towards more practical things - he had textbooks to order, projects to work on and essays to write. He was pretty sure Morgana had replied to his e-mail too. He decided then and there that a day would come when he no longer had to wonder about these things. A day would come when he would be able to fix himself. He held onto that thought; it was a goal he felt would guide him to success, a desire he would never abandon.

~*~

“Wait, so how much longer are you gonna stay?” Elena asks, picking at a thread in her polka-dotted sock. The other one has cats on it.

“I don't know,” Arthur answers honestly, chewing on his lips as he tries to think of a way to justify himself to Mithian for not coming back yet. “Gaius said however long you want. Actually,” he laughs, “Gaius said the whole year if you can.”

“Oooh, can you?”

“No,” Arthur sighs. “I have to go back. Soon. Or my wife might kill me. If our kids don't kill her first.”

He looks briefly at his Skype window - Gwen is not online yet. She was, in fact, very supportive when he told her he wanted to stay a while longer, she was happy for him, but Arthur could tell she was exhausted. He knew it wasn't fair that he was leaving her hanging. Especially not when he was doing it for the wrong reasons.

“You know, everyone really enjoyed your last lecture,” she says, playing with a strand of hair. Her glasses start sliding down and she scrunches up her nose to stop them. “Was that inappropriate?” she asks her own feet.

“Only because it was a lie,” Arthur replies, reaching over and tapping her forehead. She pushes his hand away.

“No, it wasn't!”

“Please, I remember how much we hated when lecturers told us about their shit. We hated it!” He turns and heads to get some water from the kitchenette. Elena stands up and follows him. She leans on his counter and waits till he's started to drink to reply.

“You pretended to hate it because it was cool to be an asshole,” she says, pointing an accusing finger at him. He only frowns, deciding an actual response is not worth the risk of choking on water and coughing for five minutes. Which is, of course, exactly what Elena was aiming for. “But why would I expect you to understand? You're old!”

“I am not old,” Arthur replies, putting his glass down. “But congratulations on a successful topic change.”

Elena blushes and shrugs a shoulder. “Whatever, I'm still glad you're staying,” she says. “Do you have any laundry you need done?”

~*~

Arthur pulled out the Intro to Genetics I from the shelf and added it to the pile on his lap. He rolled the wheels of his chair towards the nearest desk. He pushed two chairs apart and sat as close to the desk as he could. The books were spread out over the desk in front of him. He sighed. This essay would be the death of him.

A few desks over, a small group sat with their heads close together, whispering. Objectively, they weren't being too loud. But Arthur was on edge already, stressed from so much work and panicking from the sheer amount of information he needed to gather in order to finish his essay. He felt like everyone around him was yelling at him and he couldn't concentrate.

He put his head down on the book and took a few deep breaths. He was overcome with a sudden confusion over why he even bothered with university. Then he remembered why.

He sat back up and continued looking for the chapter he needed. He tried to ignore everyone around him, but something kept dragging his attention away from the book. One of the voices coming from the annoying group sitting close by was familiar. Very familiar.

Arthur looked over. A couple of guys and a girl were sitting with their backs to him and two more guys sat across from them. At first glance, Arthur didn't recognize anyone. But then he looked closer at one of the guys facing away from him. He was four years older than when Arthur last saw him, his hair was shorter and he was wearing a dress shirt which threw Arthur for a loop initially. But it was definitely him.

“Lancelot?” Arthur called, nervous and excited at the same time. He had no clue what to expect from Lancelot, having steadfastly refused any contact with him in so long. But seeing Lancelot there, so close to him once again, it hit Arthur how much he'd really missed having Lance as a friend.

Lancelot turned around, a big, friendly, painfully familiar smile on his face. He looked around in confusion, but then his eyes landed on Arthur. Arthur smiled tentatively. He watched apprehensively as recognition flashed over Lancelot's face. “Arthur?” he asked, sounding surprised and, well, elated. Arthur's face burned when everyone Lancelot was sitting with turned to look at him.

Before Arthur could get too embarrassed, though, Lancelot was already walking toward him. Arthur wanted to stand up, hug Lancelot properly, but all he could do was watch Lancelot's face, more confused by the second. He closed his eyes and pushed the chair out so Lancelot could see him properly for the first time in years. Like pulling a Band-Aid, right?

To his credit, Lancelot either really didn't react, or covered it up well. Arthur felt such a sudden rush of affection for Lancelot that he almost wanted to cry and when Lancelot hugged him, Arthur felt better than he had ever since the accident. If he held onto Lancelot for a little longer than it was appropriate, Lancelot didn't react.

