fic: what we are, what we will be
Title: What We Are, What We Will Be
Rating: R
Genre(s): angst, romance
Word Count: ~6,200
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Arthur / Merlin, Gwen / Lance, Morgana
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin.
Summary: Highschool!AU written for adeina_rhyddha in Round One of camelots_closet, involving the theme of Beltane. I forgot to post this up after the reveal, because it’s not me at my best, but I hope people enjoy it nonetheless!
They're sixteen when they first meet. Arthur's a month shy of seventeen and proud of it; Merlin thinks he's an arrogant prat.
"Merlin?" Arthur repeats in his posh, practised accent in front of the entire class. "What kind of name is Merlin?"
Merlin's first day at this prestigious independent all-boys school only gets worse when he finds he shares every single one of his A-level classes with none other than Arthur 'Prat' Penn himself.
"So remind me why you're at Camelot again?" Arthur asks, condescendingly cool from behind Merlin's shoulder in their History class. "I've never heard of the Emryses."
"Scholarship," Merlin replies stiffly, because he isn't ashamed that his family's not disgustingly rich.
"Huh," is all Arthur says as he observes Merlin with a fraction more respect.
They spend the first term - over two months - at each other's throats. Arthur shoves Merlin into the lockers as they pass in the corridor, so Merlin steals his homework and earns Arthur detention with Mr Gaius. The cycle is vicious and unrelenting, but both boys are stubborn, and neither will accept defeat.
(Years later, neither will be able to explain how their furious feud began.)
Eventually, they come to a stalemate a week before Camelot High breaks up for Christmas. Arthur has the hard copy of Merlin's History coursework dangling over a toilet in the form of a flash drive; Merlin has a finger poised on the Send button on Arthur's iPhone.
"Look, mate," Arthur breaks the tension, "you really don't want to send that text to my father."
"I really do," Merlin responds, deadpan, "if you flush my coursework for Kilgharrah, which took me hundreds of hours to do, down the loo."
Five minutes and much shouting later, Arthur and Merlin slowly exchange flash drive for phone.
"Well," Arthur says, after deleting the incriminating text that might have ended his already tenuous relationship with his father, "I need a drink."
Merlin pockets his flash drive, looks at Arthur, and smiles. "So do I. But let me save my coursework to the computer first."
By the end of their second term of Sixth Form, Arthur and Merlin are the best of friends. Much to the surprise of those around them, they are practically inseparable.
"Hurry up, Merlin!" Arthur yells from the wheel of his glossy red Ferrari every weekday morning at exactly 8:30 outside Merlin's modest terrace house. "Stop being such a girl and ditch the neck scarf, it won't hide those ears of yours!"
(The Emryses' neighbours aren't particularly fond of Arthur Penn, but they're hardly going to launch a complaint about the son of the mayor of the city if they want their comfortable lives to continue uninterrupted.)
After school, Merlin is at the Penn mansion, sitting on the carpet of Arthur's room (which could easily fit Merlin's entire house) poring over homework whilst Arthur fetches the tea and biscuits (because Merlin won't stand for allowing the maids to do what every able human being can).
As for weekends, if Arthur hasn't spent a good two hours holding up the Emryses' telephone line bemoaning his father or 'witch' of a cousin, then he's dragged Merlin out to the cinema to watch the latest movie.
In a matter of months, neither boy can imagine a life without the other.
It is inevitable, then, that Merlin soon encounters Arthur's infamous cousin (also referred to as 'the spawn of the Devil' and 'Satan's bitch').
However, they meet not by introduction through Arthur (who had hoped, in vain, for his best friend and cousin to never come across one another, for the consequences would no doubt be dire for his sanity), but pure chance (for fate, both Arthur and Merlin agreed, did not exist).
Whilst Arthur's hobbies include a good deal of aggressive contact sports (much to Merlin's antipathy), in particular rugby and football, Merlin prefers to swim (not that Arthur isn't a strong swimmer; he just gets his kicks from knocking people out in competitive environments). And it is at the local swimming pool during the Easter holidays of his first year at Camelot that Merlin accidentally backstrokes into an unsuspecting Morgana Le Fey.
