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Merlin sat alone on his bed, only two lights— the moonlight that peeked through his curtains to reveal his hunched over form, and the light from his phone, reflecting dried tear tracks— lighting up the small space.
The tears were long gone, having dried up hours ago, though not as long as he’s been staying there. His spine ached with nearly just as much pain as his heart, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, rereading the message that had broken his heart into millions of pieces.
I don’t love you anymore.
No matter how many times he read it, his mind still wouldn’t accept it even if his heart already had, beating with continuous pain.
I don’t love you anymore.
I don’t love you anymore.
I don’t love you anymore.
I don’t love you anymore.
I don’t love you anymore.
“AUGH!” The scream left Merlin’s throat with a ragged sound, throwing his phone against the wall hard enough he was sure the screen was cracked as it lay, flickering, on the ground.
He dropped his head into his hands, tears flowing anew down his cheeks, his body racking with sobs and hiccups.
“Merlin!?” Hunith rushed into her son’s room, the door hitting the wall with a loud bang, silhouette outlined by the orange tinge of the hallway light. Hunith searched the room wildly until she saw him on his bed, curled in on himself.
She moved her frail body as fast as she could, kneeling down in front of him, hands reaching out hesitantly over Merlin, wanting to hold her baby.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Merlin cracked one eye open between sobs and, through his blurry vision, could see her blue wide eyes and wrought with fear, lines of exhaustion tracing her face. That was all it took for him to wrap his arms around her, tightly but not enough to hurt, comforting both himself and her.
“Oh, my baby. . .” Hunith brought him closer, cradling Merlin’s head against her chest as she rested her chin atop his hair. She drew circles into his back with her hand, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. “It’s okay. . .it’ll all be okay, trust me. Deep breaths. . .”
Hunith moved to sit on Merlin’s bed, her old knees unable to stay crouched like she was, still clutching him to her just as he was her. The two of them stayed like that, huddled around each other on the bed, soaking up one another’s pain and exuding solace, until well past an hour.
Eventually, Merlin’s eyes drooped closed, heavy with fatigue, and he sagged against his mother, his breathing evening out.
Hunith slowly, so as to not wake Merlin, disentangled herself from him and stood from the bed. She gently lowered him down to the bed, resting his head against the pillow, and pulling the covers up to his chin, tucking them around him.
“Goodnight, Merlin,” Hunith whispered into the silent room, brushing Merlin’s bangs back to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, something she used to do all the time when he was younger. Once again making sure he was secure and wrapped up, Hunith made her way to the door, her silhouette framed by the hallway light.
She took one more look at her boy before quietly closing the door, the sound of padded footsteps walking away from Merlin’s bedroom.
- - -
Merlin awoke to the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan. With a groan, he sat up from his bed, his covers falling to the side as his head pounded with a raging headache. A chill washed over Merlin as he left the safety of his bed, goosebumps raising along his arms.
“Brrr, god damn. Is it cold or what?” Merlin muttered under his breath, releasing yet another groan, his bare feet crossing the cold floorboards to the door and out into the hallway, following the smell of food.
Down the hallway and through the living room, Merlin entered the kitchen to see Hunith making scrambled eggs, stirring them up in a pan with bacon in another. By the time he was leaning against the counter, Hunith had turned off the heat under both pans and moved the eggs onto two separate plates.
As Merlin watched her work, words built up in his chest, begging to be let out before they exploded out of him. With a deep breath in, he decided that it was best to not beat around the bush.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
Merlin held his breath as Hunith froze, her head snapping up to look at him, tucking the grey hairs that fell in front of her face behind her ear.
“Oh, Sweetie.” Hunith grabbed a washcloth and wiped her hands off before setting it back down. She walked around the small counter that kept the two of them from each other and placed both of her hands on each side of Merlin’s face, looking him in the eye. “It is not your fault for being human, Merlin.”
“I know that— but this is my last day here and I’ve ruined it and I’m sorry for—" Merlin waved his hands around helplessly, frustration evident on his face, though he did not move out of his mother’s hold.
“You have nothing to apologise for, love.” Merlin opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hunith gave him a single look and he snapped his jaw close. “You’ve been off at this rich, expensive college without so much as a call. Once a month, is that too hard? I can’t wait for your breaks and you come visit me, and it brightens my week when you come here happy and smiling.”
Merlin could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, burning his senses with their salty touch, his nose slowly turning red.
“And it breaks my heart when I see you sad, a lone shadow of the boy I raised.” As she spoke, Hunith’s own chin began to tremble. “But I still love it when you’re here, with me, in this house, no matter what emotional state you’re in. You’re going through something and I want to be here for you in any way that I can. You don’t ever have to hide anything from me, Merlin.”
Though the tears did not fall, Merlin gave a watery smile, his blue eyes crinkling as he hugged his mom. “You are the best mom I could ever have, have I told you that lately?”
“No, but I hear it between the lines.” She pulled back, tucking Merlin’s hair behind his ear with a smile of her own. “You are the best son I could ever have and don't you forget that. Besides, it’s not like you have another mother out there that falls in second place, is there?”
“No, no I don’t think that there is.” Merlin shook his head, a small chuckle slipping past his lips.
“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Hunith patted Merlin’s cheek before placing a small kiss on it. “Now come on, breakfast is getting cold. I made scrambled eggs and bacon!”
Merlin’s stomach decided then to growl and make itself known, he himself blushing red in embarrassment as he hurried to grab his plate.
The kitchen was filled with laughter and teasing the rest of breakfast.
- - -
“Hey, Merlin!” Gwen called from across the courtyard, waving excitedly at Merlin, who sat at an empty bench. With a bright smile on her face, she started walking towards him, slipping between all the other college students who had come back from break, and managing to not hit anyone on her way.
When she was only a small distance away, Merlin greeted her, waving back with his own, slightly dulled, smile. “Hey, Gwen. How was your break?”
“Oh my god!” Gwen gushed, a smile lighting up her face even brighter than before, a rosy blush dusting her cheeks. “It was so good! Me and Morgana visited Lance over the break and we had a picnic in the park and it was so romantic! They surprised me with chocolate-covered strawberries, can you believe it?! Chocolate-covered strawberries, Merlin! My favourite!”
“That’s great!” Merlin tried to put as much enthusiasm as he could into his voice, but he could tell by the falter Gwen gave that it wasn’t enough. “No, really. That’s great, Gwen. I’m happy for you.”
“What’s wrong?” Gwen took a seat next to Merlin, her face so open and concerned that it made Merlin’s heart give a small pang inside his chest. Her hand hovered over his back, asking for permission, and with a small nod, gently rubbed circles into his back.