“Everyone, this is my friend Arthur, I told you about him, if you remember?” Lancelot said to his friends. Arthur's throat closed up. “Arthur, these are Gwen, Gwaine, Leon and Elyan.”

“Hi.” It was more of a question than an actual greeting. Arthur felt like he was 12 again, socially awkward and a little shy and very, very nervous for approval.

“Hey, mate,” one of the guys (Gwaine?) replied. “Come on, join us.”

Arthur glanced back at the work waiting for him. He thought about it for a few seconds. There was always coffee back in the dorm. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

~*~

Arthur checks the schedule taped to the inside of the front cover of his book. He has an hour and a half before Gwen gets home. Elena has a few more classes and she's going out with friends after that anyway. Other than Gaius (whom Arthur respects and likes but doesn't necessarily want to bond much with), she's the only person Arthur has anything more than a fleeting acquaintance with here. There was a time when he preferred to be alone, he remembers. Now, it appears, he's used to being surrounded by people. It's weird to be alone so much.

Briefly, he considers sitting in on Merlin's lecture again (he's only seen Merlin's schedule once, but it's etched into his memory and every time he has a moment to himself, he can't resist going through it and imagining what Merlin's doing at that particular moment; it's like not a day has passed since they were sharing a room and a bed and a life), but Merlin's reaction, or rather lack thereof, felt like rejection and Arthur doesn't want to go through that again.

Arthur is halfway down the ramp when the door opens. He figures it's one of the students, someone who forgot something, so he doesn't even look up. Once he's off the ramp though, the other person clears their throat. Arthur looks up.

The door is closed again and Merlin is standing just in front of it. His hands are in his pockets and the strap of his letter bag rests against his chest. His hair is in his face so Arthur can't see his expression clearly, but his mouth is turned down in a stern line. As if on instinct, Arthur starts to move towards him.

“Please don't come closer,” Merlin says. In the empty room, Arthur can hear him as clearly as if he were standing right in front of him.

There are so many things that come to the forefront of Arthur's mind, so many things he needs to say, he should say, he wants to say. He doesn't even know what to start with - I'm sorry, I missed you, how are you, get out. At first, all that comes out is a quiet, garbled sound stuck somewhere in his chest. He clears his throat.

“Merlin,” is all he manages to get out.

“Arthur,” Merlin replies. He sounds artificially calm, he sounds like he's forcing himself to be bland, neutral.

“Um, what are you doing in, uh, in my classroom?” Arthur asks, moving forward again before he remembers to stop. Merlin takes a step back.

“I came here to ask you the same question. Only, I had the decency to wait until you were alone.”

Arthur swallows thickly. “I... saw your name on the schedule. I wanted to see you. Before I left,” he explains.

“You're still here,” Merlin replies.

“I... It wasn't the plan.”

“I know what the plan was!” Merlin shouts. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he flinches back like he scared himself. “Gaius asked me before he invited you,” he adds, his tone back to its normal volume.

“Wait, you knew I was here?” Arthur asks, confused. He's not sure why he assumed Merlin was unaware of his presence, maybe because somewhere deep down he expected, he hoped Merlin would have come looking for him. It hurts that he didn't.

“Of course I knew. I figured, after how we left things, we would avoid each other to our mutual benefit. Isn't that how you deal with things?” The reproachfulness sneaks into his tone towards the end and Arthur is temporarily glad to be far enough not to have to face Merlin's wrath. He looks away, licks his lips, cracks his fingers. He knew, rationally, that Merlin would likely be hurt and angry, but being forced to see and hear it firsthand makes the guilt burn in his stomach with a new heat. “Just...” Merlin's voice is quieter and he sounds choked up. He runs a hand over his face. “Please stay away from me,” he says before he quickly gets out.

~*~

Arthur twisted in the bed until he was lying on his back. It was already light outside. He put an arm over his eyes and grumbled.

“You up?” came Merlin's voice from the kitchen. Arthur grumbled again. He hoped that, maybe, if he didn't open his eyes, Merlin would somehow disappear. He missed the time when he was alone in the room. “Hey, you want coffee?”

Arthur squinted through one eye. Merlin's head was poking out from the kitchenette. His hair was a mess and he was still wearing his pajamas; he'd obviously also just gotten up. But he was smiling. Arthur didn't trust people who smiled in the morning. He just mumbled what he hoped Merlin would understand as both a yes coffee now and get the fuck out of my face. Merlin laughed at him.