"I'm so sorry!" Merlin gasps and flails, proceeding to swallow several mouthfuls of revolting chlorine water, and throw splashes of water in every direction thanks to his long, skinny arms.
After Merlin finishes drowning to death, he and the dark-haired beauty of a girl sit on the edge of the pool and introduce themselves to one another.
"I'm Merlin," Merlin says with a watery smile, self-consciously combing his wet hair out of his eyes.
"Merlin? As in Merlin Emrys?" the girl asks, suddenly peaked with interest, and Merlin nods in affirmation, confused. "Well isn't this a coincidence," she says, eyes gleaming with the water's reflection of the lights. "I've heard all about you. I'm Morgana - Arthur's cousin."
"You met who?!" Arthur splutters, causing Merlin to wince and hold the phone a good few inches from his ringing ear. "When? Where?"
Merlin proceeds to regale Arthur with the tale of how he and Morgana bonded at the local swimming pool. By the end of the conversation, Arthur is groaning to himself and muttering incoherently (something to do with God and how unfair life is, Merlin doesn’t quite catch it all). Merlin ignores his woes and adds, "Oh, and Arthur - we're meeting Morgana and her best friend for lunch tomorrow."
Before Arthur can react, Merlin hangs up the phone.
"Merlin Emrys, I am going to kill you," Arthur hisses under his breath as he grudgingly follows Merlin and the waiter weaving through the tables of the restaurant.
"Kill me after dinner then," Merlin replies wittily, "because I'm starving."
Arthur pastes on a polite smile when they near a table with two girls already seated. "Morgana," he says through grit teeth, and kisses his cousin's cheek.
"Arthur," Morgana acknowledges in kind, a smirk playing on her cherry-red lips. "And Merlin, it's so nice to see you again. This is my friend Gwen."
The other girl at the table is, physically, the opposite of Morgana: her skin is dark and smooth, her eyes a warm brown, and her hair curly and black. Arthur would think her beautiful if he were not so busy glaring at Morgana, but Merlin is instantly charming, and the three of them - Merlin, Morgana and Gwen - get on fabulously like a house on fire (a hot, hot fire), much to Arthur's irritation.
Arthur cannot begrudge Gwen, though; she's a friendly, funny girl, if a little coy at first, and he can see that she's taken a shine to Merlin. Merlin himself natters on afterwards during the car ride home about how wonderful Gwen and Morgana are. Arthur can't explain why it annoys him so much, so chooses to blame it on Merlin's rambling tendencies, and the fact that no one in this world who is sane should describe Morgana as 'lovely', especially not his best mate.
The string of get-togethers after the first are endless, much to Arthur's despair, but he can't refuse Merlin (and he would rather not suffer Morgana's lifelong wrath), and holds his tongue. However, to his surprise, Arthur begins to enjoy the weekly nights out; Morgana is bearable with the buffer of friends, Gwen is refreshingly sweet despite her coy affection for Merlin, and Arthur finds out that Merlin definitely doesn't return her feelings. In fact, he is completely and utterly clueless regarding Gwen (and women in general).
"Don't be ridiculous," Merlin shakes his head bemusedly the one time Arthur brings the topic up. "Gwen and I are just friends. She doesn't like me like that at all."
"If you say so, mate," Arthur says, and lets it drop.
(Arthur does find out, one day, that Gwen did indeed like Merlin 'like that'. But by then things are as they should be; everyone's happy, and there are no hard feelings.)
Eventually, Gwen begins dating Lance, a mutual friend of Arthur and Merlin's from Camelot. Their pairing is perfect, and the nights out as a four turn into nights out for five. The dynamic barely shifts; if anything, the group grows closer, and by the end of Lower Sixth, they are planning on hitchhiking together to Ireland during the summer.
Arthur finds himself spending more and more time at Merlin's during the lengthy holidays. If he's not playing football or rugby, he's round at the Emryses. Merlin's mum, Hunith, treats Arthur as a part of the family, and Arthur feels more at home there than he ever has done in the Penn mansion.
Merlin has a summer job, though, to help earn money, and Arthur doesn't understand. They row about it a few times - Arthur tries to hand Merlin money, which Merlin outright refuses. Eventually the argument comes to a head, and he tells Arthur to 'shove your money up your arse and get the fuck out of my house'.
