bbc merlin| Your pulse (it's the only thing I can remember)
Arthur wishes the rumbling of the subway could silence the drumming of his heart. He briefly wonders if it could be possible for it to beat so hard because it wants to reach Merlin faster.
He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that what he feels runs deeper than time.
He loved Merlin long before he was a teenager living in London, he loved Merlin in a time when he wasn’t free to do so. Merlin had been his first and only love and he hadn’t been able to hold onto him.
It’s scary as hell to think that the feelings that have been simmering inside of him over the past years are part of him more than everything else, more than his bones, his cells and blood.
He remembers now, how many times he had wanted nothing more than being able to simply say “I love you”. The thought that he never did cuts through him like a knife. He remembers the longing, the strength that he needed to keep it all under control, the times when it was too much to bear and his heart threatened to burst open at the seams.
All those times Merlin’s laugh reached his ears while he was sitting by Gwen’s side at some banquet and he had to command to his legs not to move because he couldn’t stand up, cross the room and kiss his manservant.
Or all those times Merlin, as court sorcerer, had to resort to magic when enemies threatened to come too close to Camelot. Arthur always felt the pull of it; it snaked around his legs and tugged, wanting him to go closer to Merlin. He never felt brave enough to look into those golden eyes for too long, though. It wasn’t because he was scared of them; it was because he was sure that if he looked at them for too long he would never be able to turn away.
Arthur leans against the back of the seat, his head resting against the trembling window of the train. He doesn’t have a kingdom to guide now, he only has his heart to follow.
It’s scary. It’s what he dreamt about all those centuries ago.
*
It has been ages since he last went to Hampstead Heat. Hunith brought them here for Merlin’s thirteenth birthday; she had prepared blueberry muffins and had picked Arthur up early in the morning.
They had spent the day running around, playing hide and seek and swimming in the Ponds. Arthur had challenged Merlin to see who could stay longer underwater. He had won and Merlin had pouted at him, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and eyes bluer than the water. Arthur had thought he looked pretty like that.
Before going back home Merlin had insisted he wanted to see the new sculpture that he had seen on TV. When they finally were standing in front of the enormous table and chair Merlin had grabbed Arthur’s hand.
“C’mon! I want to see how it is to stand under it!”
Arthur had laughed and squeezed Merlin’s hand.
Arthur is waiting in front of Kenwood House when his mobile vibrates in his pocket.
From Merlin:
I’m waiting for you at the Ponds.
Arthur starts walking, wondering if Merlin is remembering that day when they were kids too. He keeps walking and the next memory that comes twirling out of a forgotten corner of his mind is the one of a hot day in the middle of summer, back in Camelot, not even a year after Merlin had become his manservant.
They had gone out on a hunt but when noon came they were both in desperate need of some rest and of some fresh water.
“Arthur, I swear that if we don’t stop I’ll die!”
“You’re such a girl, Merlin!”
Merlin glared at him and Arthur couldn’t help the grin that stretched his lips. Merlin was different from the sons of the knights or of the lords living at the castle. He didn’t treat Arthur as the prince, he didn’t hesitate to treat him as though they were equals.
Merlin never made him feel alone.
They raced each other to the nearby stream, shedding their clothes in a haste, and plunged into the cold water. It was like being kids again. As Merlin splashed him and grinned, Arthur corrected himself- it was better, because before Merlin he had never had a friend.
As they were getting out of the water Merlin grabbed his hand. Arthur felt his cheeks grow hotter, no one except Morgana or his father had ever taken him by the hand. He swallowed and allowed himself to briefly squeeze Merlin’s fingers before letting them go.
Memories mix inside of him, entwined without possibility to unravel them.
When finally the Ponds come into view, Arthur shields his eyes from the light. He sucks in breath as the memory of a time when he did that same gesture standing on top of hills, his knights behind him and Merlin by his side, trembles in his very muscles.
He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the two lives dwelling inside of him. He thinks that he might be able to do it if Merlin remains by his side.
Arthur is about to fish his mobile out of his pocket to call Merlin when he spots him, a small figure standing in front of the Bird Sanctuary Pond. It used to be his favorite when they were kids.
///
Merlin lets his gaze slide over calm surface of the water. It scares him to realize that there’s probably a reason why he loved this place so much when he was a kid. It looks exactly like a pond nestled in the woods behind Ealdor.
