Work Text:
“You have a secret.”
Merlin squinted in Arthur’s direction across the dinner table. They were eating at some posh place in Kensington tonight – Arthur’s choice – because Merlin had picked their first two dates and taken Arthur to an obscure film festival and then for kebabs and to the Parkland Walk, both of which had seemed to leave Arthur bemused, lost, and a little out of his element.
Thus the posh restaurant. This was Arthur’s territory.
Merlin, defensive as always, glared a bit at the presumption, but then noticed that the smugness of Arthur’s tone was offset by his eyes clouding over, steadfast on the table and not on Merlin’s face.
“I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin began awkwardly, wishing they were at the stage in their relationship where he could reach across the table to take Arthur’s hand within feeling supremely anxious about it.
Unfortunately, this was the third date, and Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he had even made it this far in a relationship, so he held back.
Arthur grimaced at him, a faraway look in his eyes. “Look – My father is a politician. The only people I spent any time with as a child were his politician colleagues. I knew what a pivot was before I knew what cartoons were. And no one – no one – knows how to pivot like you do.”
Arthur shrugged, a shadow crossing over his face, while Merlin stared, wishing his heart wasn’t racing.
“You deflect,” Arthur sighed. “When I ask you questions. And…you know, whatever, it’s your business. I wouldn’t bring it up, except. Well. I like you. And I want this to, um, go somewhere, and I’ve spent a lot of my life in dead-end relationships where people kept irreconcilable differences far away from where I could see them. So I just…want to know if I’m right. If there’s something.”
Merlin knew, even from three dates and a few meetings with mutual friends, that Arthur wasn’t good at this, didn’t do this, this emotional outpouring with someone he didn’t know. And he didn’t know Merlin, not really, but then again, there weren’t a lot of people who really did. They knew who he was now, sure, but not who he’d been.
Merlin reached forward for his wine and took a heavy gulp.
“I like you, too,” Merlin said hastily as Arthur gave him a worried look, both eyebrows raised in alarm. “I…It’s just normal baggage stuff, you know? Like anyone else has. I promise I’m not like, married or straight or…whatever it is you’re panicking about. Really, I…I want this to go somewhere, too. I’m just not used to it, you know? Dating. Sharing things. I promise, you’ll get all of my baggage in due time, and I’ll get yours. If…if this works out.”
Merlin stopped rambling to look Arthur in the eye meaningfully, to tell him I really, really want this to work out.
Because he did. Arthur was oddly formal and posh and more than a bit brash, but he was witty and irreverent and blushed when Merlin complimented him. Merlin had spent a long time not really wanting anyone, but Arthur…Arthur was different.
“I mean…” Arthur trailed off, a slight smile on his face. “I guess I can’t judge. I’ve got a lot of baggage. I’m sorry, I just. I just wanted to start this out the right way.”
“Then please don’t take me to a restaurant that serves snails ever again,” Merlin said, and though he didn’t reach out, he set his arm on the table, his fingers just brushing the side of Arthur’s wine glass.
Arthur, looking nervous – and that was why Merlin liked him, the nervousness underneath the brashness, the vulnerabilities beneath the arrogance – set his hand down as well, so their fingertips brushed so lightly it might have been imagined.
“I think that can be arranged.”
“So posh,” Merlin shook his head shamefacedly. “Don’t make this sound like a business deal, Pendragon.”
“Sorry,” Arthur hid a smile, and Merlin’s heart rate slowed.
“Of course you went to Oxford,” Merlin shook his head at the white and blue crest that adorned one of Arthur’s bedroom walls, right above his writing desk; probably so that he could stare at it for inspiration when he needed to remind himself just how great he was. “And of fucking course you have their merchandise everywhere.”
“It’s not everywhere,” Arthur said sulkily, throwing himself on top of his expensive sheets not unlike a pouty child. His lips were also very pouty as he batted in Merlin’s direction. “Figures that I brought you to my home to have sex – sex for the first time, I might add – and you’re making fun of my alma mater.”
