The Strangeness of Smiling (Part Two)
Mar. 5th, 2010 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
casualtheatrics2Part One over here
--
A week later, Merlin was once again shelving new stock in the bookshop when a jaunty whistling filled the air. He turned around, slowly, this time, and came face-to-face with the man from the previous week. Arthur!, his brain insisted.
“Oh. Hi.” Merlin retreated to the safety of his counter.
“Hi, Merlin!” Arthur was bouncy, and his voice cut through the gentle peace of the bookshop. He followed Merlin to the counter, and leant against it, over the counter, closer to Merlin than before.
“Um,” Merlin said, brilliantly. “I don’t think your book has come in yet.”
“No, no-one’s phoned. I was just passing, and thought I’d pop in and ask.”
“I’ll check the shelf.” Merlin retreated into the back room, where he scanned the shelf sightlessly five times, before slowing down and doing it properly. He returned to the counter.
“No. It’s not here yet.”
“Oh, well.” The man didn’t seem too disappointed. “Hey, do you want to get some lunch?”
Merlin shook his head. “No, thank you. I can’t leave the shop.”
“I’ll bring it to you?”
“No, that’s OK.” Merlin’s brain ground to a halt in panic. Was Arthur asking him out?
Arthur shrugged. “Never mind. Maybe next time?”
Merlin found himself nodding. “Maybe next time.” Damn it, brain! he thought, stop answering for me!
Arthur waggled his fingers again as he walked out of the shop. “Later, Merlin!”
--
Arthur returned to the university, his thoughts occupied with the strange young man he’d met. Merlin couldn’t have been more than 25, but there was a sadness in his eyes that Arthur couldn’t explain, and made Arthur, at twenty-eight, feel alarmingly young and naïve in comparison.
He was startled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He swung round to come face to face with Mordred.
“Mordred!”
“Arthur, I’ve been yelling at you all the way down this corridor! What’s going on in there?” Mordred tapped Arthur’s forehead with the tip of his finger.
Arthur grinned, awkwardly. “Nothing, nothing,” he said hastily.
“It’s something,” Mordred corrected him, “come on,” and he ushered Arthur into his office.
Mordred sat Arthur in a chair, and leaned against the desk. “Tell me.”
Arthur sighed. “I went to that bookshop you recommended.”
Mordred nodded. “Was there a problem with the bookshop? Gareth’s a decent chap.”
“I met Merlin.”
Mordred swallowed and looked uncomfortable. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I’ve not mentioned him because until recently, he’s been living in India.”
“I know. He told me.”
Mordred was opening his mouth to provide more excuses, but Arthur’s matter-of-fact statement brought him up short.
“Merlin told you?”
“Yeah. I said that I was a friend of yours, and that you’d never mentioned a brother. Merlin said that it was probably because he’d been living in India for the past five years.”
“Merlin said that?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not like him.”
“He did seem pretty shocked he’d said it.”
The two men lapsed into silence. Mordred scrubbed at his face with his hands.
“Look, Arthur, I’ve got to tell you. Merlin…” His voice drifted off.
Arthur swallowed. “He seems kind of…”
Mordred glanced up. “Kind of what?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur shrugged. “He seemed a bit jumpy.” Arthur paused, before admitting, “I met him last week. I went there today in the hopes of running into him. I asked him out.”
Mordred looked at him sharply. “What did he say?”
“No. But he did say maybe to a next time.”
Mordred fell silent again, before walking round his desk to sit in his chair.
“Ok, Arthur. You’re my friend, and Merlin’s my baby brother. I need to tell you something about him. It might change…the way you’re thinking about him.”
Arthur nodded, and had the good grace to blush lightly.
Mordred continued. “Merlin… He lived in India with his husband.”
Arthur’s face fell.
“No, not what you think. Pravin – that’s Merlin’s husband – was killed four years ago. Merlin’s ill, depressed, whatever, I don’t understand it, but Morgana and I had to go to India in February to get him back. He was a mess. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t washing, wasn’t functioning. It took both of us to get him home.”
Arthur’s hand had come up to cover his mouth. “How did his husband die?”
“He was beaten to death.”
Arthur felt tears prickle in his eyes. “Poor Merlin.”
Mordred looked at him sharply. “Yes, poor Merlin. He’s getting his life back on track. He needs friends. Nothing more. Got it?”
Arthur nodded. “That explains why he looks so sad.”
Mordred sighed, his own face betraying his sadness at Merlin’s situation. “Yep. Grief-stricken and depressed, that’s our Merlin.” His eyes were bleak, and Arthur felt a pang of sympathy for the older brother who was powerless in the face of his younger sibling’s pain.
--
Merlin could feel his grip tightening on the car door handle. Morgana leant over and patted his free hand.
“It’ll be alright, Merlin.”
They were on their way to Mordred’s for the monthly dinner. Morgana had talked Merlin into joining them this month, which was no mean feat. Arriving at Mordred’s house, Morgana opened Merlin’s door for him, and helped him to unclench his fingers from the car door.