A few days later, Arthur returns without a single penny to apologise, and Merlin accepts it with a sorry of his own. Arthur learns to not meddle in the Emryses' financial status, Merlin realises that Arthur is a very good friend, and their camaraderie continues, unbroken.
School begins with little fanfare, except for the Upper Sixth; for applications for university have begun, and Camelot - teachers and pupils alike - are tethering nervously on the edge. Merlin is faced with the dilemma of choosing between universities offering courses of interest to him, and those which Arthur is interested in. Eventually, after long discussions into the night, Merlin chooses Oxford, Bristol, York, Durham and Edinburgh, whilst Arthur's options are Oxford, Manchester, UCL, Edinburgh and Bristol.
After a month and a half of stress, Arthur and Merlin send off their university applications, and are able to breathe a temporary sigh of relief. They celebrate with Morgana, Gwen and Lance by going out to a local pub. Merlin points out that it's Arthur's eighteenth soon, and that he'll be buying them all drinks, and everyone laughs.
Neither of the boys mention that there is still a chance they won’t be together anymore in a year’s time.
Merlin is the first to receive an offer. (Well, actually, it’s Morgana, but according to Arthur, she doesn’t count.) It’s from York, and it’s a fairly bitter-cold day when they all tumble into the same local pub that’s fast becoming their regular haunt. Merlin buys everyone a round of drinks first, and Arthur can’t help but feel a sense of emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He blames it on the alcohol.
Afterwards, when Arthur’s driving Merlin home in amicable, comfortable, familiar silence, Merlin half-asleep against the passenger window, Arthur says quietly, “Congratulations mate. I’m really proud of you.”
After that, it’s a string of offers for Arthur: Manchester, UCL and Edinburgh. Nearing Christmas, after the Oxbridge interviews, Merlin still only has the one, Gwen and Lancelot two, and Morgana has all five (the bitch).
Merlin is a little concerned; Arthur can tell, and so he tries to distract him. However, it doesn’t help matters that Christmas is Arthur’s least favourite time of the year. It’ll be his birthday again, and the anniversary of his mum’s death.
Arthur and Merlin end up subconsciously trying to bury their troubles by focusing on the other. Arthur spends more time at Merlin’s, annoying him, and Merlin agrees to waste even more of his time with his best mate. It goes unspoken, Arthur’s Christmas blues and Merlin’s anxiety about universities... and the fact that things will all change in six months.
A few days before Christmas, when school’s finally out after a long, hard autumn term, the five friends meet up at ‘their pub’ (they don’t even refer to it by its real name anymore - The Dragon’s Head) to exchange gifts. Morgana buys Arthur a self-help book, which causes everyone to burst into laughter. In return, Arthur gives Morgana a black-haired, punk-dressed Barbie doll with its very own over-sized glasses. More laughter ensues, until it’s midnight, and Arthur and Merlin are left, alone, to open their last presents.
“You first,” Merlin says, shoving his gift in Arthur’s face.
“Fine,” Arthur huffs in mock indignation, taking the wrapped object and beginning to tear it apart. He finds a large, heavy photo album and, hesitantly, opens it.
Pictures. Lots of pictures. Arthur doesn’t even know there are so many pictures of him in existence. The first thought that enters his mind is Who on Earth took these?, but it is quickly forgotten in place of the huge, unbelievable lump that had suddenly grown at the back of his throat.
Slowly, silently, with Merlin watching, Arthur thumbs through the pages of the photo album. There are pictures from a year ago, from when Arthur and Merlin were still deadly rivals, constantly trying to outwit the other. As their friendship grew, the pictures also change to show the two boys together, smiling and laughing; in class, at the library, simply wandering around town, at Merlin’s house, in Arthur’s bedroom. Just random photos taken along the timeline of their relationship without Arthur even knowing. Little, forgotten moments that suddenly leap from the page into his mind, and he relives them intensely in that tiny booth in a modest pub next to his school.
Eventually, Arthur is able to close the album and set it carefully on the table. He looks up at Merlin, still watching his every reaction, and blinks away the moisture in his eyes. “Thanks mate,” Arthur manages hoarsely, pulling Merlin into a bone-crushing hug. Arthur doesn’t allow it to last long; he has never been an advocate of being too sentimental since he’s a man, even if he is entirely comfortable with being physically close to Merlin.