He remembers showing it to Arthur after they defeated Kanan and his men. It probably was silly, but he wanted Arthur to see the place where he had grown up. It was a time when he still hadn’t realized that what he felt for his prince went way beyond respect and destiny.
Merlin pushes his hands deeper into his jeans’ pockets, trying to ground himself against the assault of memories. Ghosts of whispered words and promises reach his ears entwined with the sounds of the people walking through the park and of the water sloshing gently.
For an instant nothing feels real anymore.
Then hesitant fingers are tapping against his right shoulder. Merlin turns around so fast that his head spins.
Arthur is standing in front of him and something lurches forward inside of him at the sight of him; he almost stumbles with the sheer force of it.
For a brief second Merlin feels completely disoriented, there are too many voices in his head.
There’s the one of the boy who has grown up beside Arthur, who knows that Arthur has a secret love for Chopin Nocturne number 9 and keeps an old album of his mother’s photos in his nightstand’s second drawer. And then there’s the one of the man who has loved Arthur through the centuries, who didn’t hesitate to put his life on the line over and over for the sake of his king, who put his heart in Arthur’s hands even though he knew he couldn’t have anything back, not at the time.
Merlin blinks and takes in a deep breath.
“Merlin…”
Arthur’s voice s all that it takes to finally clear his mind. Underneath the confusion he can sense it, how both the boy that he is now and the man that he once was want the same thing- to be closer to Arthur, to talk to him, not to let go this time.
“A-Arthur…”
It feels like saying his first word.
He knows there are so many things he should say but the only thing that he manages to do is step forward and hide is face against Arthur’s chest. Warmth spreads under his skin when Arthur wraps his arms around him without hesitation, as though it was written in his muscles’ memory that he should do just so.
It feels like being back home. Safe and right and them just as they used to be, with the promise of so much more because they are different too. Now Merlin knows what it is like to watch a movie curled up by Arthur’s side, now he knows how hard Arthur cling to his hand on the day of Ygraine’s funeral. There is no ancient memory that can erase those.
He grips Arthur pullover a bit tighter. Arthur’s lips brush gently against his temple.
///
Arthur blinks against the feeling of relief that is currently flooding him. Merlin’s chest brushes against his own with every breath and Arthur’s heart beats faster. The words stumble past his lips as though they have been waiting to do so for centuries.
“I remember…”
Merlin pulls him closer, his warm breath washing over Arthur’s neck. He swallows and forces himself to continue.
“I remember those silly handkerchiefs you used to wear; the way it felt to kiss you the first time; how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you every time I saw you…”
He takes a deep breath and lets his gaze wander towards the Pond. Merlin’s voice is almost a whisper.
“It was hard for me too…”
“I know.”
Merlin lifts his gaze; Arthur’s breath stutters because his eyes seem so much deeper now, so much that he thinks he could get lost in them.
“But I never regret it, Arthur…”
Arthur can physically feel it, the moment everything clicks inside of him and who he was and who he is melt. It’s the moment he cups Merlin’s face and leans closer until the tips of their noses touch.
“The only thing I regret is that I couldn’t be completely yours. But my heart…my heart Merlin has always been there, right in your hands.”
Merlin smiles, a small and shy smile, before closing the distance between their lips.
When they break the kiss Arthur keeps him close, their lips brushing as he speaks.
“I remember your lips, your pulse underneath my fingertips…”
It’s almost too much; it almost doesn’t seem real. But then Merlin’s fingers are carefully tracing the lines of his cheekbones. Arthur smiles at the feeling of those familiar fingertips mapping him.
Merlin chuckles softly.
“For a moment there I was afraid you weren’t even real.”
Warmth spreads through Arthur, from the tip of his hair to his toes, as he can feel the thread that has kept them together over time getting stronger, pulling in such a perfect way.
“I…maybe we should go somewhere more private?”
Merlin nods, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks.
As they walk towards the tube station, Arthur closes his hand around Merlin’s wrist. The feeling of his pulse under his fingertips is a reminder that they are the same, flesh blood and love, and that this time they’re going to be free to be just who they are.
Sitting on the train, Merlin’s thigh pressed against his own, Arthur’s heart stutters and stumbles over its own beat at the thought that he is finally going to be able to hold Merlin again, to tell him what he couldn’t when they fell in love for the first time.
