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Arthur gripped the wheel of his car tighter, as Morganna continued.
“... really, i think you’re just setting yourself up to fail, with all this convoluted nonsense. You’re too afraid to ask him straight out because you know-”
“Enough, Morg,” Arthur cut her off, and she seemed to catch herself.
She hesitated a moment, then spoke again, more softly, “If you actually care about Merlin, you’ll do this properly. You’ve been friends for too long to hinge everything on some pomp and circus display.”
She was right. Arthur tried not to make eye contact with her, because then she would know he knew she was right. And that couldn’t be. They pulled up to school in silence, Arthur slowly turning off the car. Morgana let out a cackle as she stepped out. Arthur warily exited, and followed her line of sight.
“Looks like God’s proving me right! Or maybe you’re just cursed,” Morgana sauntered away as Arthur stared at the sky, agape.
The thin white lines were already beginning to contort, the gentle breeze stirring them lazily.
“Shit shit shit,” Arthur scrambled with his phone, typing out a hurried 911 text to Merlin.
He paced back and forth in front of school as the main crowd rushed past him in a blur. Of course Merlin would be late today. He was always late. And the goddamn skywriter was early. Arthur wavered between calling the company to give some poor secretary an earful, or spend another thousand odd dollars hiring another one. In the end, he squatted on the school steps, head in hands as he watched the letters slowly disintegrate.
Just as Arthur watched the last character melt into the clouds, he heard Merlin’s ancient beast roar around the corner, pulling in close to his own car. The lanky boy scrambled out, jogging over to Arthur. Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to glance over at the panting boy, too guilty and embarrassed.
“What was the 911 about?”
“Oh that?” Arthur tried to be nonchalant, “Was a mistake.”
He couldn’t even bring himself to say sorry, he knew he had violated one of their cardinal rules. ‘911’s aren’t to be taken lightly. Merlin blinked a few times, a perturbed look crossing his face.
“If the concrete opens up now, I’ll be put out of my misery,” Arthur thought forlornly.
“C'mon, let's get to class before Gaius sends a search party," Merlin patted his shoulder, somehow giving Arthur the strength to move. He sighed, but crept up to follow.
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“That fucking sucks, dude,” Gwaine looked up from his portrait, the latest in a series simply titled, “Morgana”.
Arthur had long ago stopped trying to dissuade his friend from his endless pursuit of Arthur’s sister.
“Maybe she’s right, maybe I’m cursed,” Arthur said dejectedly, as he molded another tiny sword into the miniscule chair in front of him.
“Bullshit!” Gwaine exclaimed, earning a stern glance from the teacher who deigned to look up from his issue of US Weekly.
Gwaine didn’t have the decency to look admonished. He added another stroke to the unfinished green eye on his canvas, and put his brush down.
“Even if you are cursed, i’ve never met a curse that can’t be broken. Put down that iron throne, I have an idea. All we need is some paint, a shit ton of post-its, and the patience of a God.”
Gwaine pulled a large sheet of paper from the back of the classroom, and spent the rest of second period showing Arthur his latest ‘vision’. By the end of the period, he truly believed it all could work. His plan even gained the approval of the peanut gallery, the unofficial ‘Promposal’ committee comprising of Gwen, Lance, Leon, Percy, and of course Gwaine. He ran out before fourth to get all the necessary supplies, an ungodly number of red, yellow, and orange post it notes, making it back in time for his only other class with Merlin, math.
Arthur slipped out to the parking lot straight after, meeting Gwaine in front of Merlin’s car. Working quickly, in a little under and hour the two managed to cover the top, and sides with ‘scales’ of red, orange, and yellow. Arthur set to work on the front of Merlin’s ‘dragon’ while Gwaine put the finishing touches on the ruby red wings branching off of the car doors. He had already finished the dragon’s looming jaws in front, leaving a space for Arthur to spell out that one crucial word. Gwaine stepped back, admiring his handiwork.
