Merlin fic: A Patch of Gold
Sep. 17th, 2011 11:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluecastleTitle: A Patch of Gold
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valancy_joy
Characters: Merlin Emrys, Arthur Pendragon, with cameos by Gaius, Geoffrey Monmouth, Uther, and Gwaine, and mentions of Will, Morgana, Leon, and obliquely, Kilgarrah.
Rating: Mature for themes and language.
Word Count: 7696
Based on the 1965 Sidney Poitier movie, A Patch of Blue. A million thanks toparagraphs for the beta-ing an early partial draft, and for her twitter cheerleading as I struggled to finish this.
Summary: A grieving Merlin stumbles upon a blind and friendless boy one day. And that day will change his life in ways he can’t even imagine.
Oh God, what have I done, what have I agreed to? And, Jesus Christ … what do I do now?
If Will were only here to talk to. I miss him so much, his stupid face, and his stupid music and all those afternoons and middle of the nights we’d lie here, curled up under this grotty duvet and he’d make me tell him stories.
“Weave me some of your magic, Merlin,” he’d say, “Tell me about what you’re writing. Please,” he’d whisper small and soft in my ear as he wound our fingers together. I never knew how to refuse him. I never really wanted to refuse him anything. And then he was gone, and this bed was so empty for so long.
And now there’s two of us in this bed once again. And it’s so strange to see a blond head on the pillow next to me.
Arthur’s lying there now asleep, worn out from this terrible, wonderful day. It’s dusk, and the last golden rays of sunshine are striping in through the blinds, warm and cool, light and dark, hiding and revealing, and there’s so much to think about.
I was such a mess for so long after Will died. How are you supposed to prepare for how someone else’s life ending ends up ending yours? There he was, admitted to A&E on a Monday, and by Thursday, he was gone.
The next few months are pretty much a blur, as I think back. I either never left the house, or I never came home. There were some run-ins with the police, a couple bouts of alcohol poisoning, a few other things of not-really-questionable legality. Numbness like that, well, it’s hard to care about what you … or others … are putting in your body. Not surprising then, that it took a bunch of chavs in a bar one night who gave my head a good kicking in to make me see sense.
So, Mum called in a favor, and now I have a therapist, and a support group, and two jobs to pay for it all.
“Just call me Gaius, my dear boy,” well, he’s not-quite-Harley-Street, but his office in Albion Towers is posh enough. And he’s a right old character. Got diplomas, and etchings, and art-with-a-capital-A all over the walls, but I think he’s one of Mum’s hippie pals from back in the day, with his long hair, half-moon specs, and a penchant for wearing embroidered tunics instead of a normal sort of shirt. Told him during our first session that I was glad to meet someone with a stupider name than mine. Made him laugh. Then he gave me a metaphorical ass kicking; and a prescription, after which he went on for some time about sunlight, Vitamin D and dopamine receptors. I couldn’t be arsed to care very much about it then. Actually, I still don’t care very much about the sodding recuperative powers of sunlight, but the pills have helped. So that’s something.
I feel like I shouldn’t even be thinking about me, as Arthur lies here beside me, curled up on top of the covers, breathing softly, with one hand clutching onto my t-shirt. God, he’s so vulnerable. He’s going to need so much help and protection, and part of me wonders how I ended up being, well, responsible for him I guess. I think its going to take us a while to figure out what we are to each other, but it’s only been a week since we met, and I can’t imagine life without him now.
Christ, where would I have been if Gaius, that tosser, hadn’t been on my case to, “get out, walk, explore the city…” which led me one fateful Tuesday to the middle of Mayfair … and Arthur.
Being more or less forced to get out of the apartment, I went out to kill a couple of hours, and when I’d had enough of walking, stopped at some overpriced sandwich place and grabbed lunch. Just across the street was Berkeley Square, with masses of trees and benches in the middle of it. So there I was, whiling away my afternoon with a solitary chicken salad on wheat on a bench in the middle of London. Not exactly wild living, but there was something peaceful about that little oasis in the middle of London. It was nice, sitting there, watching the shadows flicker across the pathways. I was idly flipping through emails on my phone -- mostly from Mum -- when the carrier bag and the box the sandwich had been in blew away in a sudden gust of wind. I chased after them, getting my foot on the carrier bag in the middle of the grassy section that borders the Square, but my pursuit of the box took me around a large oak tree where I promptly tripped over a bare-footed blond boy who’d been sitting against the tree, out of my line of sight.
I gabbled some sort of an apology, and tried to untangle myself from the bloke’s legs. I think I was going on about whether he could see where my sandwich wrapper had got to when I finally looked up, and saw his face. He looked so scared. He was pressed defensively against the tree trunk, eyes vague and unfocused, his untidy mop of hair highlighting a trail of scars across his face.
“Are you OK?” I asked him, gently, trying not to startle him any more.
He didn’t say anything. He just clutched his hands so tightly I could see his knuckles go white.
“Easy now. I’m harmless, I promise. Just clumsy,” I told him, wanting very much to reach out and comfort him somehow, but I wasn’t sure he’d welcome the touch. All I could do was kneel there in the grass, and try and figure out some way to diffuse the tension.
“My name’s Merlin,” I told him, hoping he’d relax enough to tell me his name.
“I’m Wart,” came a shaky reply, almost a whisper.
I’m going to have to admit that hearing this … I laughed, so I can’t blame him for getting even more defensive.
“Piss off! S’what I’m called. My sister always has done. For proper it’s Arthur but only Da calls me that, or mostly just “Boy.”
“Well I’m going to call you Arthur, if that’s okay with you. I like that much better. Besides, it’s like fate isn’t it?” I said, laughing as I realized the connection.
Arthur just sat there. All I could do was rabbit on and try and fill the silence.
“Arthur … Merlin … you know … like in the stories...”
Still no response.
“King Arthur? And his trusty wizard Merlin? The Knights of the Round Table? Surely you’ve …”
I was about to try and explain when Arthur reached out suddenly, tentatively, until his fingers found my shoulder, and he clutched his fingers in my shirt as if he was afraid I was going to suddenly disappear.
“You sound like the radio,” Arthur said, leaning forward until he was on his knees across from me.
“The radio?” I asked him as his fingers wandered across my shoulders and traced the collar of my shirt so lightly I shivered.
“All posh like. Like on the radio, y’know, where God and Jesus and that ‘en’t swear words.”
“Hazards of a scholarship to a public school I guess,” I said, trying to make a joke.
Arthur stiffened then, and I thought I’d said something wrong, but then he yelled, and started fumbling around with the back of the long sleeved red t-shirt he was wearing.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“Something … gone down my back … I can’t… I’m sorry, it’s just, I can’t see. I’m blind. Please get it off me! Oh what is it? Merlin!”
It started to make a little more sense why he seemed so afraid. I realized suddenly why his gaze had seemed so vacant, and perhaps those tentative fingers tracing my shirt collar hadn’t been what I thought they might have been. But as I looked at him, desperately batting at his shirt, almost panting with fear, well, I had to help him. Plus, there was something in the urgent way he said my name that made me want to hug him. It only took a few minutes to find the caterpillar that had crawled into his shirt.
“It’s okay now Arthur honest. I was just a little bug, and it’s gone now. Relax.”
“S’okay. I’m sorry,” Arthur mumbled, and sort of drew back into himself, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.
“No worries, mate,” I told him. Then found myself blurting out, “The blindness... is it?....”
I’m not even sure what I intended to ask him.
“I...,” he started to say, and then stopped, sighed, and then propped his chin on his knees.
“Hey, it’s fine,” I said, “it’s really none of my business. Nosy as well as clumsy, I guess. It’s not important.”
“No. I … I want … I haven’t … I was five,” he said all in a rush, like he’d be waiting a long time to say that.
This time I was the one to put my hand on his arm.
“When I was five, my Da came home early one day, and found my Mam with another man. Don’t remember much except there was a big fight, and a lot of screaming, and I was curled up on the sofa, afraid, when suddenly there was pain, and then nothing. Found out later Mam had thrown a bottle of cleanser that was on the table at my Da, but it missed him, smashed on the wall, and splashed all down my face.”
“Oh, Arthur,” I said, clutching at his arm a bit. But there was more to his story.
“When I got out of hospital, Da told me Mam had gone away. Found out later she’d topped herself with some pills. Morgana, that’s my sister, she told me one day when she was mad at me. I think she liked telling me that. We’ve never got on, me and her, for all its mostly her that takes care of me.”
There was a long pause, and then he asked, sitting up and turning towards me, “Merlin, am I ugly?”
