Chapter Text
Sometimes at night Arthur pretends Merlin's laying in the bed beside him, fast asleep. Of course, he quickly learns this isn't likely as Merlin would be sprawled across the bed, more than half on Arthur's side. It's only been six months since Merlin left and he supposes this desire won't go away anytime soon. He should be happy to have his space back- his flat, his fridge, his king sized bed. Instead there's part of him that aches to have to share space again. Maybe he can get a dog. Or a cat. Cats are supposedly lower maintenance than dogs, anyway, and they walk all over your things and squeeze into spots they shouldn't be. The right cat would remind me immensely of Merlin.
It would be easier, he thinks, if he didn't see Merlin all the time because of their mutual friends. Sometimes, the break-up seems like some sort of game that he played very badly. Merlin had said something about needing space, since they'd been together since school. He knew this was partially inspired because Arthur had made an offhanded comment about marriage. Arthur had agreed hesitantly and then decided to throw himself into it with gusto. The mistake was the gusto, when he'd run into Merlin less than two weeks later on a date with a pretty blonde named Vivian. The hurt on Merlin's face spoke volumes and Arthur couldn't meet his eye. In fact, in the half year since, he did everything he could to avoid looking Merlin in the eye.
The horrible thing is when they're out, at dinner or a pub with friends, he knows Merlin's looking at him. When he manages to glance over at him, Merlin will look away. He wonders if he's still thinking of him at all- first on the pull out sofa at Gwaine and Lance's flat then on his small bed in the flatshare with his work friends. Maybe Merlin's got another person in his bed, he never brings himself to ask and no one will tell him anything more than the minimal details of his life. That's probably for the best, but honestly, he knows Merlin can do what he likes. It's not like he's spent every night for the last six months alone. The issue is that the nights where he is alone, he continues to long for Merlin to be draped across him, or pressing his cold feet against him, or falling asleep on the sci-fi novel he's reading.
On this night, Arthur's awake late into the night. When he glances at the clock, it blinks back at him a solemn "3:25". He'll have to be awake in an hour and a half for his morning jog. At least without Merlin he doesn't have to feel guilty about keeping his own hours. He also doesn't have to worry about ever skipping a run to spend a morning warm under the covers. Everything has its pros and cons.
He closes his eyes and starts to drift off when he's interrupted by telltale buzz of his phone. The clock flashes "3:28." Arthur fumbles for his phone, hitting his night table a few times before he can grab it, lifting it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"I'm sorry, Arthur, I know I shouldn't call you, least of all this late but my father's...he's dead and I don't know who else to talk to."
"Merlin? 's that you?" Instinctively, he's already swung his feet over the side of his bed. If he takes a cab, he can be to Merlin's flat within half an hour. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"You don't have to come if you don't want. I know things are kind of awkward-"
"It's not a problem. I'll be there."
"I was kind of hoping I could go there. Will's gonna wake up soon and you know how he is with comfort."
Arthur did acutely know what Will could be like, his cold demeanor and tendency to be too literal would end with him saying things like "You can always get another cat" or "I don't know why you're crying about an exam" to a much younger, more sensitive Merlin. If it weren't for Merlin's conviction that he meant well, Arthur would have fought him years ago. It's probably for the best he hasn't.
"Yeah, that's fine. Come on over. I'll put the kettle on."
He hasn't had Merlin over since he came to collect his things. Very little has changed, he hasn't even taken all of his photos down. It's not sentimentality, he swears. Arthur just doesn't feel the need to hide something that was so important to his past. Besides, without Merlin's knick knacks crowding the shelves, he needs something to keep the flat looking bright. There's no need to dwell on it anyway, he can focus on putting on clothes and heating up the kettle.
Merlin's father was an enigmatic figure in his life, popping in and out throughout the years. During their teen years, he'd reappeared for the first time, doing his best to make amends. He'd met his son and tentatively started to heal things with Merlin's mother. Still, for his job or for other reasons, he'd consistently ducked in and out for the ensuing years. While Merlin was glad to have his father around, he never really got to know what it was like to have a proper father figure in his life. While Arthur's own experience was different from his, he could relate to that lack, with his own father's distance. In fact, it was this similarity that had pushed them closer and led to their relationship at the tender ages of 16 and 18.
No one else had met Merlin's father except for Arthur and Arthur had figured that maybe this contributed to the phone call. Or maybe it was the old similarities between them. He wouldn't entertain the idea that maybe it was some sort of muscle memory, eight years of history telling him to seek out his old creature comfort when something had gone wrong. Arthur's just stifled a yawn when there's a knock on the door. After a moment's hesitation, he hears the door unlock and Merlin steps in. Of course Merlin still has his key, Arthur's never bothered to ask for it back. it's a finality that seems unnecessary. He's unshaven, not uncommon for these days, and wearing an Oxford hoodie that was once, a very long time ago, Arthur's. The paleness of his face is obvious even in the dim light and he can tell that Merlin's taken care to look like he's not been crying.
"I've made tea," Arthur says softly. Tea is just about the only thing he can make without issue and he knows Merlin's preferences by heart. "It should be just the right temperature for drinking now." In fact, it's a bit too cold.
Once Merlin's settled on the couch, he accepts a mug from Arthur anyway. Arthur seats himself on the other side of couch, making sure to keep an appropriate distance. For the first time he realizes that he hasn't been this close to Merlin, even in social settings, since the break-up. It feels unnatural to have been so far away for so long.
Merlin opens his mouth to speak. "I-" He closes it again and shakes his head.
"You don't need to talk, Merlin. It's fine."
"No, I want to talk. It's just kind of weird talking about it. Apparently he was on his way to the airport to come home when it happened."
"Home like here?"
He nods. "Home like here." There's something too marked in the words. "London."
"Shit, I'm sorry Merlin." Arthur knows what Merlin may be thinking, how easy it would be to blame himself for this. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just be here. Be yourself and be here."
It would be easier if the man sitting across from him was a stranger, someone he didn't know staring awkwardly down into his lap. Instead, this is someone he'll always know too acutely well, even if he can never truly be in his life again. He moves closer on the couch, patting the cushion directly next to him. Merlin takes the hint and moves closer. Arthur puts his arm around him and he rests against his chest.
A stillness takes over then. After a few minutes, Merlin lets out a sob, pressing further against him. Arthur runs a hand down his arm, giving a reassuring touch as he lets everything he feels out. He holds him until he's certain Merlin's half asleep.
"Hey," he half-whispers. "Why don't you get some sleep?" Arthur wipes away the last of his tears. It's an intimate and familiar gesture, but he doesn't care about the deeper meanings in that moment. "You can rest in my bed."
Merlin insists the couch is fine, until Arthur continues to goad him into the bed. It's tempting to climb in beside him, maybe to curl up in the bed with him and pretend nothing has changed, just for a night. The truth is, things have changed and they can't go back. Instead, he sits on the edge of the bed until he's sure Merlin's dropped the rest of the way off to sleep. He almost regrets wishing so badly for Merlin to be back in his bed.