“It’s just so easy to make fun of,” Merlin couldn’t help but smile, but turned away from the wall to take Arthur by the chin and peck his lips. “Just like you.”
Arthur gave him a disgusted look and rolled away from him. Merlin, laughing, shoved him even further away. Arthur turned back to him with his tongue sticking out.
“Where’d you go to school, then? Somewhere suitably middle-class?”
Merlin bit his lip, wondering how much Arthur would decide he wanted to pry tonight. Hopefully, with the promise of sex in the future, he’d stop eventually. “Erm. Started out in Cardiff, then had a bit of a break before I came to Islington to finish up.”
“Why’d you take a break?” Arthur asked, and it was an innocent enough question, and he surely didn’t mean anything by it, but he definitely noticed when Merlin hesitated before answering.
“Just had some…personal shit to clear up,” Merlin reached across the bed to pull at Arthur’s hand insistently until Arthur heaved himself upward to look Merlin more clearly in the eye. He had a curious look on his face, an eyebrow quirked, but there was shyness to him, too, one that Merlin wished he wasn’t responsible for. “I wasn’t getting good grades, my mum was worried she was wasting money, that sort of thing.”
Merlin thought about making a joke about a trust fund but figured it would fall flat.
“Really, it’s…well it’s not nothing,” Merlin said, figuring that Arthur would be more hurt by a deflection, even if Merlin was excellent at it. Arthur’s expression remained vacant and unchanging. “But it’s not important. Not to me, not to us – it’s something we can talk about in the future.”
“Yeah,” Arthur said, but his voice was a bit hollow, his smile only mimicry of its genuine self. “Okay.”
Guilt welling, Merlin traced a fingertip along Arthur’s hairline, brushing his bangs away. “Look. I know you’ve got shit, too – like everything with your Dad, ever. I’m not going to push you about that. So can you please not push me about this? I promise, I’ll give you all the sordid details someday. I just don’t want to ruin this – our first night together.”
“Sodding romantic,” Arthur muttered, but a real smile was hiding under the shadows of his frown.
“I mean it,” Merlin said, and there wasn’t even a trace of doubt in his words. His head wasn’t quite sure why that was yet, but it was true. “I’ve never…I’ve never wanted anyone to know me, not completely. But you…you’re…”
Merlin’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at Arthur’s slowly widening bright eyes, but then Arthur bridged the gap between them to kiss him and all was forgotten.
“All I’m saying is, pasta sauce generally should come out looking red, not pale pink. Since it’s made of, you know. Tomato.”
“You have no room to talk,” Arthur scowled at him from across Merlin’s dining room table, and Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had a smattering of pale pink sauce across his nose. “You had to look up instructions on how to steam broccoli.”
“This is what we get for trying to eat in,” Merlin stifled a laugh, and reached across the table to wipe at Arthur’s nose. Arthur wrinkled up his face in an extremely endearing way, swatting at him to get away.
Merlin had cooked for Arthur once, in their first dozen dates, but this was the first time that they had cooked together. Merlin had lost track of the number of dates they’d had quite a while ago. He and Arthur were basically in each other’s back pockets most of the time now, which was something different and sometimes unsettling but altogether wonderful.
Three months, and they were already glued together. Merlin was a little lost as to how that had happened. He’d never been one for commitment until Arthur.
“Did Leon decide on a film yet?” Merlin asked, gesturing toward Arthur’s phone, where he’d been waiting for a text confirming their plans for the night. Leon was Arthur’s oldest friend, and he and Arthur’s sister Morgana and her girlfriend Gwen were supposed to come up with a fun plan for the evening that they could all do together.
Leon had complained endlessly about being the third wheel, but had relented eventually.
Arthur took his phone, tapping it a couple of times. “Looks like Morgana wants to pass on a film and go clubbing instead. Cool, yeah? We’ve never gone clubbing together.”
The bottom dropped out of Merlin’s stomach, and the air around him suddenly became much hotter. He could almost feel the pulse of the music, the lights flashing overhead.
