He never, not once, not in a million years thought it would end like this.

He thought maybe a speeding car or an angry burglar or even a great white shark, but never did Arthur consider that his death would be caused by a flying orange dodge ball with ridges on the rubber, thrown by a kid half his size.

And it wasn't like Arthur didn't have the reflexes of an athlete, because he did. He just wasn't thinking about the stupid, pointless game. Instead his attention was focused on the gangly kid across the room who was picked last and out first and who resolutely would not look Arthur's way. And he was thinking about how much he fucked up and it was probably for the best that he did, and by the time he realized there was a bright orange ball of doom hurling toward his face, Arthur really didn't care to move.

After all, why should he?

The hollow snap of the ball echoed across the gym and Arthur found himself looking down at his own body that was sprawled haphazardly, neck bent at an awkward angle, blood starting to seep into a puddle around his head.

The other kids immediately started to crowd and whisper with the careful frowns and nervous smiles that always appeared in the face of something sudden and horrible. Meanwhile the coach, all business, stepped forward to check Arthur's pulse.

The only person who didn't come to his aid was the one person who mattered the most, who hadn't moved from his seat on the bleachers across the gym. But, curiously, his eyes were the only ones staring wide and afraid at the spot where Arthur's soul was hanging around.

If there was time, Arthur would have thought that strange, but his soul was already starting to float away, so he just smiled, wide and with helplessly crooked teeth, happy to think that if he really was going to die, then at least Merlin bothered to look at him one last time.

I. The Haunted House

He didn't know exactly what he was expecting, but his soul materializing in the living room of his father's old, decrepit lake house was certainly not it. He couldn't say he was surprised, though. Of all the manors and hotel suites and sky rise apartments his father had made him call home, this drafty vacation house in the middle of nowhere was the only place where Arthur actually felt he knew the meaning of the word.

The house was originally owned by his mother's family, and when she died, her husband was the only one left to inherit it. The wood-paneled walls were covered in her landscaped paintings, and the side tables and counters were littered with candid pictures of her smiling face next to portraits of little Arthur and his older sister, Morgana, wrapped securely in their mother's arms.

The house had always been Arthur's favorite place, even after it became more of a shrine than a place of sanctuary. It was the only spot where Arthur remembered his mother, and he still visited every year, alone, spending his vacation time eating junk food and swimming and watching old black and white movies that his sister hated, sometimes half-hoping that she would march in the door and lob the remote at his head like she used to, before she left for freedom or adulthood or wherever she deemed better than their silent, expensive homes.

Arthur never blamed her for that, but he did harbor a lot of bitterness that she didn't take him with her.

In the kitchen, a microwave dinged (which was weird because the microwave broke two years ago when Arthur tried to heat up a sandwich wrapped in tin foil). He walked into the next room to investigate and blinked, as he always did, to adjust to the bright yellow wallpaper that lathered the area between white-washed cupboards. It was the most jarring room in the house because even in the dead of night, the kitchen was wide awake. He used to stay up all night unknowingly, playing heated and overall too-competitive card games with Morgana on the kitchen table until the first rays of sunlight told them it was dawn. The effect was lessened now, though, because the lights were turned off and the sun filtering through was softened by a dense fog that rolled and pressed against the tiny, lace-curtained windows.

A yellow post-it note was stuck to the charred remains of the microwave door.

Arthur plucked it up with two fingers. A message was scrawled in a thin, jagged script.

Welcome Home, Arthur Pendragon. Someone will be with you shortly.

Arthur frowned at the vague and completely unhelpful little note, then he frowned at the strange rolling fog outside, then he frowned at everything else for good measure. It didn't seem right, somehow, that he should be dead and still waiting in a queue. It seemed less right that he should possibly be stuck forever in a house that only he ever loved with only himself for company. But seeing as that was how he had lived his life up to now, maybe that was exactly what he deserved.

His stomach rumbled loudly with hunger.

He hated being dead.

Some odd hours later (at least he thought it was hours; he wasn't actually sure) the house was still silent as the grave, and honestly Arthur was pretty fucking bored. The television wouldn't turn on and he had already read all the books, including his sister's diary, at least five hundred times. He killed some time exploring all the little nooks and crannies to see if anything was different and what he finally came up with was a black, tattered shoebox that definitely hadn't been on his tiny twin mattress the last time he was there.

So Arthur brought the shoebox down to the living room and emptied it onto the coffee table.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but the odd assortment of junk that tumbled out was not anywhere near what he would have guessed.

