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The first time Arthur took the bus, it was because his car was in the shop. The day before, some idiot had rear-ended him in the car park and hadn’t even bothered to leave a note. Arthur hadn’t been having a great day overall, but that was just the icing on the cake. Or at least he thought it was.
“Stupid bloody wankers who don’t even know how to drive! How they even passed the driving exam, only heaven knows!” Arthur ranted, pacing around his flat while his girlfriend Gwen sat, quietly waiting for him to finish his tirade.
“Arthur,” she said slowly.
“And that’s not even the half of it!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “My father assigned me to edit Annis Caerleon’s new novel today! It’s as if he thinks I’m still a poor little child who can’t handle a big project yet. Caerleon only writes ridiculous young adult books, not anything of any real importance. How does he expect me to take over the company someday if he doesn’t let me have any experience!”
Gwen looked at Arthur with a pained expression.
“Arthur, I-”
“And, if that isn’t enough, Morgana called today to tell me she’s engaged! Again! That’s the second time in three months! My sister is absolutely mad, and she expects me to back her up against Father!”
“Arthur, I’ve decided to see someone else,” Gwen said quickly, before Arthur could start yelling again about some other topic. Arthur stopped abruptly and turned to look at her.
“What?”
Gwen anxiously bit her lip and brushed a piece of her curly black hair out of her face.
“I said, I’ve decided I’m going to be seeing someone else from now on.”
Arthur wrinkled his brow, processing this news.
“You’re...breaking up with me?”
“Listen, Arthur, you’re a fantastic person, you really are, but I just don’t think you and I are meant to be. Please don’t be angry.”
Arthur just looked at her for several moments, before finally saying, “It’s Lance, isn’t it? That’s who you’re leaving me for.”
Gwen met Arthur’s gaze nervously.
“I know he’s one of your best mates, and you two have known each other since you were schoolboys. Please...don’t let this get in the way of your friendship.”
“And what does Lance think about all this?”
“He...he said to tell you not to be angry with me. If you’re going to be angry with anyone, let it be him. Which I totally don’t agree with, for the record, but that’s what he said.”
Arthur flopped down onto his sofa, his normally bright blue eyes staring dully at the carpet.
“Arthur,” Gwen started to say, but then he quietly stated,
“It’s...fine. It’s all fine. I’d just like you to leave, okay?”
“But-”
“Please,” Arthur said, looking up to meet her eyes.
“I… all right. I owe you this much,” she said, collecting her bad. Then she was gone, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.
As much as Arthur wanted to just stay in bed when his alarm went off, he knew that if he didn’t come in to work his father would give him more hell than it was worth. Therefore Arthur got dressed, made a cup of coffee, and walked begrudgingly to the nearest bus stop. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about having to use public transport. It was dirty and full of psychos and Arthur was pretty sure at the very least he’d get mugged and have his organs sold on the black market. He couldn’t wait until he was back in his lovely white BMW.
It wasn’t particularly cold, but the morning air still had a bite to it. The bus was nowhere to be seen, giving Arthur yet more time to think (unfortunately). He felt like he should be sad, or angry about everything that had happened yesterday, but he just...didn’t. Things were just what they were, he supposed. Getting all emotional like a bloody girl wasn’t going to fix his job or his car or his life.
The street seemed devoid of life except for Arthur, a shopkeeper opening up, and an old man sweeping his front steps. The dull grey sky appeared thick with the promise of rain later. All in all, Arthur thought the whole bleary scene reflected how he was feeling inside. Arthur pulled out his phone to play whatever stupid IPhone game he had downloaded this week, trying to distract himself. Before long, the sound of screeching brakes and a groaning engine alerted him to the arrival of the bus. Arthur pocketed his phone and grabbed some change for the bus fare. He dropped the coins into the slot and shuffled towards a seat.