“You’re welcome,” Merlin murmurs into Arthur’s ear before they draw apart. After a beat of silence, Arthur quickly hands Merlin his present.
“I er...” Arthur starts nervously as Merlin begins to unwrap the much smaller package. “I really wanted it to be special, since it’s our last Christmas here and all...” Before Arthur can finish, Merlin is holding a small navy box and staring at it in confusion.
“You’re not proposing to me, are you?” Merlin jokes with a smirk.
“Don’t be stupid, mate,” Arthur scoffs, anxiety momentarily forgotten. It quickly returns, though, when Merlin opens the box, and finds-
“You bought me a car?” Merlin exclaims loudly, head snapping to glare at Arthur. “Arthur, I already told you, I don’t need your charity-
“Merlin, for crying out loud, let me explain,” Arthur protests, trying to wave away Merlin’s intense indignation (bloody hell, you’d think Arthur’s just bought him a ticket to see a musical or something ridiculously girly like that). “It’s not a new car, it’s second-hand. It really wasn’t that expensive, okay? Stop worrying your womanly ass off, do you want to see your new - well, old car, or what?”
It takes five minutes more persuasion for Arthur to drag Merlin outside to see his present. It’s perched against the opposite side of the road, nudging the pavement in its navy glory under a dim streetlamp. “Ta-da,” Arthur says with a hopeful glance at Merlin. “What do you think? I made sure that you’re insured so you can drive it, and I was thinking I could give you lessons or something. If you like. Then I don’t have to cart your sorry backside around all day.”
Finally, Merlin’s face breaks out into a wide, wide smile, and Arthur feels his heart stammer with relief. “I love it, Arthur. Honestly, I do. I... I can’t believe you got me a car!” Merlin gives a quiet whoop of laughter and shakes his head in disbelief. “My mum’s going to love you even more now!”
“Can’t complain about that,” Arthur says with a warm twinkle in his eye as he reaches over and snatches the car keys out of Merlin’s hand. He dangles them in front of Merlin’s face. “C’mon. Let me take you for a ride in it. It’s not my Ferrari, but it’ll do you, you idiot.”
“Yeah,” Merlin nods and shoves at Arthur playfully, “it’s perfect. Thanks mate.”
It’s on Christmas Eve, his birthday and the eighteenth anniversary of his mother’s death, that Arthur figures it all out. He’s received several phone calls since he woke up this morning, including kind well wishes from Gwen, Lancelot, and of course Morgana. Merlin has yet to, but Arthur knows his best friend well - he doesn’t get up before 11 on days when he doesn’t have school.
What Arthur doesn’t know is that Merlin has been awake for hours already. He hasn’t got Arthur a present, though; it’s basically a part of his Christmas gift, and Merlin knows how sensitive Arthur is about his birthday, even after knowing him for such a short time. Instead, he sneaks into Arthur’s house - past the security, past the numerous maids - and into Arthur’s bedroom, where he finds his best friend sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Merlin?” Arthur says, sitting up, “what are you doing here?”
“To see you, you prat, what do you think?” Merlin retorts, perching on the edge of Arthur’s bed and grinning at him.
“Er,” Arthur blinks, “what for?”
Merlin looks indignant. “Do I need a reason to see my best mate?”
They spend the rest of the day just talking; anything and everything, they talk about it all, everything that’s happened over the last year and everything they hope for in the future. Eventually, night begins to fall. Mr Penn still hasn’t visited his son yet, and Merlin thinks it’s time.
“Hey, Arthur?”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t we visit your mother? You and me.”
And that’s how they end up at the local cemetery, standing in front of a beautifully kept gravestone, side by side. Arthur has a bunch of carnations they’d picked up from the local supermarket, and he stares at the ground, silent.
“Do you want to... be alone?” Merlin eventually says, tentative.
Arthur shakes his head in stutters. “No,” he finally manages, voice harsh with its hoarseness and almost a whisper to the night wind. “Stay.”
Merlin nods, and falls into silence once more as he waits for Arthur to bend down, lay the flowers on the wet grass, and stare, mute, at the gravestone.