He shuddered. “Arthur, I don’t really like clubs.”
“You’ll like them with me,” Arthur smiled brightly at him. “I’ve been told I’m an excellent dancer.”
“Arthur, please, I don’t –” Merlin shook his head emphatically. “Clubs really aren’t my thing.”
“Yeah, but with me –”
“I don’t want to fucking go clubbing, Arthur,” Merlin snapped.
He wasn’t quite sure why his voice came out sounding so angry. He hadn’t meant to be angry.
He definitely hadn’t meant to make Arthur’s face crumple, his eyes becoming blank and unsure, no longer bright and happy.
“Fine,” Arthur said in a small, tight voice, standing up forcefully from the table. His chair knocked backwards. “Whatever.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said, taking a shuddering breath before he stood up, too, and touched one of Arthur’s shoulders, asking permission.
Arthur didn’t offer up resistance, and Merlin wrapped a hesitant arm around him.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said softly, trying to keep his breathing measured. “I’m sorry…just…go. Have fun with your friends; its fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Arthur pulled away from him, his eyes hardened but a little more hesitant, as if trying to read Merlin’s mind and utterly failing at it.
Finally, Arthur seemed to make a decision; but instead of heading for the door, he stomped past Merlin into his living room.
Merlin turned, frowning in surprise, and followed Arthur to find him digging through the shelving unit beneath Merlin’s TV set.
“Um? Arthur?” Merlin asked awkwardly. “What are you…doing?”
“Looking for Slumdog Millionaire,” Arthur said, now shifting through a pile of DVDs. “I saw that you had it the last time I was here, and I’ve never seen it before.”
“Arthur…” Merlin trailed off, realizing what he was doing. “You don’t have to do this. Really.”
Arthur didn’t deem Merlin’s words with a response, instead opening the brightly colored DVD case and sliding it into Merlin’s player. He stood up, heading to the coffee table to pick up Merlin’s remote. Then he finally looked up at Merlin, face set and determined.
“I don’t know how to work your TV,” Arthur said quietly, his mouth set in a hard line.
Merlin crossed the room in two steps to kiss Arthur lightly. Arthur wasn’t overly responsive, but he put a hesitant hand on Merlin’s back that told him that this was okay. Merlin guided him back to the couch, pulling the remote from his hands.
He took a break from kissing Arthur long enough to at least get the movie’s menu playing before he pulled Arthur’s lolling head onto his shoulder and his legs into his lap. Arthur, surprisingly, let him without a fight, without pushing or shoving, without much resistance at all.
Merlin kissed his jaw. Arthur finally smiled a little.
“You’re kind of the best boyfriend ever,” Merlin said quietly after a moment. Arthur shook his head.
“Really? I feel pretty shit at it.”
“No, no,” Merlin kissed him again, the temple this time. “I. I have weird hang-ups. And I don’t really know what it’s like. Being a boyfriend. I haven’t been a boyfriend in….in a long time. I’m not really good at this whole explaining myself thing. Letting people in.”
Arthur was quiet, but kept his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin found a way to keep talking.
“I’ve had some bad experiences in clubs. Some things that…that went wrong there. They make me really anxious, and I haven’t been to one since I was twenty.”
Merlin, despite omitting some key details, realized as soon as he spoke that he hadn’t told anyone this much information in years.
It was a disquieting feeling, but one Arthur quelled as he knotted his hand in Merlin’s.
“I’m sorry, too,” Arthur squeezed his hand, then his wrist. “I’ve always been too pushy. I’ll…work on that.”
“And I’ll work on this whole transparency thing, too,” Merlin agreed, running a finger along Arthur’s wrist, feeling the beat of a pulse. “I promise.”
“You want me to text Leon, tell them to come over here instead?” Arthur asked him, a small and tired smile on his face, and Merlin wondered how he got this lucky.
“Maybe…tell him something came up and we’ll have to do this next weekend,” Merlin leaned in to kiss Arthur a bit more deeply.