“Arthur broke up with me.”
Then, the dam broke and the tears began to flood past his eyes and down his cheeks.
“It— it was over text, and all he said was ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ That was it!” Merlin threw his hands up in the air, feeling his face contort with the rush of emotions, the salty burn of tears running past his lips and into his mouth, the clench of his heart. “He didn’t explain anything, or even call. Just a lousy text message, and worst of all— my mom saw me breakdown about it—”
Air came in short gasps, sharp stabs of pain attacking his chest, and Merlin huddled in on himself, hunching over himself. Gwen tried to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear her over the buzzing in his ears, spreading like a fuzz over his brain, dulling his senses.
“M. . .lin? . . .n yo. . .ear. . .e, Mer. . .?” Gwen’s voice floated in like she was above water and he was under. Merlin thought that made sense because it did feel like he was drowning, lungs expanding only to fill up with water, only pain pain pain.
Somewhere, something in his brain registered a hand— who's it was just out of reach, his mind unable to grasp around the name like something slippery. Who was he talking to?— removing itself from his shoulder, a blob of curls moving in front of him. A warm hand placed itself on his chest and Merlin’s eyes strained to make the face out, but then a colder, larger hand was placed on his left— or was it his right? He felt as though up was down and down was up, so he wasn’t the best judge of direction— and he tried to look towards the hand, but the blob of curls gently put her hand on his face and pulled him back to her.
“Br. . .the in. . . at’s it. . .” Her hand was steady on his chest, grounding him enough that he slowly began to focus on her, her voice becoming clearer. “Breathe out. . . slowly, there you go. In. . .hold it. . . now breathe out. You’re doing great, Merlin. Can you hear me?”
Merlin’s breathing evened out after many more controlled breathing instructions, finally getting a grasp on reality. He gave Gwen a nod, his guilt twisting his gut as he saw her slump in relief.
“You okay there, Bones?” A velvety voice asked from Merlin’s left— so it was his left— and Merlin could not restrain his jump, his eyes widening as he turned to face Morgana, her black curls pulled back into a french braid that ran over her shoulder. Merlin’s gaze went from her face, an odd look hidden in her eyes, to her hand that was still on his shoulder, which she removed when she saw where he was looking. “Sorry, Bones. How you feelin’?”
“I—” Merlin licked his lips, finding them and his mouth dry when he tried to speak. “Better, thanks. Sorry, I guess I hadn’t really let myself. . .cope.”
Morgana glanced at Gwen briefly before sitting down next to Merlin, brows furrowed together. “About what?”
“Arthur broke up with me.” The words felt odd on his tongue, scratchy and wrong, and he watched as Morgana’s eyes darkened, her face clearing of any confusion and being replaced by understanding.
That was how Merlin found out that Morgana already knew.
She didn’t say anything, Merlin thought that she could see that he knew in his eyes like he could hers, only scooched closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.
It felt like a betrayal wrapped in a kind face.
- - -
Eventually, Merlin came to a form of acceptance, though some would call it his depression arc. He allowed himself to fall into a mindless slump, living day after day just passing without actually taking anything in, acting as though he were nothing but a puppet that had its strings pulled.
He still went to his classes as he had before and took the notes as he was supposed to take, though he couldn’t be bothered to hang out with friends or take care of himself. But Gwen still made the effort to hang out with him in the library, to help him with assignments, and remind him to actually shower every other day.
But Merlin could tell she was getting worn down by the constant effort she was putting in for him, her smile a dull shine compared to the sun that it usually was. Guilt picked at his heart until he just stopped answering her calls, staying silent on his bed whenever she knocked on his door, calling his name, and even stopped visiting the library entirely.
Make no mistake, the guilt still kept him awake at night, but he could breathe a little easier during the day knowing he wasn’t a burden resting on Gwen’s shoulders much like the devil on his shoulder.
One day, during the middle of his palaeontology class, a random spike of pain unlike any other that he’s felt struck at his heart. The pain, in turn, forced him to inhale sharply which caused his lungs to burn like fire with each breath, oxygen only fanning the flames.
He stood abruptly from his seat, no one even sparing him a glance as he gathered his bag and notebook, rushing out of the large room as fast as he could. The doors slammed shut loudly behind him, but he just kept moving, his speed just shy of sprinting down the halls.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God—” Merlin kept muttering to himself, eyes darting around the halls and corridors.
After an agonisingly long time, in which Merlin spent frantically holding down the acidic vomit that increasingly climbed up his throat with each step, he finally spotted his destination: the bathrooms.
His hands reached out to grab the handle, his mind moving faster than his body as he tried to pull it open before he managed to turn the handle first. Therefore, his shoulder— thankfully his face was spared— rammed right into the metal frame and he stumbled backwards, cursing harshly as he shook it off.
Properly opening the door this time, he slipped into the bathrooms and did a quick run down of the stalls through his blurry vision to make sure no one else was in there with him before he locked the entrance.
Saliva pooled in his mouth and it was all Merlin could do to not swallow it down as he dashed into the nearest stall, falling to his knees and retching into the porcelain bowl, hands clutching the sides of the toilet as he gagged.
It was one of the worst things he has ever felt, starting out with dry heaving leading into actual vomiting, blades of the world’s sharpest knives being dragged across the inside of his throat only for salt to be doused onto the wounds.
Merlin spent his time wishing for the pain to end, over and over and over, hunched over and clutching onto the toilet, but it never did. It only grew stronger, spreading past his lungs to his chest, and then straight to his heart, wrapping a firm grip around it and squeezing until he felt as though he would never be able to breathe again.
It was a long time before the hurling came to a close and Merlin was finally able to pull himself away from the toilet with shaky arms, falling back onto his knees. Merlin released a quivering sigh, a choked sob tearing at his already damaged throat to spring tears anew.
Calming down was its own adventure, testing the limits of breathing in and out, steadying his heartbeat, and managing the pain that pulsed through his body irregularly. His head found itself rested on the toilet seat, relishing in the cool surface taking away the heat that was emanating from his forehead.
Though once Merlin found himself stable enough, he immediately realised that his face was on a toilet seat where people put their asses on and did the doo, and shot straight back up.
A shiver of disgust crawled down his spine just in time for a rush of blood to go straight to his brain, a pounding headache making itself known. It lasted a minute or two longer than he’d wish for it to, but it was nothing but a slight in the back of his mind when it passed.
As Merlin wiped his face of tears, a bitter curiosity dragged his attention towards the toilet, where what should’ve been in his stomach was, looking into the mess. His eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock.