I was gobsmacked at this, but it felt like, in that moment, I owed him my honesty for his. So I took his face in my hand, and really looked. There were scars across his left temple, and under his left eye, and a few over his right eyelid, but there was nothing especially wrong with his face. Aside, apparently, from his inability to see. In fact, if you discounted the scars, it was rather a nice face. Floppy blond hair, blue eyes, an appealing blush of pink in his cheeks as he sat there, knowing I was looking at him.
“It’s mostly around the eyes,” I told him finally, tracing my fingertips lightly over the scars at this temple, and his cheek.
“Morgana says I shouldn’t go outside. That people don’t want to look at me.”
“Well I for one am glad you’re here,” I said to him, as his cheeks flushed pinker and he looked away from me.
Then I heard the chime of some nearby church bells, and realized how late it was. I’d picked up some freelance editing at a small publishing house, just a few afternoons a week, but they’d hinted it might lead to a more permanent position, and I didn’t want to be late.
So I apologized for needing to leave, told him I was glad to have met him, that I hoped we’d meet again, gathered up my trash, and dashed off.
But I couldn’t get him out of my mind. All afternoon I kept thinking what it must be like to exist always in the dark. I even tried closing my eyes, and walking across the office, but I tripped over a trashcan, and knocked a girl’s tea into her lap. It must have been my day for falling over people. So I tried to avoid thoughts of Arthur and get through the rest of my shift without causing any more incidents.
After work, I stopped at M&S to grab a few things, and as I was standing in the queue at the till I found myself staring at a rack of sunglasses next to me. I’m not sure what possessed me, but I found myself picking up a pair of gold-framed aviator glasses, and dropping them in with my shopping. I had no idea if it would do the trick, or if I’d ever see Arthur again, but he’d seemed so worried about those scars of his.
On a whim, I decided to go straight back to the park. It was only a few blocks out of my way. I was so pleased to see Arthur still sitting there. He was curled up against the base of the tree, fingers tracing over a leaf, exploring every inch of it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,” I told him.
“Merlin?!” he said, with what seemed to me a strange combination of relief and joy.
“I brought you a present,” I said, hunkering down next to him.
“A present? For me?”
“Hold out your hands.”
Arthur dropped the leaf, and held out his hands, slowly. I wondered about his wariness, and whether presents, or indeed kindness were in such short supply in his world. I’m so glad now that I went back to that park. But I knew so little about him then.
Into his outstretched hands I put the glasses. Arthur’s fingers gently explored the unknown object in his palms, just as I’d seen him do with the leaf. As I watched his face, I saw curiosity, and then his expression changed to confusion.
“Glasses? Don’t need ‘em,” he said, pushing them back at me.
I smiled and closed his fingers over the sunglasses.
“Put them on,” I told him. When he hesitated, I added, “They’re sunglasses. Go ahead. I want to see something.”
He was clearly struggling to trust me, but finally he unfolded the glasses and put them on.
I scooted closer, and took his chin in my hands, gently turning his face from side to side, examining the effect. Then I ruffled his hair, and said, “Well, you need a better haircut, but with those glasses, you’re perfect. No scars.”
“You magic?” he asked me with a rasp of disbelief, while those delicate fingers of his drifted to his face, fingertips exploring the new glasses.
“That’s me – magic fingered Merlin,” I laughed and sat down leaning against the tree, shoulder bumping Arthur’s.
“But Merlin, I … I don’t need glasses … I said … I’m blind.”
He sighed then, and sounded so defeated.
“Well that’s the great thing about sunglasses,” I said in a mock whisper, “Plenty of people use them to keep the sun out of their eyes, but lots of other people use them to hide behind. So you keep them,” I told him as I got to my feet and dusted off my backside.
“I hate to leave again so soon, but I’ve got to get to my second job. So I’ll see you yeah?”
And off I went to my night job at a local cinema. It’s kind of a crap job, but I’m still getting back on my feet, and mindless occupation suits me fine, for now at least.
I lay awake for a long time that night, trying to imagine Arthur’s life, and mostly failing, and wondering how someone I just met could be occupying so many of my thoughts so quickly. I felt sorry for him, but it didn’t feel like pity I was feeling, exactly. I wondered, could it be simple attraction? I had found myself wanting to touch him. And there had been this fleeting sensation as I watched those fingers of his gently exploring his world, wondering what they would feel like on my skin. But surely all that was merely idle speculation rather than out and out lust. Wanting someone new, someone not Will hadn’t even occurred to me. Was it then, affection, or sympathy, or some need to try and do something to help? I couldn’t be sure. But when I fell asleep I dreamed of warmth, of laughter, and the feel of cool forest shadows on my face and tree bark rough against my fingers.
I guess it wasn’t very surprising, then that I found myself out on the street late the next morning, headed for the Berkeley Square, and hoping Arthur was there.
And there he was, curled up on a plaid blanket, wearing tan cargo shorts, a soft worn blue-grey t-shirt, and the sunglasses. I stood there and watched him for a few minutes just sitting and listening, and occasionally running his fingers through the grass beside his blanket.
I decided we were ready for our first adventure.
I walked over a few paces from his blanket and announced, “It’s a beautiful day, and I hate to think of you sitting here under this tree all day long. So let’s go for a walk, yes?”
“Merlin?” he asked, with a huge smile on his face.
“One and the same. Now give me your hands,” I said, and when he held them out, I pulled him to his feet.
“Whatever your plans were for lunch, I’m changing them.”
“I have some crisps,” he said gesturing vaguely at a backpack that sat at our feet.
“Well, bring them along,” I said, handing him the bag and folding up his blanket.
“But Merlin, I can’t leave. I not supposed to.”
“When do you need to be back?” I asked him.
“Da usually fetches me after his shift, at the hotel, Warwick House. He and Morgana are cleaners there. He’s usually done at six, but he...”
“Then we’ve got hours. Now come along Arthur. You are taking me to lunch. We’re going to go to out onto the path, we’re going to cross the street, and then we’re going to walk a little further down the pavement and you are going to tell me when we get to the sandwich shop.”
“How will I know?” he asked clutching my arm as I started to walk us towards the street.
“You’ll know,” I told him.
It was just a few steps across the grass to the brick pathway out of the park, and then once on the pavement, we turned right, and walked to the crossing. For a while he clutched tight to my arm, his hand tucked in the crook of my elbow. But once we got across the busy intersection, he relaxed a bit, and we walked slowly down the block of shops.
“I’m getting awfully hungry now. So be sure and tell me when we get to the sandwich shop. I’ve got a real craving for a tasty sandwich, on fresh baked bread, with a lot of mustard, and maybe a dill pickle.”
And sure enough, he bypassed the car dealership, two banks, and a gym, when he stopped, and took a deep breath in.
“Here,” he said with smile. “Mustard and pickles, right Merlin?”
“Exactly right Arthur. I told you you’d find it. Now lets get some sandwiches, I’m starving.”
So sandwiches were gotten, and some lemonade, and a couple of brownies when I saw Arthur drifting away from me following the scent of freshly baked desserts.
We spent the afternoon in the dappled shade of Arthur’s oak tree, sitting on his blanket, and talking. I hardly remember about what. Everything and nothing I suppose, though I did find out that he was eighteen, and had never been to school. Seems they left the place they’d been living after Arthur’s accident, moved around, never staying in one place very long, and eventually ending up in London, and that was that. I can’t even imagine it. Thirteen years in the dark, picking things up from overheard conversations, or bits of shows on the telly or the radio.
“I like the radio, Merlin,” he said to me at one point. “It’s like someone’s there with me, so I’m not so all alone.”
I stayed there with him as long as I could, but when it started to get dark I had to go on to the cinema job. It was clear Arthur didn’t want me to go, but I promised him I’d come back the next afternoon and we’d have another adventure. This time he walked to the path with me, and then he hugged me impulsively. Arms tight around me he said, “Thanks Merlin, for today.”
Then I watched for a moment as he went back to the blanket and sat down near the tree, arms wound around his knees.
Took everything I had to walk away from him, but I hadn’t gone far when a man walking a dog brushed past me. The dog was barking, and tugging at the lead, and the old man dropped the leash and the dog took off towards Arthur’s tree. I watched for a moment, to see what was going on, to make sure everything was okay.
I could hear Arthur calling out as the dog ran up and licked his face.
“Hullo Scary Garry,” he said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Who’s a bad dog?”
The dog, Garry, barked at that and the old man laughed.
“Geoffrey?” Arthur called. “‘Sthat you?”
“Right here lad,” the old gent said. “Your Dad, well, he’s ...otherwise engaged... so I thought I’d come over and see you home. That okay?”
“Is he …” Arthur asked, looking sad somehow.
“You know how it is,” the man he called Geoffrey told him.
I left them conversing quietly, the old man leading the boy and the dog down the street away from me.