Half an hour later, they are back in Arthur’s car, drenched this time from the rain that had caught them by surprise. Hair dripping all over the leather seats, Merlin reaches for Arthur’s arm across the handbrake and touches him gently.
“Hey.”
Arthur glances up at Merlin and their eyes meet.
“I’m okay,” Arthur replies, quiet. “I’m okay.”
Merlin nods. Arthur finally starts the car and pulls off, driving in the direction of Merlin’s house. When he eventually drops Merlin off, watches his best friend dart up the steps to his humble abode, then wave one last time before disappearing inside, Arthur knows.
From then on, things aren’t quite the same. They both feel it, but only Arthur really knows why. School starts once more, and the usual routines appear again: wake up, check UCAS, drive to school, classes, check UCAS, lunch, more classes, go home, check UCAS, work, check UCAS, more work, chill, check UCAS, sleep. Merlin is relieved when he receives his second offer, this one from Edinburgh; finally, he and Arthur have an offer from the same university.
Eventually the Oxbridge offers come through too, and it’s good news for Arthur and Morgana, who get into Oxford and Cambridge respectively. But unfortunately, Merlin doesn’t make it. Arthur can’t bring himself to be overjoyed when his best friend isn’t going to share the victory with him, and it’s bittersweet he tastes on his tongue when his father claps him on the back and says Well done son, I’m proud of you in the first time in so many years.
Merlin seems to handle the disappointment well; he never yearned for Oxford like some, and Arthur finds out that the only reason Merlin is unhappy about the rejection is that he knows that whatever other offers they receive from universities, they will not be attending the same one together. Arthur can only sit in silence as Merlin confesses this regret, and tries to deny the quick beating of his heart and the accompanying blossoming ache.
Arthur knows he must attend Oxford, now that he has the offer. If he rejects it, his father would never forgive him. But then, in March, Merlin is accepted by all his other universities - Bristol and Durham - and Arthur, too, gets Bristol. It’s a clean sweep for Arthur, and the choice is obvious, easy. At least, it should be.
“So which one are you going to choose as your firm choice?” Arthur asks as he flicks through a textbook, bored on his bed whilst Merlin taps away at his laptop.
“Probably Edinburgh,” Merlin confesses after a short, contemplative pause. “Bristol is my second. Edinburgh’s got the best course, and Mum says it’s beautiful.”
“But that’s miles away from Oxford,” are the first words out of Arthur’s mouth before he can stop himself.
“Yeah.” Merlin tears his eyes away from the computer screen and smiles sadly. “I know.”
It’s the end of April and everyone’s sent off their university choices on UCAS. Merlin’s going to Edinburgh, Morgana to Cambridge, Gwen to York and Lancelot to Bath. Relaxation is far away, though, as exams are around the corner, and they know they need the grades to make their offers, so despite the warming weather and growing sunshine, everyone’s cooped inside studying hard. Most days now, Merlin and Arthur revise side by side in Arthur’s bedroom, comfortable silence stretching through the hours.
The last day of school falls on the 18th of May. Study leave is to begin, and the earliest exams will start at the end of the month and run into mid-June. Arthur is a little nervous, but he knows he’s prepared well; he just wants to enjoy the last day with his friends without any anxieties.
Unsurprisingly, they end up at ‘their pub’ once school’s out. After a few drinks, they all part ways, except Merlin and Arthur, who, as usual, head back to the Penn mansion. For once, Merlin is driving, and they’re in his new-old car. He’s actually becoming quite good, Arthur thinks absently; no more pressing the accelerator when Arthur says ‘brake’.
“Hey, did you know that Beltane is being celebrated right now?” Merlin muses out loud as Arthur peers absently out of the window at the scenery flying past.
“What?”
“Beltane. It’s a festival celebrated during May by the Irish and the Scots,” Merlin explains.
“Great,” Arthur says with a teasing tone of voice. “Happy Beltane Merlin, you geek.”
“Shut up!” Merlin protests, but descends into laughter anyway.