That was when Arthur saw him for the first time. The man was young, probably just a year or two younger than Arthur. He had a messy flop of jet black hair that fell in a sort of fringe over his forehead. On his lap rested a copy of the book Good Omens. He subtly bobbed his head up and down to music from a giant pair of headphones clamped over his ears.
The rumbling of the bus beginning to move jolted Arthur back into the moment. He quickly slid into the nearest bench, before looking back at the man. He had fair skin and sharp, defined cheekbones that gave the man an ethereal sort of beauty. Just then, he turned to look in Arthur’s direction and Arthur quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to be caught staring. Arthur pulled out his phone and checked his emails for a moment, not really reading them. When Arthur glanced back up, the man had turned back to look the other way.
Arthur blinked, and then swallowed uncomfortably. What was he doing? Staring at people on the bus was most definitely pervert behavior in his opinion, yet here he was. He made a point for the rest of the ride to not look at the other man. When it came to Arthur’s stop, he collected his coat and stood up. To his surprise, the man had also risen and was looking at Arthur curiously. Arthur quickly hurried to the exit and thanked the bus driver, who simply replied with a grunt. He hopped off the bus and walked as fast as he could without running towards his office building, deliberately not looking back.
Later in the day Arthur reflected that his behavior during the whole bus experience was rather uncharacteristic, but he blamed his staring at a stranger and then running away on the fact that he was having a fairly awful week. His father, who happened to be both the CEO and founder of the publishing house where Arthur worked, frankly refused to listen to Arthur’s complaints about being assigned to edit Mrs. Caerleon’s novella. At lunch, his assistant Mithian forgot to get his sandwich without mayo, so Arthur was forced to eat the awful slimy thing or else go hungry. The mechanic called to say that no, Arthur’s car was not fixed yet and it might be at least another few days until they got the parts in.
When the hour hand finally hit six-o'clock, Arthur found himself walking back to the bus stop. His thoughts were elsewhere, as he wondered such things as if he was going to order in Chinese or maybe pizza, and what he was going to watch on the telly later. Normally he just watched whatever Gwen had put on, but obviously that wasn’t an option now. The bus screeched to a halt in front of him. Arthur mindlessly boarded and sat down in a bench. He was jolted out of his obliviousness by the heavy whump of someone flopping down next to him on the seat. Arthur looked up to find himself staring at the deep blue eyes of the man from earlier. His headphones rested around his neck and he grinned brilliantly at Arthur.
“Hello,” the man said, holding out his hand.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Arthur snapped, surprising himself with how brusque he sounded. He hadn’t intended to do that, especially not with the man who had intrigued him so much earlier. Sometimes the hard exterior that Arthur had cultivated around himself made unexpected appearances when he was unprepared.
The man frowned.
“No, you don’t know me. That’s why I introduced myself. That is generally what people do, you know.”
“I…” Arthur hesitated. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m just not in the best of moods right now. The name’s Arthur. Arthur Pendragon.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Arthur,” the man said with a brilliant grin.
“Call me Merlin,” the man said. “It’s what my friends call me.”
“Are we friends?” Arthur asked. “I’ve only just met you.”
“Well, you have to start somewhere,” Merlin replied.
Arthur, who for all intents and purposes was usually quite reserved, found himself telling Merlin everything; about Gwen, his frustration with his father, his desire to succeed in taking the helm of the family business. Before long it was Arthur’s stop.
“Goodbye, then,” he told Merlin as he collected his things.
“Will I see you here again?” Merlin asked.
No, Arthur almost had said. No, tomorrow a friend said they’d give me a ride (which was true, his mate from uni named Leon had offered to drive him) and then my car will be fixed after that…
But instead, Arthur said, “Yeah, I think so.”
That night, after ordering Chinese takeout from the place down the road, Arthur turned the telly on and started watching Downton Abbey, but that had been Gwen’s favorite show, so he changed the channel to watch Top Gear instead. Then he phoned Leon.
“Ello?” Leon answered blearily.
