An Infallible Reason 10
10: again from the top now, and tell me everything
Arthur doesn't plan on falling asleep, but he does and it's damn good luck that it's Saturday, or he would have been late for work. When he first opens his eyes, he's not sure why he is in a bed that he doesn't normally sleep in, in a room that he doesn't enter very frequently. One of the first things he notices is that his neck is sore and his back hurts and he's sitting; that's when he remembers last night in minute detail. He freezes in the middle of stretching his arms and only then becomes aware of something tickling his hip. He looks down to find Merlin's head resting against his thigh and he can't resist running a finger over the side of Merlin's face. It may end up being a terrible idea, but he decides in that instant that he doesn't want to wake up yet, and instead slides down the bed until his head is resting on the pillow. Merlin stirs but doesn't wake up, just shuffles a bit closer.
~*~
The next time Arthur wakes up, he's significantly more comfortable, if a bit too warm. He tries to turn around when his blanket moves away of it own accord. Arthur is still too close to sleep to react properly, so he only opens his eyes. He's met with Merlin's face mere inches away.
“Grht mrrnghrng,” he tries and Merlin's lips quirk in a smile.
“Morning,” he replies.
“Hghrto...” Arthur clears his throat before giving it another shot. “How are you?”
“I've seen better days,” Merlin replies honestly, looking away. “And before you ask me,” he continues, even though Arthur hasn't opened his mouth yet, “I'll tell you. Just not now. And not to some stranger with a degree. And definitely not now.” He picks up the speeds towards the end of his last sentence, before he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and the opens them again. “I'll tell you, though, I promise.”
Arthur nods his agreement (not that he's capable of doing much else right now) and snuggles the pillow with all intentions of going back to sleep.
“I'm going to work,” Merlin says, close to Arthur's ear. Arthur is about to hum something as a sign that he registered what Merlin was saying, but then he thinks better of it. It was a rough night and this is Merlin's first day at work, and really, Arthur doesn't have any obligations today - he might as well get up and walk Merlin to the store. For good luck and all.
“Gimme a secnd, I'm coming wityou,” he mumbles. He may be imagining it, but Merlin looks like that makes him relax a little. Arthur's chest and stomach suddenly feel alight with warmth - maybe he is doing something right after all.
~*~
The weeks that follow are pretty uneventful, yet something about them is different. The world is not quite right yet, but it's better. Merlin works in shifts, so they don't get to spend all their evenings together anymore, but they make sure to take a walk every day. Arthur tries to steer clear of parks and he doesn't press the subject anymore, and Merlin doesn't really bring it up, but it doesn't feel like a closed door anymore. It's almost as if the air around them is lighter, gives less resistance so they can move more freely. Arthur wouldn't go so far as to say that Merlin is back to his old self but he's not quite as far from it as he used to be (the mood swings, while they've happened a few times, are not as severe; Merlin actually smiles every day, a smile not as bright as before, but an honest one; and any space they're in seems too small - they bump into each other more often and walk closer to each other, something that Arthur prays is intentional on Merlin's part, even though he's not getting his hopes up).
The one thing that doesn't go away are the nightmares. Merlin can't seem to get more than three nights of decent, uninterrupted sleep in a row and it doesn't sound like the dreams themselves are any easier to handle than before. It is in the middle of one particularly bad night that's keeping them both up, that Arthur hears a knock on his door. Unlike Arthur himself, though, Merlin waits to be invited.
“Come in,” Arthur says when he realizes that.
Merlin slips into the room, quickly comes to the bed and sits on its edge. Arthur turns on the reading lamp on the wall next to his pillow. He tries not to remain calm even after he sees how pale Merlin is and notices that Merlin's hands are shaking and his legs are restless.
“I need you listen to me and not say a word,” Merlin starts, and Arthur already knows it's not gonna end well.
~*~
Arthur is retrospectively angry and horrified by what Merlin went through, and unbearably (unreasonably, perhaps) guilty for every even remotely happy moment he's had since that November night while Merlin was dealing with all of this. Merlin, on the other hand, displays little emotion as he tells the story in a flat voice, like he's reporting about the weather, but Arthur can see how difficult it is for him to go through all that again.
“So,” Merlin concludes, “now you know what happened. You know, the doctors and nurses at the hospital, they all kept telling me it wasn't my fault. But they're wrong. Maybe I didn't cause it, but clearly, I didn't fight back hard enough. Possibly because I liked it.”
“Don't say that,” Arthur finally cuts in, his throat dry and his voice rough, too disgusted to keep his mouth shut. He feels sick to his stomach just listening to this, he can't imagine what it was like to actually be there.
“Arthur, I don't know what your father told you, but for most people, orgasm is the height of sexual pleasure,” Merlin says with a tone of bitter humour that Arthur wants to shake out of him.
“I'm sure there are plenty other explanations, my god, don't ever say that you enjoyed it again,” he says instead, clenching his fists so he wouldn't punch or break something he'd miss later.
“It's a logical con-“
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur growls, grabbing one of Merlin's wrists and holding it tightly. “I saw what this did to you, I watch you fall apart right in front of me, don't you dare tell me you enjoyed any of it and don't you ever, ever think it was your fault! It's nobody's fault but theirs!” He means to say more, but he can't, he's getting choked up with all the rage that he's threatening to unleash on the wrong person. He is barely even aware of where he is anymore, or of the dawn colouring the sky pink and lighting up the room, all he sees is red, all he knows is that he wants to find those men and kill them for what they did; not only for the physical pain and injuries, but for the fear and the self-blame and the shame that have been systematically ruining Merlin since then. He's not even aware that he's still squeezing Merlin's wrist in his hand until Merlin cocks his head to one side and gives their hands a curious look.
“You're holding me,” Merlin comments.
“What?” Arthur asks, momentarily baffled.
“You're... You're not repulsed or... afraid, you're... You're not letting go, ow.”
Arthur releases his vice-like grip on Merlin's arm, but doesn't let go. The words leaving Merlin's mouth and the wonder in which he says them make him forget about being angry; suddenly, he's overwhelmed with something else - gut-wrenching sadness and even pity, an emotion no one wants directed at them, but only the rare few escape. All he wants now is to hug Merlin and hold him until he's all right. He knows it's not the cure for Merlin, he knows it can't be as simple as that. But it's a start.
So he crawls over the bed to where Merlin is sitting and hugs him, as tightly as he dares, runs his fingers through Merlin's hair and just holds him until he feels Merlin relax into his arms. It's not long after that that he hears the tell-tale sounds of crying. He leans his head down until he feels Merlin's ear against his lips (and right now, he couldn't care less about the friendship/relationship boundaries) and says, with all honesty and meaning every sound that leaves his throat, “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing you do or say will ever make me let you go.”
{0}: i found a shouldr to lean on, an infallible reason to live all by itself;
i took one last look from the heights that i once loved and then i ran like hell