Inside the toilet were blood coated petals.
“Oh.” Merlin blinked drowsily, slowly, his words slurred. “T’at’s not good.”
Inside the toilet were blood coated petals of pure white with a green centre still attached to their ends.
Merlin’s eyes began to roll, his body going limp and it was by luck that his head didn’t smash into the toilet, just missing by a hair's breadth. His body hit the ground hard, a ‘thud’ echoing in the empty space.
There Merlin lay, blacked out on the cold tiled floor, blissfully spared of the pain temporarily as his tears dried.
- - -
Merlin sat up, a pulsing in his temple that he was slowly getting used to waking up with, his limbs achy and stiff, mind groggy as he tried to recall how’d he gotten there: lying on the bathroom floor.
“Wha—” His voice broke, scratchy and weak, throbbing with each breath, as he lifted himself up from the ground, arms trembling slightly under his weight. As he moved, his mind swam from the motion, squinting his eyes and blinking rapidly as his vision blurred. “What on earth happened?”
Merlin’s gaze travelled to the toilet, which wreaked with that of something foul, a recollection of memory after memory of recent events, starting at the middle of his class to passing out, flashed brightly in his mind like neon lights.
“Oh,” Merlin stated plainly, standing up with a grimace on his face, eyes still trained on the blood and bile coated petals. Vaguely, Merlin felt himself pull out his phone and snap a zoomed in photo of the petals before stuffing his phone back in his pocket.
With his mind racing with everything and nothing, Merlin flushed the toilet and exited the stall, walking as though in a trance to the sinks.
Merlin splashed water onto his face, scrubbing hard at the flesh until he felt cleaner than what it had been. His skin was red and flushed with irritation by the time he was done with it, glaring at his reflection, clutching at the sink reminiscent of when he’d clung to the toilet like a lifeline.
“What is wrong with me?” He asked himself, putting all of his weight into his arms as he did, the blinding bathroom lights turning his skin pallid and unflattering. Merlin bared his teeth, curling his lip upwards with disgust flashing in his eyes when they reflected yellow even though they weren’t this morning.
One thing Merlin knew was that NONE of this was normal and he had to figure out what on earth was actually wrong with him. He already had a stop in mind: the library.
But first, Merlin thought, pushing himself away from the sink, he had to brush his teeth.
So, the dorms were first.
- - -
Merlin entered through the library’s large doors, the college’s collection of books larger and more expansive than any library he’s seen prior. Shelves lined the capacious room from the ground to the ceiling, moving ladders placed everywhere with the exception of where the spiral staircases were, leading to the second and third floors.
Signs marking book sections by genre, going alphabetically, were hung around the library to which Merlin immediately searched out the “Health & Wellness” sign. He followed it down the aisles, eyes scanning the spines for what he assumed were rare diseases.
He found the section on the second floor, following the books as he muttered under his breath the alphabetical order, “Ac. . .Af. . .Be. . .Co. . .Dr. . .Fo. . .Ju. . .Lu. . .Ph. . .R! Finally!”
Reaching the ‘R’ section, Merlin looked more closely at the books, running his fingers down and across them as he inched down the hall. Books on all sorts of diseases were scattered around amongst some books on rage management, which he ignored.
Merlin picked the books at random, piling them up in his arms until he felt as though they’d fall off. Next was to go back down the stairs, hugging the books to his chest as he staggered down the steps, limbs tingling with anxiety.
Slowly, inch by inch, step by step, Merlin made it down to the ground floor, walking quickly over to a table far away and isolated from the stragglers and groups of study buddies also in the library.
“Oh my god, that was a nightmare.” Merlin dropped the books into a stack on the table, slumping into his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Now, time to get to work.”
He tapped his fingers in an odd pattern on the wooden table, heaving yet another sigh before he grabbed the book that rested on top of the others, pulling it to sit in front of him.
“Research and Mania: A Close Look at Rare Diseases.” Merlin raised a singular eyebrow at the title, shaking his head as he opened it up to the table of contents, skipping right past the front matter of the book. “This. . .is going to take a while.”
Merlin looked forlornly at the last page number— 562 pg.— to the five books stacked over each other, all equally as thick as the one in front of him, and back. With dread and preparation of future back pain, Merlin began to read.
He read about Aarskog Syndrome, a rare genetic condition that is determined by short stature along with facial, limb, and genital mutations. He read about achalasia, a disease of the oesophagus that is characterised by a difficulty or an impaired ability to swallow and push down food to the stomach. He read about bartonellosis, a group of diseases originating from the Bartonella genus, which contains 22 species of bacteria. He read about enterobiasis, a pinworm infection found primarily in children.
He read about lafora, a neurological disease that occurs when the body does not process glycogen. He read about Sakati Syndrome— also known as acrocephalopolysyndactyly— which is determined by the premature closure of the fibrous joint between certain bones of the skull. He read about ulcerative colitis, defined by the constant inflammation and ulceration along the lining of the large intestine. He read about yellow fever, a viral infection that created damage along the liver, heart, kidneys, and the gastrointestinal tract.
He read the entirety of “Research and Mania: A Close Look at Rare Diseases” with not a single mention of vomiting flower petals and blood. Just as Merlin had predicted, his back had begun to ache and he had only finished the first book, which he had pushed off to the side after grabbing the next book.
“The show must go on, am I right?” Merlin asked himself dryly, shaking his head before splitting the book open and starting again. He saw a majority of what he had read, though he did find some new things, like pompe, a disease caused by the lack of an enzyme which causes the nerve and muscle cells to break down through communication.
Hours passed by with not a glimpse of his situation present within the pages, all books read through with crusty, strained eyes.
Merlin resisted the urge to yell and scream in frustration, instead choosing to stand up, which caused his spine to release a loud and satisfying crack, and bring the books to a cart nearby that had a sign on it that read: “Picked out a book & done? Leave it here! We’ll put it back for you!”
It was one of the only blessings he could see so far, as was the kind, elderly librarian that just passed by him. A lightbulb went off in Merlin’s head and he kicked it into high gear to catch up to her, which was really just a few steps due to her walking with a cane.
“Uhm— Mrs. Thompson?” Mrs. Thompson turned her warm, honey brown eyes to him, blinking up at him through her large, round glasses before recognition shone in them.
“Oh, hallo, dearie!” She smiled brightly, lifting her non-cane hand out to him and patting him on the shoulder. It was so light Merlin could barely feel it touching his skin. “How many times have I told you to call me Susan?”