In all honesty, Arthur was still having trouble getting used to Merlin. Merlin was friendly and talkative and almost always in a good mood and Arthur... well, Arthur was none of those things. Moreover, Arthur wasn't used to spending so much of his time with someone like Merlin. He knew Merlin was supposed to be there to help him, but he wasn't sure his father's plan was working. It'd been three weeks since they'd moved in and saying that things got off to a shaky start would be an understatement. They kept literally bumping into each other and proverbially stepping on each other's toes.

One thing Arthur had to admit was that Merlin was trying. He was incredibly perceptive, Arthur had to give him that, and he picked up on Arthur's peeves and rules and likes quickly. Arthur was just being difficult on purpose. He didn't know what it was about Merlin, but he just made Arthur want to push his buttons. To his credit, Merlin knew how to call Arthur out on his bullshit without actually being an ass about it. Arthur wasn't sure how he felt about Merlin yet.

Merlin put the coffee on his nightstand. “You know it's almost midday, right?” he said. Arthur didn't think Merlin had any right to comment when he had so obviously just gotten up as well.

“Shut up,” he replied into his forearm.

Of course, Merlin didn't. “I'm hungry,” he whined. “I suppose I could go to the store. But I just can't be bothered to get dressed.”

Arthur considered leaving Merlin to his monologue, but the truth was that he was hungry too. He sat up and took a sip of his coffee. It was a little too sweet, but he didn't complain about it. “If you go to the store, I'll cook.”

Arthur fully expected Merlin to ask him if he even could cook, if he needed help, if he was sure he didn't want Merlin to cook instead. But Merlin just grinned the most brilliant smile at him. “Deal,” he agreed, already jumping off the bed. He was gone without saying anything else. Arthur thought that maybe they would make it work somehow.

~*~

“No, Arthur, I do get it,” Gwen sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I was the one who wanted you to give this a chance, remember?”

“And that's all I'm doing!” Arthur replies. It's only partially a lie, so he thinks he can get away with it. “I'm actually... beginning to enjoy this.” And that's not even partially a lie.

“And I'm glad you are. But I have work and the kids are spending a lot of time with Morgana and I'm sure you have a pretty good idea where this is going now,” Gwen says with a laugh.

“Yeah, nowhere good,” Arthur replies.

“And I miss you,” Gwen adds quietly.

“I miss you too,” Arthur says. It sounds honest, but it feels like a lie, like he's only saying it because he knows it's what he should say. He squeezes the arm rest of his chair under the desk. “Look, it's only till the end of the semester,” he argues. He's not sure if he's convincing her or himself that this is a good idea. “And then I'll be home and we can take it from there.”

Gwen takes a while to think it over. “Alright,” she agrees eventually. “Do you need me to send you more stuff?”

Arthur looks back at the bed where his newly washed clothes are folded in neat piles. They aren't as soft as he's used to and they don't smell as good as when he washes them at home, but they're clean. “I'll be fine. I'll buy anything else I need,” he replies.

“Okay. Alright.”

~*~

“Well, no offence, Arthur, but you really aren't the easiest person to help,” Gwen said honestly. Arthur didn't bother trying to contradict. “Maybe you should, you know, go a little easy on him.”

“I don't wanna go easy on him! I don't wanna go anything on him! I don't want him there!” Arthur almost yelled. He looked around them, but the yard was almost empty because of the cold weather so there was no one to hear him.

“Oh, Arthur. I know you feel like your father doesn't believe you can do this on your own...” Arthur didn't remember ever telling her that, but he knew she was right. He didn't bother pretending she didn't have a point. “But that's not Merlin's fault. If anything, he sounds really nice!”

Arthur snorted. Yeah, he was sure Merlin sounded nice. But when he was there as a living reminder that Arthur needed help, that other people thought he needed help, whether he was nice didn't really matter much. Arthur would resent the fact that he was there if Merlin was the nicest person he'd ever met.

“Come on, be honest,” Gwen warned him. “He's doing well isn't he? That's why you're so mad. You like him being there.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I do not,” he answered. Gwen swatted his arm. “Fine, that's bullshit. He's... He's pretty good.”