Arthur pushed him away with a laugh. “He’ll think that means we’re having sex.”
“We are,” Merlin said with a waggle of his eyebrows that made Arthur erupt in a fit of laughter. “But not until we’re done with the movie. Seriously, this is a great movie. This is not a make out movie.”
“You’re going to watch me watching it to make sure I’m paying attention, aren’t you?” Arthur sighed long-sufferingly and Merlin couldn’t even be mad at the insinuation, seeing as how it was so blatantly true.
Gwaine was thrilled with the prospect of Merlin having a boyfriend, and the next time he came to visit, he loudly insisted to Merlin over the phone that he must, must, must meet this exquisite specimen of man that you’ve grown so attached to, darling. Have to make sure he’s worthy. Not as worthy as I am, naturally, but I am too meager in offering to gain your holy attention.
Gwaine had been annoying long before he moved to France, but he definitely talked more like a douchebag now.
“So you’re the exquisite specimen of man that Merlin’s grown so attached to,” Gwaine enthusiastically pumped Arthur’s hand after primary introductions at the pub.
Merlin had prepared Arthur sufficiently enough for Gwaine’s Gwaine-ness, but still cringed internally as Arthur gave Merlin a nervous glance.
“That’s, ah, me,” Arthur said, expression bemused, and Merlin would’ve slipped an arm around his waist if Gwaine wouldn’t make fun of him for it. But he would. Oh, he would.
“Well, gents, pints are on me!” Gwaine said with a flourish, brushing faux-dust from the back his designer jacket before taking a seat at the bar.
Merlin followed suit, beckoning for Arthur to do the same.
“Gwaine’s a fashion designer in Paris,” Merlin explained to Arthur, which he already had, but figured that small talk was the best way to get through this first encounter unscathed. “He only comes back to England to annoy me.”
“Lies! Blatant lies!” Gwaine shook his head sadly. “He’s been filling your head with lies, Arthur. I am the greatest, most devoted friend that Merlin has ever – or will ever – have. He misses me terribly every day.”
Well, that was true enough.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Merlin shoved Gwaine’s shoulder lightly.
“How did you two meet then?” Gwaine waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “All the sordid details, please.”
Merlin shot Arthur a look, asking which of them should answer, and Arthur, in a show of the bravery he always claimed he had, spoke up.
“Merlin works with my sister’s girlfriend at a non-profit, and we were both at the same charity auction for funding. My sister took a liking to him and started inviting him ‘round to all of her parties. Which she has a lot of. So we started running into each other a lot, I asked him out…”
“Excuse me?” Merlin pushed his shoulder against Arthur’s. “Who asked who out? I seem to recall I did the asking.”
“Well, you were the one who decided where we’d go but first, I asked if you had much free time.”
Merlin stared incredulously at him. It just figured that Arthur would try to take credit for this. “That’s not an ask-out. That’s barely polite small talk.”
“It insinuates something!”
Gwaine chuckled heartily, thumping Merlin heavily on the back. “Oh, I can see how this happened.”
Merlin glared at him and Arthur asked sulkily, “Well then, how did you two meet?”
Merlin and Gwaine barely had time to make eye contact before Gwaine said, “Oh, Merlin is my knight and shining armor and my damsel in distress all bound up in one. I forget who saved the other’s life first. Merlin?”
“I stopped you from crossing the street when a semi passed one time!” Merlin said faux-irritably, but with relief seeping through his bones. “One time, and it’s all you can talk about!”
Gwaine’s chatter carried them through most of the evening, but Merlin should’ve known better than to think that the subject wouldn’t be brought up again.
He and Arthur were walking home – well, to Arthur’s flat, and it should’ve been disconcerting that at four months in, Merlin called it home – holding hands in the dimly lit street, when Arthur said suddenly “So how did you and Gwaine really meet?”
Merlin bit his lip.
“So it was a deflection,” Arthur acknowledged, but his voice didn’t have too much judgment in it, just a kind of resignation. “I thought so.”