“Many times, Mrs. Thompson. Many times.” Merlin replied with a smile of his own. “But, how many times have I told you that it just doesn’t seem right for me to call you that?”
“Even though I’ve given you explicit permission to do so?” Mrs. Thompson looked at him pointedly, lips pursed though not with irritation.
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck abashedly, a flush slowly creeping up to his cheeks. “I—”
“It’s okay, dearie.” A twinkle in her eyes told Merlin she had just been pulling his leg. “Now, what did you need?”
“Do you know anything about a disease that involves throwing up. . .flower petals?” As soon as the words left Merlin’s mouth, he realised how odd that was and began to panic. “You see, my friend mentioned it to me one day and I didn’t believe him but I couldn’t find anything about it in the ‘Health & Wellness’ section and—”
“Oh, dearie—” Mrs. Thompson cut Merlin off, breaking out into chuckles, raspy but not unpleasant. She leant heavily on her cane as she did, Merlin staring at her with an incredulous expression until she calmed down. “Sorry, dear, it’s just— what you’re talking about is the ‘Hanahaki Disease’ and I assume that what your friend forgot to mention is that it’s a fictional disease.”
“What?” Merlin’s mouth went dry, feeling his skin grow cold and clammy as he watched Mrs. Thompson continue to talk, not noticing his shock.
“Well, I would know because it is my favourite trope that falls under the fantasy genre. My daughter, Heather, have I told you about her?” Mrs. Thompson paused, brows furrowed momentarily in thought before she waved her hand. “Pah! Anyway, she’s started this book called “You Remind Me of the Flowers” and it’s about this girl who’s heart gets broken by her then-boyfriend. That’s how she gets the disease, throwing up rose petals.”
“Oh.”
“Ah, sorry for going off on a tangent there.” A sheepish smile crossed Mrs. Thompson’s face as she pushed up her glasses, which had slid down her nose when she spoke. “Would like to know where the general fictional diseases section is or where—”
“Yes! The first one, please, sorry.” Merlin couldn’t see the sky, but he knew he’d been there for a long enough time that the sun had to have gone down. That said, he didn’t have much time to talk to her as he would have liked.
“Alright, alright. Now, let’s see. . .” Mrs. Thompson reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she brought it closer to her face before her eyes began to scan the list. “Ah, there it is!”
“Hm?” Merlin attempted to read what the list said, but the handwriting was so scrunched together that he couldn’t.
“Pah!” Mrs. Thompson grabbed a note card and pen— from where Merlin didn’t know— and began to transfer some of the list over. “I keep a list of books that I use to base off of when I write in my free time. I keep them organised in order of topic and I just happen to have some books on fictional diseases.”
“That’s useful to have, I suppose,” Merlin said, for a lack of anything better to say. She finished just then, handing the card to Merlin.
“I’d presume you know where the fantasy section is?” She raised her eyebrow in a way that said ‘you’d better.’
“Yes, thank you for your help, Mrs. Thompson.” Merlin thanked her before turning on his heel, a smile growing on his face as he heard her mutter under her breath “it’s Susan.”
After a few seconds of looking, Merlin wandered into the fantasy section of the library, a section that took up a lot of space due to its popularity. He glanced at the list and started with the first book on it: “A Guide to Mythical Diseases” by L. T. Marrow.
Not very hard to find, though it did take a minute to pinpoint. Next, he went down the list, finding book after book until the list ran to its end and Merlin could finally go back to sitting down and relieve himself of the stack of burdens in his hands.
Once more, he dropped them onto the table with a sigh and started with the book at the top of the stack, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes every now and then.
It was between a yawn that Merlin found what he was looking for, though he nearly missed, flipping the page. Merlin jolted when his sluggish brain processed it though, flipping back to the page so quickly that it nearly ripped with the force.
Merlin’s eyes devoured the page with fervour, focusing intently on every single word, every single detail that he passed over.
In the corner of the page, there was an illustration of a pair of lungs with stems branching from their centre, growing from within them were rose petals, adorning the stems prettily.
A quote was wrapped around the lungs, saying: “You made flowers grow in my lungs and, although they are beautiful, I cannot breathe.”
Merlin felt that that— the quote and the illustration— were very accurate in terms of. . .whatever was happening to him.
Reading further down, he continued:
“Hanahaki is a fictional disease in which a patient grows flowers in their lungs in consequence of one-sided, or unrequited, love.
The flowers will continue to grow inside the lungs and the patient will continue to cough up flower petals, along with blood, until they have succumbed to death.
The flowers thrive off of your nutrients as though their own, no matter if you starve yourself.
Along with bouts of coughing, the patient will exhibit difficulties breathing from time to time, increasing in severity the longer the disease remains untreated.
Reasons for hanahaki disease:
Denied Love Language— denied romantic touch, acts of service, gifts, and messages.
Endless Waiting.
Distance.
Person of Interest Does Not Actually Know You.
Refusing To Move On.
One-Sided Relationship.
Denial.
Only two cures have been known to exist; physical removal and the love in question becoming requited.
If one does, indeed, physically remove the flowers from their lungs, the disease still has the possibility of coming back. Another side effect of the medical procedure is that the memories of the person who does not return the patient's love will also be removed.”
With shaky hands, Merlin pushed the book off to his left, keeping it open to the page he had it on. He ran through the rest of the books in a daze, all of them saying things along the same line as the first book had.
A fictional disease.
Death, surgery, or requited love.
Only one problem came with that: it was a FICTIONAL DISEASE!
There was no way a doctor could actually remove the growing flower from his lungs so his only options left were to die or convince Arthur to love him again, love him fully and truly, which seemed rather difficult since he hadn’t seen neither hide nor hair of the man.
“Crap.” Merlin slammed the last book closed, the sound echoing loudly throughout the space which earned him glares from some passerby. “Sorry.”
Merlin, quietly, hit his head against the table, letting out a muffled scream of frustration, not caring how crazy he might have seemed to anyone looking at him. His life was ruined and he could do as he fucking wished, screw what anyone thought of him.
He would live his life how he wanted to and that started tomorrow, but if anyone noticed him grabbing books on flowers and their meanings, no one said anything.
- - -
“So I said to her, ‘I am a man of many talents, to which ones you perceive is of your own volition,’ and she rolled her eyes!” Gwaine exclaimed in faux fury, hands flying wildly in the air. “She rolled her eyes at me, Merlin! I can’t— annnddd you’re not listening.”
“No, no, keep going.” Merlin waved his hand half-heartedly, blue eyes glued to the textbook in his hand. “I’d love for you to keep explaining why your English major is cock-blocking you.”