I was running late the next day. When I got to the Square, Arthur was sitting there in his usual spot, curled into himself. He never even looked up until I crouched down next to him and said, “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
As I spoke he sort of unfolded, and suddenly I had a very relieved Arthur clinging to my neck. He clutched onto my shirt for a little while, breathing hard. He tried to tell me something, but his breath kept hitching. We sat like that for a little while. He tried to pull away a bit, but as he did, my hands inadvertently found a ticklish spot on his side and he yelped.
Before I even really knew what I was doing, I found myself wrapping one arm around his waist and using my other arm to tickle that sensitive spot. In no time were were rolling around like kids, grappling and wrestling and laughing. Finally, breathless, we flopped over side by side and lay there in the grass, sun on our faces catching our breath.
It was so good to lay there, warm and content in the sunshine, and when Arthur’s hand found mine, I wound our fingers together and felt, for the first time in a long time, happy.
“Come on,” I said finally, getting to my feet. “I’ve got grocery shopping to do, and you’re going to help me. Then we’re going to my place for lunch.”
Tesco’s was an adventure in itself, and it was wonderful to experience it from Arthur’s perspective. And that perspective continued even after we got back here to the flat.
“You have carpet? In your hallway?” he’d asked, scuffing his feet along, and then stopping altogether to kneel down and feel the rough nap of the wool under his fingers. I wouldn’t want to touch it, but for Arthur it was a wonderful thing.
I couldn’t help but wonder where he was living that carpet, even manky carpet in the hallway was worth such awe. And what did it say about me that I never even considered that there were people who might consider it a luxury? But the grocery bags were getting heavy, and I still had to get my keys out, so I nudged him a bit and he stood up, wrapping his hand around my arm. He did that a lot, almost from the first moment we met.
“Here, make yourself useful,” I said, shoving a couple bags into his arms. I got the door unlocked, and pulled him inside. He jumped when I tossed my keys into that pewter bowl Mum had given Will and me one Christmas. But I was taking the bags from him and steering him towards the kitchen. I could see how unsettled he was at being in a strange place. At least until I flicked on my iPod in its little speaker base. A happy little jazz tune floated out.
Arthur sighed happily, gave a soft little “oh!,” of surprise and smiled. I couldn’t help smiling back even though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“Come on, hand me the things will you, and I’ll get them put away. Always goes faster with help.”
He handed me the tins and boxes without comment, but I watched as he got the fruits and veg out of the bags. He ran his fingers across the smooth skin of an aubergine, and buried his nose in the frothy green tops of a bunch of carrots.
“We’ll clean those carrots and have some for lunch,” I announced, and then there was some excitement when the bag the oranges were in broke and we had to chase them around the floor of the kitchen. We got them rounded up at last, and into a bowl on the counter. He started to wipe them off on his shirt when I tossed a tea-towel at him. I caught him out of the corner of my eye breathing in the scent of the last orange before he gently placed it on top of the others in the bowl.
I had just put the milk away, when the front door opened and then slammed shut.
“You’re not going to believe what those wankers at British Air did now,” Gwaine called before he caught sight of Arthur through the pass-through into the kitchen. I could see Arthur was twisting the kitchen towel tight in his hands, worrying it nervously.
As I tossed Gwaine a bottle of water from the fridge, I introduced them.
“Arthur, this very loud person is my cousin, Gwaine. Gwaine, Arthur was helping me with the shopping.
Gwaine cracked open the water bottle, nodded at Arthur, and said, “Cheers mate,” before flopping onto a chair and putting his feet up on the coffee table.
“Is it only the two of you here then?” Arthur asked me softly, fingers now running nervously along the counter’s edge.
“Gwaine’s just here for a few weeks. He’s off to France soon for a new job. It’s been good to have the company,” I said looking past Arthur to Gwaine who tipped his water bottle at me.
I carried with some chatter for Arthur’s benefit, all the while having a short, unspoken conversation with Gwaine.
“He’s a bit of a looker, is Gwaine. Very easy on the eyes.” I said, shaking my head and mouthing the word ‘later’ at Gwaine’s puzzled expression as he stared at Arthur.
Having downed the water, Gwaine got up, and headed towards the guest room.
“I’m off for a kip. I intend to sleep for a very long time,” he said stretching and yawning, but looking at me very pointedly before he went off towards the guest room.
Back in the kitchen we worked on getting lunch ready. Arthur looked like he could use a good meal, and it was less awkward all around if I was doing something other than staring at this stranger in my apartment. Inviting strangers in was something I never do, but somehow this time it seemed different.
I had my head in the fridge, looking for the mayonnaise when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Merlin? Are you rich?”
I burst out laughing. I seemed to keep doing that without meaning to. Certainly after I saw Arthur’s face, I shut the refrigerator door and went over to where he was standing.
“Why would you say that, Arthur?” I asked him.
“Well, it’s nice here... the carpet… and the music, and vegetables. Well, everything. And … and no one’s yelling.”
I just wanted to hug him.
But I ruffled his hair, and said “No, really not, no. Now come help me wash these carrots, while I fix us the sandwiches. Do you like turkey?”
Arthur proved to be a dab hand with the carrots. I teased him a bit, I suppose, tickling his nose with the carrot tops and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.
Between his carrots and my sandwiches, we were soon eating lunch at the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the flat. Arthur went to pick up his sandwich, but he stopped suddenly, turned to me and said, “Are we friends, Merlin?”
“Would you like that?” I asked him.
“Its been a long time since I had one.”
Well, what could I say besides, “Well now you do.” Besides, it was true. I knew, even in this short time, that no matter what, I couldn’t just let Arthur slip out of my life. I was even more sure as Arthur continued to talk.
“When I was small, I had a friend. She was called Gwen. She was nice. She would come and visit me after her school let out, and we’d talk and pretend things. Sometimes she read me stories, or tell me about things in her school books.
But then we had to leave that place where we were living. I asked Morgana if she would help me write Gwen a letter. She just laughed at me and said she wasn’t wasting her time writing to some coloured girl, that things were better this way. Well I didn’t know she was coloured, did I? I was only nine. Had to get Morgana to explain it to me. I wouldn’t have cared. She was my friend. Then we came here, and well... I guess Gwen was my only friend. Until now.”
Then there was a long pause and he added, “Everyone ought to have one friend.”
What could I do after all that but wrap him in my arms and hug him. We stayed like that for a little while, his cheek against mine, and my arms wrapped tight around his waist. Then he sighed, and his breath tickled my ear and made me giggle and push him away.
But as I walked him back to the park, he wrapped his hand around my arm, and never left go.
I left him there, under his tree, and I went off to my evening job at the cinema. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him, sitting there more-or-less helplessly, waiting for someone to come and fetch him.
Just after the first evening showing started, I started to see flickers of lightning and hear the rumble of thunder overhead. I hoped Arthur was home by now, out of the rain. But when it really started to come down outside I decided I had to see, I had to check. I grabbed my coat, and a spare umbrella from the lost and found box, had a quick word with Leon in the concession stand to cover for me, and then I was out on the streets running as fast as I could through the evening crowds and over slippery pavement.
And I was so glad I had gone to check on him. For there Arthur was, huddled against the tree trunk, blanket wrapped around him, sodden and shivering. I watched him flinch as thunder cracked overhead. I dashed up to him.
“Arthur, it’s Merlin. Come with me, we’ll find someplace dry.”
“No Merlin, I can’t,” he said, struggling out of my grip.
“We won’t go far, but I’ve got to get you out of the rain,” I told him, and pulled him towards a deserted bus shelter not far away. I pulled the sodden blanket off his shoulders, and wrapped him in my coat.
“What made you come back?” he asked me, shivering.
“I needed to make sure you were safe,” I told him, pulling him into my arms and rubbing comforting patterns on his back. We just stayed there, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, listening to the rain pattering down on the perspex roof of the bus shelter until the rain slowed, and then stopped.
“I need to go back,” he told me at last, so I tucked his arm in mine, and I walked him back to his usual spot. I was determined to stay until someone came for him. When I told him that he flung his arms around me and said, fiercely, “I love you.”
“It’s too soon, Arthur,” I told him as I untangled myself from him and pushed him back. “You can’t know that.”
“I do,” he said firmly, and with one hand, he reached up and traced the features of my face.
“Your cheeks are wet,” he went on, swiping water away with his thumb.
“All that rain,” I said weakly, not even sure myself how much was raindrops and how much was teardrops.
“Guess it’s time I grew up?” he said, softly, making me shiver as he traced around the edge of my ear with his damp, rain-chilled fingers.
I was about to try and say something when we heard someone yelling “Wart!” from across the Square. Arthur stiffened, slipped my coat off his shoulders, shoved it at me, and said, “You can’t be here. Please, you’ve got to go.”
