Elloo. :)

All about loneliness, written in the spur of the moment as reaction to dealing with feelings! Hopefully that has made it as realistic as possible.
Modern day, and written as slash, but doesn't have to be. Read it with your favourite pairing.
A sad little fic, but hopefully you'll enjoy.

Read, review, enjoy. xx

~Not since~

Merlin Ambrosius: a thousand years old, and that's just his eyes. A painter by profession, with a favourite model- it's been a while since they've been gloried on his canvases, however. Living in a flat, simply because a house is too large. Friends with many, but baffling far more.

Merlin often wonders what it is that keeps the world spinning. What exactly it is that means men cannot just curl up in some cocoon of solitude and make time stop. Forever. The utter loneliness, the knowledge that no one, no one under this sky could stroke it away. Not since-

Not since.

Memories like bitter husks gave him nothing but fear that he was forgetting. And as the rain patterned the taxis' windows with its grey tears, the light cast onto his face were almost tangible tear tracks. His pining solitude painted every passing stranger with that face. Every single one. But the details blurred each day, because he hadn't seen even a photograph, nor the living canvases he used to paint, not since-

Not since.

There are chasms in his heart: great tearing crevasses. Many attempts to bridge them have failed, the bridges burnt, and any patches sewn over the top come apart. Loneliness grabs his shoulder, caresses his face and laughs silently in it. He can never even begin to convey his despair in the greyed streets, never watermarked until-

Deep down, Merlin knows no one can make it over those bitter ravines. Once ago, maybe, but not since-

Not since.