Neither Arthur nor Merlin have any work in mind for the night, so when they get to the Penns’, they play a few video games on Arthur’s PS3 and snack on junk food. When Merlin pops to the bathroom, Arthur gets up to check his mail and signs in on his UCAS, just to take a look. When Merlin returns, they trade places, Merlin sitting down at Arthur’s desk and Arthur going to the loo.
When Arthur returns, he knows something isn’t right. Merlin is standing, back perched against the desk, and he’s staring hard at Arthur.
“What’s up?” Arthur says, confused but remaining calm nonetheless.
Merlin falters for a moment, looking lost, but then shakes it away and retains eye contact. “You... I saw your UCAS page.”
Arthur freezes. It takes him several seconds to finally respond. “I was going to tell you,” he settles on with a heavy, apologetic tone of voice.
“When?” Merlin demands, now angry, “and why, Arthur? This is your future we’re talking about. Your father - Christ, does he know? Have you told him?” Merlin is incredulous, already knows Arthur’s answer, but asks anyway.
“No,” Arthur replies, quiet and subdued.
“Shit.” Merlin shakes his head and grips the edge of the desk harder. “Shit, Arthur. Why. Why did you do this? Don’t you want to go to Oxford?”
“No!” Arthur finally bursts out with, hands heatedly waving in the air. “No, I don’t! I want to go to Edinburgh, with you!”
Merlin stares with wide, disbelieving eyes at his best friend. “Why?” he asks softer this time. “Why would you want that?”
“Because.” Arthur looks broken as he turns away from Merlin, searching for an answer he has but cannot acknowledge. “Because. You’re my best friend. That’s why.”
“That’s not good enough, Arthur!” Merlin explodes, going from passive to aggressive in but a second and advancing on Arthur. “I am not a good enough reason to throw your future away! Just because I didn’t get into Oxford, doesn’t mean you should sacrifice everything just for me!”
“For fuck’s sake, Merlin, shut up, you sound like my father,” Arthur snaps, and Merlin looks taken aback by the strong language so rare in Arthur’s vocabulary. “It’s my choice, not yours. It’s my life! I can do whatever the hell I want!”
Merlin won’t give up, though, and he presses, keeps pushing for answers he knows are there. “I still don’t get it, Arthur,” he says, moving forwards until they’re a mere metre from each other. “Why would you do that? I’m really not that important. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. It’s just university, Arthur. It’s not the end of the world. And you’ll make new friends, even if you are a prat.”
Merlin’s intended joke doesn’t bring a smile to Arthur’s face. Instead, it falls into a place between a scowl and a lost look. “You don’t get it,” Arthur says tersely, “I... It’s not that simple. I have to go where you go. I have to.”
“No you don’t,” Merlin argues pointedly, stubbornly, “you’re not a five-year-old, Arthur, you can do things without me!”
“No I fucking can’t!” Arthur suddenly roars, and he feels all the control he’s been keeping such a tight grasp on, ever since that day - his mother’s anniversary, his birthday, visiting a graveyard with a bunch of carnations, heavy rain - snap in the sanity of his mind. “I can’t, Merlin, because I fucking love you, and I’ve tried to imagine myself without you, but it just... I can’t, because I am nothing without you, and it’s like I’m sick, because I’ve never felt like this, and it’s your fault!”
For a long, long minute, there is only the sound of Arthur’s heavy, laboured breathing, and the breaking of something indefinable. Arthur can’t bring himself to see Merlin’s reaction; he knows he’s ruined everything now, that the truth is out and he lost it, lost everything. He turns from Merlin’s stare and moves towards his desk, past his best friend.
“Go,” Arthur says blankly, clicking at web pages to shut them down one by one.
When he hears no falling of footsteps, he repeats, “Go.” He presses the Shut Down button.
Arthur turns and Merlin’s still there, only he’s swung around to face him. Gritting his teeth, Arthur moves past Merlin again, towards his bed. “For God’s sake, Merlin, go! Get out!” he shouts this time, anger vibrating in his every word.
At last, Merlin moves. He goes to the door as Arthur sinks into his bed and runs a weary hand through his hair. When Arthur finally looks up, he’s too early, and sees a flash of Merlin’s distraught, lost expression before the door closes. Arthur wonders if that is what he looks like. It is, after all, what he feels.