“All right,” I said, quietly, as I took my coat, and slipped off down the path. As I watched a white haired man came stumbling across the Square, still yelling periodically, “Wart! Where the sodding hell are ya boy?”
I watched the old man weave across the pavement, looking confusedly around, clearly rat-arsed. I got the impression this wasn’t an unusual occurrence.
But I stayed there watching as unobtrusively as I could while Arthur called to the old man, who found him finally in the dark, and with a string of invectives, led Arthur away.
The next day I was the one sitting alone under that tree. Arthur never came.
And he didn't come the day after that. And I had no way of knowing where he was. I didn’t even know his last name.
I spent my whole next therapy session telling Gaius all of this. Asked him what to do. To help me sort out how I was feeling. Asked him how I stopped grieving and started loving, if that’s even what this was. He told me it needn’t be an either/or situation. I could do both, if I wanted to. But that I had to figure out my feelings.
I was determined to go back to that same spot every day until I found Arthur again. And then things would be different. Somehow, even if I didn’t have a clue still about what I wanted.
On the middle of the third afternoon I sat in that square, watching every person who walked by, hoping each time to see him again, at last I heard someone yelling at a dog that was barking and straining at its lead.
When I looked up there was the older gent with the dog who had picked Arthur up that first day. And wonder of wonders, there was Arthur clutching the man’s arm and asking him something I couldn’t hear.
I still don’t know if it was just that they were too far away for me to hear, or if it was because of the sudden roaring of my heartbeat in my ears, but I was up on my feet before I even realized what I was doing.
I rushed over to them, calling Arthur’s name. I think I startled the older man who was with him when I wrapped Arthur up in a giant hug. I know I startled the dog who just kept barking and jumping up on us, and generally going mad.
I know how he felt.
Standing there with Arthur in my arms, his bright hair warm against my cheek, I wanted to laugh and cry all at once. When Arthur clutched at me, and buried his face in my shoulder, I couldn’t help but pull him closer, slide my right hand into the hair on the back of his head and hold him close for a few precious moments.
Introductions were made eventually, and I assured Mr. Monmouth, who it turned out runs the news agents on Arthur’s block, that I would see that Arthur got home safely. I wasn’t letting another day go by without making sure that I knew where he lived, and how I could find him. Then Arthur pulled me down and introduced me to Garry.
“I used to be afraid of him, so I started calling him Scary Garry. The name’s stuck,” he said, scratching behind Garry’s ears, and then when the dog flopped over onto his back, we both gave him belly rubs. Then Garry and Mr. Monmouth went on their way and I pulled Arthur down onto a bench to talk to him.
“God, Arthur, I was so worried when you weren’t here, and I didn’t know how to find you.”
“I couldn't get away. Morgana found the sunglasses. Kept asking what I’d done to get them. She kept after me and after me but I wouldn’t tell her. But she went out today with her friend Morgause, so I left the flat, found my way down the street, and went and asked Geoffrey if he’d bring me to the park. I’m sorry Merlin. She took the glasses.”
“Sunglasses we can replace. But I need to know that you’re going to be okay. I’d like to talk to you. How about if I fix us a late lunch. Are you hungry?”
Arthur just nodded, and I decided it was a day for speed, so we walked to the street, and I hailed a cab.
“Norfolk Crescent, please,” I said to the cabbie.
Arthur just clutched my arm, and didn’t say a word the whole trip.
In fact he didn’t say word until we got into the flat.
“Can we have the music again?” he asked as I went into the kitchen to put some soup on to heat.
“Which music,” I asked him as I clattered around opening cans.
“Dunno. The nice music. From before.”
So I grabbed my iPod, flicked through a couple of playlists, and we found one he liked. Then I handed him a couple of plates and asked him to put them on the counter. As he turned away from me one of them must have slid off the other one and before either of us could react, there was smashed plate all over the kitchen floor.
“Fuck!” he swore and bent down and started to try and locate and gather up the smashed pieces. I went to pull him up and get him away from the sharp bits of crockery, but he pulled away from me and went back down on his knees picking up the bits he could find.
“I’m sorry Merlin. I don’t know what happened. I never break plates. Ever. I’m always careful. I’ll...”
“Arthur! Stop!” I said, pulling his up and pushing him into the other room. “It’s okay. Just let me get a broom and a dustpan, and I’ll take care of it. It’s no bother.”
“But I...”
“It’s just a goddamn plate, Arthur. Please. Just stay here and I’ll take care of it.”
By the time I’d gotten the big pieces picked up and the little ones swept up, the soup was hot, so I got it in some bowls, and took a tray out into the other room. I had just set it on the coffee table when Arthur said, “You can take me home, anytime.”
I pulled him down on the couch next to me, asking, “Do you want to go home, Arthur?”
“You won’t want me here now,” he said.
I took his hands, and sighed. “It was just a plate. Please stop worrying.”
I leaned in to drop a kiss on his forehead, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the mouth. Enthusiastically. And for a moment, I found myself kissing him back. And then I remembered. I remembered Will. I remembered how lonely Arthur was, and how wrong this would be, how wrong this was, at least for now.
I pushed him away a bit, with a soft, “Wait, we need to talk about this.”
“I love you Merlin. I want you. I’ve been done over. I know what to do,” Arthur said.
“Wait. What?” I spluttered, being totally unprepared for that revelation.
“I want you,” he repeated, and went to wrap his arms around my neck again.
I sighed, and pressed our foreheads together.
“I know you do.”
We just sat there, pressed against each other for a few moments. I was trying to figure out what to ask him first when he pulled back suddenly and asked, “Are you married already? Is that why you won’t...”
“Not married, no. But Arthur, I was in a relationship. His name was Will, and he died six months ago. That’s one of the things I’m still trying to figure out. I’ll tell you all about him, soon, if you want me to. But I have to ask you this Arthur, when you say ‘done over,’ what does that mean?”
“Sometimes Morgana’s friends come around when she’s not there. They like me. Sometimes they take me to bed. Sometimes its nice, and sometimes its not. But Morgana gets mad if I complain. And sometimes they leave her money. I can hear them count it.”
“Jesus, Fuck,” I said, as I found myself on my feet, practically vibrating with anger. I walked across the room, and looked out the window, my thoughts all jumbled up in my head.
Things had just become so much more complicated. But at the same time the way forward, at least for today, was suddenly crystal clear.
“Merlin?” Arthur said worriedly, from across the room.
“Please, Arthur, I’m okay, but could you just give me a minute?” I asked.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, but the longer I thought about it, the more sure I was that there was only one thing to do. So I went back to the couch and sat down.
“I need to ask you some questions, Arthur, and I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”
He nodded, and I went on.
“Arthur, do you like living with Morgana and your Father?”
He thought for a moment, and then said, “But where else would I go?”
I took his hand and said, “Do you understand that what those … friends of your sisters have been doing to, or with, you is wrong?”
“But I liked, it most of the time.”
I realized how complicated this all was.
“Liking it wasn’t wrong,” I told him. “But its more that they should have never asked you. And the fact that they paid for it. That’s so very wrong.”
“Am I a bad person,” Arthur asked me then.
“God no. Not at all, that’s not what I’m saying. Look. This is all very complicated, and we can talk about it all you want. But now, today, this minute, what I want you to do is imagine a world where you can do anything you want, where you can live anywhere, and do anything. If you could live anywhere you wanted, would you want to go back and live with your father and sister?”
“I get to choose?”
“Yes.”
“Then I choose you. I choose here.”
“I was sort of hoping you’d say that.”
“Oh, Merlin, you do love me,” Arthur said and sighed happily.
“There are lots of kinds of love, Arthur,” I said. “If you come and live here with me, and we can do that right now, we can go and get anything you want and bring it back here. You’ll have to spend some time sleeping on the couch until Gwaine leaves for France, but then you can have his room.”
“My own room?” he asked softly.
Once again I had to try and contain my anger. What the fuck kind of Dark Ages had Arthur been living in?!
“All yours,” I said. “Look, we’ve got a lot to figure out. I’m still trying to get my life back on track. I want to try and write again. I used to, before I lost Will, and then lost myself. Things are getting better, and you’re a big part of that, but I don’t know what next week, or next month, or next year will hold.”
“I want to help, if I can,” Arthur said, squeezing the hand that was still twined with his.
“I want your help,” I said smiling. “But I also want you not to need me. There are schools, classes, places that can teach you to live an independent life. Can teach you to read, and write, and how to get around strange places. Whatever you need.”
“I just need you.”
“Look,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying not right now. Not ‘til we’re both absolutely sure what we want.”
“I’ll always love you, Merlin,” he said. “Can we go and get my things now?” he asked, and I burst out laughing.
And it’s the memory of that laughter I try and hold on to as I slip out of Arthur’s grasp long enough to kick off my shoes, pull the duvet up over us,and take him in my arms. And as I fall towards sleep, I find myself, once again, happy.