Inside, Mordred greeted them, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders in a loose hug. “Alright, Merl? Morgana,” and he kissed her. “Come on through, everyone’s already here.”
Merlin trailed behind his siblings, apprehension rising in his throat. Once in the kitchen, Gwen, Morgana’s best friend, made her way straight to him.
“Hi, Merlin,” she smiled softly. “How you doing?”
Merlin tried to smile back, but as usual, only managed to just twitch the corners of his lips. “I’m fine, thanks, Gwen. How are you?”
Merlin was fond of Gwen. She spoke gently to him, never made sudden moves around him (Morgana had the irritating habit of flailing abruptly mid-sentence – Merlin flinched every time), and her dark skin and hair reminded him of the Indian women he had left behind. When Merlin had first moved in with Morgana, it had been Gwen who had coaxed him into eating.
He talked to Gwen for a few more minutes, before Mordred pressed a drink into his hands, and whisked him off to meet other people. Elaine and Lancelot Merlin had met before (they were Gwen’s sister and boyfriend), but the dark-haired Anna was a stranger, as was the blonde Vivian. Both girls smiled warmly at Merlin, who managed the lip twitch in return. He was trying to work out how he could extract himself from Mordred’s grip and return to skulk in a corner near Gwen or Morgana, when the doorbell rang.
“Excuse me,” Mordred apologised, and walked off to answer the door.
Merlin lip-twitched at the girls again and began to sidle away, and then…a familiar jaunty whistle caught his ears. Turning, Merlin’s eyes collided with the well-known blue gaze of Arthur Pendragon. Arthur’s face split into a huge grin, and Merlin’s mouth, against his will, mirrored the action.
The grin spread across Merlin’s face, an ache spreading through his unused smile muscles as he looked at Arthur.
“Brilliant!” Arthur yelped, and bounded across the room to Merlin. “Merlin! Great to see you!”
Merlin found himself engulfed in a hug, nose buried in Arthur’s shoulder. “Good to see you too,” he mumbled.
Morgana stared at the two men, unable to believe her eyes at the smile Merlin had just flashed Arthur. She glanced at Mordred, who met her gaze and smiled reassuringly. It’s OK, he seemed to say, and Morgana tried to relax.
Merlin extracted himself from the bear hug Arthur had bestowed upon him, and retreated to his usual corner. Everyone else understood that once Merlin withdrew, it was best to leave him alone – Arthur had no such compunction. Once Mordred had handed him a drink, Arthur strode across the room, sat next to Merlin and talked at him for the next half an hour.
Merlin looked vaguely stunned and confused, but as the evening wore on, he gradually relaxed in the boisterous Arthur’s company. When the time came to eat, Arthur dragged Merlin to sit next to him, ignoring Merlin’s token protests about sitting with Morgana or Gwen. Throughout the meal, Arthur talked to Merlin, recounting anecdotes about his day, discussing the books he’d bought in Merlin’s bookshop, even telling bad jokes.
When Arthur cracked the fourth bad joke in as many minutes, Merlin felt an strange feeling bubbling up in his chest. It fizzled along his arms, and down his legs, tingling in his fingers and toes. It climbed up his throat, and forced its way out of his mouth – for the first time, in over four years, Merlin laughed out loud, heartily, obviously.
Silence fell over the table, surprised at Merlin’s outpouring of glee. Merlin reddened violently, and muttered an apology.
“What was so funny?” Mordred asked calmly, trying not to betray how pleased he was to see Merlin unfolding in the company of his friend.
“Just a joke. Arthur was telling a joke,” Merlin mumbled, still embarrassed. “Excuse me,” he added hastily, standing up from the table and fleeing upstairs.
Arthur frowned. Morgana burst into tears. In a flash, Mordred was out of his seat and round to her chair. He hugged her, whispering, “It’s OK, Morgana. He’s getting better.”
--
It had taken Morgana fifteen minutes to convince Merlin to come back downstairs after everyone had gone. Merlin was still embarrassed by laughing so loudly and publicly at Arthur’s terrible jokes.
Arthur had not gone quietly. He had argued with Mordred loudly in the hall, and Merlin had crept to the top of the stairs to listen to the words being traded back and forth.
“…I made him laugh, Red! Can’t I at least say goodbye?”
“Arthur, I think it’s best if you just go without saying anything.”
“Why? What will that prove?”
“Merlin was obviously surprised by laughing. He wasn’t expecting it. You’ve thrown him, surprised him. If you push now, he may just get worse again.”
I won’t!, thought Merlin fiercely, and was surprised how disappointed he was that Arthur stopped pressing the issue, and instead left without another word.
In the car home, Merlin was suddenly exhausted, and rested his head against the window.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” Morgana asked cautiously.
“Mm? Oh, yes,” Merlin replied absently.
At home, back in his safe room, Merlin stared at the portrait of Pravin that covered the wall. Tears suddenly burned in his eyes. How could he have been so disloyal to his husband’s memory? He laughed with another man. He had enjoyed the company of another man. He’d let Pravin down.
He crawled into bed, didn’t move for the duration of the weekend, and rang in sick to work on Monday morning.
