Brassed Off Calendar Girls do the Full Monty in Camelot (11/?)
Arthur gazed blearily at his phone when it beeped. He couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong the previous night. He remembered the broken, defeated look that Merlin had about him when Gaius led him away to his car, and wondered what could have happened to irrepressible, joyful, mischievous Merlin to make him react like that. But now his phone was beeping at him through his hazy hungover fug. He looked at it; a text from Merlin.
Need 2 talk 2u 2 Xplain RU bz 2day m8? CU B4 band 2nite 4 a drink? m x
Hmm. He thought the “x” at the end probably signified a kiss, which was a good sign, but the rest of the message was completely unintelligible. Arthur frowned and replied:
Have aliens eaten your fingers Merlin? You appear unable to type. Arthur. x
He waited a few minutes for the reply, before going off for a shower. When he returned his phone was flashing at him.
yes
Arthur grinned and typed
Is this why you blew me off last night? Alien zombie apocalypse in Camelot or something? Arthur. x
He took his mobile into the kitchen and munched some toast before the next message appeared.
wld rather xplain in person rising sun at 7pm
Arthur frowned before typing a final message
I’ll be there. I’ll bring some punctuation marks and capital letters with me. You seem to have run out. Arthur. x
That evening, Merlin turned up at the pub eventually, a good twenty minutes late, the tosser. Arthur contented himself with a few pointed comments about Merlin’s incompetence rather than wading in with a a full-blooded evisceration, which could wait until later.
Merlin sat down on a bar stool with his vile pink drink and coughed, shuffling his legs and scratching his head, picking nervously at his arm, biting his lip and generally avoiding looking Arthur in the eye.
“Merlin, for heaven’s sake, it’s not a job interview. Calm down, OK?”
“OK. Sorry. Sorry Arthur. Actually that’s what I wanted to say. Sorry I mean. I wanted to apologise. Erm. For my melt down yesterday? It wasn’t your fault. And thank you. For stayin’ with me. And not telling the others. So... sorry. And thank you. Well. That’s it. Really.” Merlin nodded vigorously. “Thanks.” And the idiot went to stand up and walk away, still avoiding eye contact. Arthur grabbed his arm and tugged it, made Merlin sit down, and looked him in the eye.
“Merlin, please don't run away,” he said. “I should not have made assumptions about you, I’m really sorry. There. Now let’s sit and have a drink together. OK?”
Merlin lost a bit of the tension in his body. “OK.” And he took a slurp from his pink drink, pulling a face. “Don’t really fancy this actually, just before a rehearsal.” He grinned sheepishly. “Don’t know why I asked for it.”
“Because, Merlin, you are a witless buffoon.” said Arthur, fondly. They sat there in companionable silence for a bit. Arthur looked sideways at Merlin and then bumped his arm with his shoulder.
“You said you were going to explain?”
“I did? I did. Right. Well. Obviously, I will. I will.” Merlin harrumphed into his drink and looked uncomfortable. Then he took a deep breath and turned to look at Arthur. He looked terrified. Arthur tried to think of something to say to calm him down, but decided that silence was golden. Merlin looked down at his fingers. His knuckles were pink, and the nails bitten right down. He looked up again, eyes black in the dim pub light.
“The thing is Arthur,” he began, hoarsely, “I don’t even know if I can tell you-or anyone else-all of it. But I can tell you some of it. I think.” He looked away, swallowing.
“It happened a long time ago, 5 years ago. I was 15 years old. Cocky, out and proud, thought I knew it all. I didn’t.” He pulled a rueful face. “It’s not an easy thing to be, out and proud, and underage, in a small town in Northern Ireland, as I discovered pretty fast.”
He gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing fast, drumming on the bar with long, nervous fingers. Without thinking Arthur reached for Merlin’s hand, to still it, holding it in two of his, drawing circles on Merlin’s palm, face calm.
“I was attacked,” Merlin continued eventually, his eyes and voice intense with the memory. “Three of them. I knew them. I knew who they were. They stripped me, beat me, held me down and raped me. One at a time. Called me names. Pissed on me. Laughed at me. Ran off with my clothes. Threatened that they’d hurt my mum if I ever told anyone." His voice trembled when he mentioned his mother. The sweet soft-hearted melon-head, thought Arthur. Obviously it was his mother that needed protecting here.
"I walked home, alone, naked and terrified.” His words were bare, shocking, shorn of emotion. He peeped at Arthur through his lashes, gauging his reaction.