“A little cartoonish, but I think we made it fairly convincing,” Gwaine smirked over at Arthur, who was meticulously placing the final letters.
“You sure you don’t want me to make the tail?” Gwaine asked, frowning at the plain end of Merlin’s car.
“I can finish that up. You go and get something to eat,” Arthur didn’t even look up, too consumed making sure the question mark was perfectly curved.”
“Aye aye captain,” Gwaine gave a mock salute, heading off to the cafeteria.
About twenty minutes later, Arthur finished covering Merlin’s bumper with orange scale. He whistled, consumed with pride for a moment.
“Cursed, ha!” Arthur spoke contentedly to himself, “Take that Morgana.”
That’s when he saw it. Arthur leaned in closely, and saw the spot of moisture, right in the middle of the big ‘P’ on Merlin’s dashboard.
“No,” Arthur whispered to himself, looking up as more fat droplets fell from the sky.
“God is mocking me,” Arthur backed away from the car, leaning his body against the fence.
He was forced to watch, slowly, as his masterpiece was destroyed, obliterated, demolished by the unrelenting Albion rain. What the rain couldn’t wreck, the wind finished off, excess post it's floating away on the high winds. A neon papery mess collected in the floodwater surrounding Merlin’s car, debris catching in the drains and on the tires of other people’s cars.
Arthur watched passively, letting the rain do its damage on him as well. He didn’t even notice Merlin waltz over to him, his unique, careless grace making the impression that he simply materialized. In fact, Merlin was forced to knock his body into Arthur’s to get his attention.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"I, uh, was waiting for you," Arthur tried to keep his voice even.
"Yeah," Merlin said, digging his hand into his damp jeans, "Gwain said you wanted to show me something."
Arthur tried not to wince as Merlin stepped straight into the remains of his project, stepping carefully over it himself before entering Kili.
"So," Merlin scraped the remains of Arthur’s work off of his shoe.
Arthur felt panic claw into his chest. Lying to Merlin was not a habit he wanted to remain engaged in.
"I, uh, was going to show you, uh, a mural I found?"
Merlin straightened to full height, his eyes dancing, "A mural! What happened to it?"
Arthur’s mood sank lower, having to let Merlin down a second time that day.
"It washed away."
"Shit."
Arthur hated watching Merlin deflate because of his lies. He turned away, unable to even look at Merlin, again. If Merlin looked at him too long, he would know he was lying. Merlin always knew when Arthur was lying. Merlin knew everything, his intuition was almost magical.
"It was just a mural," Merlin tried, sensing Arthur’s dejection. His concern only served to make Arthur feel worse for lying. Worse for trying.
Merlin was a good friend. A great friend. His best friend. He couldn’t lose him because he didn’t want him that way. Maybe Morgana was right. Maybe Arthur never actually wanted to ask Merlin to prom, so he could still live in a world where his feelings were in limbo, and they could exist on the border of friendship and something else.
"Yeah, you're right."
Before he knew it, Kili coughed and sputtered up his driveway, pulling up next to Arthur’s car. He got out as quickly as he could, almost running away from Merlin. He rushed to the front door, but his feet lost purchase, and he crashed to the ground. Merlin rushed passed him, oblivious at first, but Arthur knew he turned around when he heard his peals of laughter.
When Arthur stood up, Merlin’s laughter only intensified, until he was doubling over, clutching his stomach. Arthur rushed him while his head was down, pushing him to the grass.
"Stop laughing Merlin."
Arthur tried pinning the laughing boy, knees on either side of his chest, before Merlin reversed their positions. Arthur dropped his pretense, and joined Merlin’s laughter. He could have easily thrown off Merlin’s weight, but allowed himself to be pinned down. Arthur dropped his head down into the grass, ignoring the wetness seeping under his collar.
“Now, aren’t you feeling better about the stupid mural?” Merlin asked, a giant grin plastered on his soaked face.
