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There's a sound, a familiar one but still too far to reach. Arthur grumbles to himself, smushing his face further into his pillow. It becomes louder–the sound, pulling him into awareness. And finally the familiarity sets in and he wastes no time clumsily reaching for his phone, squinting at the bright screen before he accepts the call. “Merlin?”
“Hey, Arthur.”
Merlin's voice comes across shaky, quiet but also relieved, somewhat. Arthur sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, concern ebbing into his mind. “What time is it? Are you okay?”
“No–yeah, I’m…I’m okay. I'm sorry, I know it’s late or, well, early I guess. I just,” he sighs tiredly, “I don’t know.”
It’s not hard for Arthur to wake up fully, sitting up in bed like it’s routine. He knows when Merlin calls him at such hours it’s because he’s in need of something. And whatever that thing is, Arthur will give it to him. But something is different this time; it’s his voice, Arthur thinks, there’s something lurking in it that feeds his concern.
“That’s okay. You’re home right?”
“Erm, well, no. I’m taking a walk.”
“What? Merlin, it’s late a–and dark. Are you bloody well wanting to get kidnapped? It’s not smart to be outside by yourself at this time. It’s not safe.”
There's silence for a moment, a long moment, long enough Arthur pulls the phone away from his ear to see if the line has fallen dead. But no, Merlin is still there. His concern becomes harder to ignore now. Different scenarios filter through Arthur's head, different reasoning's as to why Merlin would be calling at such an hour. All of them full or worry for his safety. Then a relenting sigh breaks the dreadful silence, filling Arthur with a pinch of relief. “I know. It’s just I–I needed to do something with myself. I couldn’t sleep and my thoughts they…Arthur, I'm scared it’s getting bad again,” he ends in a whisper, self-deprecating.
Arthur's heart clenches. They’ve had similar calls to this fashion; Merlin confiding in Arthur, needing him to remind him of his reality, of what is true. And Arthur has been there every single time and always will be. No matter what, no matter when, he will always show up for Merlin. It’s a vow he made to himself, one he would need to be six feet under to break.
Arthur swallows thickly. He wills his words to come out confident, to be stable for Merlin. “Where are you exactly? I'll come to you.”
“Oh, um. Actually, I'm nearing the corner store about a block down from your place. So.”
Arthur curses internally. Merlin would have had to be walking for a prolonged amount of time to make it that far. Why hadn’t he called sooner? It’s a frustrating question but a useless one nonetheless. What he needs to do now is act, not wonder or criticize. He gets up and flicks on his bedroom light to search for his shoes. “Okay. I’ll meet you halfway. Stay on the phone.”
“Can you just wait outside the building? I’ll be there quickly enough. No need for the extra trouble.”
Arthur wants to argue but holds it in, resigning himself to the fact that Merlin is a grown man and can walk a block safely by himself. Hopefully. If anything his clumsiness would probably take his life before a serial killer. “Fine. Don’t hang up though.”
“I won’t.”
After that, Arthur slips out of his flat and enters the lift. He can hear Merlin's footsteps pick up pace over the call and smiles softly to himself. He’s probably wearing those ridiculous dragon slippers. With a ding, Arthur exits into the lobby and makes his way to the front of the building. Stepping outside, he’s introduced to a small chill in the air, left over from winter as they enter spring. He leans against the wall and waits, listening to Merlin's breathing over the line and then a very distinct shiver. “You aren’t wearing a jacket, are you?”
“Neither are you,” comes his voice, louder in person than it is on the phone.
Arthur looks up then slides off the wall when he sees Merlin's form approaching. The man wears a slightly over-sized and beige long-sleeve, green plaid pajama bottoms, and– yup; his dragon slippers. Arthur hangs up the phone and puts his hand on his hip, clicking his tongue teasingly when Merlin's in ear shot. “Merlin, such footwear is not adequate for walks. Haven’t I told you this before?”
Merlin smiles small and shrugs. “You have. But I never listen, do I?” He comes to a slow stop in front of Arthur, avoiding eye contact. He’s close enough now that Arthur can bear witness to the circles under his eyes and the downturn of his mouth. But with that are the soft splatter of freckles Arthur has grown to adore, the comforting blue of his eyes that seem to always harbour a glint of hope no matter what’s going through his head, his high cheekbones in which the street light dances upon now. He’s unbelievably pretty.
Shaking away his thoughts, Arthur answers, “no, you don’t,” and places his hand on the small of Merlin's back. “C’mon.”
He quietly guides Merlin through the entrance and then over to the lift where they wait for it to open. Once they are inside he presses the button to his floor and then turns to Merlin, who is still adamant about not looking him in the eye. He wants to say something, to break the tense line of Merlin's shoulders but figures it’s best to stay silent until they are in private, where he knows Merlin will be most comfortable. When the doors open he makes a quick walk down to his door, unlocking it and gently ushering Merlin inside.
“Tea?” He asks, setting his keys on the small side table and toeing off his shoes. Merlin nods and sits himself on a stool at the island. Arthur keeps an eye on him as he puts on the kettle and gathers their mugs. He wishes there was more he could do then just be there. It would be much more satisfying if he could twine every little infiltrating thought of Merlin's around his fingers, pull them from his skull and make them his own. But Arthur knows some things need to be done tenderly, with slow intent to properly unravel.
While the water boils, he quickly walks to the living area, grabbing the blanket that he keeps for Merlin specifically. It’s so worn down; stains that won’t come out no matter how much it gets washed, some holes here and there but Merlin refuses to let Arthur purchase him a new one because ‘it’s the first one Arthur ever bought him.’ And really, who could ever argue with such a sweet statement?