Arthur was shocked at his sudden intense, homicidal rage. He wanted to murder the bastards who’d done this, smash them to a pulp and jump on the pieces. He schooled his features to remain calm, bit his lip to stop himself from speaking. His heart was racing and he shook his head-in sympathy, not disbelief.
“I’m OK. Really I am. I’m doing a lot better these days, really," continued Merlin. "I've got some issues, but I'm working them out with help. It was a long time ago."
He drew a breath.
"But... there are triggers. Last night... Public nudity… being coerced into public nudity… no. That didn’t feel good.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Arthur hoarsely. “I didn’t know.”
Merlin nodded.
“Well, now you do.” He’d stopped fidgeting now and seemed relieved; he’d got the worst part out into the open. “They’re in jail now, they got in trouble and ended up inside. Mum and I moved away, we went to Ealdor and started a new life, and I started putting myself back together.”
A lot of details had clearly been glossed over in this terse summary of events, thought Arthur, but he didn't want to push Merlin into revealing more than he wanted to. He held gently onto Merlin’s hand while he searched for the right words. He knew how easily the victims of such attacks blamed themselves, hated themselves, how they struggled with trust, with intimacy, with relationships. He’d seen it all. Through his mother, who had never come to terms with being attacked. He maintained the connection with Merlin’s hand and looked at him seriously, eye to eye.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said eventually. “You can trust me, Merlin. Believe it or not, it’s OK to tell me about this.” Merlin looked up and nodded. Arthur sat back on his chair with a sigh, shaking his head. “My mum is... was… a rape victim. I understand more than you realise.” Merlin’s breath hitched when he heard that revelation. The two men sat in silence for a minute or two. Arthur realised he was still holding Merlin’s hand. He didn’t let go.
“Merlin,” he went on, tentatively. There was one thing he had to know. “Are you getting any professional help?”
Merlin nodded, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. His mother hadn’t. She had withdrawn into her shell, not spoken to anyone. He often felt things might have been different if she had had access to counselling.
“It’s OK, Arthur,” said Merlin. “Most of the time I’m fine. Last night, it was the shock I suppose.” He looked down and swallowed and said in a small voice, “but I understand if you don’t want to be… involved with me. I know I'm a fuck-up…” he trailed off, muttering about self-esteem issues and looking away.
“Merlin!” said Arthur, swallowing his hurt that his friend would think him so shallow and callous. “Now you really are being an idiot!” Merlin smiled wanly but still didn’t let go Arthur’s hand.
“Look,” Arthur carried on. “I’m not very… articulate I suppose. I just wanted you to know that you… I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but you are…” Arthur sighed. He really was rubbish at this sort of thing. “I know I keep insulting you all the time but I want you to know that it’s not because I think badly of you. I don’t. I think the world of you actually. I just wanted you to know that.” He was warming to his topic. “I mean it. I think you’re… amazing. You take my breath away. We’ve known each other-what-two months? And I don’t know how it’s happened, because we are so different, but really I think you’re my closest friend, and I would do anything for you.”
There. He’d said it. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. He’d actually articulated real, true feelings without making a joke about them. Merlin gaped at him and then smiled sweetly, eyes crinkling.
“Anything?” said Merlin, lifting a suggestive eyebrow.
Arthur smiled back, heart swelling at the thought that Merlin trusted him enough to flirt again, and resolving to deserve that trust.
“Anything you’ll let me,” he clarified. Merlin chuckled, then frowned and peered at him, as if realising something.
“Was?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“You said your mother… ‘was’… a rape victim. Not ‘is’”
“Ah. Yes. She took her life,” said Arthur simply. Merlin’s eyes widened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry. Your mother-Jayzus Arthur,”
Arthur nodded and pulled Merlin’s hand towards him. The more he understood about Merlin, he thought, the more certain he felt that they could be good together-scratch that, they could be great together-but that it would take time, they would need to take care with one another, while each of them confronted their demons. Absently he drew Merlin’s hand towards his mouth, eyes closing, and gently brushed Merlin’s elegant fingers with his lips, decision made.
“Merlin?” Arthur said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while now. And now is probably not the right time, but there never seems to be a right time, so it’s going to be now anyway. Merlin, I would like it-very much-if you would… would you like to… maybe…” he gulped. This was so difficult. What if Merlin ran away again? Arthur didn’t think his heart could bear it.
He tried again.
“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, but if you feel you could, it would be really lovely if we could… if you would like to… maybe go for a meal or something? With me? As a. You know. Date?“
Merlin smiled like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, and Arthur was lost in the perfect imperfection of that smile.
“Yes,” said Merlin.