~*~

The hall is more crowded than he expects and through the mass of variously sized bodies of unfamiliar students Arthur can barely make out the door to Merlin's classroom when it opens. The students pour out, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Arthur waits until they're all outside before he moves closer. Merlin gets out and closes the door behind himself. He takes the keys out of his pocket and locks the door with practiced ease, puts his keys away in his back. Arthur follows his every move.

Merlin doesn't look in Arthur's direction. Arthur is torn between his mind telling him to make an approach and his body not listening to him. He remembers Merlin in his lecture hall, rows upon rows of seats between them and Arthur could steal feel how hurt Merlin was. He watches Merlin's back as Merlin walks away.

~*~

“Are you trying to kill me with sexual frustration?” Merlin grunted, shoving the t-shirt over his head. He straightened it out and ran his hands over his chest and stomach, wiping the sweat away. “Shit,” he cursed when he noticed the t-shirt was turned inside out. He took it off and put it back on the right way.

Arthur watched him from the other side of the bed. “I'm sorry,” he apologized honestly.

“No,” Merlin said, standing up. “It's fine. I just... I don't get it,” he admitted. He licked his lips and ran his hands through his hair. Arthur mimicked the movement without being aware of it. His whole upper body angled itself towards Merlin. “You do want to, right?” he asked, frowning like it had only then occurred to him. “I mean it's fine if you don't,” he added quickly, “or, or can't...” He let the end of the sentence hang in the air awkwardly. “I would just prefer to know now,” he explained.

Arthur himself wasn't even sure how to answer that. “I want to,” he said, figuring that at least he could say with confidence.

“But?”

Arthur scratched the tip of his nose more harshly than he'd intended. “I don't know how!” he finally admitted, frustrated with the situation, with himself, with Merlin's understanding. It was stifling.

“Oh,” Merlin just said. He rubbed the back of his neck, his mouthing twisting into weird shapes like it sometimes did when his brain was working in overdrive. He sat down next to Arthur, their legs touching. He put a hand on Arthur's forearm. “We'll do some research. And experimenting. We'll figure something out.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “What if I can't?” he asked. He couldn't make himself look at Merlin. “What if I can never have sex again?”

Merlin squeezed his arm. “Then you can't,” he simply said.

Arthur looked up. “And you?”

“Oh, I can,” Merlin replied with a grin, looking pointedly at his lap. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don't worry, I've picked up on enough tricks in the last few weeks to last me for years to come.” He looked to the side and bit his lip before turning back to Arthur. “Come, get it?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with a smile. Arthur did his best to give him his most unimpressed face. He didn't think it really worked. “Besides,” Merlin continued, climbing the bed and crawling over to sit in Arthur's lap, “plenty of other ways to have fun.” He ran his hands over Arthur's chest and tipped his head up to kiss him. Arthur kissed back, slowly relaxing. Merlin put their foreheads together, his fingers stroking over Arthur's cheek. “It's okay,” he said.

~*~

Arthur is not sure what to make of the fact that Merlin is sitting on the steps in front of his housing building. He's reading a book, an old, worn hardback. His finger is running over the page, tracing straight lines. It stops abruptly when Arthur approaches.

“I thought you wanted me to stay away,” Arthur says. His heart is beating faster. Merlin could be there to yell at him and call him names and curse him and ask him to leave, or he could be there to talk, but either way, it's contact. It's more than Arthur thought he'd get.

“So did I,” Merlin replies, pulling a bookmarker from the back of the book and putting it between the pages as he closes the book. He stands up, straightening his long legs gracefully. Arthur can't look away. “I know you were there,” Merlin says, crossing his arms over his chest. Arthur swallows audibly. “No excuses?”

Arthur looks Merlin straight in the eye. Merlin doesn't look quite as angry this time. “None,” Arthur replies.

“At least you're honest.”

Arthur wants to smile. He wants to get closer. He wants to invite Merlin in. He does none of those things, just stays where he is and watches as Merlin gets closer. He puts his hands on the armrests of Arthur's chair and leans in. Arthur forgets to breathe.

Merlin breaks the spell, snorting and letting his head fall. “Whatever I tell you, you're not gonna listen, are you?” he says. “You never were very good at following advice.” He stands up. Arthur wishes he could follow. Instead, all he can do is just watch Merlin as he looks around himself. “I haven't been to this part of the campus since... Since you left.”

Arthur's throat closes up. He's not sure how to respond. He remembers that day, remembers the rain, the car that came for him; he remembers promising Merlin it wasn't over. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping it will make the memory go away. “This is where we met,” he says, the only thing he can think of that is not an empty apology.