Author:
valancy_joyCharacters: Merlin Emrys, Arthur Pendragon, with cameos by Gaius, Geoffrey Monmouth, Uther, and Gwaine, and mentions of Will, Morgana, Leon, and obliquely, Kilgarrah.
Rating: Mature for themes and language.
Word Count: 7696
Based on the 1965 Sidney Poitier movie, A Patch of Blue. A million thanks to
paragraphs for the beta-ing an early partial draft, and for her twitter cheerleading as I struggled to finish this.Summary: A grieving Merlin stumbles upon a blind and friendless boy one day. And that day will change his life in ways he can’t even imagine.
Oh God, what have I done, what have I agreed to? And, Jesus Christ … what do I do now?
If Will were only here to talk to. I miss him so much, his stupid face, and his stupid music and all those afternoons and middle of the nights we’d lie here, curled up under this grotty duvet and he’d make me tell him stories.
“Weave me some of your magic, Merlin,” he’d say, “Tell me about what you’re writing. Please,” he’d whisper small and soft in my ear as he wound our fingers together. I never knew how to refuse him. I never really wanted to refuse him anything. And then he was gone, and this bed was so empty for so long.
And now there’s two of us in this bed once again. And it’s so strange to see a blond head on the pillow next to me.
Arthur’s lying there now asleep, worn out from this terrible, wonderful day. It’s dusk, and the last golden rays of sunshine are striping in through the blinds, warm and cool, light and dark, hiding and revealing, and there’s so much to think about.
I was such a mess for so long after Will died. How are you supposed to prepare for how someone else’s life ending ends up ending yours? There he was, admitted to A&E on a Monday, and by Thursday, he was gone.
The next few months are pretty much a blur, as I think back. I either never left the house, or I never came home. There were some run-ins with the police, a couple bouts of alcohol poisoning, a few other things of not-really-questionable legality. Numbness like that, well, it’s hard to care about what you … or others … are putting in your body. Not surprising then, that it took a bunch of chavs in a bar one night who gave my head a good kicking in to make me see sense.
So, Mum called in a favor, and now I have a therapist, and a support group, and two jobs to pay for it all.
“Just call me Gaius, my dear boy,” well, he’s not-quite-Harley-Street, but his office in Albion Towers is posh enough. And he’s a right old character. Got diplomas, and etchings, and art-with-a-capital-A all over the walls, but I think he’s one of Mum’s hippie pals from back in the day, with his long hair, half-moon specs, and a penchant for wearing embroidered tunics instead of a normal sort of shirt. Told him during our first session that I was glad to meet someone with a stupider name than mine. Made him laugh. Then he gave me a metaphorical ass kicking; and a prescription, after which he went on for some time about sunlight, Vitamin D and dopamine receptors. I couldn’t be arsed to care very much about it then. Actually, I still don’t care very much about the sodding recuperative powers of sunlight, but the pills have helped. So that’s something.
I feel like I shouldn’t even be thinking about me, as Arthur lies here beside me, curled up on top of the covers, breathing softly, with one hand clutching onto my t-shirt. God, he’s so vulnerable. He’s going to need so much help and protection, and part of me wonders how I ended up being, well, responsible for him I guess. I think its going to take us a while to figure out what we are to each other, but it’s only been a week since we met, and I can’t imagine life without him now.
Christ, where would I have been if Gaius, that tosser, hadn’t been on my case to, “get out, walk, explore the city…” which led me one fateful Tuesday to the middle of Mayfair … and Arthur.
Being more or less forced to get out of the apartment, I went out to kill a couple of hours, and when I’d had enough of walking, stopped at some overpriced sandwich place and grabbed lunch. Just across the street was Berkeley Square, with masses of trees and benches in the middle of it. So there I was, whiling away my afternoon with a solitary chicken salad on wheat on a bench in the middle of London. Not exactly wild living, but there was something peaceful about that little oasis in the middle of London. It was nice, sitting there, watching the shadows flicker across the pathways. I was idly flipping through emails on my phone -- mostly from Mum -- when the carrier bag and the box the sandwich had been in blew away in a sudden gust of wind. I chased after them, getting my foot on the carrier bag in the middle of the grassy section that borders the Square, but my pursuit of the box took me around a large oak tree where I promptly tripped over a bare-footed blond boy who’d been sitting against the tree, out of my line of sight.
I gabbled some sort of an apology, and tried to untangle myself from the bloke’s legs. I think I was going on about whether he could see where my sandwich wrapper had got to when I finally looked up, and saw his face. He looked so scared. He was pressed defensively against the tree trunk, eyes vague and unfocused, his untidy mop of hair highlighting a trail of scars across his face.
“Are you OK?” I asked him, gently, trying not to startle him any more.
He didn’t say anything. He just clutched his hands so tightly I could see his knuckles go white.
“Easy now. I’m harmless, I promise. Just clumsy,” I told him, wanting very much to reach out and comfort him somehow, but I wasn’t sure he’d welcome the touch. All I could do was kneel there in the grass, and try and figure out some way to diffuse the tension.
“My name’s Merlin,” I told him, hoping he’d relax enough to tell me his name.
“I’m Wart,” came a shaky reply, almost a whisper.
I’m going to have to admit that hearing this … I laughed, so I can’t blame him for getting even more defensive.
“Piss off! S’what I’m called. My sister always has done. For proper it’s Arthur but only Da calls me that, or mostly just “Boy.”
“Well I’m going to call you Arthur, if that’s okay with you. I like that much better. Besides, it’s like fate isn’t it?” I said, laughing as I realized the connection.
Arthur just sat there. All I could do was rabbit on and try and fill the silence.
“Arthur … Merlin … you know … like in the stories...”
Still no response.
“King Arthur? And his trusty wizard Merlin? The Knights of the Round Table? Surely you’ve …”
I was about to try and explain when Arthur reached out suddenly, tentatively, until his fingers found my shoulder, and he clutched his fingers in my shirt as if he was afraid I was going to suddenly disappear.
“You sound like the radio,” Arthur said, leaning forward until he was on his knees across from me.
“The radio?” I asked him as his fingers wandered across my shoulders and traced the collar of my shirt so lightly I shivered.
“All posh like. Like on the radio, y’know, where God and Jesus and that ‘en’t swear words.”
“Hazards of a scholarship to a public school I guess,” I said, trying to make a joke.
Arthur stiffened then, and I thought I’d said something wrong, but then he yelled, and started fumbling around with the back of the long sleeved red t-shirt he was wearing.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“Something … gone down my back … I can’t… I’m sorry, it’s just, I can’t see. I’m blind. Please get it off me! Oh what is it? Merlin!”
It started to make a little more sense why he seemed so afraid. I realized suddenly why his gaze had seemed so vacant, and perhaps those tentative fingers tracing my shirt collar hadn’t been what I thought they might have been. But as I looked at him, desperately batting at his shirt, almost panting with fear, well, I had to help him. Plus, there was something in the urgent way he said my name that made me want to hug him. It only took a few minutes to find the caterpillar that had crawled into his shirt.
“It’s okay now Arthur honest. I was just a little bug, and it’s gone now. Relax.”
“S’okay. I’m sorry,” Arthur mumbled, and sort of drew back into himself, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.
“No worries, mate,” I told him. Then found myself blurting out, “The blindness... is it?....”
I’m not even sure what I intended to ask him.
“I...,” he started to say, and then stopped, sighed, and then propped his chin on his knees.
“Hey, it’s fine,” I said, “it’s really none of my business. Nosy as well as clumsy, I guess. It’s not important.”
“No. I … I want … I haven’t … I was five,” he said all in a rush, like he’d be waiting a long time to say that.
This time I was the one to put my hand on his arm.
“When I was five, my Da came home early one day, and found my Mam with another man. Don’t remember much except there was a big fight, and a lot of screaming, and I was curled up on the sofa, afraid, when suddenly there was pain, and then nothing. Found out later Mam had thrown a bottle of cleanser that was on the table at my Da, but it missed him, smashed on the wall, and splashed all down my face.”
“Oh, Arthur,” I said, clutching at his arm a bit. But there was more to his story.
“When I got out of hospital, Da told me Mam had gone away. Found out later she’d topped herself with some pills. Morgana, that’s my sister, she told me one day when she was mad at me. I think she liked telling me that. We’ve never got on, me and her, for all its mostly her that takes care of me.”
There was a long pause, and then he asked, sitting up and turning towards me, “Merlin, am I ugly?”
I was gobsmacked at this, but it felt like, in that moment, I owed him my honesty for his. So I took his face in my hand, and really looked. There were scars across his left temple, and under his left eye, and a few over his right eyelid, but there was nothing especially wrong with his face. Aside, apparently, from his inability to see. In fact, if you discounted the scars, it was rather a nice face. Floppy blond hair, blue eyes, an appealing blush of pink in his cheeks as he sat there, knowing I was looking at him.