“Hey!” Gwaine squawked, a scowl quickly overcoming his features as he swung his fist into Merlin’s shoulder’s. “Wise-ass.”
“Ooh.” Merlin tutted, not at all affected by the hit as he shook his head in disappointment. “Better watch that mouth of yours, there’s a hot scene chick at nine o’clock.”
Immediately, Gwaine’s attention was hooked, his eyes swivelling to catch her. He released a low whistle under his breath, looking her up and down as she walked their way.
She was very fine looking, pale skin contrasting sharply with the black eyeshadow under and over her eyes, dyed pink hair in a side part that went over half of her face with a raccoon tail strip in it. She wore many layers with rips all over the clothing even though it was nearing the height of summer, most of them dark coloured, too.
“Okay, watch this. I’m going swoon her with my english major rizz,” Gwaine whispered secretively to Merlin, patting his best mate on the shoulder before walking over to the scene girl. “Hello there, Mada’am.”
Gwaine bowed, swiftly taking her hand into his and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Gwaine peeked up through his bangs to see a slight flush rise to her cheeks and bit down on his grin.
“Hallo,” her voice was soft and not at all like her hard-core exterior that it took Gwaine off guard for a slight moment before he straightened his spine, getting his act together.
“Well? May I have the honour of knowing my lady’s name?” He let go of her hand, but did not lose eye-contact with her.
She grinned impishly, batting her eyelashes teasingly. “I don’t know, may I know yours?”
“Why I am the great, the noble, the daring— Gwaine Green, known by many, yet known by so few.” Gwaine bowed once more, taking delight in her bell-like laughter. “Now, I do believe it is your turn, m’lady.”
“My name’s Bee, though I wouldn’t mind you calling me ‘m’lady’ instead.”
Now Gwaine shared her impish grin, leaning against the wall. “Well, Bee, I just wanted to ask you one thing.”
“And what’s that, Gwaine?” Bee looked curious almost, tilting her head to the side and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Would you like to be the Helen to my Paris?”
It took a second for it to register, but as soon as it did, Bee both coloured and laughed brightly.
“I think I’d be okay with that,” Bee said with a smile, offering her hand to Gwaine. He took her hand in his and pushed away from the wall.
“Where are we going, m’lady?” He asked as he turned and winked at Merlin, who only rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“My etymology class, I’m sure the professor won’t mind your being there if you just keep quiet.”
“Me? Loud? Never.”
As they walked, their voices got farther and farther from where Merlin stood, book still in his hand. Merlin could only shake his head and sigh, cursing Gwaine’s luck.
Suddenly, an overwhelming bout of pain flooded Merlin’s senses and the blood drained from his face. Through his pain-clouded brain, Merlin immediately knew what was going to happen.
He knew one other thing and that was that he had to get to a bathroom, and quickly, too.
So, Merlin bolted, running towards the direction of the bathrooms, the book clutched tightly in his hands. He ran into someone’s shoulder when turning a corner and briefly spared a moment to apologise before he continued to run.
- - -
Arthur walked along the corridors, hands stuffed into his pockets, wearing a loose tee and trousers. He was deep in thought as he went, not worried about making it to a class due to him being on his free period.
Lately, Arthur found that his thoughts returned to one man in particular, no matter how much he distracted himself from him: Merlin.
He’d seen Merlin in passing and it had only been for a few seconds at a time, but in those few seconds, he’d seen Merlin looking. . .awful.
Arthur had thought he’d seen Merlin at his worst before, with a case of pneumonia, broken up over his childhood crush’s— Freya— death, but all of those seemed to pale in comparison to what his boyf—
His ex looked like now, far paler than he’s ever been, cheeks sunken in and making his cheekbones more prominent, and the dark circle that lay under his eyes.
Guilt ate at him, denying him relief even in the simplest form of joy: hanging out with his friends. None of them knew how to help for the main reason of Arthur not telling them anything and their patience had begun to run thin.
Arthur was just dwelling on this very thought when he was about to turn the corner at the end of the hall before a blur of black, blue, and tan ran into him. The outside momentum caused him to stumble backwards, but thankfully he didn’t fall on his ass.
“Sorry!” The voice, familiar and male, apologised as he continued to run, reaching the end of the hall in the matter of a few seconds.
Arthur wobbled and his arm shot out to steady him against the wall to his left, leaning against it heavily. His mind raced to put a name and face to the voice and when it did, he was thankful for the wall holding him up.
“Merlin?” Arthur’s own voice was quiet, tiny and soft, in comparison to the emptiness around him.
He had had Merlin in his grasp and in the blink of an eye, he’d missed his chance, too consumed with his own life and, for a second, pondered the thought of going after Merlin.
The thought was immediately pushed away, but Arthur was intent on approaching the man the next time he saw him.
- - -
“Come on, Merlin! Just answer me, you’ve been so distanced lately and—”
“Lance, please—” Gwen spoke between laughs, one hand to her chest and the other on the bench table to keep her from falling off, her eyes alight with joy. “Give Merlin a break, love.”
“No, no. Don’t stop him, Flowers. I do rather enjoy him tormenting Bones with questions that he should at least have the decency of answering.” Morgana grinned, cheeks flushed from her own laughter. She sat between Gwen and Lance, her arms wrapped loosely around their shoulders as she turned to Lance. “Don’t stop on her account, keep going.”
“Alright, Merls. Two of the Triple Goddesses have given me permission and there is no denying them,” Lance said with a grin of his own, which made it very clear that he’s been adopting Morgana’s ways more than he’s been Gwen’s. “Why have you been avoiding human interaction and look as though hell froze over?”
All eyes went back to the man in question, Merlin, who sat at the bench across from them, staring unblinkingly at him until he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it.
“So right into it, I see.” Merlin sighed, dragging his hand over his face, leg beginning to shake as he turned away from them. “Well, uhm— that’s because I am. . .”
Merlin trailed off, mumbling the rest so quietly that the others could not hear him.
“What was that? We couldn’t hear you over the wind.” It was a joke, a sad one, since the wind was as still as could be, but Lance could tell some levity was needed with the way Merlin’s face was downcast, eyes darkened with a heavy burden.
“I said—” Merlin took a deep breath, scrunching up his face and courage, before lifting his eyes to meet the trio. “I’m dying.”
A beat of silence passed, and then another, before Morgana broke out into chuckles. They quickly died off though when she noticed no one else was laughing along with her, and Merlin had just this look of a kicked puppy on him.