When Merlin still didn’t speak, his heart racing a little too much to trust himself to formulate proper words, Arthur asked “Did you sleep together?”
“Yes,” Merlin answered automatically. He could tell Arthur was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “It doesn’t mean anything now, though. We’ve just been friends for years, and we were never really…serious. We just helped each other through a hard time is all.”
Merlin swallowed thickly before adding “That’s not why he deflected, though.”
“…Why did he?” Arthur asked quietly, and was it Merlin’s imagination, or did the grip on his hand get even tighter.
“Because that…that hard time,” Merlin stammered, “was really fucking hard. And neither of us talk about why.”
“Can we talk about it?” Arthur asked almost immediately, and it kind of broke Merlin’s heart, his willingness to hear about this, to understand this, to understand him.
“Soon,” Merlin found himself saying out loud. “I think…I think I can tell you soon. But this isn’t – I’ve never actually told anyone about this before. Some people know, but it wasn’t because I told them. I’ve never consciously made the decision to –”
“To let someone in,” Arthur finished for him, quietly, sadly, and Merlin nodded in assent.
Arthur slowed his pace to link their arms together. Merlin leaned his head against Arthur’s shoulder; grateful, warm, affectionate.
“As long as you didn’t murder someone, it doesn’t matter,” Arthur said firmly, as if it settled the matter. Then his shoulders became stiffer. “Erm. You didn’t, did you? Murder anyone?”
“No,” Merlin said with a genuine laugh. “I promise, it’s significantly better than murder.”
“Oh,” Arthur chuckled. “Good.”
Merlin was toweling his hair, wet from Arthur’s overlarge shower, and was about to meander his way into the kitchen to see if Arthur had made anything to eat; however, he was stopped at the bathroom door by Arthur, phone held up in one hand and staring at it as if it were a bomb about to go off.
“What’s the matter?” Merlin let the towel fall to the floor. Arthur usually would have made some comment about how Merlin couldn’t just leave shit lying around in his house, but Arthur didn’t stop staring at the phone, brow furrowed and mouth set in a hard line.
“My father,” Arthur said tonelessly. “He’s….Morgana says he’s in the hospital.”
Merlin’s heart lurched in his chest as he quickly picked his towel up to hang it on one of Arthur’s many hooks. No need to annoy him right now, not when –
“What happened?”
“A heart attack?” Arthur shrugged, his tone still measured but eyes seeping into helplessness. “That’s what Morgana thinks. She’s on her way there right now.”
“You…” Merlin swallowed thickly. “Are you going to go?”
It was a fair question. The relationship between Arthur and his father was strained at best, even if Merlin wasn’t quite sure as to why. He hadn’t met Uther yet. Six months in – still a little early for meeting the parents.
“I have to, what if…what if he…?” A look of misery flashed over Arthur’s face before he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Merlin wanted to put his hand out, touch him, but found that he was frozen in place. “Will you, erm, come with me?”
There was a lump in his throat and Merlin couldn’t swallow. Arthur’s eyes were soft and vulnerable and almost pleading, come with me, I need you, please take care of me.
Merlin desperately wanted to take care of Arthur.
“I can’t,” Merlin choked out, hand tremoring just slightly. Arthur’s face transformed to one of distrust, the misery all the more evident on his face.
“And why the hell not?” Arthur’s voice clipped on each syllable, the panic behind his eyes threatening to burst.
“You need someone…someone to stop you from breaking down,” Merlin tried to explain, tried to force the words out, so that he didn’t sound like the world’s worst boyfriend. “And if I go to a hospital…I’ll be the one breaking down.”
Arthur furrowed his brow, as if he couldn’t quite grasp what Merlin was saying. “I. I don’t understand. It’s not that difficult to just come to the fucking hospital with me, Merlin.”