“It’s mostly around the eyes,” I told him finally, tracing my fingertips lightly over the scars at this temple, and his cheek.
“Morgana says I shouldn’t go outside. That people don’t want to look at me.”
“Well I for one am glad you’re here,” I said to him, as his cheeks flushed pinker and he looked away from me.
Then I heard the chime of some nearby church bells, and realized how late it was. I’d picked up some freelance editing at a small publishing house, just a few afternoons a week, but they’d hinted it might lead to a more permanent position, and I didn’t want to be late.
So I apologized for needing to leave, told him I was glad to have met him, that I hoped we’d meet again, gathered up my trash, and dashed off.
But I couldn’t get him out of my mind. All afternoon I kept thinking what it must be like to exist always in the dark. I even tried closing my eyes, and walking across the office, but I tripped over a trashcan, and knocked a girl’s tea into her lap. It must have been my day for falling over people. So I tried to avoid thoughts of Arthur and get through the rest of my shift without causing any more incidents.
After work, I stopped at M&S to grab a few things, and as I was standing in the queue at the till I found myself staring at a rack of sunglasses next to me. I’m not sure what possessed me, but I found myself picking up a pair of gold-framed aviator glasses, and dropping them in with my shopping. I had no idea if it would do the trick, or if I’d ever see Arthur again, but he’d seemed so worried about those scars of his.
On a whim, I decided to go straight back to the park. It was only a few blocks out of my way. I was so pleased to see Arthur still sitting there. He was curled up against the base of the tree, fingers tracing over a leaf, exploring every inch of it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,” I told him.
“Merlin?!” he said, with what seemed to me a strange combination of relief and joy.
“I brought you a present,” I said, hunkering down next to him.
“A present? For me?”
“Hold out your hands.”
Arthur dropped the leaf, and held out his hands, slowly. I wondered about his wariness, and whether presents, or indeed kindness were in such short supply in his world. I’m so glad now that I went back to that park. But I knew so little about him then.
Into his outstretched hands I put the glasses. Arthur’s fingers gently explored the unknown object in his palms, just as I’d seen him do with the leaf. As I watched his face, I saw curiosity, and then his expression changed to confusion.
“Glasses? Don’t need ‘em,” he said, pushing them back at me.
I smiled and closed his fingers over the sunglasses.
“Put them on,” I told him. When he hesitated, I added, “They’re sunglasses. Go ahead. I want to see something.”
He was clearly struggling to trust me, but finally he unfolded the glasses and put them on.
I scooted closer, and took his chin in my hands, gently turning his face from side to side, examining the effect. Then I ruffled his hair, and said, “Well, you need a better haircut, but with those glasses, you’re perfect. No scars.”
“You magic?” he asked me with a rasp of disbelief, while those delicate fingers of his drifted to his face, fingertips exploring the new glasses.
“That’s me – magic fingered Merlin,” I laughed and sat down leaning against the tree, shoulder bumping Arthur’s.
“But Merlin, I … I don’t need glasses … I said … I’m blind.”
He sighed then, and sounded so defeated.
“Well that’s the great thing about sunglasses,” I said in a mock whisper, “Plenty of people use them to keep the sun out of their eyes, but lots of other people use them to hide behind. So you keep them,” I told him as I got to my feet and dusted off my backside.
“I hate to leave again so soon, but I’ve got to get to my second job. So I’ll see you yeah?”
And off I went to my night job at a local cinema. It’s kind of a crap job, but I’m still getting back on my feet, and mindless occupation suits me fine, for now at least.
I lay awake for a long time that night, trying to imagine Arthur’s life, and mostly failing, and wondering how someone I just met could be occupying so many of my thoughts so quickly. I felt sorry for him, but it didn’t feel like pity I was feeling, exactly. I wondered, could it be simple attraction? I had found myself wanting to touch him. And there had been this fleeting sensation as I watched those fingers of his gently exploring his world, wondering what they would feel like on my skin. But surely all that was merely idle speculation rather than out and out lust. Wanting someone new, someone not Will hadn’t even occurred to me. Was it then, affection, or sympathy, or some need to try and do something to help? I couldn’t be sure. But when I fell asleep I dreamed of warmth, of laughter, and the feel of cool forest shadows on my face and tree bark rough against my fingers.
I guess it wasn’t very surprising, then that I found myself out on the street late the next morning, headed for the Berkeley Square, and hoping Arthur was there.
And there he was, curled up on a plaid blanket, wearing tan cargo shorts, a soft worn blue-grey t-shirt, and the sunglasses. I stood there and watched him for a few minutes just sitting and listening, and occasionally running his fingers through the grass beside his blanket.
I decided we were ready for our first adventure.
I walked over a few paces from his blanket and announced, “It’s a beautiful day, and I hate to think of you sitting here under this tree all day long. So let’s go for a walk, yes?”
“Merlin?” he asked, with a huge smile on his face.
“One and the same. Now give me your hands,” I said, and when he held them out, I pulled him to his feet.
“Whatever your plans were for lunch, I’m changing them.”
“I have some crisps,” he said gesturing vaguely at a backpack that sat at our feet.
“Well, bring them along,” I said, handing him the bag and folding up his blanket.
“But Merlin, I can’t leave. I not supposed to.”
“When do you need to be back?” I asked him.
“Da usually fetches me after his shift, at the hotel, Warwick House. He and Morgana are cleaners there. He’s usually done at six, but he...”
“Then we’ve got hours. Now come along Arthur. You are taking me to lunch. We’re going to go to out onto the path, we’re going to cross the street, and then we’re going to walk a little further down the pavement and you are going to tell me when we get to the sandwich shop.”
“How will I know?” he asked clutching my arm as I started to walk us towards the street.
“You’ll know,” I told him.
It was just a few steps across the grass to the brick pathway out of the park, and then once on the pavement, we turned right, and walked to the crossing. For a while he clutched tight to my arm, his hand tucked in the crook of my elbow. But once we got across the busy intersection, he relaxed a bit, and we walked slowly down the block of shops.
“I’m getting awfully hungry now. So be sure and tell me when we get to the sandwich shop. I’ve got a real craving for a tasty sandwich, on fresh baked bread, with a lot of mustard, and maybe a dill pickle.”
And sure enough, he bypassed the car dealership, two banks, and a gym, when he stopped, and took a deep breath in.
“Here,” he said with smile. “Mustard and pickles, right Merlin?”
“Exactly right Arthur. I told you you’d find it. Now lets get some sandwiches, I’m starving.”
So sandwiches were gotten, and some lemonade, and a couple of brownies when I saw Arthur drifting away from me following the scent of freshly baked desserts.
We spent the afternoon in the dappled shade of Arthur’s oak tree, sitting on his blanket, and talking. I hardly remember about what. Everything and nothing I suppose, though I did find out that he was eighteen, and had never been to school. Seems they left the place they’d been living after Arthur’s accident, moved around, never staying in one place very long, and eventually ending up in London, and that was that. I can’t even imagine it. Thirteen years in the dark, picking things up from overheard conversations, or bits of shows on the telly or the radio.
“I like the radio, Merlin,” he said to me at one point. “It’s like someone’s there with me, so I’m not so all alone.”
I stayed there with him as long as I could, but when it started to get dark I had to go on to the cinema job. It was clear Arthur didn’t want me to go, but I promised him I’d come back the next afternoon and we’d have another adventure. This time he walked to the path with me, and then he hugged me impulsively. Arms tight around me he said, “Thanks Merlin, for today.”
Then I watched for a moment as he went back to the blanket and sat down near the tree, arms wound around his knees.
Took everything I had to walk away from him, but I hadn’t gone far when a man walking a dog brushed past me. The dog was barking, and tugging at the lead, and the old man dropped the leash and the dog took off towards Arthur’s tree. I watched for a moment, to see what was going on, to make sure everything was okay.
I could hear Arthur calling out as the dog ran up and licked his face.
“Hullo Scary Garry,” he said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Who’s a bad dog?”
The dog, Garry, barked at that and the old man laughed.
“Geoffrey?” Arthur called. “‘Sthat you?”
“Right here lad,” the old gent said. “Your Dad, well, he’s ...otherwise engaged... so I thought I’d come over and see you home. That okay?”
“Is he …” Arthur asked, looking sad somehow.
“You know how it is,” the man he called Geoffrey told him.
I left them conversing quietly, the old man leading the boy and the dog down the street away from me.