“You— you are kidding, right?” Merlin only shook his head and beside Morgana,
Gwen released muffled sniffles, burrowing her face in Morgana’s shoulder. “Come on, Bones. This isn’t funny, cut it out.”
There was an undertone of pleading in her voice, one that weighed heavily on Merlin’s heart, crushing and tearing at the organ, as did Gwen’s tears. Lance was the only one who hadn’t said anything, hadn’t reacted to anything, and it was with one glance that Merlin knew he was in shock.
“I’m sorry.”
And he truly was, he didn’t want to die, to leave his friends, his mom.
It wasn’t fair on any of them.
“So, what is it?” Morgana asked, holding her partners closer, tighter than before. Merlin knew it was for all of their benefit, it was their comfort and safety net. “Cancer? Bone marrow cancer, kidney, lung— no, you don’t smoke and it’s not hereditary. Is it skin cancer? But you don’t get enough sun as it is. I know men can get breast cancer, is that it? What is it, Bones? What the fuck is killing you?”
“Morgana—”
“If you don’t fucking tell me, I’ll—” Morgana’s eyes were red-rimmed, lower lip trembling as she spoke. Gwen wrapped her arms around Morgana’s waist, shoulder’s shaking with silent sobs. Lance took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb in circles along the back of it. “I don’t know what I’ll fucking do, Bones, but I’ll tell you this: tell me what the fuck I can do and I’ll pay for the treatment, whatever the cost.”
“Morgana.” Merlin spoke her name with insistence, begging her to just listen to him. “It’s. . . it’s not— it’s far more complicated than that, Gana.”
The cries and hiccups were torn from her lips and she could no longer maintain her composure, hiding her face in Gwen’s hair, clutching Lance’s hand with all her might.
Merlin got up from his spot and walked to her in a few short steps, and awkwardly, for it was difficult to find a place in the mess of limbs, hugged her.
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t stop saying it and each time is no less true than the first.
“I want to help you, Bones.” Morgana repeated, desperate. “Just tell me how to help.”
“It’s hard to explain,” Merlin groaned, pulling back from the pile of human bodies, suffocating in their presence. “The disease is not very common, actually— it’s not even supposed to be real! It’s a made-up fucking fictional disease that’s not supposed to exist or be ruining my life!”
That caught their complete attention, all three looking at him with scrunched faces, eyebrows pulled together, eyes squinted slightly, and mouths open as though they were about to say something but nothing was coming out.
“You’re taking this much better than I first did. I passed out when it happened, and when I learned what it really was, I was resigned, though I take it that your reactions are due to shock rather than any real processing.”
They nodded as one and Merlin realised how eerie that actually was, and then his heart ached because he saw that to be so in sync with one another, to be so. . .connected, they loved each other.
He managed to push the hurt away before it consumed him, he wasn’t going to live in jealousy for what time he had left.
“So. . .there’s really nothing we can do?” Morgana spoke up once more, sounding much stronger than before.
“Well. . .” Merlin fidgeted with his hands, twisting them in ways that should be painful, but weren’t. Already he was grateful to have them and be able to call them his friends, to have their complete support. They hadn’t even believed him to be lying or demand proof, which would have been expected from just about anyone else, but not them. “There’s one thing, but I don’t really think—”
“Spill it.”
Merlin turned wide eyes to Gwen, who hadn’t said anything since he shared the. . .news. Her eyes were teary but set in determination, lips pursed, leaning forward towards Merlin.
“Uhm—” Merlin cleared his throat, digging through his bag that rested back where he’d previously been sitting and pulling out a handful of books. “Okay, so. . .”
- - -
“Arthur!” Morgana stormed into her brother’s dorm room— a single room, therefore there was no roommate to bother him— with Gwen trailing behind her, a livid twist to her features, which were normally soft and welcoming.
Arthur startled violently, turning in his sheets and falling off his bed in quick succession, landing harshly on the floor with a loud ‘smack’. A groan escaped his lips as he strained his neck to look up at them without actually moving.
“Whaaat?” Arthur whined, his face squished against the carpeted flooring, his arms caught underneath all his weight, slowly going numb and tingly.
“Get up, you have someone to see. Chip chop.” Morgana stood towering over Arthur, her arms crossed with a look of no nonsense on her face. Gwen appeared right after, mimicking her partner in all aspects, even getting the glare down to the menacing glint in the eye.
Arthur rolled over onto his back, raising his eyebrows in question. “And who may this ‘someone’ be?”
“Nuh uh, no time for questions. Now get up before I make you—”
Before Morgana had even finished, Arthur had jumped to his feet so quickly that both women had to stumble back in surprise. For good reason, too, since he was still wrapped up in his bed sheets and lost his balance quickly, falling back to the floor.
“Boys,” Morgana and Gwen said in unison, sighing with a shake of their heads.
This time, Arthur unravelled himself from the sheets before standing up, tossing them onto the bed as he faced the two. Arthur got an uneasy feeling from the way they were looking him up and down, expressions pinched.
“That just won’t do.”
“Hey! Just what do you think you are doing?” Arthur squawked as Gwen went right past Arthur to the wardrobe behind him. The one that contained all of his clothes and began digging through each drawer, leaving garments strewn across the room.
Morgana spoke for Gwen, popping her hip and rolling her eyes. “You need to look presentable for mystery-wonder, so Gwen’s going to make sure that you do. I would, but Gwen here said that you’d pick her over me, which I think is honestly absurd, but what Gwen wants, Gwen can have. Sooo. . .you have it, Flowers?”
“Yup!” Gwen called, triumph clear in her tone as she turned to face them. “Besides, Arthur, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not like I haven’t seen your garments— or should I say undergarments— before.”
A snicker came from Morgana, and Gwen was quick to follow, and before long Arthur chuckled too despite the fact that he couldn’t find any humour in it.
“Here, take these and change.” Gwen dumped the pile of clothing from her hand’s and into Arthur’s. She and Morgana were by the door in the blink of an eye, but just as Morgana opened it, Gwen turned back to Arthur. “We’ll be right outside, and— might I suggest something?”
“Sure, why not?” Arthur looked towards the ceiling, praying to the heavens for patience, before giving Gwen a tense smile.
“You might need some cologne,” Gwen whispered in a conspiratory voice, giggling madly as she dashed after Morgana. She just missed the shoe thrown where her head would’ve been, ‘by luck,’ Arthur would swear.
With a sigh, he shut the door— it was open a crack— and changed clothes: a blood-red dress shirt and a golden tie, black slacks with a belt to go along with it, and to complete the look, brown dress shoes.
Arthur cleaned up nicely, or so he thought, and with a whiff of his armpit, he decided taking Gwen’s advice was for the best and putting on some cologne.