“I know,” Merlin replies, looking down at Arthur. A corner of his mouth lifts up the slightest bit. Arthur swears he can feel himself getting physically lighter with hope. “You told me not to help you.”

“You did anyway.”

“Yeah, not the best solution, was it?”

“I got over it,” Arthur says, letting himself smile just a bit.

“Eventually,” Merlin replies. He looks up for a moment, biting his bottom lip, then looks back at Arthur with a smile that looks just a little sad. “So,” he says.

“So,” Arthur repeats.

“Do you... think you need some help getting in?”

“Yeah, I could use some.”

~*~

Merlin's hair tickled at Arthur's chin as Merlin bit at his neck. “I knew you'd ace that test,” he said, the words muffled from the way Merlin's lips were pressed to Arthur's throat. “I keep telling you, you're damn good at this shit.”

Arthur slid his hand under Merlin's t-shirt and stroked Merlin's back. “Yeah, I think I might be,” he agreed with a smile. Merlin just hummed in response. Merlin's hands were pressed against Arthur's chest, the eternally cold tips of his fingers jarring on Arthur's warm skin. Arthur's free hand found its way to Merlin's hair and he tilted Merlin's head back up to kiss him. Not surprisingly, Merlin kept squirming under Arthur's hands and Arthur wanted to push up into the warmth of Merlin's body, but all he could do was pull Merlin closer. Merlin easily, happily went down from his knees to lying flat on top of Arthur. It was an odd sensation - Arthur could feel the pressure and the heat of Merlin lying on top of him everywhere, but on the bottom half of his body everything was muted and dull, like their bodies were immersed in water.

Merlin's hands teased over Arthur's sides, pausing to squeeze his hips. His fingers hooked in the waistband of Arthur's tracksuit and pulled on it just a little bit, as a warning or a question, Arthur wasn't sure. Either way he shook his head, and to underline his point, he took Merlin's wrists and moved his hands back to his upper body.

Merlin didn't even skip a beat, letting Arthur take control. Merlin always did that, and Arthur appreciated it. He knew it had to be extremely frustrating for Merlin to be allowed such freedom in certain things (Arthur was happy to let Merlin do pretty much anything to him, so long as it was above the waist), only to have it denied later. But Merlin, for all his impatience otherwise, was very understanding to Arthur's boundaries. Hell, at this point, Arthur was pretty sure he was more frustrated with himself than Merlin was.

Merlin twined their legs together, then started slowly, but purposefully moving against Arthur. Arthur moaned. It felt good; not enough, but good. Mostly Arthur just liked watching Merlin and his reaction; he rank in every sound Merlin made and every expression on his face, and mostly that was enough for him. Mostly.

Somewhere on an intellectual level, Arthur knew that there was a very realistic possibility he could have a more or less normal sex life. And if there was ever person he should test that possibility with, it was probably Merlin. Merlin turned him on, Merlin knew what he was doing and most importantly, Merlin respected Arthur and Arthur trusted Merlin not to laugh at him no matter what.

But every time things threatened to go just a little further than clumsy making out sessions, no matter how many times Arthur told himself he would bit his lip and just take it, something always forced him to push Merlin away. He was about to do it again, his hands on Merlin's shoulders, when Merlin pulls back himself.

“Please, don't,” he whispered. “Please don't push me away.” He was looking Arthur in the eye, his cheeks flushed and his forehead glistening with sweat. The scarce light created deep shadows on his face, making his cheekbones stand out starkly and his eyes glint.

“I-“ Arthur started, but had no idea what to say. Merlin took advantage of his confusion, dove forward to press his lips to Arthur's again. Their faces were so close that Arthur couldn't see Merlin clearly because it hurt to try to make his eyes focus.

“Close your eyes,” Merlin said. He put both of his hands on the sides of Arthur's face, his thumbs gently tracing Arthur's eyebrows. After a second of hesitation, Arthur obeyed. Merlin kissed both of his closed eyelids. “Just close your eyes and trust me,” he whispered, kissing Arthur's forehead, then his nose, his lips and chin. One of his hands fell to Arthur's lap, the warmth of it muted on Arthur's skin, but still definitely there.

“Merlin...”

Merlin bit at Arthur's collarbone. “Unless you are seriously about to tell me to stop, shut up.” His hand quickly slid up Arthur's leg and cupped him through his boxers. Arthur's head fell back and he moaned. “That's better,” Merlin said somewhere from around Arthur's stomach.