There was:

a tin can covered in paint

a toy soldier

a little pink shoe

a gobstopper

a paper plane

a cigarette lighter

a pencil

a daisy chain bracelet

and a gold plated red rose.

Arthur recognized some of them, but with the others he didn't have a clue as to where they came from or why.

"Having fun?"

Arthur looked up from his assortment of junk to see Merlin standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed tightly in the way he only did when he had to put up with something extremely unfair. Like Arthur, he was still dressed in his red and gold gym uniform, though he was so thin that the fabric draped off him as if they belonged to someone else. Actually, Arthur had stayed over at Merlin's so often in the past year that there was a good probability they were his. It would explain why Arthur's own uniform fit so snugly as of late.

"Am I dead?" Arthur asked, because he couldn't imagine why Merlin would be there otherwise.

"Unfortunately, no," Merlin answered, his voice bland and face blank. "You were hit by an incomplete curse. As far as anyone can tell, it was supposed to put you in an eternal sleep to live out your wrong doings on repeat until you died."

"Great," Arthur said weakly.

"Yep," Merlin said. He started picking his nails. "But since it's incomplete, you're only in a coma. Still cursed. But since it was done half-assed, the elements have changed. It has a different set of rules."

Arthur straightened. "Which are?"

Merlin shrugged. "No idea. Impossible to tell."

Arthur sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Why are you here, then? You're the last person I would expect to see right now. I would bet one of your friends even did this."

"It wasn't my friends who did this," Merlin said shortly. "It was Mordred. And I'm only here because Morgana asked me. Apparently I'm the only one powerful enough to cut through the havoc of whatever curse this is. The doctors only managed to send you a note earlier."

"Mordred? Seriously?" Arthur fought the hysterical urge to laugh. Mordred had been crushing on Merlin since forever, and he always hated that Arthur got there first. The bit about Morgana didn't surprise him. She always had a way with persuasion.

Merlin shrugged. "Apparently it was some sort of grand romantic gesture."

Arthur tried to look casual as he asked, "Did it work?"

Merlin snorted. "I think I'm done dating assholes, thanks."

"Right," Arthur muttered. He cleared his throat and looked down at the table. "So, how do we break this?"

"Find out what the new rules are and follow them out. The curse is wonky, so you'll need me to power it up so you can do whatever it calls for and end it. That's assuming there is an end game. Otherwise, I can't help you."

"There is. I think. It must have to do with this stuff. They were the only things out of place."

Merlin stepped forward and surveyed the objects in front of Arthur. His eyes almost immediately snapped to the rose, and his expression turned wary.

"Is there something these things have in common?" Merlin looked like he didn't want to know.

Arthur shook his head. "I have no idea. I only recognize a few of them."

Merlin shifted, his expression apprehensive. Arthur could tell he was gearing himself up to do something. Merlin took small steps toward the table then held his hand out over the objects. Each item started to glow a warm gold. The tin can started to shake.

The house went fuzzy around them, the world swirling and swaying, and then it faded altogether.

II. The Tin Can Covered in Paint

Arthur blinked at the sudden brightness of sunlight. He and Merlin had appeared outside the lake house, on the front lawn in the middle of the day. The house looked in better shape than it had in years and so did the perfectly manicured lawn, but the most shocking thing was who had joined them there.

Arthur's mother looked just like he remembered her. She had her bright blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, short tendrils of it falling over the front of her face. Her light blue eyes were happy and relaxed as she painted on a large canvas that rested on an easel in front of her. The tin can covered in paint rested on a small stool at her side, filled with water, along with an array of different colored paint droplets around it.

Some ways across the lawn, Arthur's sister Morgana – then about seven – was lying on her stomach and coloring furiously on a blank sketch pad. Her long black hair fell in waves over the paper, hiding her creations from sight. She wanted to be an artist like their mother at that point, but she was always too embarrassed to let anyone see what she had made.

And then there was Arthur, three years old, running across the lawn on short stubby legs, chasing a bright blue butterfly made out of light. Little Arthur laughed and swatted at the butterfly, but it always flew just out of reach and curled away. When the light started to fade, his mother would flick her fingers and the butterfly would start up again, keeping him busy while she worked.

"Your mother was magic?" Merlin asked, his voice rough in a way that Arthur felt, like there was too much emotion going through at once.

"Yeah," Arthur replied. His own voice was small and weak in wonder. "Did I not tell you?"

Merlin shook his head, his eyes following Little Arthur across the lawn. "No."

"Oh."