The month of May - Beltane, Arthur’s mind betrays him with a whisper - passes in a lonely blur. He spends every waking hour revising, seeing no one, only focusing on his exams. No one calls, they’re all busy too, and Arthur bans the maids from servicing him with the exception of dinner left outside his door.
The exams finally arrive, and the first time Arthur sees Merlin again, they’re about to sit a test. They don’t even acknowledge each other - their eyes pass, and Arthur feels the weight of Merlin’s stare, still confused, still disbelieving, and yet something more underneath. They go into the exam room, sit silently, and begin the test.
That is how most of June passes too. By the time the 17th of June comes around, Arthur can’t remember most of the last month. He finishes his last exam, feels a brief moment of elation, before crashing down again. He remembers that he has yet to tell his father about Oxford, he remembers that he has no Merlin; he remembers everything, and it hurts like hell.
The 22nd of June: Arthur can’t escape it; everyone’s finished now, and of course they want to go to ‘their pub’ and celebrate. They’re going to university after all, and they’ve just completed some of the hardest and most important exams of their lives. But Arthur can’t feel that excitement as he sits next to Morgana, in the company of Gwen and Lancelot, nursing a cold, cold beer.
Merlin finally turns up, and it’s the most awkward situation ever. Arthur avoids him all evening, sitting on the other side of the table, and it does not pass their friends’ attention. Morgana pulls him aside at one point, after Arthur’s lost count of the number of beers he’s drank, and hisses for answers, but Arthur merely brushes her away, again and again, until she resigns from trying to fix whatever’s happened between her cousin and Merlin.
It’s soon late, and everyone wants to go home. Except, Arthur’s off his face, and someone needs to take him home; he can’t drive in his condition.
“I’ll take him,” Merlin says quietly as they all watch an unsuspecting Arthur, slumped against the counter in front of the unimpressed bartender.
“Are you sure?” Morgana starts, hesitant, eyes darting back and forth between Merlin’s anxious face and Arthur’s prone form.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
One moment Arthur is sleeping on the counter at the bar, and the next he’s being hoisted into Merlin’s car (the one Arthur bought him for Christmas, so long ago). His head lolls against the window as Merlin thanks Lancelot and parts ways with the girls, sliding into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut.
Once the engine is started and they’re on the road, Merlin says quietly, “You’re a prat. You’re the biggest prat to have ever lived, d’you know that, Arthur Penn?”
Arthur groans his response. “You’re... You’re an idiot,” he mutters.
Merlin shakes his head, half fondly, half not knowing what to do anymore. “Maybe I am,” he murmurs. “Maybe I am, with a best friend like you.”
“I’m not gay,” Arthur suddenly declares, arm smashing into the dashboard as he flails around, only staying put thanks to the seatbelt Lancelot had strapped up for him earlier. Merlin tenses at the wheel, but lets Arthur continue. “I’m not gay,” Arthur slurs, “don’t like men. Women. Girlfriends. I’ve had lots of girlfriends. And you. Want you.”
“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin mutters, quietly dangerous as he halts the car at a red light. “That’s the beer talking.”
“No,” Arthur protests, eyes flipping closed and open again, dazed. “No. You. Love you. Merlin.”
Merlin looks at Arthur, assessing him silently, and then says, “But I’m not gay either.”
Arthur doesn’t answer. He’s sleeping.
When Arthur wakes up, it is two o’clock in the afternoon; he has a pounding headache and he can’t feel his limbs. Wincing from pain all over, he summons a maid to get him aspirin and a glass of water.
Flashes of the night before slowly return to Arthur as he shakes himself awake and climbs into the shower. He’s never been so drunk before, and he wonders how he managed to crawl into bed - even kick his shoes off and throw the covers over himself.
And then he remembers; a vague, drunken conversation with Merlin, sending him home.
Arthur hits his head, foolishly, against the wall of the shower.
It’s nine o’clock and dark when Arthur finds himself climbing into the Emryses’ back yard (and almost falling into a bush). After throwing a few stones at the left window, he’s rewarded with a mop of black hair and a pale, surprised face staring at him from the window, which Merlin hesitantly opens.
“Let me in?” Arthur asks. “Please?”