And just like that, Arthur’s mood plummeted again. He remembered that their friendship couldn’t remain. He couldn’t go off to London in the fall for Uni without telling Merlin how he felt. And he couldn’t tell Merlin how he felt because he was cursed.
“Get off of me.” Arthur muttered, hating the hurt that flashed in Merlin’s eyes as he scrambled away.
Arthur stalked off into the house, hearing Merlin’s faint, hesitant steps follow him. He knew he was being a dick, and knew Merlin didn’t deserve his bullshit, but he couldn’t bring himself out of it now. He had one final idea before he quit entirely.
“I-uh- I have to take care of something in the kitchen, i’ll be up in, uh, twenty minutes,” Arthur called to Merlin, who was drying off in the foyer.
He didn’t wait for Merlin’s response, and could hear him trudge up the stairs. Arthur barged into the kitchen, startling his younger brother, Mordred, who had his hand in the cookie jar.
“Beat it,” Arthur tried to usher Mordred out of the kitchen.
“But i’m hunnngry,” Mordred whined, pushing back against Arthur as mightily as his 5 year old body would allow.
“Ask Morgana for takeout, I have a special project that needs work in here, I can’t have you running around.”
Mordred crossed his arms disdainfully, and stomped out of the kitchen. Arthur set to work making the only thing in his repertoire, plain vanilla cake with frosting. Arthur carefully selected ingredients, picking the most obnoxious green frosting to decorate the cake after it was finished, before popping the pan into the oven. Arthur carefully set the time, and walked down to the basement to look for streamers and anything else to add more zest to his production value. He didn’t notice little Mordred slip back into the kitchen, and reach his tiny fingers up to the stove, turning the knob to 600 degrees. He is carrying a box of miscellaneous party supplies, left over from Mordred's last birthday, when the fire alarm blares. He drops the box, and scrambles to the stove, from which thick black smoke was beginning to flow out. Before he could react, Merlin was jumping down the stairs, sliding on his socks, before deftly taking the extinguisher off of the wall, knocking Arthur to the side and blasting the oven. Arthur fell to the floor, and couldn’t find the energy to bring himself back up.
“I’m cursed,” He moaned into his hands.
Merlin rounded on Arthur, his patience reaching its peak, “Alright, what the hell is going on with you today.”
Arthur brought himself to look in Merlin’s eyes for the first time, annoyance and frustration bubbling at the surface. His friend hoisted him up despite his anger.
“You’ve been sulky and distant all day, and i’m fucking tired,” The boy crossed his arms, staring Arthur down.
It was too much, he couldn’t take Merlin’s gaze; it was if the boy could see right through him. Arthur could sense the disappointment radiating off of his best friend, and more guilt crept up inside him.
“If you’re going to continue acting like a child, i’m leaving.”
“Wait,” Arthur clutched Merlin’s hoodie sleeve as he turned away.
Merlin came back easily, looking at Arthur expectantly as he ran his hands through his hair.
“Willnomnefree?” Arthur tried to fit it into one breath, still looking down.
“What?” Merlin reached down, and physically tilted Arthur’s chin upwards, until he was staring into his eyes.
“Will you go to prom with me?” Arthur thought his heart was going to combust.
He couldn’t stay still, his face was on fire, the room was too small- and Merlin was kissing him. Arthur didn’t have time to gather his senses enough to kiss Merlin back. Merlin pulled back, a laugh threatening to escape him.
“Of course, you ass.”
If Arthur had reached the depth of despair before, that misery was a distant misery to the ecstasy he felt.
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The music here sucked. The low lighting hurt his eyes. The new shoes he had bought pinched at the toes. Arthur had never been happier. He held Merlin tight, swinging him around the dancefloor, with just enough consciousness to avoid other dancers.
He was leaving for Uni in two months. And goddamnit, he would hold Merlin tightly through that too, distance and class be damned. Merlin would be his, as long as he would have him.