--
The next day after that, a Tuesday, was Merlin’s usual day to see Gaius. Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of the bed, and into the shower. Washing his hair, Merlin remembered how it had felt to share the shower with Pravin. Merlin braced himself for tears to spring to his eyes, but nothing happened.
Unable to resist poking the wound, over breakfast, Merlin thought about sharing a morning meal with his husband. No tears.
Dressing, Merlin pulled out a t-shirt that Pravin had liked on him. He dragged it over his head. No tears.
There was a knock at the door.
Merlin hurried down the stairs, and opened it without thinking. Arthur stood on the doorstep.
“Hi,” he said quietly. “How are you?”
Merlin gaped for a minute, before stepping back to let Arthur inside. “I’m…I’m OK,” Merlin said.
“Good,” Arthur smiled, that big warm grin that made Merlin’s insides bubble and churn. “Want to get some lunch?”
“It’s 11 in the morning.”
“Well, coffee then?”
Merlin hesitated. Arthur hastily added, “I just want to hang out with you. It’s cool, you don’t have to.”
“I’m not good company,” Merlin admitted. “And I have to see Gaius at 3.”
“Who’s Gaius?”
“My…,” Merlin paused. “Well, he’s a psychologist.”
“Ah,” Arthur nodded. “It’s always good to talk about things with someone who knows what they’re talking about.”
Merlin was surprised that his admission hadn’t sent Arthur running for the hills. It must have shown on his face, because Arthur added, “I did. When my father remarried. I was about seventeen. I acted out, and shouted a lot, and my dad sent me off to see a counsellor. We talked about my feelings a lot, and I felt like a right twat for being so emotional. Tom, the counsellor, told me that it was normal to feel a bit angry under the circumstances. It really helped.”
“Do you like your step-mother now?”
“Cate? Yeah. She’s great. My dad’s really happy with her. He must have been lonely after my mum died. I never really thought about it. When I realised I was gay, Cate was the first person I told. She was fantastic.”
“You’re gay?”
Arthur nodded. “Will that be weird for you?”
Merlin shook his head. “No.” He ignored the butterflies that had sprung up in his stomach at Arthur’s admission.
Arthur smiled. “So. Coffee?”
Merlin smiled back, his face still unused to the motion. “OK. Give me a second.”
--
Arthur drove Merlin out of the city to a small country pub. On the way there, Arthur sang along, badly, to the CD player. Merlin pulled the case out from the glove box and laughed at it.
“What?” challenged Arthur, teasingly.
“The Greatest 80s Power Ballads?” Merlin queried, arching an eyebrow.
“I like 80s music. It’s always simple, and loud and expressive. It makes me want to dance.”
“Do you dance as badly as you sing?”
“Hey!” The car swerved slightly, as Arthur swatted at Merlin. “I’m excellent at both, OK?!
Nestled in the hills, the pub, called the Gates of Avalon, looked, Merlin thought ironically, like the epitome of heaven. The thatched roof, the sandy yellow walls, the climbing rose - Merlin stepped out of the car and stared up at it.
“This is a long way to come for coffee,” Merlin remarked.
“I lied. We’re here for lunch.”
“I have to be back by 3,” Merlin’s voice raised slightly in panic.
“You will be,” Arthur smiled, slinging an arm across Merlin’s shoulders. “Trust me.”
The stupid thing was, Merlin thought, he really did trust Arthur. And he’d only known the guy a couple of weeks. There was no reason for him to trust Arthur. But he did. He really, really did.
Inside the pub, Arthur approached the bar, and smiled lovingly at the woman behind the bar. She had long dark hair, streaked with silver, and a wide smile.
“Hi, Cate,” Arthur smiled, and leant over the bar to kiss her cheek.
“Hello, Arthur,” the woman replied and returned the kiss. Her accent was extremely well-bred.
“This is my friend Merlin,” Arthur introduced the two. “This is my step-mother, Cate.”
Merlin managed the lip-twitch at Cate, and shook her hand briefly, before withdrawing his hand and shoving his fists in his pockets. He unconsciously stepped closer to Arthur, leaning in towards him.
Cate smiled, unperturbed by Merlin’s display. “You here for lunch?” she asked, fixing her eyes on Arthur’s face.
“Yes, please. Dad’s cooking today, right?”
“Yep,” Cate nodded. “Usual?”
Arthur turned to Merlin. “Do you eat meat? My dad makes a fantastic toad-in-the-hole.”
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He stepped closer to Arthur still, and seemed surprised when Arthur slung an arm around his shoulder in easy comfort.
“OK, Cate, me and my buddy here will have two of Dad’s specials, and a bottle of your finest.”
Cate nodded and walked off to write the order down. Merlin tugged at Arthur’s sleeve.
“I can’t drink. I’m on tablets.”
“I know. I don’t drink. It’s apple juice I’ve ordered. Is that OK?”
Merlin sighed in relief and nodded. Arthur kept his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and guided him across to a table outside the pub. The day was sunny and warm, and Merlin tipped his face up into the sun.