“Arthur –”
“No, I’m serious,” Arthur’s voice rose to levels of what anyone else would see as anger, but all Merlin could see was panic and desperation. “I’m so fucking sick of you making excuses – hiding things from me – purposefully trying to make yourself more interesting, that’s what it is. Think I’ll lose interest without some kind of intrigue, huh? This is my fucking father, Merlin, show some fucking respect –”
“You try almost fucking dying in a hospital and see when you’re ready to go back!” Merlin snapped without thinking, the taut strings inside of him snapping suddenly, leaving him off-balance and afraid.
Arthur swayed backward as if Merlin had slapped him, and the tightness of his features suddenly fell into a devastated “what?”
Merlin closed his eyes, trying to stop his hands from shaking too much and utterly failing.
“I was in the hospital,” Merlin said quietly, “about six years ago. I was slipping in and out of consciousness and had vivid hallucinations, and if I go back there, I’m going to panic and freak out, and that’s not what you need right now. You need to be there for your father.”
“This is it, isn’t it?” Arthur’s lower lip trembled as he regarded Merlin with something akin to fear in his eyes. “The thing you don’t talk about.”
“I will talk about it,” Merlin promised, finally reaching out to touch Arthur’s hand. It twitched as if to move away, but then remained steady against Merlin’s. “I will tell you anything you want to know. But right now, your father’s more important and you need to be with him. I promise, I’ll be here when you get back and we can talk about everything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur squeezed one of Merlin’s fingers lightly between his own, and Merlin could feel them shaking. “I need to, need to be with my father,” he repeated a few times, as if to convince himself.
“I’ll…” Merlin hesitated, “walk you down to get a cab, yeah?”
Arthur nodded. They didn’t make eye contact on the way down the elevator, but Merlin pulled Arthur into a quick hug before they left. He could tell from the way Arthur held on a second longer than he had to that Arthur didn’t want to leave.
Merlin felt an arm slide across his chest. He grunted, turning his head and blinking blearily. He hadn’t been asleep, not really, just drifting, but he definitely hadn’t heard Arthur come home.
“Hi,” Merlin nearly smiled at Arthur, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. “What time is it?”
“Little after one,” Arthur said softly. He had a faraway look in his eye that Merlin like, but when he tried to sit up so that they could talk more clearly, Arthur shook his head. Instead, Arthur laid back against the headboard, slumping down until he and Merlin were at equal level, and put an arm across Merlin’s chest.
“How’s your dad?” Merlin asked, knowing that if Arthur was here, the answer couldn’t be too bad, but still dreading hearing the words anyway.
“Stable,” Arthur replied, his hand scrunching up the folds of Merlin’s t-shirt. An anxious habit of his. “He overworked himself – I mean, obviously, he overworked himself, it’s Uther – but his cholesterol was too high. Ate too much red meat. The usual stuff.”
“Good,” Merlin said, before quickly correcting, “well, not good but…good that he’s alright now.”
“Yeah,” Arthur said quietly, noncomitally, and Merlin shifted so that Arthur could pillow his head between Merlin’s shoulder and neck. He liked that.
Arthur nuzzled in and Merlin resisted the urge to kiss him. This wasn’t the time for that.
He shook slightly and knew Arthur could feel it. Willing words to come out of his sandpaper mouth, it took seconds, minutes, or even possibly hours before he said “I overdosed.”
Arthur stilled, his muscles tightening. “Oh. I – I thought it might be something…something like that.”
“Did you?” A wave of panic swept by Merlin, lasting only an instant; the idea that people could see it in his face scared him more than most anything would.
“No,” Arthur said, his voice small. “I mean – I didn’t know what it was. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t want to think about it.”
Merlin knew Arthur and his careful patience over these past few months didn’t deserve a placation, a simple explanation, one that would be easier on Merlin. He deserved….well, better than this, but Merlin would try to give him all that he could.
“It was Xanax,” Merlin said, biting at his pealing lips for a second before making himself move on. “I had bad anxiety when I was a teenager and had a prescription for it. I took it responsibly for a while, but…I started taking more than I should have. I wasn’t fitting in at uni, I still didn’t have any friends; I just wanted to feel normal.”