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He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that what he feels runs deeper than time.
He loved Merlin long before he was a teenager living in London, he loved Merlin in a time when he wasn’t free to do so. Merlin had been his first and only love and he hadn’t been able to hold onto him.
It’s scary as hell to think that the feelings that have been simmering inside of him over the past years are part of him more than everything else, more than his bones, his cells and blood.
He remembers now, how many times he had wanted nothing more than being able to simply say “I love you”. The thought that he never did cuts through him like a knife. He remembers the longing, the strength that he needed to keep it all under control, the times when it was too much to bear and his heart threatened to burst open at the seams.
All those times Merlin’s laugh reached his ears while he was sitting by Gwen’s side at some banquet and he had to command to his legs not to move because he couldn’t stand up, cross the room and kiss his manservant.
Or all those times Merlin, as court sorcerer, had to resort to magic when enemies threatened to come too close to Camelot. Arthur always felt the pull of it; it snaked around his legs and tugged, wanting him to go closer to Merlin. He never felt brave enough to look into those golden eyes for too long, though. It wasn’t because he was scared of them; it was because he was sure that if he looked at them for too long he would never be able to turn away.
Arthur leans against the back of the seat, his head resting against the trembling window of the train. He doesn’t have a kingdom to guide now, he only has his heart to follow.
It’s scary. It’s what he dreamt about all those centuries ago.
*
It has been ages since he last went to Hampstead Heat. Hunith brought them here for Merlin’s thirteenth birthday; she had prepared blueberry muffins and had picked Arthur up early in the morning.
They had spent the day running around, playing hide and seek and swimming in the Ponds. Arthur had challenged Merlin to see who could stay longer underwater. He had won and Merlin had pouted at him, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and eyes bluer than the water. Arthur had thought he looked pretty like that.
Before going back home Merlin had insisted he wanted to see the new sculpture that he had seen on TV. When they finally were standing in front of the enormous table and chair Merlin had grabbed Arthur’s hand.
“C’mon! I want to see how it is to stand under it!”
Arthur had laughed and squeezed Merlin’s hand.
Arthur is waiting in front of Kenwood House when his mobile vibrates in his pocket.
From Merlin:
I’m waiting for you at the Ponds.
Arthur starts walking, wondering if Merlin is remembering that day when they were kids too. He keeps walking and the next memory that comes twirling out of a forgotten corner of his mind is the one of a hot day in the middle of summer, back in Camelot, not even a year after Merlin had become his manservant.
They had gone out on a hunt but when noon came they were both in desperate need of some rest and of some fresh water.
“Arthur, I swear that if we don’t stop I’ll die!”
“You’re such a girl, Merlin!”
Merlin glared at him and Arthur couldn’t help the grin that stretched his lips. Merlin was different from the sons of the knights or of the lords living at the castle. He didn’t treat Arthur as the prince, he didn’t hesitate to treat him as though they were equals.
Merlin never made him feel alone.
They raced each other to the nearby stream, shedding their clothes in a haste, and plunged into the cold water. It was like being kids again. As Merlin splashed him and grinned, Arthur corrected himself- it was better, because before Merlin he had never had a friend.
As they were getting out of the water Merlin grabbed his hand. Arthur felt his cheeks grow hotter, no one except Morgana or his father had ever taken him by the hand. He swallowed and allowed himself to briefly squeeze Merlin’s fingers before letting them go.
Memories mix inside of him, entwined without possibility to unravel them.
When finally the Ponds come into view, Arthur shields his eyes from the light. He sucks in breath as the memory of a time when he did that same gesture standing on top of hills, his knights behind him and Merlin by his side, trembles in his very muscles.
He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the two lives dwelling inside of him. He thinks that he might be able to do it if Merlin remains by his side.
Arthur is about to fish his mobile out of his pocket to call Merlin when he spots him, a small figure standing in front of the Bird Sanctuary Pond. It used to be his favorite when they were kids.
///
Merlin lets his gaze slide over calm surface of the water. It scares him to realize that there’s probably a reason why he loved this place so much when he was a kid. It looks exactly like a pond nestled in the woods behind Ealdor.