“It was too hot to sit outside in India,” Merlin said abruptly, not sure why he had said it. “I just got sunburned all the time.”
Arthur smiled gently. “‘Cos you’re so pale, I guess. Still, must have been annoying.”
Merlin chuckled, the noise disconcerting to his ears. “It was annoying. But the one time I did sit outside, I got sunburn so badly that I had to sleep sitting up for a week.”
Arthur laughed. “Tricky.”
“Yeah,” Merlin smiled, and turned his head to look at Arthur. “Not even worth it. I didn’t tan – the burn just peeled straight off me.”
--
After their lunch, Arthur dropped Merlin at Gaius’ office. Sat in the car outside, Arthur turned to Merlin.
“So. Was this a horrible idea?”
Merlin shook his head. “It was nice. I haven’t eaten out since…” Tears prickled in his eyes, suddenly, catching Merlin off-guard. A sob caught in his throat. What was he doing, going out for lunch with another man? He’d really let Pravin down.
“Hey…” Arthur leant over to place a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin shrugged him off.
“It was nice. I’ve got to go. Bye, Arthur,” and Merlin leapt out of the car, tears pouring down his face, and rushed into the building.
Arthur sighed, and watched him go before driving off.
--
“You look…different,” Gaius commented.
“Yeah,” Merlin replied dispiritedly.
“What’s happened since I saw you last?”
Merlin sighed. “I went for dinner with Morgana and Mordred and their friends.”
“How was that?”
“Fine.”
“What happened?”
“We ate. I talked to some people.”
“Merlin. What. Happened? Something’s upsetting you.”
Merlin allowed two tears to roll down his cheeks. “This guy came into the bookshop a few weeks ago. He’s one of Mordred’s friends. He was at the dinner on Friday.”
“Was this a problem?”
“No.” Merlin fell silent, allowing a few more tears to roll down his face. After a minute, he said, “He made me laugh.”
Gaius arched an eyebrow. “He made you laugh.” He passed Merlin a tissue.
“Yes. His jokes were terrible, but he was so enthusiastic. He made me laugh.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Great. At first. Then I got home. I felt so guilty for forgetting for a minute. I let Pravin down.”
“How?”
“How what?”
“How did you let Pravin down?”
“I forgot about him.”
“Did you?”
Merlin stared at the tissue in his hand, shredding it into pieces. Gaius took it off him and gave him a new one. Merlin took a deep breath.
“The thing is, Gaius, I can’t forget Pravin.”
“What do you mean?”
The weight of the secret had pressed on Merlin’s heart for too long. Choking back tears, Merlin poured out the whole sorry story.
“Pravin and I got married in England. But in India, the marriage wasn’t legal. Homosexuality was only made legal a couple of years ago. So, no-one could know that we were married. It was OK at first, it was…exciting to pretend we were just friends in public. But then I got tired of it. No-one would have minded, but Pravin just…didn’t believe that we could ‘go public’.”
Merlin paused and took a deep breath. He continued:
“On the morning that he was killed, we had an argument. It was our second wedding anniversary. We’d been in India for over a year. No-one had said anything. I told him I wanted to go out for dinner, to go public with our relationship. He shouted at me. He told me no-one could know. That it would bring shame upon his family.”
Gaius took the second shredded tissue from Merlin’s shaking hands, and handed him a box of tissues. Tears poured down Merlin’s face as he struggled on with his story:
“I asked him why he’d married me, if he was ashamed of us. He didn’t say anything, and then he said he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he’d married me. I walked away. He went to work. I was angry with him, and he was angry with me. He stayed late at work, because he knew it pissed me off. When he rang that evening, I let it go to answer phone. He left a message, saying he would be home in about twenty minutes. I wasn’t surprised when he was late. I expected he’d gone to a bar. After two hours, I went out to find him. He’d been bleeding and unconscious in a ditch for two hours.”
Merlin stopped abruptly, took a heaving breath and pressed on:
“It was too late. I got to him too late. The doctors couldn’t do anything for him. He died two days later. I never got the opportunity to say how sorry I was….or even…even tell him I loved him anyway.”
Merlin’s voice faded away. Gaius knelt next to Merlin’s chair, and wrapped his arms around him. Merlin sobbed wordlessly into Gaius’ shoulder.
When Merlin calmed down, Gaius handed him a glass of water. Sitting back in his chair, Gaius surveyed Merlin over the top of his glasses.
“How do you feel?” Gaius asked.
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Better or worse?”
Merlin looked thoughtful. “Better.”
“It was not your fault that your husband died. Everyone argues. Everyone has fights. You were very young when you married Pravin. You emigrated to a foreign country, and then had to keep your relationship concealed against your will. You showed incredible strength of character making it to your second wedding anniversary. Most people would give up in the face of such adversity. Instead, you held on, you tried to fight for your marriage. That’s brave. It’s been four years since Pravin died. Perhaps you need to forgive yourself for being angry with him that day, and learn to let go.”
Merlin began to cry again.
--
Back at home, Merlin lay on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. When the phone rang, Merlin answered it without thinking, and then silently cursed himself.