Merlin swallowed thickly when Arthur didn’t interrupt at all. “Then I started making friends…mainly ones that I smoked with. I started getting high most weekends, drunk on the others. Started doing poorly in my classes, isolated myself a lot. I was…God, I don’t want to say I was responsible about it, because I wasn’t. But I was always careful not to mix the two. Then…Well, I did.”
Lights flashing. The smell of smoke. Panicked voices, violent shaking, screaming in his ear. Flashes of the hospital room, of vomiting again and again, hallucinations of a bright blank empty space that no one was there, no one was coming for him, that he was alone.
“I was twenty – we were. We were out clubbing, some of my friends and I. They kept trying to give me shots, and at some point I just…didn’t care about what would happen next. It wasn’t great. I slipped in and out of consciousness for a while before just collapsing – and it was a little while before anyone noticed what had happened. So I was rushed to the hospital – they pumped my stomach – and I spent the next six months in rehab.”
Merlin felt tears prickle at his eyes. He’d never said any of that out loud before. Not the whole thing. Not at one time. Not to someone like –
“God,” Arthur spoke for the first time, his grip on Merlin’s shirt impossibly tight, his knuckles paling. His hand moved to Merlin’s shoulder a moment later. “I’m. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
“I, um,” Merlin could have stopped now, let be over, but yet he couldn’t. There was more left. There was more for Arthur to know, to understand. “I met Gwaine in rehab. He was even more fucked up than I was, and he got fucked up a few times after I fixed myself. He’s probably the only reason I made it through. I know I’m the only reason he made it through. We…we understand each other. In a way most other people don’t.”
“I’ll try to understand,” Arthur said, and Merlin’s heart almost broke at the determinedness in his voice. Up until now, he wasn’t quite sure if Arthur would tell him to leave or not. “I promise. I – I will try.”
“I know you will,” Merlin moved his head for the first time to look in Arthur’s eyes. He couldn’t bear their bright blue for long, and quickly closed his own to press a kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth.
They were quiet for a moment before Merlin said “I’ve never told that story before. Not to anyone. When I came to London to finish school, I didn’t tell anyone. Not ever. No matter how close we got, and – and not many people got very close.”
Merlin’s hand searched for Arthur’s, and held it tightly when he found it.
“Thank you,” Arthur said quietly, “for telling me. I know – I know it wasn’t easy. And I’m sorry I was – have been – such an ass to you about it. If I’d have known…”
“You didn’t know, and that’s the point,” Merlin said gently, and it must have been the emotional charge of the conversation, but without thinking, Merlin brought their conjoined hands upwards to kiss Arthur’s hand.
He didn’t look at Arthur after that, a blush creeping up his neck.
“I’ll have questions,” Arthur said, voice a little gravelly. “But not right now. Today’s been – I can’t do anything more today. Just – just one thing. What…what made you do it? Get addicted. I mean…you knew the risks. You knew…what could happen to you.”
Merlin worked around the lead in his mouth to say a truth he’d never uttered aloud. “I just. I wanted to be perfect. And I wasn’t. And the Xanax, the pot, the alcohol…that was my way with dealing with it.”
“How –” Arthur huffed out a breath. “How could you think you weren’t perfect?”
Merlin turned to Arthur with wide eyes, a spike of adrenaline rushing through him when he understood what Arthur meant. “I –”
“I just mean that you’re so smart, and so good at what you do, and really care, and you try –”
“I love you,” Merlin interrupted without a second thought, his breath barely there through the tumult of emotions inside of his chest.
Emotions that played out on Arthur’s face when he said “Yeah. That’s – that’s what I was trying to say. I love you.”
Merlin’s disbelieving laugh ghosted over his lips, hardly there. “I’m not – I’m not the kind of person who says that after six months. I’m not the kind of person who says that, full stop. You’re…you’re the best thing about me, Arthur.”
Arthur bit his lip, suddenly shy, face stained pink. “Well, you don’t know all of my secrets yet.”
“Then tell me.”
So Arthur did.