“Hello Leon,” Arthur said, diverting his attention from the fancy cars racing on the television screen.
“Oh, hey Arthur. What do you need?”
“Well, I was just calling to tell you that I don’t think I need you to drive me to the office tomorrow. Thanks anyways, though.”
“Does that mean they fixed your car after all? Today you seemed to think it would take the shop a while more.”
Arthur shifted in his seat.
“No, actually. I’ve just...I’ve decided I’d like to take the bus is all.”
In that moment Arthur could picture the look of confusion that was almost certainly coming over Leon’s face as Leon said incredulously,
“Did I hear that right? Because for a moment it sounded like Arthur bloody Pendragon said he’d be taking public transport by his own free will.”
Arthur winced and ran a hand through his hair.
“You heard correctly, Leon.”
The sound of cackling laughter erupted from the phone speaker.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Leon giggled. “The lad who threw a complete tantrum at uni because his sheets weren’t one thousand count thread Egyptian cotton is saying he’s going to take the BUS? You’re not the real Arthur. What’ve you done with ‘im?”
“I’m not joking, Leon,” Arthur said with a scowl. “And I thought we had decided never to talk about the sheet incident ever again.” Leon didn’t reply, as he was still snorting with laughter. Arthur sighed.
“I’m going to hang up now.”
“Sure, sure, whatever you say. When you decide that you’re too posh to ride the ‘commoner’s commuter transport’ tomorrow, just call. I’ll be expecting it.”
“Don’t waste your time, mate. I won’t call. Night, Leon.” Then Arthur hung up, closed his eyes, and put his face in his hands. He really, really hoped he wasn’t being as much of a bloody idiot as he thought he was.
The next morning when Arthur climbed on to the bus Merlin looked surprised. He slid out of his seat into the one next to Arthur’s.
“I didn’t think you’d be back,” Merlin said.
“Well, I said I would. Didn’t you believe me?” Arthur replied nonchalantly.
“No,” Merlin answered honestly. “I thought you were just saying that to shut me up. I didn’t think someone like you would take the bus if you didn’t have to.”
“Why does nobody believe me when I say I want to take the bloody bus? It’s not that unusual! And hey, what do you mean, ‘someone like me’?” Merlin grinned.
“A public-school educated ponce wearing a £5,000 suit who works in a fancy skyscraper.”
“I’m not a-” Arthur tried to protest, but Merlin simply raised an eyebrow at him. “Shut up,” Arthur grumbled. “Anyways, that’s rich coming from a mosher like you.”
Merlin gasped in mock-offence.
“I’ll have you know I am most certainly no mosher, my friend. If you don’t believe me, just listen to my IPod playlist.” He fumbled around with his headphones and then held them out to Arthur. “Here.”
Arthur questioningly lifted the headphones over his ears, prompted mostly by Merlin’s expectant expression. Lyrics flooded his ears.
We have the chance to turn the pages over
We can write what we wanna write
We gotta make ends meet, before we get much older
We’re all someone’s daughter
We’re all someone’s son
How long can we look at each other
Down the barrel of a gun?
You’re the voice, try and understand it
Make a noise and make it clear
Oh-o-o-o-o Whoa-o-o-o-o
We’re not gonna sit in silence
We’re not gonna live with fear
Oh-o-o-o-o Whoa-o-o-o-o
“Is this...John Farnham?” Arthur said with disbelief. He took off the headphones and handed them back to Merlin.
“You’re damn right it is,” Merlin replied. “I only listen to the classics, mate. And, for the record, I’ve only ever been in a mosh pit once, and that was only because my boyfriend had pressured me into it. Didn’t enjoy the experience. So, as you can see, not a mosher.”
“Fair enough,” Arthur said. Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait, boyfriend?”
Merlin made a face.
“Yeah, although I suppose it should be ex-boyfriend nowadays.”
“Sorry about that,” Arthur said, trying not to be reminded of his all-too-recently-former girlfriend.
