#32 In death, we found our second
Title: In death, we found our second
Chapter: Oneshot
Warnings: Implied character death (it's not really that important)
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 504
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Merlin and Arthur were never really happy with desiny.
Comments: My heart goes out to the real Arthur and Merlin. Personally, I like the thought of destiny, but I don't really think it could be as elaborate as it was for these guys (supposedly). It's a tough topic and no one can really say, you know?
We were the dirt of the world, glorified ten times over and ten again, living in legend for the rest of time and it's not what we wanted, it was never what we wanted but destiny does not allow for our own choices, destiny never allowed for our own choices on the matter so we might as well be mindless animals, dogs for the gods to play with, pull our hair and throw us against the wall when for a while they're done with battering us against things, evil things, all manner of simple things and great big complex and completely unfeasible things that could only ever exist in our world, our beautiful world that houses dirt like us and doesn't complain in the slightest.
We were never meant to be together in the way that we wanted (craved). For all the regret and senseless reasoning, I wish we'd never met, wish we weren't born on this land together, in the same time, under the same stars, endlessly, endlessly running towards the full stop at the end of our miserably perfect sentence, words so round and complete they were born with us in our mouths, touched into our very skin that no matter how many times we bleed or burn or cry we can't be rid, we can never be rid of this pain, this pain that runs alongside our existence that no one will ever forget.
We never stopped running. Even the times when we ran from the kingdom for a seat with the dirt; we weren't standing when we sat, fingering mud and soil, dipping our limbs in rivers and golden twilights (as golden as we'd be remembered), smiling bitterly that we had found our escape but could not live it like we wanted, could not ever want it more than we wanted to repay the air that kept us. We could never stop running, running from something or other, ourselves more than anything, our own eyes for each other and the ways that we kissed. And the ways that we kissed were the worst, always so desperate, always so hidden, we gave everything we had for those kisses, solemnity and gravity keeping us hooked and locked together like how the dirt of the earth moved beneath our feet, bare feet, after having run from the people and into the outside, fearing what was inside less than what wasn't. We thought that as long as we were kissing we were choking the words in our mouths, but none of it was alright, fine, we were just running and we were both so sick of it, so tired and lonely, cold and hungry, hungry for the life that we could never even dip our sights into for a second.
For all the time we have existed, legend or otherwise, with all perks combined, we should have found that second, should have made it our lives to find that second whilst we were still alive, still the mindless dirt that rests on Albion's shore.