I was running late the next day. When I got to the Square, Arthur was sitting there in his usual spot, curled into himself. He never even looked up until I crouched down next to him and said, “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
As I spoke he sort of unfolded, and suddenly I had a very relieved Arthur clinging to my neck. He clutched onto my shirt for a little while, breathing hard. He tried to tell me something, but his breath kept hitching. We sat like that for a little while. He tried to pull away a bit, but as he did, my hands inadvertently found a ticklish spot on his side and he yelped.
Before I even really knew what I was doing, I found myself wrapping one arm around his waist and using my other arm to tickle that sensitive spot. In no time were were rolling around like kids, grappling and wrestling and laughing. Finally, breathless, we flopped over side by side and lay there in the grass, sun on our faces catching our breath.
It was so good to lay there, warm and content in the sunshine, and when Arthur’s hand found mine, I wound our fingers together and felt, for the first time in a long time, happy.
“Come on,” I said finally, getting to my feet. “I’ve got grocery shopping to do, and you’re going to help me. Then we’re going to my place for lunch.”
Tesco’s was an adventure in itself, and it was wonderful to experience it from Arthur’s perspective. And that perspective continued even after we got back here to the flat.
“You have carpet? In your hallway?” he’d asked, scuffing his feet along, and then stopping altogether to kneel down and feel the rough nap of the wool under his fingers. I wouldn’t want to touch it, but for Arthur it was a wonderful thing.
I couldn’t help but wonder where he was living that carpet, even manky carpet in the hallway was worth such awe. And what did it say about me that I never even considered that there were people who might consider it a luxury? But the grocery bags were getting heavy, and I still had to get my keys out, so I nudged him a bit and he stood up, wrapping his hand around my arm. He did that a lot, almost from the first moment we met.
“Here, make yourself useful,” I said, shoving a couple bags into his arms. I got the door unlocked, and pulled him inside. He jumped when I tossed my keys into that pewter bowl Mum had given Will and me one Christmas. But I was taking the bags from him and steering him towards the kitchen. I could see how unsettled he was at being in a strange place. At least until I flicked on my iPod in its little speaker base. A happy little jazz tune floated out.
Arthur sighed happily, gave a soft little “oh!,” of surprise and smiled. I couldn’t help smiling back even though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“Come on, hand me the things will you, and I’ll get them put away. Always goes faster with help.”
He handed me the tins and boxes without comment, but I watched as he got the fruits and veg out of the bags. He ran his fingers across the smooth skin of an aubergine, and buried his nose in the frothy green tops of a bunch of carrots.
“We’ll clean those carrots and have some for lunch,” I announced, and then there was some excitement when the bag the oranges were in broke and we had to chase them around the floor of the kitchen. We got them rounded up at last, and into a bowl on the counter. He started to wipe them off on his shirt when I tossed a tea-towel at him. I caught him out of the corner of my eye breathing in the scent of the last orange before he gently placed it on top of the others in the bowl.
I had just put the milk away, when the front door opened and then slammed shut.
“You’re not going to believe what those wankers at British Air did now,” Gwaine called before he caught sight of Arthur through the pass-through into the kitchen. I could see Arthur was twisting the kitchen towel tight in his hands, worrying it nervously.
As I tossed Gwaine a bottle of water from the fridge, I introduced them.
“Arthur, this very loud person is my cousin, Gwaine. Gwaine, Arthur was helping me with the shopping.
Gwaine cracked open the water bottle, nodded at Arthur, and said, “Cheers mate,” before flopping onto a chair and putting his feet up on the coffee table.
“Is it only the two of you here then?” Arthur asked me softly, fingers now running nervously along the counter’s edge.
“Gwaine’s just here for a few weeks. He’s off to France soon for a new job. It’s been good to have the company,” I said looking past Arthur to Gwaine who tipped his water bottle at me.
I carried with some chatter for Arthur’s benefit, all the while having a short, unspoken conversation with Gwaine.
“He’s a bit of a looker, is Gwaine. Very easy on the eyes.” I said, shaking my head and mouthing the word ‘later’ at Gwaine’s puzzled expression as he stared at Arthur.
Having downed the water, Gwaine got up, and headed towards the guest room.
“I’m off for a kip. I intend to sleep for a very long time,” he said stretching and yawning, but looking at me very pointedly before he went off towards the guest room.
Back in the kitchen we worked on getting lunch ready. Arthur looked like he could use a good meal, and it was less awkward all around if I was doing something other than staring at this stranger in my apartment. Inviting strangers in was something I never do, but somehow this time it seemed different.
I had my head in the fridge, looking for the mayonnaise when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Merlin? Are you rich?”
I burst out laughing. I seemed to keep doing that without meaning to. Certainly after I saw Arthur’s face, I shut the refrigerator door and went over to where he was standing.
“Why would you say that, Arthur?” I asked him.
“Well, it’s nice here... the carpet… and the music, and vegetables. Well, everything. And … and no one’s yelling.”
I just wanted to hug him.
But I ruffled his hair, and said “No, really not, no. Now come help me wash these carrots, while I fix us the sandwiches. Do you like turkey?”
Arthur proved to be a dab hand with the carrots. I teased him a bit, I suppose, tickling his nose with the carrot tops and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.
Between his carrots and my sandwiches, we were soon eating lunch at the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the flat. Arthur went to pick up his sandwich, but he stopped suddenly, turned to me and said, “Are we friends, Merlin?”
“Would you like that?” I asked him.
“Its been a long time since I had one.”
Well, what could I say besides, “Well now you do.” Besides, it was true. I knew, even in this short time, that no matter what, I couldn’t just let Arthur slip out of my life. I was even more sure as Arthur continued to talk.
“When I was small, I had a friend. She was called Gwen. She was nice. She would come and visit me after her school let out, and we’d talk and pretend things. Sometimes she read me stories, or tell me about things in her school books.
But then we had to leave that place where we were living. I asked Morgana if she would help me write Gwen a letter. She just laughed at me and said she wasn’t wasting her time writing to some coloured girl, that things were better this way. Well I didn’t know she was coloured, did I? I was only nine. Had to get Morgana to explain it to me. I wouldn’t have cared. She was my friend. Then we came here, and well... I guess Gwen was my only friend. Until now.”
Then there was a long pause and he added, “Everyone ought to have one friend.”
What could I do after all that but wrap him in my arms and hug him. We stayed like that for a little while, his cheek against mine, and my arms wrapped tight around his waist. Then he sighed, and his breath tickled my ear and made me giggle and push him away.
But as I walked him back to the park, he wrapped his hand around my arm, and never left go.
I left him there, under his tree, and I went off to my evening job at the cinema. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him, sitting there more-or-less helplessly, waiting for someone to come and fetch him.
Just after the first evening showing started, I started to see flickers of lightning and hear the rumble of thunder overhead. I hoped Arthur was home by now, out of the rain. But when it really started to come down outside I decided I had to see, I had to check. I grabbed my coat, and a spare umbrella from the lost and found box, had a quick word with Leon in the concession stand to cover for me, and then I was out on the streets running as fast as I could through the evening crowds and over slippery pavement.
And I was so glad I had gone to check on him. For there Arthur was, huddled against the tree trunk, blanket wrapped around him, sodden and shivering. I watched him flinch as thunder cracked overhead. I dashed up to him.
“Arthur, it’s Merlin. Come with me, we’ll find someplace dry.”
“No Merlin, I can’t,” he said, struggling out of my grip.
“We won’t go far, but I’ve got to get you out of the rain,” I told him, and pulled him towards a deserted bus shelter not far away. I pulled the sodden blanket off his shoulders, and wrapped him in my coat.
“What made you come back?” he asked me, shivering.
“I needed to make sure you were safe,” I told him, pulling him into my arms and rubbing comforting patterns on his back. We just stayed there, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, listening to the rain pattering down on the perspex roof of the bus shelter until the rain slowed, and then stopped.
“I need to go back,” he told me at last, so I tucked his arm in mine, and I walked him back to his usual spot. I was determined to stay until someone came for him. When I told him that he flung his arms around me and said, fiercely, “I love you.”
“It’s too soon, Arthur,” I told him as I untangled myself from him and pushed him back. “You can’t know that.”
“I do,” he said firmly, and with one hand, he reached up and traced the features of my face.
“Your cheeks are wet,” he went on, swiping water away with his thumb.
“All that rain,” I said weakly, not even sure myself how much was raindrops and how much was teardrops.
“Guess it’s time I grew up?” he said, softly, making me shiver as he traced around the edge of my ear with his damp, rain-chilled fingers.
I was about to try and say something when we heard someone yelling “Wart!” from across the Square. Arthur stiffened, slipped my coat off his shoulders, shoved it at me, and said, “You can’t be here. Please, you’ve got to go.”
“All right,” I said, quietly, as I took my coat, and slipped off down the path. As I watched a white haired man came stumbling across the Square, still yelling periodically, “Wart! Where the sodding hell are ya boy?”