Little Arthur blindly followed the butterfly over a root, stumbled, over Morgana's legs, fell over, then around his mother and straight into the painting stool. He caught himself just after his nose smacked the stool's leg, but it was enough that the tin can splashed water over all the paints and fell to the ground.

"Arthur!" His mother shouted, quick and irritated.

Little Arthur, nose and pride stung, immediately started to cry. "Sorry! Sorry!"

His mother took a deep breath and picked him up.

"You have to be careful," she said sternly, rocking him back and forth. "Those paints were expensive."

Little Arthur buried his face in her shoulder, tears rolling down his fat cheeks.

His mother's face softened and her thin shoulders slouched. She rubbed his back. "Hush. We can buy new ones."

Little Arthur shook his head and cried harder.

His mother dipped him upside-down quickly, so his body flailed back, then pulled him back in. "I love you! I love you! I looove you!"

She dipped him again and again until Little Arthur giggled with delight.

She smiled at him and kissed his head."You could do anything and I'd still love you. But be careful, alright?"

Little Arthur smiled cheekily. "Kay."

The memory started to swirl and fade, and before Arthur could even reach forward for another glimpse at his Mother's smiling face, he was already somewhere else.

III. The Toy Soldier.

He resurfaced in a white room with white machines and white sheets, the stale smell of piss and cleaning supplies permeating the room like every hospital always did, no matter how many people came through it. He and Merlin stood at the end of a hospital bed, side by side, looking at the small frame of Little Arthur tucked into the sheets. His head was bandaged across the top, the wound underneath being one that would eventually heal into a scar that he would never get rid of and always self consciously hide from the world under his short blond bangs. Little Arthur was alone and awake and watching cartoons with a troubled expression that three-year-olds did not often have. He knew even then that something was wrong.

He knew that his mother had reached back in the car to quiet his crying about his spilled drink just before a larger car hit them from the side. He knew that he had cried and cried and she didn't move afterward. He knew that no one was telling him where she was or why he was there alone. He knew he was being punished for something but he just didn't know what it was.

A doctor came in the room again to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble. There was always a doctor or nurse or once even a policeman coming in to make sure Arthur wasn't playing with anything he shouldn't. This doctor was old and a bit chubby, but he had long hair and a kind smile on his face, as if Arthur wasn't bothering him at all. He sat down next to the bed and checked Arthur's eyes with a flashlight before settling in to watch the old loony cartoons.

"Where's mommy?" Little Arthur asked.

The old doctor jumped in surprise, and he gave Arthur a shocked expression, as if he couldn't believe Arthur had asked such a thing. His shock slowly recovered into a downturn of his lips, a sad pull at the brow of his eyes.

"Your father will tell you that," the doctor said, patting Arthur's knee in reassurance.

"Where's daddy?" Arthur asked.

The doctor's shocked expression came back. "He hasn't been here?"

Little Arthur shook his head. "Is it cuz my drink spilled?"

"Oh, no. It's. Well.." The doctor looked confused and uncomfortable. He adjusted the glasses on his face. "I'm sure he's just running late."

Little Arthur's eyes welled up. He was in a strange place and he was alone and his mother didn't wake up and his father was late. He just wanted to go home and have everything be better again. The old doctor saw his tears and sighed in the long, tired way that adults always did.

He fished in the pocket of his long white coat and brought out a little green toy soldier. He handed it to Arthur.

"This little soldier has kept many brave children company in this hospital. If you're scared, just hold him tight. He'll keep you safe until your father comes."

Arthur eagerly reached for the soldier and pulled him close. The feeling of the toy's sharp angles in his palm was the safest feeling he'd known since he had woken up in white hospital sheets.

As the scene started to swirl and fade, Merlin turned to look at the teenaged Arthur next to him. "Did your dad show up?"

Arthur scrunched his face and thought back to what he'd been told. "I don't really remember. Morgana said she was at Uncle Agravaine's for a week before I showed up, and even then it was a police officer who dropped me off."

"Why didn't he come to get you? I mean, your youngest child in the hospital, especially after something like that..."

"I spilled my drink."

"What?"

A new scene came into view, bleeding into focus with color and clarity and sound. Merlin didn't seem to notice, instead staring in confusion at Arthur's face.

Arthur couldn't look Merlin in the eyes. He took in the grey walls of the building forming around them. "She wrecked the car because I spilled my drink, and I wouldn't stop crying. It was the only thing I could think about, after. Did she leave because my drink spilled? And to my dad, yeah. That was why."

"But that wasn't your - "

"I know." He didn't, actually. He still thought about it every day. If he'd been less spoiled, less needy. If he'd just learnt to keep his mouth shut and be patient. She might still be alive. "He just needed someone to blame. He was grieving."