“Don’t be,” Merlin replied. “He was an asshole.”
Every workday for the next fortnight, Arthur could be found taking the bus both morning and night, although his car had been fixed more than a week ago. When he had gone out for drinks at the pub with Leon (Arthur had also agonizingly invited Lance, who promptly declined, saying that he was “busy”), Leon asked him about his “newfound interest in public transport,” to which Arthur just said “It’s not that big of a deal, just leave it, okay?” Leon had given him a rather funny look after that.
However, things hit the fan when one evening Arthur’s phone rang. It was his sister Morgana.
“What the hell is wrong with you this time?” she said curly, not even bothering to say ‘Hello’. This being Morgana, however, that wasn’t particularly surprising.
“What?” Arthur said, trying not to let out the exasperated sigh that he oh-so-dearly wanted to.
“Leon phoned and said you’re acting strange. He said you’re riding the public bus to work. That is not in your normal behavior. So, I repeat: What the hell is wrong with you?”
“It’s noth-”
“No,” she interrupted. “I know it’s not nothing. You have a reason, and I will find out what that reason is.”
“Do we have to do this now, Morgana?”
“Yes. I have a responsibility as your sister to pry into your business, especially when I’m afraid your business will affect other affairs, and therefore eventually become my business. And let me tell you, little brother, you do not want that to be the case,” she sniffed.
“Jesus, Gana, you do realize you’re only my half-sister, right?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Morgana snarled. “Regardless, I’d like to offer up a hypothesis. I think that you’re taking the bus instead of driving to work because you met someone, and you’ve fallen in love with them.”
Arthur almost dropped the mug he was drinking tea from. Of all the conclusions he had expected Morgana to draw, this was not one of them.
“That is frankly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Morgana! Merlin and I are friends, and that’s it!’
“Aha!” she proclaimed triumphantly. “Tell me who this ‘Merlin’ is, then!”
“Shut up!” Arthur shouted at her. “It’s not like...I’m not even gay!”
“Oh, dearest brother,” she crooned. “How little you know appalls even me sometimes.” Then Morgana promptly hung up.
“Hussy,” Arthur muttered.
Morgana’s words haunted Arthur all night, and he was still thinking about them when he walked to the bus stop the next morning. He knew he had some bi-curious impulses, sure, but that was only to be expected after going to an all-boys school for most of his life, wasn’t it? And, even if what Gana had said was by the slimmest, tiniest chance true, Arthur knew that his father would flay him for it and he wasn’t sure if he could handle any further patronization from him.
“Hey,” Merlin greeted, as Arthur slid into his now-regular seat next to him. “How are we today?”
“Fine, I suppose.”
“That doesn’t sound like the voice of someone who’s ‘fine’.”
“Naw, it’s just a conversation I had with my sister last night. Nothing to trouble you with.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said, looking at him straight in the eyes and putting an arm on Arthur’s hand, “I’m here to be troubled. Lay it on me. I can help.”
“No, you bloody can’t,” Arthur growled, flinging off Merlin’s hand. “Leave me alone.”
Merlin just looked confused.
“Was it something I sa-”
“No. Shut up. It...just can’t happen.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Merlin retorted.
“Look, I’ve made a mistake. This whole bloody thing was a mistake. This isn’t me. You’ve been allowing me to pretend I’m someone I’m not, and it needs to end.” He angrily pressed the button that would tell the driver to stop the bus.
“Goodbye, Merlin.”
Arthur grabbed his coat and stormed off the bus, even though he wasn’t even remotely close to his office. The last thing he saw before walking off the bus was Merlin sitting by himself, looking shocked and confused.
Arthur was eating his (mayo-less) turkey sandwich and repeating the same thoughts over and over in his head. He was Arthur Pendragon, the perfectly ideal young man who had gone to the ideal schools, was from an ideal ancestry, had an ideal job, and, until recently, had an ideal girlfriend. He was living an overall ideal life, and he was happy, wasn’t he? Why had he tried to disrupt this perfect balance that was his life? Surely Merlin couldn’t give him anything that he didn’t already have. What was the point of upsetting the status quo for some bloke he’d met by chance on a bus?
He was just swallowing the last of his lunch when an email popped up in his inbox, from a Mrs. Annis Caerleon:
Dear Arthur,
I’ve attached a brief excerpt from the book. I’ll send you the full chapters 1-8 later this week, but for now please read this and let me know your thoughts so far.
Thanks,
Annis
Arthur sighed and opened the attachment. He was going to have to read it sometime, so why not now?
The excerpt began with the two main characters, Tristan and Isolde, traversing through the deserted wasteland that lay outside of their dystopian civilization. They were attempting to find the outpost of the rebels who were spearheading an effort to overthrow the oppressive government.
“But what hope do the Rebels have, really?” Tristan whispered solemnly. “The Governance is just so powerful.”
Isolde pulled Tristan into a careful hug. She brushed a piece of her violet hair out of her face, and allowed her piercing yellow eyes to meet Tristan’s dark grey ones.
“We have to have hope. It can be done, I know it.”
Tristan looked uncertain.
“Even if the Rebels can stand up to our oppressors, would it be a good thing. Allowing people to choose everything about their lives is what caused the War and the Uprising in the first place,” he said.
Isolde smiled sadly at him.
“You see, I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think we can be happy until we are allowed to choose what we want to choose, be who we want to be. The citizens can’t be expected to simply sit in silence anymore, Tristan,” she said.
Tristan looked up at her, his face slowly filling with resolve.
“I suppose you’re right, Isolde,” he whispered. “We’ve lived in fear of choice for too long. No more. Now is the time to choose what we want our lives to be, and damn the consequences.”
In the back of Arthur’s head, the sounds of that John Farnham song filtered in and out, echoing the dialogue of the characters. We’re not gonna sit in silence, we’re not gonna live with fear, the song whispered in Arthur’s mind. Fear, Arthur thought. That was his real problem, wasn’t it? What was he so afraid of? Of not being the perfect son his father thought he should be?
“We have the chance to turn the pages over,” Arthur whispered to himself. For his whole life, he’d lived like an exact copy of his father. He’d been acting like a ponce because it was what was expected of him.
We can write what we wanna write. Why shouldn’t Arthur be able to ride the bus like an ordinary person if he wanted? Why was he letting his father determine what he was doing in his life? And for that matter, why had he let himself be influenced by Gwen breaking up with him?
We gotta make ends meet, before we get much older. Why the hell should it matter if he was more than a little bi-curious? Why should it matter if he was in love with a man he’d met on the bus?
“Screw it,” Arthur said. “Screw it all.”
He was so busy replying with genuine interest and emotion to the rest of Annis Caerleon’s excerpt that he almost missed the bus that evening. In fact, it had been about to pull away when Arthur had valiantly threw himself through the closing door, just barely making it. Merlin was sitting in the back of the bus, listening to his headphones. Arthur made his way to the back and sat down beside him. He slowly removed his headphones while looking at Arthur with contempt.
“Look,” Arthur said, “Before you say anything, just allow me to apologize. What I said this morning was out of line, and I didn’t truly mean it. I was angry, and I’m sorry for how I treated you.”
“You were an bloody awful ponce, that’s true. But I think I understand, and I can forgive you,” Merlin said slowly.
“I hope you mean that, Merlin.”
Merlin grinned.
“I do.”
Arthur cleared his throat.
“Well, uh, would you maybe want to go have a drink with me sometime?” he said, while he still was feeling confident.
Merlin raised an eyebrow.
“It’s a bit soon, isn’t it? After all, we did meet basically last week.”
“Well,” Arthur replied, “You have to start somewhere.”
Merlin laughed and said, “You’re bloody damn right about that.”
When the bus finally stopped, Arthur and Merlin hopped off together, in search of a pub.