“Hello?”
“Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Arthur.”
Merlin pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the handset in horror. Arthur was the last person Merlin wanted to talk to at this moment in time. Merlin contemplated hanging the phone up and hiding in his room, but a voice drifted out of the earpiece.
“Merlin?”
Sighing, Merlin put the phone to his ear. “Yes.”
“I just wanted to check you were OK. You were upset earlier.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.”
“I have to go,” Merlin said firmly, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of tears that threatened to drown him.
“Wait! Merlin…” Arthur’s voice was abruptly cut off as Merlin ended the call.
Throwing the phone to one side, Merlin took a Gaius-breath then allowed the tears to fall anyway.
--
Merlin took the next two weeks off work. Morgana had rung up Gareth and explained quietly, succinctly, that Merlin was very depressed and just needed a day or two to recover. Far from being angry, Gareth was wonderful. He turned up at Morgana’s door that evening, with a book Merlin had been considering reading for some time, and told Merlin to take as much time as he needed. Merlin cried for half an hour after Gareth left.
During Merlin’s ‘vacation’, as Morgana tactfully called it, he managed to explain to Morgana and Mordred what he’d already told Gaius. As he knew they would, both tried to reassure him that Pravin’s death was not his fault. Merlin still wasn’t ready to hear that, and he walked off mid-conversation.
A couple of days after the conversation with his siblings, Merlin knocked on Morgana’s door. She smiled and beckoned Merlin in.
“What’s up?”
“I want to go and look at our stuff.”
Morgana frowned. “What do you mean?”
Merlin took a deep breath. “Mordred’s got my stuff in a storage place. From India. I want to go and look at it. Sort it out. Decide what I want to keep.”
Morgana fought to keep her face neutral. “OK. Shall we go tomorrow?”
Merlin nodded and went back to bed.
--
“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” Merlin said firmly, and unlocked the storage space. It was cool inside the room, environment units keeping the atmosphere dry, and below the usual room temperature. Around the wall sat boxes of book, paintings and other things that Mordred and Morgana had packed up during that hideous week before… Merlin didn’t allow himself to finish the thought, knowing he was already close to running away from here.
One box caught his eye; marked ‘Photos’, it was tucked behind two boxes of clothes. Dragging it out, Merlin sat on a box marked ‘Books 4’, whilst Morgana dragged up ‘Wall Hangings 2’. Amused at the labels surrounding him, Merlin thanked Morgana for the efficient job she and Mordred had done packing up his life. Morgana shrugged the thanks off.
The first album that Merlin opened was full of photos of flowers. Morgana looked confused, so Merlin explained, “I tended the flowers, and Pravin took photos of them, so they would last forever.”
Merlin tossed the album aside. The next one was photos of Merlin as a child. He handed that to Morgana, who placed it on the ‘To Keep’ pile.
The third one was photos of Merlin and Pravin’s wedding. Merlin’s first instinct was to slam it shut, and run away; instead, he forced himself to look at the photos. After a couple of pages, he handed the album to Morgana.
“What do you see?” he asked, desperately.
Morgana took the album and viewed the pictures. She flipped over a few pages, before closing it. She looked Merlin square in the eye. “I see two men, who love each other very much. Who are celebrating that love by getting married.”
Merlin wiped a tear away. “I see a man kidding himself that he can make something work with a boy.”
Morgana reached out a hand to Merlin, wrapping her hand around his long fingers. “Don’t think like that. We met Pravin. Remember? He loved you. Completely. Whatever happened, when you got married, he loved you. And you loved him.”
Merlin shed a few more tears, before adding the album of photos to the ‘To Keep’ pile. Morgana smiled.
Five hours later, Merlin had selected what he was going to keep. He locked the door behind them, and followed Morgana to the car, arms full of pictures and books. On the way home, Merlin rang Mordred.
“Red? It’s Merlin. I’ve just been to the storage place. I’ve kept what I want to. Everything else can be thrown away. Yeah, just get rid of it. Throw it all away. I don’t care.”
--
The next morning, Merlin opened his eyes and stretched. He’d slept well, comfortably and deeply. He wasn’t sure why that was, until he sat up in the bed.
He’d stretched across the bed, during the night, and had woken up in the middle of the bed. Nausea assaulted Merlin’s stomach, and he leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He fully expected to throw up the contents of his stomach. Instead, his stomach settled. The nausea faded.
Merlin avoided his bedroom all day, sprawling on the sofa in his pyjamas, and asking Morgana to fetch him clothes when it was time to see Gaius. He took the wedding photos with him to show Gaius, to ask his opinion on what could be seen. Gaius refused to comment, telling Merlin it was better he made that decision alone.
That night, on his way to bed, Merlin took a deep breath, and pushed the second set of pillows off the bed. He dragged his own to the centre of the bed, and fell asleep in minutes. His sleep was dark, dreamless and restful.
--
When Merlin eventually went back to work, he’d seen Gaius four more times since his lunch with Arthur. They had talked about everything on Merlin’s mind, even Arthur, and although Merlin had been uncomfortable at first, they’d even talked about the implications of Arthur.