Soon enough, he was ready to go and rolled up his sleeves, opening the door to the world and stepping through.
- - -
A spotlight came down from the ceiling, lighting up the stage room to reveal three figures— one male and two female— huddled around each other.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Merlin’s voice was hoarse— having had yet another fit of flowers and blood not too long ago— as he nervously twisted the cuff of his sleeve, the blue contrasting with the red tie he wore now.
Gwen’s hand came up to gently smack Merlin’s away. “One, quit it with that, you’ll crumple the fabric. Two, things will work out just fine, trust me. Trust us.”
Merlin’s eyes flitted from Gwen to Morgana, who was leaning on her forearms against one of the chairs in the room. They were the cold, foldable chairs that Merlin hated because the cold would always seep through his clothing— into the back of his thighs and all along his spine— how Morgana could stand it was beyond him?
She stood, straightening her back, and walked around the chairs and towards him while Gwen stepped backwards. Her mouth opened as though she wanted to say something, forming in the shape of words, but couldn’t and snapped her mouth closed.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Merlin squinted. It wasn’t a question nor rhetorical and a lightbulb went off in his brain. “It happened earlier too! You knew that Arthur had broken up with me before I had even said anything to you. To anyone, for that matter.”
The light from above created dark shadows along Morgana’s face, bringing out the guilty look in her eye far more than when she just averted her gaze downward.
“Look, Merlin— I live with the man, it’s required for us to visit home during breaks, though I wish it weren’t. There are things that can’t be avoided hearing, especially in a place that size with the gossip, of course I knew, but—” Morgana took a steady breath, smoothing her skirt out as she did. “There are also things where it is not my place to say, and I know you, and I know you’ll respect that. I hate keeping things from you, I really do, but you would wish for me to do the same in this situation. At least I’m doing something to try and help you?”
Now it was Merlin’s turn to feel a spike of guilt and even shame.
“I’m going to go get Arthur now and, hopefully, he won’t be a total dumbass and explain everything wrong.”
Merlin cracked a small smile, responding back, “we can only hope.”
With a wave, Gwen and Morgana left the stage room, leaving Merlin alone as they left for Arthur, metal doors shutting loudly with an echo.
It was then that Merlin realised how large it really was in there with no one but him to fill it. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and even whistled, but as each second crawled by, he couldn’t help but feel his skin itching, waiting.
And that was it, wasn’t it?
The waiting.
That was what made all of this so unbearable. What made time slow— it was the waiting and the anticipation, but, he supposed, it was the not knowing that was the worst.
The not knowing of what Arthur had to say, of what Arthur would or would not do, what the outcome would be.
Would he be rejected and sentenced to a painful, slow death?
Would he be accepted with open arms and be cured?
Would he be accepted, yet still die horribly?
Would he still be able to trust Arthur as he had before?
With each and every thought, each and every fear, brought closer to the surface of his mind, Merlin felt his breathing go thin, his hands twisting further in directions that they should not have, worrying the bottom of his lip to the point that he felt the skin might split.
“Merlin?” A voice filtered through his consciousness, soft and worried, yet hesitant in its approach.
Merlin’s eyes, previously focused on the ground, snapped up to meet Arthur who stood just a foot or so away from him. It seems that, so deep in thought that he was, he had missed the opening and closing of the heavy doors that would have announced Arthur’s arrival.
“Hey.” Merlin’s voice cracked halfway through and embarrassment coated his cheeks and ears.
“Are— are you okay, Merlin?”
It struck Merlin— and Arthur, from the way he immediately winced in shame— with the irony of the situation, asking him if he was okay, both from what Arthur knew and what he didn’t.
The whole being broken up with, over text, and the hanahaki disease thing.
“No.” Merlin thought honesty, of all things, was extremely important right now, even if it might hurt. “I am not. I have been better, I’m not going to lie to you, Arthur. What you did hurt, still hurts, and I am not over it, but Morgana seems to think that there is something you can do to convince me to think otherwise.”
“Look, I can explain. I swear that I can.” Arthur paused, as though he was expecting Merlin to put up a fight.
When the silence stretched on, Merlin sighed exasperatedly. “Arthur, if I came here, accepting Morgana’s help to create a meeting between the both of us, willingly, would it really make sense for me to just not listen to what you have to say?”
Again, shame flashed in Arthur’s eyes and he shook his head, speaking with a tone Merlin swore was self-deprecating. “No, I don’t suppose that would make sense. Sorry, I just. . .wasn’t expecting this to be so easy, going so well.”
“In that we are alike,” Merlin snorted, easing off of Arthur, who was rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. He allowed the man to think through his next words, a fond smile that he tried to damper down grew on his face as he remembered how awkward Arthur was with words, and just speaking about his feelings in general.
“I—” Arthur cleared his throat, not looking at Merlin. “This isn’t the easiest thing to explain, but I suppose the first thing I should say is that I am not saying any of this to make excuses. That is not my aim or goal at all.” Merlin nodded and Arthur began his story, retelling the events that had led them to this. . .
- - -
Arthur barged into his father’s study, the large wooden doors banging against the walls as he stormed towards his father.
“You hired a private investigator to spy on me?” Arthur’s voice was high-pitched, incredulity shown in the way he moved, movements jerky as he paced his father’s study with clenched fists.
“Yes, Arthur. I am your father, it is not beyond my power to do such things.” Uther Pendragon spoke dismissively, his half moon glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he casually flipped through a stack of paper. “Now, if you would get over yourself and take a seat, we have something to discuss.”
“You mean something aside from the complete invasion of privacy?” Arthur raised a pointed eyebrow that was missed by Uther, lips pursed. “Oh, I have plenty to say about that.”
Still, Arthur took a seat in the plush chair adjacent to his father, huffing and puffing the whole way with his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
Many minutes passed in an, in Arthur’s opinion, uncomfortable silence, with Uther in his chair looking over the paper documents, while Arthur sat slouched over, hands fiddling with the loose threads of his own chair.
The only sounds in the large room being shuffling paper, an occasional vague hum from Uther as he read, Arthur's foot tapping impatiently on the wood floorboards, and the fireplace crackling in the background as it devoured the wood.
“I know about your little ‘boyfriend.’”
In that moment, Arthur’s heart dropped so far he thought that he’d never get it back, his whole body going numb, face paling as his eyes widened. He was thankful for the chair underneath him, otherwise his knees would have gone weak and collapsed against the hardwood floor, but, more than anything, he wished for the ground to swallow him whole just so he could disappear.