A few minutes later, he’s sitting on Merlin’s bed, just like he used to, looking at Merlin, who’s at his desk, shuffling some paper together. Eventually Merlin turns his full attention to a quiet Arthur. “What do you want, then?” Merlin says, breaking the silence but not the tension.
“I...” Arthur didn’t know the answer; he’d hoped it would come to him when he arrived. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted to an unimpressed Merlin. “What I said yesterday night, though... It’s all true.”
“Which parts?” Merlin questions, frowning. “You said a lot. Considering I haven’t talked to you in a month after you told me to leave.”
“All of it,” Arthur says, feeling his tongue thicken in his mouth. “I don’t remember every single detail, but... Merlin, I’m not gay. But I... I have feelings... for you. I want you. I care about you. Damn it, you’ve been the most important person in my life ever since you locked me in the caretaker’s cupboard almost two years ago.”
At this, Merlin can’t help but smile, just a little, at the memory.
“I know I should have told you. About everything. But I couldn’t admit it to myself. I couldn’t accept that I had these... feelings, because I knew you wouldn’t be my friend anymore, and my father would hate me - for this, and for Oxford.” Arthur looks miserable as he concludes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess things up like this, but I can’t undo what I’ve done. I’m going to Edinburgh, and I really want us to be friends again. You’re my best friend, Merlin... I really can’t do anything without you.”
Silence falls again, and Arthur can’t bear to look at Merlin. Instead, he focuses on the floor, the intricate, worn-out patterns of Merlin’s bedroom’s carpet, and tries not to panic.
Finally, Merlin shifts forward and his hand moves to touch Arthur’s tenderly. “Hey. I never said anything. You were the one who told me to get out before I could even reply to your confession.” A hint of a joke is in his voice, and he smiles, generous and bright. “It’s my turn now. Arthur Penn. I, Merlin Emrys, am not gay. But you’re my best friend, and you’re everything to me. I’ve realised, over the last month, that I am nothing without you. My mum’s always harping on about us being two sides of the same coin, and yeah, I know it’s cheesy, but I think she’s right.” Merlin’s grip tightens on Arthur’s hand. “I care about you, Arthur. More than you think. And I think I love you too, more than I love anyone else. I should’ve known, really, from the very start, that’d you ruin me forever. I’ve never tried so hard to bring someone down, or made a photo album for anyone else; that’s just too sentimental.”
At last, Arthur looks up, and his eyes meet Merlin’s. The power of emotion in Merlin’s voice is doubly intense in those familiar deep-blue irises, and Arthur finds his breath catching in his throat. “You have no idea how much I’ve been struggling with this too,” Merlin finishes in a whisper. “I didn’t know... don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
All Arthur can do is press their foreheads together, ignoring the drumming of his heart and focusing on the small flare of warmth he’s sharing with Merlin. He’s so relieved he wants to cry; so happy he thinks he could die content, just here, sitting on Merlin’s bed, in Merlin’s room, together.
Epilogue
The first day of university dawns with cheerful autumn sunshine. Arthur and Merlin have arrived in Edinburgh, settled into their individual rooms, and are sitting in Merlin’s now-empty car in companionable silence.
“Called your mum?” Arthur asks.
“Yep. Your dad?”
“Yep. Even though he never wants to speak to me again, he still keeps checking up on me. He never used to do that.”
Merlin chuckles at Arthur’s scowl. “That’s because even though your dad acts like a jackass, he’s actually got a heart inside. He loves you.”
Arthur makes a noncommittal grunt, before looking slyly at Merlin. “I know someone else who loves me.”
“Morgana?” Merlin smirks.
“No, idiot.” Arthur rolls his eyes and leans towards Merlin sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Oh,” Merlin finally says cheekily when Arthur is centimetres away. “Yeah. I remember now.”
Arthur ignores Merlin’s taunting, effectively wiping the leer from his face and shutting him up with a long, zealous kiss, wet with teeth and tongue, and really too much for show considering they’re sitting in a car with windows that aren’t exactly opaque.
“What would I do without you?” Arthur murmurs softly as he draws away, letting their noses brush intimately and staring into Merlin’s eyes.
“Not making out in a car with a bloke, that’s for sure,” Merlin grins, and moves in again for another kiss.