So it didn’t surprise Merlin that, during the lull of the afternoon, Arthur came into the store. Merlin met his eyes steadily, as Arthur stood still a few steps over the stoop.
“Hi, Arthur,” Merlin said calmly.
“Hi, Merlin,” Arthur replied.
“Can I help with something?”
Arthur strode forward to lean on the counter. “Merlin, I won’t lie to you. I like you. I like you a lot. I thought we could be friends, but you’ve just pushed me away. I want to be your friend, but you make that impossible!”
“I’ve been depressed!” Merlin protested, but Arthur cut him off.
“Tell me what you want,” the blonde man insisted, and something in Merlin snapped. Weeks of psychotherapy had dragged his emotions kicking and screaming to the surface, and they bubbled under his skin, raw and hungry. Unable to contain himself any longer, Merlin let forth a torrent of pain.
“Tell you what I want? OK, I will. I want my husband back, alive. I want to tell him I’m sorry for fighting with him, that I know how difficult he was finding life in India, being married to me. I want to tell him that our marriage wasn’t a mistake, that I didn’t mean that when I shouted at him. That I would have settled for anything, ANYTHING, with him, as long as we were together. But I also want to tell him that I need to let him go! I need to move on from him, from his death. I want to ask him to forgive me. Forgive me for being angry, for grieving, for being so sad about his death. But I can’t. Because he is dead, dead and buried on the other side of the world, almost, and I’m here. Living with my sister, talking to a psychologist to stop myself going totally mad!”
Merlin broke off, gasping for breath. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, and Merlin held up a hand, to stop him. “Hang on. You know what else I want? I want to eat lunch with you and not feel so damn guilty for neglecting the memory of Pravin. I want to kiss you, and I hate myself for it. I want to ask his permission…”
Arthur strode around the counter, and stopped Merlin’s tirade by pressing his lips to Merlin’s own. Merlin’s hands slipped around his waist, and Arthur pressed close to him, hands spread across Merlin’s back.
They stood like that, lips moving over each other’s for a minute or two. Finally, Arthur pulled back.
“I’m not sorry,” Arthur warned, as he watched Merlin’s face try to crumple. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you. And it was good.”
Merlin wanted to gape at Arthur, but settled for sighing instead. He pushed Arthur away. “Go away, Arthur. I can’t…I can’t do this.”
Arthur’s eyes flashed with irritation. “No, that’s what you tell yourself to stop you from living your life. You’re only 25, Merlin. Are you really going to spend the rest of your life mourning a man you were married to for just two years?”
Merlin shoved Arthur away from him. “How dare you! You know nothing about me, or about Pravin! I loved him! How dare you suggest…?!” Merlin swung his hand to slap Arthur, but Arthur ducked, and caught Merlin’s wrist.
“Don’t,” warned Arthur. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Get out,” breathed Merlin, anger threatening to bubble out. “Get. Out. Go!”
Arthur left, without looking back.
--
Merlin walked home from the shop after locking up that evening with a heavy heart. He had tried to tell himself that Arthur was taking huge liberties with him, kissing him like that, but whatever excuses his irrational thought process came up with, reason always exerted itself. He was out of line, snarled his thoughts. You told him you wanted to kiss him, replied Reason, calmly. That’s not the point! I’m still grieving! argued his thoughts. Are you? Really? Or are you done with that now? replied Reason.
Merlin wandered up the steps of Morgana’s townhouse, and gazed at the front door. His key slid into the lock, and he pushed the door open. Mordred was sat on the stairs, waiting for him.
“Before you say anything,” Merlin held up a hand. “I know I was in the wrong.”
“Damn right.” Mordred was angry. “Arthur’s a good friend of mine. I warned him off you, but he just kept coming back for more. I know you’re still upset about Pravin, but he’s dead. Dead and gone. And you’re twenty-five years old, Merlin! That’s nothing by today’s standards! You might live for another seventy years! They’re going to be bloody miserable ones if all you’re going to do is mope around. No-one’s saying you have to forget Pravin. Of course they’re not. But you need to think about the future. What will happen in a few years’ time? You have to move on. No-one’s saying you have to marry Arthur; you don’t have to marry anyone! But you can’t keep people out of your life, just because they make you feel something!”
Mordred stood up, and walked across the hall to stand in front of Merlin. “I love you, Merl, but I can’t help you anymore. I can’t make you any better, and I think you’re trying to hold yourself back. You’re making good progress from when we picked you up in February. Good progress. Don’t stop now.”
Mordred slung his coat on and opened the front door. “Merl, I know how hard this is. I’m not saying this to be cruel, or because I don’t understand. But you need to move on from Pravin. Ask yourself this: if you could see Pravin, right now, what do you think he’d say about your life now? About what you’ve become? What would he say? And if it was you who had died, would you want Pravin to live like you are? Just think about it, OK?”
The door closed behind Mordred. Merlin felt bruised, shattered like they’d just had one of their childhood fist fights. Logically, his brain told him that all Mordred had said was true. Emotionally, though, his body rejected every word.