~*~

“Look, Arthur, I know you're going through something that can only be described as a really lame version of a mid-life crisis,” Morgana says, capping her nail polish, “but we would all very much appreciate it if you could either solve it faster or postpone it.”

“You're in a night gown, wearing makeup and doing your nails,” Arthur replies.

“Which is relevant to this conversation how exactly?”

“I'm just saying, right now you don't really look like someone whose advice I should take,” Arthur says tartly.

“Cute,” Morgana answers with the most innocent face. “Leon is coming home tonight. But back to the point,” she looks at the camera seriously and Arthur promptly exits full screen, “you should come home.”

“You all wanted me to do this!” Arthur is happy to find that the anger at everyone telling him what to do is beginning to successfully mask both the hope of reconnecting with Merlin that's bubbling inside him and the guilt he feels at having said hope.

“That was before you decided to move out without giving notice first.”

“I didn't move out,” Arthur interrupts before Morgana can start the tirade.

“You'll be away for almost three months!” Morgana counters. “Don't you think that's a little unfair to Gwen?”

Arthur sighs. This was one of the reasons why he hated going to Morgana with his problems - she could always figure what was wrong and what to say to make Arthur realize it too. Of all the things that have been bothering him about staying in Camelot, by far the worst one was the thought of what the whole situation meant for Gwen and their family. When he first got to Camelot, the first few nights he spent without Gwen, he felt lost. He wasn't sure how to fill his time with no one there to take care of and no one there to take care of him. But now, he barely even finds it odd to go to bed alone and Gwen rarely crosses his mind in a context that's not closely related to their daily Skype calls. Mordred and Morgause he still misses every time he enters his room and doesn't find a total mess, but the truth is that he's falling back to his old ways - he's pushing people away and he's embracing his solitude.

“Arthur, what's really going on?” Morgana asks.

“Merlin works here. We've been... talking.”

“Oh.”

~*~

Arthur stretched his arms over his head. His shoulders were sore. He made the mental note to start working out more. His old bed was softer than what he was used to. It wasn't uncomfortable per se, but it was unusual. Morgana wasn't back from university yet, still helping some friend or another find a place to rent, and his father was out somewhere, drinking. The house was huge and quiet. And empty.

Arthur liked to think that the suffocating loneliness around him was the result of the perfect storm of replacing a pretty cramped shared room for a huge empty house, but when he looked over to the side of his bed, he knew he was lying to himself. He spread out his arms and ran his hands over the sheets.

He was used to waking up either to Merlin's face scrunched up against his shoulder and Merlin's limbs all over him, or to the sounds of Merlin in the kitchen, usually wolfing down whatever leftovers they had in the fridge. He was used to coming home to a room obviously shared by two people. He was used to going to sleep feeling Merlin's breath on his neck, seeing Merlin's face. He closed his eyes embarrassed to find them wet with tears.

He imagined he could feel the cellphone burning a hole through his head from under his pillow. He pulled it out and started to type Merlin's number when he realized he didn't remember it anymore. He scrolled through his contacts until Merlin's name was glowing at him from the screen. He was on the verge of calling, just to hear Merlin's voice, even if it was through tears or angry shouting. He could imagine Merlin lying in his own bed, maybe looking at his own phone in that very moment, waiting for a call.

But then he thought about what their future would look like - a long distance relationship with a cripple was not something Arthur wanted for Merlin, it was so much less than what Merlin deserved. Arthur was so much less than Merlin deserved.

Merlin would find someone else, he was sure, someone better, someone whole. And in time, they'd both get over it, they'd move on and forget. Arthur would get a good job, he would do what he was the best at, he'd work hard and he knew that could easily be enough for him.

He put the phone away, his decision made.

~*~

Merlin is already there when Arthur finds the cafe. He's sitting by the window, right next to the door and the chair opposite him has been moved. Arthur's mouth quirks - Merlin still remembers.

“Hey,” Merlin greets him when he goes inside, not looking up from his phone.

“Hi,” Arthur replies. “Thank you. For meeting me,” he adds, feeling like it's important for Merlin to hear that. He has no illusions here, he knows he's the one who needs to make amends.

Merlin looks up from his book, his eyebrows slightly raised. “No problem,” he says, sounding surprised. “I ordered for both of us. You still take your coffee sweet, right?”

“Actually, you're the one who got me hooked on sweet coffee,” Arthur admits.