He remembers showing it to Arthur after they defeated Kanan and his men. It probably was silly, but he wanted Arthur to see the place where he had grown up. It was a time when he still hadn’t realized that what he felt for his prince went way beyond respect and destiny.
Merlin pushes his hands deeper into his jeans’ pockets, trying to ground himself against the assault of memories. Ghosts of whispered words and promises reach his ears entwined with the sounds of the people walking through the park and of the water sloshing gently.
For an instant nothing feels real anymore.
Then hesitant fingers are tapping against his right shoulder. Merlin turns around so fast that his head spins.
Arthur is standing in front of him and something lurches forward inside of him at the sight of him; he almost stumbles with the sheer force of it.
For a brief second Merlin feels completely disoriented, there are too many voices in his head.
There’s the one of the boy who has grown up beside Arthur, who knows that Arthur has a secret love for Chopin Nocturne number 9 and keeps an old album of his mother’s photos in his nightstand’s second drawer. And then there’s the one of the man who has loved Arthur through the centuries, who didn’t hesitate to put his life on the line over and over for the sake of his king, who put his heart in Arthur’s hands even though he knew he couldn’t have anything back, not at the time.
Merlin blinks and takes in a deep breath.
“Merlin…”
Arthur’s voice s all that it takes to finally clear his mind. Underneath the confusion he can sense it, how both the boy that he is now and the man that he once was want the same thing- to be closer to Arthur, to talk to him, not to let go this time.
“A-Arthur…”
It feels like saying his first word.
He knows there are so many things he should say but the only thing that he manages to do is step forward and hide is face against Arthur’s chest. Warmth spreads under his skin when Arthur wraps his arms around him without hesitation, as though it was written in his muscles’ memory that he should do just so.
It feels like being back home. Safe and right and them just as they used to be, with the promise of so much more because they are different too. Now Merlin knows what it is like to watch a movie curled up by Arthur’s side, now he knows how hard Arthur cling to his hand on the day of Ygraine’s funeral. There is no ancient memory that can erase those.
He grips Arthur pullover a bit tighter. Arthur’s lips brush gently against his temple.
///
Arthur blinks against the feeling of relief that is currently flooding him. Merlin’s chest brushes against his own with every breath and Arthur’s heart beats faster. The words stumble past his lips as though they have been waiting to do so for centuries.
“I remember…”
Merlin pulls him closer, his warm breath washing over Arthur’s neck. He swallows and forces himself to continue.
“I remember those silly handkerchiefs you used to wear; the way it felt to kiss you the first time; how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you every time I saw you…”
He takes a deep breath and lets his gaze wander towards the Pond. Merlin’s voice is almost a whisper.
“It was hard for me too…”
“I know.”
Merlin lifts his gaze; Arthur’s breath stutters because his eyes seem so much deeper now, so much that he thinks he could get lost in them.
“But I never regret it, Arthur…”
Arthur can physically feel it, the moment everything clicks inside of him and who he was and who he is melt. It’s the moment he cups Merlin’s face and leans closer until the tips of their noses touch.
“The only thing I regret is that I couldn’t be completely yours. But my heart…my heart Merlin has always been there, right in your hands.”
Merlin smiles, a small and shy smile, before closing the distance between their lips.
When they break the kiss Arthur keeps him close, their lips brushing as he speaks.
“I remember your lips, your pulse underneath my fingertips…”
It’s almost too much; it almost doesn’t seem real. But then Merlin’s fingers are carefully tracing the lines of his cheekbones. Arthur smiles at the feeling of those familiar fingertips mapping him.
Merlin chuckles softly.
“For a moment there I was afraid you weren’t even real.”
Warmth spreads through Arthur, from the tip of his hair to his toes, as he can feel the thread that has kept them together over time getting stronger, pulling in such a perfect way.
“I…maybe we should go somewhere more private?”
Merlin nods, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks.
As they walk towards the tube station, Arthur closes his hand around Merlin’s wrist. The feeling of his pulse under his fingertips is a reminder that they are the same, flesh blood and love, and that this time they’re going to be free to be just who they are.
Sitting on the train, Merlin’s thigh pressed against his own, Arthur’s heart stutters and stumbles over its own beat at the thought that he is finally going to be able to hold Merlin again, to tell him what he couldn’t when they fell in love for the first time.
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