Merlin went to bed that night and stared at the portrait of Pravin for two hours, Mordred’s final words running around his head, before he fell asleep.
--
The next morning, when Morgana poured Merlin’s coffee, he stopped her from adding milk and sugar.
“I like it black,” Merlin explained.
Morgana nodded. “Why the milk and sugar then?”
“Pravin,” Merlin explained, as though that one word was enough explanation. For Morgana, it was.
Over breakfast, Merlin gathered up his courage enough to say, “I think I’ll find a flat today.”
Morgana jumped, and nearly tossed cereal all down her clothes. “What?” she said, alarmed.
“I said,” repeated Merlin, “I think I’ll look for a flat today.”
“Why?” Morgana was not a little thrown by Merlin’s blunt statement.
“I can’t stay here forever,” Merlin smiled. Smiling, he noted with satisfaction, was becoming easier.
“Merlin, you can stay as long as you need to,” Morgana began, but Merlin cut her off.
“I know, Morgana, I know I can. But the point is, I shouldn’t. I’m never going back to India, so I need to make a life for myself here. I’m going to start with a flat.”
Morgana looked uncertain, as she said, “If you’re sure. If that’s what you want. I mean, it’s no trouble having you here.”
Merlin smiled (see, wasn’t that easy?), and said, “It’s OK. I know you’re here for me. I think I’m ready, though.”
Morgana remained unconvinced, but she told Merlin where the best estate agents could be found, and told him she would help him when she got back from work. Merlin listened to the silence of the house once Morgana had bustled off to work, and let out a deep breath.
Two hours later, Merlin struggled back into Morgana’s house with cans of paint and some paintbrushes. Three hours later, and Merlin was sweating profusely, as he cast the brush in long sweeping strokes, up and down the wall. With each stroke, Pravin’s face disappeared a little more. Merlin knew it would take some time to erase the portrait completely, but this was a start.
A knock on the door interrupted his painting.
Grumbling, he made his way to the front door, and opened it, squinting at the sun behind it.
“You look like you’re having fun,” said a dry, amused voice.
Merlin’s eyes adjusted. “Arthur.” He paused, then said, “I wouldn’t say fun. Come in?” He stepped back and opened the door to let Arthur in.
Arthur walked in, saying, “I won’t stop long…” but his voice drifted off as Merlin took his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin’s throat worked as he swallowed against the dryness. “I’m sorry for shouting yesterday. I was frightened.”
“No,” Arthur shook his head firmly. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. You weren’t prepared.”
Merlin’s grip tightened around Arthur’s wrist. “I liked it. Please don’t think I didn’t. I did. I really liked it.”
Arthur’s eyes had darkened to almost black. “Gods, Merlin,” he breathed. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it,” Merlin smiled shyly. “I think I need to tell you about Pravin. Shall we go for coffee?”
Arthur nodded.
Merlin nodded too. “Give me a few minutes to change?”
Arthur nodded again, and Merlin dashed upstairs to wash the paint out of his hair.
--
The two men walked to the coffee shop down the road from Morgana’s house. On the way, Merlin popped in to a couple of estate agents, and picked up some flat details. His determination to move out of Morgana’s house had not lessened; in fact, painting over Pravin’s face on the wall had strengthened it.
He could do this, Merlin thought, he could move on from his husband’s terrible, tragic, untimely death. Letting go didn’t mean he hadn’t loved him. Just that now, there was the rest of his life to go. Mordred had been right. If Pravin could see Merlin, right now, he’d be so sad for him. If their roles had been reversed, Merlin would have wanted Pravin to find someone else. Especially after four years.
In the coffee shop, when Merlin ordered a black coffee, Arthur’s brow furrowed in bewilderment.
“I thought you liked milk and sugar in your coffee?”
Merlin shook his head slightly. “Pravin used to drink coffee with milk and sugar. He didn’t like the taste of black coffee. He said he could taste it on my lips, in my mouth, after I’d drunk it. So I started drinking my coffee the way he liked it.”
Arthur nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was…considerate of you.”
Merlin smiled self-deprecatingly. “Considerate? I’m not sure. I made a lot of concessions for Pravin. I loved him, but I was very young when I married him.”
Arthur nodded. “Mordred mentioned that. Said, you dropped out of uni? To marry Pravin?”
Merlin smiled and took a sip of the coffee. He coughed slightly; it was stronger without the garnishing, but he knew it wouldn’t take long to get used to it. “I’d better start at the beginning,” he said, setting his cup down.
Arthur sat back in his chair, legs sprawling under the table and his knee pressing against Merlin’s. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Merlin pressed his knee back against Arthur’s. “Bear with me. It’s hard to explain.” He concentrated, thinking back to the day he met Pravin.
“I was seventeen,” Merlin began, “when I met Pravin. My parents had been dead for six months. Mordred’s a lot older than me, nearly eight years older than me, and I ended up living with him. Morgana was off at university. I felt a bit in Mordred’s way – who would want their sixteen-year-old little brother living with them?