He makes his way back to where Merlin is sitting patiently and walks up behind him to wrap the blanket around his shoulders, causing the younger man to startle. “Sorry,” Arthur chuckles softly, “I just want you to be warm,” he finishes, successfully covering Merlin with the loved quilt, rubbing his hands up and down Merlin's arm to get heat moving through his bones.
Merlin shakes his head softly, bringing the blanket tighter around himself. “It’s okay,” he smiles back at Arthur, eyes alight with devout gratefulness. “Thank you,” he says sincerely.
Arthur gazes down at him, infected with unrelenting adoration for Merlin. “Anything for you, Merlin,” he states, looking into his eyes, hoping his soul reaches through his words to touch Merlin's, to carve them into it so he never forgets their truth.
As he walks back around the island he feels Merlin's eye’s boring into him, his stare unfiltered, and when he goes to pour the steaming water into their mugs, Merlin speaks up. “I didn’t realize I was heading in your direction until I called you. You’ve always helped me whenever I get like this. Maybe it was my subconscious leading me here, maybe it knew what I…needed. Either way I’m–”
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Merlin. If you need me then you have me. My time, my focus, me.” Arthur shakes his head as Merlin's mouth opens to speak again, brows furrowed in clear overthinking. ”And don’t even think of calling yourself a burden because you are anything but. I want you to need me because I want to be here for you. Okay?”
Merlin wraps his hands around his mug, turning his head down.
“Merlin, look at me.”
He does, albeit tentatively. Arthur goes to stand next to him, knees knocking against Merlin's thigh where he sits. “Okay?”
Merlin's eyes dart back and forth between Arthur's eyes decidingly before the hard lines of his face begin to soften. He nods. “Okay.”
Arthur smiles down at him, proud. “Good.” He ruffles Merlin's hair, causing a soft huff of amusement from him. Then, instead of removing it, he drags his hand softly to cup the back of Merlin's head. Arthur considers him for a moment, looking down at Merlin who has leaned into his touch, eyes falling closed. “And right now in this moment, Merlin, what do you need from me?”
Merlin's eyes quickly flick back up to his, wide and expressive. Arthur waits for a response, whether it’s an answer to his question or a sign that he’s being too pushy. After a handful of seconds Merlin's gaze falls away from him. Arthur begins to back up, pulling his hand away but before he can get too far Merlin turns on the stool and lets his weight land against Arthur's torso, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. “I just need you.”
Arthur’s heart warms. Stepping into the v of his legs, he brings one hand to smooth up and down on Merlin's back and his other to card through his hair. Merlin sighs deeply, burrowing further into Arthur. “You’re a good person, Arthur. Better than I think I deserve.”
A rush of anger towards Merlin’s words moves through Arthur, making him want to scold in the most caring way possible. Merlin, you damned idiot, why can’t you see it’s the opposite?! Instead, he tips his chin down to his chest as he turns Merlin’s up, so he’s looking up at Arthur through his lashes. He slides his palm around to Merlin's check, gentle, as if he were cradling porcelain he's still in the process of gluing back together, the cracks filled in with gold.
“One day,” he starts, “you’ll find that all your troubles and doubts have disappeared and you’ll look for them, wondering where they’ve gone.” He can’t help the wavering of his voice, the tears gathering on his lashes towards the mere thought of Merlin feeling anything akin to sadness. “And when you do, Merlin, you’ll look at me and realize that little by little, I took them for you, made a space for them inside myself so that you don’t have to worry about yourself anymore.” He wipes his thumb tenderly under Merlin's eyes, where tears are starting to fall, matching his own.
“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, bottom lip trembling.
“How does that sound?”
Merlin looks up at him still with disbelief but there's a knowing shine in his eyes that tells Arthur he’s come to learn to never expect anything less. “It sounds like you plan on sticking around with me,” he sniffles, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.
Arthur smiles down at him, cheeks still wet from his own tears, never having been so dearly in love and extremely proud. “I never planned on being anywhere else. You’re forever, Merlin.”
“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin says, voice laced with reverence for what he believes isn't deserved but what Arthur won’t let him doubt. He turns his forehead to the spot on Arthur’s chest where his heart resides, breathing deeply in that position before he stands up, hands clinging to Arthur’s shirt. Their faces are a breadth away from each other’s, leaving no space for them to take in their own air.
Arthur waits, doesn't say anything, just drops his hands to Merlin's waist and lets himself get lost in the beauty of the man before him until Merlin knocks his forehead against Arthur’s this time, speaking his next words into Arthur’s mouth. “There’s so much in me that’s for you, Arthur. I don’t know how I could ever possibly express it all. But I knew,” he goes on, words firm, “the moment I met you that falling in love with you was inevitable.You were already my forever, Arthur, before I ever had the chance to even consider you as my something.”
Any empty space or broken part Arthur considered himself to be ridden with has become full and fixed by Merlin. His very existence, his perfect presence.
“And it’ll never not be true,” Merlin continues, unaware of the absolute light that has just been born within Arthur, “when I say that I love you, Arthur. God, I love you.”
Arthur can’t do anything but close the mere space between their lips and kiss his own confession into the crevices of Merlin's mouth. He kisses it into every gap in his teeth, into each invisible cavity, onto every taste-bud. Everywhere, until he’s sure all Merlin can taste is the undying blossom of 'I love you' on his tongue. Still, this doesn't stop him from pulling away to know what it feels like to breathe after he finally says the three words that have been living as his closest companions. “I love you, too.”
And it’s in that moment that Arthur thinks that he would carry any weight Merlin feels buried under if it means he can repeat those words with every breath he takes.