Disappear from his father’s view and everything else.
“What?” Arthur spoke no louder than a whisper, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he feared the whole world could hear it and his secrets being unleashed.
Uther finally set down the papers and turned to face Arthur, his face permanently set in a scowl. “I know of your. . .little hobby with this boy- Merlin, was it?”
The reality of the situation really began to sink in, Arthur pushing himself further and further in the chair, preferring it when his father was not looking at him.
“Well?”
Arthur could do nothing but nod absentmindedly, fear enveloping his very being, his heart, his soul, everything.
“Now, I’ll give you an ultimatum, Arthur: either you leave this boy alone, never speak to him again and never have such dalliances of the same sex again or I will have you transferred overseas so fast you won’t have time to blink.”
Arthur stood with such viciousness he was mildly surprised the chair didn’t fall backwards to the ground.
His mind raced, neither choice in his favour and it was getting harder to keep his anger at bay to stop himself from worsening his situation.
In the matter of a few seconds, though it felt like a lifetime, he weighed his two options and picked the one he viewed as ‘the lesser of two evils.’
“I will cut off all remaining contact with him, Father.” A piece of him broke inside as he walked away from Uther, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t in a hurry to get away from the man, towards the doors.
“Good, see to it.” Arthur could hear him turn back and pick up the papers once more, forgetting his son in favour of his work.
Or just not caring enough about him.
- - -
“Morgana was right outside the doors when I left, so I’m not surprised if she overheard the encounter.” Arthur shook his head with something akin to mirth, a bitter twist to his mouth. “You see, I figured that if I chose to cut off all connections with you, it would be less painful. I could still see you in passing, that is unavoidable even in as big of a place as this is, and then I could at least live with myself, being somewhat near you and everyone else that I had become close to.
“It was a lie to myself, but it seemed better in the moment and I think I’d have hated myself more if I had chosen to leave. I had thought being closer to you was better than being hundreds of miles away. I had thought seeing you would ease the ache that grew in my heart, as corny as that sounds. But it didn’t because whenever I saw you, you just looked so. . .I couldn’t bear the misery that hung around you as though your own clothes just knowing it was my fault and I’m sorry.”
Arthur had eventually made eye contact with Merlin throughout his storytelling, but now that the story came to a close, he could hardly lift his eyes from the ground.
“Arthur. . .—” Merlin no doubt had tears bottled up from the way his voice wobbled slightly. Arthur saw Merlin step closer to him, the action of which gave him the strength to look up at the man before him.
There were indeed tears that bordered his waterline, weighing down his long lashes, and Arthur found that they looked beautiful on him, despite the situation, and his own welled up to the surface.
“You don’t have to be sorry about how things happened. I—” Once again, Merlin’s throat closed off and the words would not come. Merlin stepped closer to Arthur, his hand coming up to caress the side of his cheek, the touch hesitant and gentle. Arthur did not shy away from it. “I’m sorry for having put you in that situation.”
“I would have done anything for you, Merlin, yet I could not defy my father for my love— what kind of man does that make me?” There was a shake and Merlin saw it, his eyes softening.
“It’s okay, Arthur. You have undying loyalty to your father and you love him, I would expect no less from a man with a heart as you— and I say that with no ill will. You are a good man but this is real life, and sometimes we are not ready for the world to throw its trials at us. It makes you no less of the person you are now and who you will be.”
Already Merlin could feel a weight shifting, lifting itself from his chest, joy swelling from within him: Arthur didn't leave him of his own will!
"Is there anyway you can forgive me? Be with me again?" Arthur was pleading, which was a surprise enough to Merlin because Arthur was not the type of person to plead or beg for anything from anyone.
Merlin was silent, deep in thought as the realisation came to him, shocking him enough that his hand fell from Arthur's cheek.
"I think that. . .somewhere in the back of my mind, I've already forgiven you." Merlin watched as a smile started to form on Arthur's lips. "There may be some broken trust on my side, and maybe even on yours, but I don't think that it's something we can't make up."
In the blink of an eye, Merlin found himself with warm arms wrapped around his sides, pulling him close and he could do nothing but blank.
The arms tensed when he didn't react and they began to pull away, Arthur's words rambling as they did. "Sorry, was that too soon? Damnit I should have known, held back— sorry—"
Getting over himself, Merlin reacted in the only way he knew how; He stepped forward to Arthur and pulled him back into the hug before he could move too far away, burying his face in Arthur's chest.
"Oh." Arthur slowly wrapped his arms back around Merlin's lithe frame, though it felt thinner than it had before he— before. "Am I to take this as we're good?"
Merlin nodded, which was slightly tough to do as his face was pressed against Arthur, but he got the message.
"Wait— like good as in we're friends or good as in you're willing to give me a second chance?"
There was a shake of Merlin's shoulders, so slight that Arthur feared he'd made Merlin cry, but soon realised when Merlin pulled back a few inches so he could see him that he was chuckling.
A smile pulled at Merlin's lips and Arthur couldn't help but stare at them. Merlin's own eyes flickered from Arthur's eyes to his lips and back again.
Arthur didn't know who moved first, him or Merlin, but they soon found themselves with hands in their hair, clutching each other to one another, lips on lips.
Arthur's hand moved from the raven locks to the small of Merlin's back, dipping him slightly to get an advantage and better hold.
There was a burst of heat, strong and passionate, and they held onto the other as though they were the air that they breathed. Though, eventually, they did have to let go to breathe real oxygen, which only fanned the flames.
Blue met blue, staring deeply into the hues of skies and seas and, just as they broke contact, a low whistle sounded throughout the whole stage room.
"Woah there brother o' mine, don't get overzealous there now." Morgana grinned widely as the two men jumped apart from each other, sharing the same look as though they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
"Morgana!" Arthur hissed, cheeks burned with a red flush, Merlin's the same, but he couldn't keep with smile off his face. Morgana couldn't tell if it was because of them just eating each others faces or from her barging in.
Merlin hadn't been this happy in a while, it felt like, and he was not going to let this go again, slipping his hand into Arthur's.
The small move was enough for Arthur to relax and quit his glaring at Morgana, turning to Merlin with a love sick puppy look.
"Love birds," Morgana whispered under her breath, rolling her eyes as she left the room.
Merlin grinned suddenly. "So, did that answer your question?"
Arthur's mind blanked for a second, scrambling to figure out what Merlin was talking about before it clicked: friends or together!
"Yes, I do think it did." An impish smile formed on his face though. "But. . .I think I may have some doubts, may I have some more. . .assurance?"
"That you may."
The end!