“Really?” Merlin asks, putting his book away. “Sorry, I was just finishing a chapter. You never told me that.”

“Yeah, there's been a lot of that going on, hasn't there?”

Merlin scoffs. “Yeah.”

They sit in silence until their orders arrive (Merlin is drinking tea, mint by the smell of it). It's awkward, but at the same time, it's not. It's the first time they've been out somewhere and there's tension in the air between them, but when Arthur looks over it's still Merlin, older and a little worse for wear, but still just Merlin and every time their eyes meet, Arthur feels the pleasant fluttering in his stomach that he hasn't felt in ages. It feels like a date (it's not, Arthur tells himself, Merlin still pretty much hates him and Arthur's still married for god's sake).

“So is how have you been too all-encompassing of a question?” Merlin asks, taking a sip of his tea.

Arthur laughs. “A little, yeah.”

Merlin points at Arthur's hand on the table between them with a finger. “Married?” he asks. Arthur wishes he could still read the tone of Merlin's voice.

“Erm, yes,” he answers. “To Gwen, actually.”

“Oh! Well, congratulations to you both,” Merlin says, nodding. This time Arthur can read the hurt in the set of Merlin's lips.

“We have two kids. Adopted, obviously,” he adds.

“Obviously? You could have had your own from what I remember,” Merlin says with a deceptive smile. Arthur can't help the redness the spreads over his cheeks. He looks away. “So, your kids,” Merlin questions. When Arthur looks over, the fake smile is gone.

“Uh, yeah. Morgause- Don't even, Morgana named her! Morgause is 8 and Mordred is 5.”

“Wow,” Merlin says. “I missed a lot, didn't I?”

“Not by choice,” Arthur replies immediately, his voice dropping a little. “Look, I'm-“

“Don't,” Merlin stops him. “Just... Tell me about your life. That's all I wanna hear about right now.”

“Okay,” Arthur agrees. “I work with this great woman, Mithian, we've been experimenting with artificial limbs and stem cells. She's babysitting my fake legged rabbit right now, actually.”

Merlin smiles at him cryptically. “That's your work, Arthur. Your work which I have been following for years, might I add.” Arthur didn't know that. “That's not what I care about.”

“You're right,” Arthur concedes. “But work is important to me.”

“I get that,” Merlin allows. “Work is everything to me.”

“Everything?”

“Well, work and Alfie.” Arthur raises his eyebrows. “My turtle,” Merlin explains. “Oh, and Gaius occasionally wants to have tea with me. It's a perfect opportunity for him to lecture me about everything that I'm doing wrong with my life.”

“That's it? No one else in your life?” Arthur asks. He knows he's not supposed to hope for a negative answer and he knows it's not something to be happy about, but he still crosses his fingers under the table.

“No one permanent,” Merlin replies. “Not since Gwaine.”

“Oh?” Arthur prompts, not sure which part of that answer he's prodding about or whether he really wants to know. He hasn't seen or heard from Gwaine in years; Gwaine was, as far as Arthur knows, the only one from their group of friends who stuck with Merlin. Arthur is glad for it - Gwaine is a great guy and him and Merlin had hit it off really well. And way back when, Arthur could always tell himself that he didn't take away all of Merlin's friends; it was a small comfort.

“Yeah, we dated on and off. Mostly off towards the end, to be honest.” Arthur can sense something is wrong, sees it in Merlin's face. Uncertainly, he decides to push it.

“Towards the end?”

“Gwaine's dead, Arthur,” Merlin replies. Arthur's mouth falls open. “January last year.”

“Oh my god, I... I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“I wanted to let you know, but obviously by then... I'd lost contact with everyone.”

There's no real accusation in Merlin's voice, either because he's past blaming Arthur or because that's not on his mind right now. Either way, it gives Arthur the kind of courage he didn't realize he still had when it came to Merlin. He reaches over and touches the back of Merlin's hand with his fingers.

“What happened?” he asks.

“He was stabbed. We were supposed to meet at a bar, my consultations with students ran late and he was waiting for me.” Arthur has to consciously force himself not to look away from Merlin. He sees in Merlin's eyes the kind of guilt he carries with him, the misplaced feeling of having indirectly caused a loved one's death through some stupid choices. It gives him a whole new perspective on how it must be for his friends when they look at him. “There was a fight and he tried to break it up and... someone stabbed him. He bled out on the way to the hospital. By the time I got there, it was all over.” Merlin blinks rapidly, looking up. Arthur lets his fingers twine with Merlin's.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he says earnestly.