“Anyway, he put up with me, and after I finished school, to earn some money, I took a part-time job, working in a hospital cafeteria. I met Pravin there. He was a doctor, he worked on cancers and things. To cut a long story short, we started dating. Mordred and Morgana were never sure about him – Pravin was older than me, thirty-three when we met, whilst I was only seventeen. I went off to uni, but hated it, and moved home as soon as I could. Pravin asked me to marry him shortly before I went to uni, and although he was prepared to wait for me to finish, it seemed…unnecessary.”
Merlin broke off, drank some more coffee. Arthur shifted in his seat, and said, “I understand. When you meet someone you like, waiting is hard.” His face was neutral, but his voice vibrated with sympathy and something else. For one insane moment, Merlin thought it might be jealousy. He nodded, and continued with his story.
“We married a few months later. I was twenty, he was thirty-five. The ceremony was tiny, just Mordred and Morgana, a couple of Pravin’s friends. Almost as soon as we married, Pravin kept talking about ‘going home’. He’d been living in England since he was eighteen, for nearly half his life, and he’d done all his medical training here, but he wanted to move back to India. So, just before our first wedding anniversary, we did.”
Merlin sighed, deeply, and Arthur leant over the table to take his hand. “Merlin, you don’t have to tell me.” Arthur’s voice was tight.
“I want to,” Merlin looked into Arthur’s face. “I need to explain.”
Arthur nodded, and sat back in his chair again, tension crossing his face in waves.
Merlin pressed on. “Do you know that homosexuality was illegal in India until a few years ago? Our marriage wasn’t even legally recognised there. I didn’t know that. If I had, maybe I’d never have moved there. But I loved Pravin, and I wanted to be with him. He told his family that I was a friend. A student, with no parents, who he’d taken pity on. His family suggested he take a wife. Pravin tried to convince me it would work. This woman could be our cover – bear us children. No-one was really bothered by homosexuality anyway, but Pravin was paranoid. We argued about it constantly. I didn’t think it was fair, to me or to the random woman Pravin would pick.
“Eventually, I admitted that I didn’t want to be a secret. I wanted everyone to know that in England, we’d married. Pravin hated the idea. Hated the thought that everyone would know who we were to each other.” Merlin wiped away a tear.
“On our second wedding anniversary, we argued about it. I walked away from him, I was angry. He went to work angry. That night, he called to say he was going to be late. I ignored the call. I was packing. Packing to leave him. Then he got beaten up. He lay unconscious and bleeding in a ditch, whilst I worked out the most hurtful way to tell him I was leaving him.” Another tear rolled down Merlin’s cheek.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” he admitted. “I’ve felt so guilty all these years, because I wanted to leave him. Then he got beaten up and I never got to apologise – he never regained consciousness.”
Arthur leant forward. He cupped Merlin’s cheek, and used his thumb to brush away a tear. “You did nothing wrong, Merlin,” he murmured gently. “Nothing wrong at all.”
“I’ve clung to his memory, because of guilt,” Merlin stressed. “I want you to know that. I’ve realised that, seeing Gaius. I felt guilty.”
Arthur nodded. “I know.”
“Do you, though? Do you understand?”
Arthur nodded. “I get it, Merlin, I really do.”
“Good,” said Merlin, and reached across the table to drag Arthur into a firm kiss.
Merlin’s mouth moved warmly against Arthur’s, his tongue flicking out to lick at the seam of Arthur’s lips. After a second, Arthur parted his lips, and deepened the kiss.
Merlin eventually pulled back. “Good,” he repeated. “I want you to know that I like you. I want to give this, us, a go. If you want,” he added hastily.
Arthur grinned, the wide beaming grin Merlin was growing so fond of. “Oh, I want.” He laughed. “Merlin, I really, really want.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-14 06:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-21 05:05 pm (UTC)Poor Merlin's emotions gave me heartaches the whole time I was reading this. Making Mordred and Morgana his siblings are a cute touch, I can totally see the three of them coming from the same gene pool, being pale, dark-haired, blue-eyed and fey and whatnot :) And Arthur, oh you bleeding heart charmer, you. The plot is <3 I'm looking forward to more from you!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-03-29 03:12 am (UTC)But Arthur--Arthur was wonderful! I really enjoyed how there was that instant connection between Arthur and Merlin and how Arthur was trying so hard to be respectful of Merlin's feelings. ♥
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-04-14 09:57 pm (UTC)This was so touching, I literally feel how deep Merlin's grief goes and I think the timing as he worked to get better was very good. I really liked your characterisation of Arthur too, eager but not over done. Thank you very much for sharing :)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 10:44 pm (UTC)But again, this was really lovely and touching and Im so glad you ended it on a positive happy note! Loved it! xx
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-10-28 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 10:03 pm (UTC)Merlin's grief is heartbreaking. Mourning for years, alone in foreign country, in a place where his less than perfect marriage has been struggling. I have a bit of weakness for hurt!Merlin fic. Oh! still wondering what really happen to Pravin though. Somehow I kept expecting to find out he was beaten by some homophobes who find out about his relationship with Merlin.
Thanks for sharing!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: