sixwordstories | (no subject)

((Don't mind the brightly colored girl in the quiet graveyard, arranging a bouquet of small, pretty flowers for each grave.))

[He likes being alone when he's this vulnerable, so that no one can see him, but he doesn't know this girl, so at least there's that. He looks at her, sniffling to look like he hadn't been about to cry.]

What do you think you're doing?

((Piper jumps, whirling around to face him fearfully. The bouquet that shed had been fiddling with fell haphazardly onto the grab as she backed away, cringing.)) Piper- Piper just wanted to give them pretty flowers. Dead, dead, but not forgotten. Not forgotten ever. Piper is sorry.

[Arthur frowns, shaking his head at his own reaction.] No, it's fine. I shouldn't have snapped at you.

I-it's okay. Mr. Man doesn't need to apologize. Why- why is Mr. Man here?

[She's a complete stranger, and he feels like he doesn't have to tell her anything, but it's obvious enough given that he's in a graveyard.]

Visiting a family member, that's all.

Dead, dead, but not forgotten too~? Piper understands.

... Who is this man, Piper wonders? What is his name?

[ He approaches quietly, treading soft against the grass, keeping a respectful distance before clearing his throat to alert him of his presence. ]

Arthur. If you need someone, I'm ...

[ But he trails off, already feeling quite silly for intruding. ]

[Arthur sniffs, trying to mask the fact that he might have been on the verge of tears. It's ridiculous, he never met the woman. Yet, he felt deeply that something was missing without her presence in his life.]

I'm fine. It's not like I ever knew her. [He looks down at the grave one more time, pulling his coat closer around her as he hesitantly starts to move away.]

You don't have to know a person to care about them. To be sorry that they're not here any more.

[ Merlin steps a little closer and places a gentle hand against Arthur's elbow. It's uninvasive and unassuming—just a little contact to remind him that it's all right to be human—and he squeezes lightly before letting it slip away. ]

Come on. Let's go for a drink.

[Arthur's arm jerks as if to yank it away, but he doesn't. He wants to pretend that he's fine, to protect his soft, squishy interior, but the fact that Merlin cares...that matters.]

Give me another minute.

'Kay.

[ Merlin retreats just a little to give him the space he needs, pulling his own hoodie a little tighter around himself before re-adjusting his scarf. It's chilly out—that's late November for you—but by now he's come to terms with the fact that he'd stand there forever for Arthur's sake. ]

[He has no intention of sharing his thoughts, keeping them locked tightly inside, and he shakes his head with a sigh from his nose before he finally decides to turn away from his mother's grave.]

I need a drink.

[ He offers him a short nod. ]

The warm chocolatey kind, or does the occasion call for something a bit stronger?

[ Merlin slips his hands into his pockets and lets a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. ]

I'm buying if you fancy a pint.

[Arthur just snorts, taking the opportunity to laugh as a good distraction.] If you think I'm letting you do that, you've gone mental. You can't afford it.

[ Not for the first time since they've met, Merlin feels the tell-tale warmth of a flush dusting his cheeks. This time, however, it's not at all in good humour, rather he's a little embarrassed that Arthur's mocking him for being hard up. ]

... Right. Sorry. I just thought it'd be nice—you not paying for once.

You know what? It would be nice. [He claps a hand on Merlin's back, perfectly content with taking advantage of his friend.] You're buying.

Good. You can buy me dinner later to make up for it.

[ Merlin's lips quirk into a crooked half-smile as he moves away from Arthur, already heading out on to the main street and in the direction of the local pub. ]

[Arthur gives Merlin a look.] My mother is dead, Merlin. You can buy your own damn dinner. [Not that it's a good excuse, at all, his mother's been dead for 22 years now. Still, he always buys Merlin dinner. He's allowed to have a break from that, it's not like they're dating.]

So's my father.

[ He raises an eyebrow, unwilling to turn it into a game of Who Has The Most Tragic Past. ]

You're still buying dinner. We can have Pot Noodles—that'll only set you back a pound or two.

[ ... But the idea of Arthur eating a cup of instant noodles is too hilarious not to be laughed at, and he can't help but chuckle at the mentale imagery of him turning his nose up at the chicken and mushroom flavour sachet. ]

[Arthur raises his eyebrows in recognition at that, hands going down into his pockets. He would have responded to that, likely with something along the lines of 'touche', but then the idea of eating Pot Noodles stole all of his prior feelings away. Instead, they were replaced by disgust.]

Shut it, we're getting real food.

What's wrong with Pot Noodles?

[ Clearly trolling, Merlin tucks a lock of hair back behind his ear as they approach their local watering hole. ]

You should try living on a budget like mine for a while. It's easy to get used to dodgy flavours.