“Yeah.” Merlin looks at their joint hands on the table, but doesn't try to pull his away. “What about everyone else? Gwen married you, obviously; what about Morgana, Lancelot and everyone else?”

Arthur takes a sip of his coffee to buy himself enough time to figure out how to respond. He starts with the easy ones. “Well, Morgana and Leon are married. Elyan's moved to the States.” He bites his lip. “And I haven't talked to Lancelot in years. Almost as long as I haven't spoken to you.”

Merlin snorts. “Damn, Arthur, you get all the kids in the divorce and you still managed to screw up.” Arthur reels back, letting go of Merlin's hand. Merlin reaches out, then seems to think better of it and retracts his hand. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn't mean that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Arthur replies. He doesn't try to defend himself, though. Something occurs to him. “You didn't tell anyone your side of the story,” he says, a statement of fact he's pretty sure. It's something he's been curious about for a long time.

“Why would I? It would've made you look like a jerk and it would've forced our friends to take sides. That's not what I wanted.”

But I was a jerk, Arthur wants to say. He clears his throat and decides to change the topic. “What about your mom? How is she?”

“Ironically, she died of lung cancer,” Merlin says, bowing his head a little so Arthur can't see his face. “Really made me rethink my smoking habits,” he tries to joke, but Arthur knows it's just deflection. “Your dad?”

“Heart attack. Seven years ago,” Arthur replies flatly. He used to refuse to talk about it, and then he went through a phase where he physically could not talk about it without starting to cry, but now it's just another fact about his life. Merlin doesn't express sympathy, but that's okay; Arthur didn't expect him to, Merlin hated his father after all.

“Have we burnt through all conversation topics already?” Merlin asks. He probably means it as a rhetorical question, but Arthur can't not react, can't leave things be as they are, not again.

“Actually, we haven't.”

“Don't,” Merlin warns. This time, Arthur ignores him.

“What I did,” Arthur says, “I... I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Arthur, please,” Merlin hisses.

“I can't even justify it from this perspective. I'm sorry, I truly am,” he says honestly.

Merlin's eyes flash with anger. “Damn it, Arthur,” he says quietly. It's not the reaction Arthur wanted, because this is Merlin at his most dangerous, quiet and controlled and knowing exactly where to strike for the strongest impact. Arthur only hesitates a moment before meeting Merlin's eyes - whatever Merlin has to throw at him, Arthur deserves and he knows it. Oddly, though, as soon as their eyes meet, Merlin's shoulders relax and he seems to deflate. When he speaks, he doesn't sound angry anymore - he sounds broken. “Why do you do this, Arthur? Why must you make everything difficult?”

“I'm just trying to...” He doesn't know how to finish. What is he trying to do? Apologize? Atone? Reconnect? He lets the sentence trail.

“I was fine with you coming here,” Merlin says, shaking his head. “I figured, it's just a few days and you'd be gone. But then you just had to show up in my class, and you had to stay longer and now you're apologizing!” He rubs his forehead, frowning like he's getting a headache. Arthur can relate. “You hurt me, Arthur. A lot.” Arthur knows it, has always known, but to have it laid out in front of him so plain and simple feels horrible. “Whenever I look at you, I should remember that, I should run in the opposite direction. But you know what the infuriating thing is? I see you and I remember the good things. I look at you and see someone I want in my life. And I'd take you back in the blink of an eye.”

Arthur stares at Merlin, stunned into silence. It's all he's wanted to hear all along, it's an offer, a chance to make things right, to make the life he's secretly dreamed about into reality. It's an opportunity to get Merlin back, which is so much more than he could ever realistically hope for.

Merlin bites his bottom lip and looks down at Arthur's hands. Arthur follows his gaze to his wedding ring. His heart sinks.

“I should go,” Merlin says, already getting up. He should, Arthur thinks, still mortified at the fact that he got so lost in Merlin he forgot the two of them weren't the only relevant players in this game.

But as he watches Merlin navigate his way between tables, chairs and waiters, he realizes something - he can't let Merlin walk away.

“Wait!” he calls. Merlin freezes, waits a few seconds and then, just as Arthur is giving up, he turns around. “We can talk about something else. Work,” Arthur suggests desperately.

Merlin looks indecisive for a few more seconds before he comes back, pulls his chair out again and flops down into it. “How has teaching been for you?” he asks.

~*~

part 4: press my nose up, to the glass around your heart

~*~