I watched the old man weave across the pavement, looking confusedly around, clearly rat-arsed. I got the impression this wasn’t an unusual occurrence.
But I stayed there watching as unobtrusively as I could while Arthur called to the old man, who found him finally in the dark, and with a string of invectives, led Arthur away.
The next day I was the one sitting alone under that tree. Arthur never came.
And he didn't come the day after that. And I had no way of knowing where he was. I didn’t even know his last name.
I spent my whole next therapy session telling Gaius all of this. Asked him what to do. To help me sort out how I was feeling. Asked him how I stopped grieving and started loving, if that’s even what this was. He told me it needn’t be an either/or situation. I could do both, if I wanted to. But that I had to figure out my feelings.
I was determined to go back to that same spot every day until I found Arthur again. And then things would be different. Somehow, even if I didn’t have a clue still about what I wanted.
On the middle of the third afternoon I sat in that square, watching every person who walked by, hoping each time to see him again, at last I heard someone yelling at a dog that was barking and straining at its lead.
When I looked up there was the older gent with the dog who had picked Arthur up that first day. And wonder of wonders, there was Arthur clutching the man’s arm and asking him something I couldn’t hear.
I still don’t know if it was just that they were too far away for me to hear, or if it was because of the sudden roaring of my heartbeat in my ears, but I was up on my feet before I even realized what I was doing.
I rushed over to them, calling Arthur’s name. I think I startled the older man who was with him when I wrapped Arthur up in a giant hug. I know I startled the dog who just kept barking and jumping up on us, and generally going mad.
I know how he felt.
Standing there with Arthur in my arms, his bright hair warm against my cheek, I wanted to laugh and cry all at once. When Arthur clutched at me, and buried his face in my shoulder, I couldn’t help but pull him closer, slide my right hand into the hair on the back of his head and hold him close for a few precious moments.
Introductions were made eventually, and I assured Mr. Monmouth, who it turned out runs the news agents on Arthur’s block, that I would see that Arthur got home safely. I wasn’t letting another day go by without making sure that I knew where he lived, and how I could find him. Then Arthur pulled me down and introduced me to Garry.
“I used to be afraid of him, so I started calling him Scary Garry. The name’s stuck,” he said, scratching behind Garry’s ears, and then when the dog flopped over onto his back, we both gave him belly rubs. Then Garry and Mr. Monmouth went on their way and I pulled Arthur down onto a bench to talk to him.
“God, Arthur, I was so worried when you weren’t here, and I didn’t know how to find you.”
“I couldn't get away. Morgana found the sunglasses. Kept asking what I’d done to get them. She kept after me and after me but I wouldn’t tell her. But she went out today with her friend Morgause, so I left the flat, found my way down the street, and went and asked Geoffrey if he’d bring me to the park. I’m sorry Merlin. She took the glasses.”
“Sunglasses we can replace. But I need to know that you’re going to be okay. I’d like to talk to you. How about if I fix us a late lunch. Are you hungry?”
Arthur just nodded, and I decided it was a day for speed, so we walked to the street, and I hailed a cab.
“Norfolk Crescent, please,” I said to the cabbie.
Arthur just clutched my arm, and didn’t say a word the whole trip.
In fact he didn’t say word until we got into the flat.
“Can we have the music again?” he asked as I went into the kitchen to put some soup on to heat.
“Which music,” I asked him as I clattered around opening cans.
“Dunno. The nice music. From before.”
So I grabbed my iPod, flicked through a couple of playlists, and we found one he liked. Then I handed him a couple of plates and asked him to put them on the counter. As he turned away from me one of them must have slid off the other one and before either of us could react, there was smashed plate all over the kitchen floor.
“Fuck!” he swore and bent down and started to try and locate and gather up the smashed pieces. I went to pull him up and get him away from the sharp bits of crockery, but he pulled away from me and went back down on his knees picking up the bits he could find.
“I’m sorry Merlin. I don’t know what happened. I never break plates. Ever. I’m always careful. I’ll...”
“Arthur! Stop!” I said, pulling his up and pushing him into the other room. “It’s okay. Just let me get a broom and a dustpan, and I’ll take care of it. It’s no bother.”
“But I...”
“It’s just a goddamn plate, Arthur. Please. Just stay here and I’ll take care of it.”
By the time I’d gotten the big pieces picked up and the little ones swept up, the soup was hot, so I got it in some bowls, and took a tray out into the other room. I had just set it on the coffee table when Arthur said, “You can take me home, anytime.”
I pulled him down on the couch next to me, asking, “Do you want to go home, Arthur?”
“You won’t want me here now,” he said.
I took his hands, and sighed. “It was just a plate. Please stop worrying.”
I leaned in to drop a kiss on his forehead, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the mouth. Enthusiastically. And for a moment, I found myself kissing him back. And then I remembered. I remembered Will. I remembered how lonely Arthur was, and how wrong this would be, how wrong this was, at least for now.
I pushed him away a bit, with a soft, “Wait, we need to talk about this.”
“I love you Merlin. I want you. I’ve been done over. I know what to do,” Arthur said.
“Wait. What?” I spluttered, being totally unprepared for that revelation.
“I want you,” he repeated, and went to wrap his arms around my neck again.
I sighed, and pressed our foreheads together.
“I know you do.”
We just sat there, pressed against each other for a few moments. I was trying to figure out what to ask him first when he pulled back suddenly and asked, “Are you married already? Is that why you won’t...”
“Not married, no. But Arthur, I was in a relationship. His name was Will, and he died six months ago. That’s one of the things I’m still trying to figure out. I’ll tell you all about him, soon, if you want me to. But I have to ask you this Arthur, when you say ‘done over,’ what does that mean?”
“Sometimes Morgana’s friends come around when she’s not there. They like me. Sometimes they take me to bed. Sometimes its nice, and sometimes its not. But Morgana gets mad if I complain. And sometimes they leave her money. I can hear them count it.”
“Jesus, Fuck,” I said, as I found myself on my feet, practically vibrating with anger. I walked across the room, and looked out the window, my thoughts all jumbled up in my head.
Things had just become so much more complicated. But at the same time the way forward, at least for today, was suddenly crystal clear.
“Merlin?” Arthur said worriedly, from across the room.
“Please, Arthur, I’m okay, but could you just give me a minute?” I asked.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, but the longer I thought about it, the more sure I was that there was only one thing to do. So I went back to the couch and sat down.
“I need to ask you some questions, Arthur, and I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”
He nodded, and I went on.
“Arthur, do you like living with Morgana and your Father?”
He thought for a moment, and then said, “But where else would I go?”
I took his hand and said, “Do you understand that what those … friends of your sisters have been doing to, or with, you is wrong?”
“But I liked, it most of the time.”
I realized how complicated this all was.
“Liking it wasn’t wrong,” I told him. “But its more that they should have never asked you. And the fact that they paid for it. That’s so very wrong.”
“Am I a bad person,” Arthur asked me then.
“God no. Not at all, that’s not what I’m saying. Look. This is all very complicated, and we can talk about it all you want. But now, today, this minute, what I want you to do is imagine a world where you can do anything you want, where you can live anywhere, and do anything. If you could live anywhere you wanted, would you want to go back and live with your father and sister?”
“I get to choose?”
“Yes.”
“Then I choose you. I choose here.”
“I was sort of hoping you’d say that.”
“Oh, Merlin, you do love me,” Arthur said and sighed happily.
“There are lots of kinds of love, Arthur,” I said. “If you come and live here with me, and we can do that right now, we can go and get anything you want and bring it back here. You’ll have to spend some time sleeping on the couch until Gwaine leaves for France, but then you can have his room.”
“My own room?” he asked softly.
Once again I had to try and contain my anger. What the fuck kind of Dark Ages had Arthur been living in?!
“All yours,” I said. “Look, we’ve got a lot to figure out. I’m still trying to get my life back on track. I want to try and write again. I used to, before I lost Will, and then lost myself. Things are getting better, and you’re a big part of that, but I don’t know what next week, or next month, or next year will hold.”
“I want to help, if I can,” Arthur said, squeezing the hand that was still twined with his.
“I want your help,” I said smiling. “But I also want you not to need me. There are schools, classes, places that can teach you to live an independent life. Can teach you to read, and write, and how to get around strange places. Whatever you need.”
“I just need you.”
“Look,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying not right now. Not ‘til we’re both absolutely sure what we want.”
“I’ll always love you, Merlin,” he said. “Can we go and get my things now?” he asked, and I burst out laughing.
And it’s the memory of that laughter I try and hold on to as I slip out of Arthur’s grasp long enough to kick off my shoes, pull the duvet up over us,and take him in my arms. And as I fall towards sleep, I find myself, once again, happy.