Merlin shook his head. "That's not an excuse."

Arthur sighed deeply. "Can we drop it? Look, there I am again."

Merlin's mouth twitched open to sass back, but when his eyes found Little Arthur, he quieted.

IV. The Little Pink Shoe

The Camelot Mall was a loud and distracting change of pace. There were teenagers scuttling around in droves and old ladies in sweatsuits powerwalking and harassed-looking mothers tugging unhappy children along by the hand. Arthur was one of those unhappy children, but he was not being led by the hand and he was not with his mother. Now about five years old, Arthur was running to catch up to his father's long strides as they rounded into the bright, multicolor kid's shoe store.

His father, Uther, was immediately all business, flagging down one of the employees and telling him to find something – anything that would fit – so they could hurry up and leave. Uther had promised Arthur a new pair of shoes before school started, but he also had a Very Important Meeting soon, not to mention he still had to pick up Morgana from whichever friend's house she had slept over at. Uther didn't actually know which friend it was or where they lived, but his secretary knew, so he never had to worry about it.

The chosen employee was a thin man with gelled hair and clean shaven face. His uniform fit him too snugly and he had a lisp when he talked. None of those things meant anything to Arthur Then, who boredly held out one foot for the man to measure. But to Arthur Now who was watching, the observations made him wary. He could clearly see Uther's lip curling in distaste as he waited.

"Alright, little man," the employee said. He pointed down one side of the aisle. "All of these are in your size. Which ones do you want?"

Arthur glanced over the row quickly, his eyes flitting from bright red to purple to blue. He finally zeroed in on a pair of bright pink trainers with glittery purple gel on the sides, and he pointed to them excitedly. "Those! Those!"

The worker's eyebrows raised, and he picked up the box with pink shoes slowly. "These?"

Arthur nodded.

"No," Uther snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Not those."

Arthur's face fell. His little brows drew together in confusion. "But you said I could have any!"

Uther crossed his arms. "Boys don't wear pink. Pick another pair."

Arthur stomped one foot and pouted. "But Ana has pink ones!"

Uther didn't move, but his voice turned low and threatening. "Pick another pair, or you won't get any at all."

Arthur's bottom lip quivered and tears welled up in his eyes. The worker, gone unnoticed, was working his jaw angrily during the exchange, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he picked out a pair of red shoes with blue gel on the sides, the 'boy version' of the shoes Arthur picked, and held them out for Arthur to see.

"What about these?" The worker asked gently.

Arthur didn't really look at them, but he nodded his head anyway. He continued to cry quietly (or as quietly as a child could, with loud sniffles and little whimpers) while his father bought the shoes and while they walked back through the mall to the exit. The crowds got thinner and thinner the closer they got to the glass mall doors, so Uther could hear his sniffles more and more clearly.

Some few paces away from the door, Uther finally had enough of the tears.

"Stop crying!" He said irritably. "I haven't raised you to be so spoiled!"

Arthur whined and rubbed his wet eyes. "But I really wanted the pink ones!"

Uther held open one glass door so Arthur could follow him into the vestibule. "Boys don't wear pink, Arthur. It just isn't done."

"Mommy let me wear what I wa-"

The hand across his face came quick, so quick that if anyone had even been near them, they probably wouldn't have noticed except for the hurt squeak that left Arthur's mouth.

Uther froze immediately after, staring with wide eyes at Arthur's rapidly reddening cheek. Arthur stuttered out a cry, trying to stop himself and not succeeding because he was five and didn't know how. This time, Uther picked him up to shush him.

"I'm sorry," Uther said gruffly. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but we don't talk about mommy, alright?"

Arthur nodded into Uther's shoulder miserably. "Okay."

The scene started to fade.

Merlin had his hands over his mouth, eyes wide with shock.

It was the first time Arthur had ever seen him speechless.

V. The Gobstopper.

Arthur knew the next scene like the back of his hand.

He was ten years old, and he had a crush on one of the neighborhood boys. His name was Kay, and he was a ginger, and he was a bit of a bully, but Arthur was in love with him. He was convinced that Kay was Arthur's prince charming, and when they grew up they were going to get married with a lot of pomp and circumstance, and they wouldn't have kids because kids were dumb, but they would have a small army of rabbits. He had this planned out. Extensively. His diary was even filled with red and purple hearts about it.

So, one afternoon outside of Arthur's grandiose white house, when Kay asked if he could have one of the gobstoppers that Arthur had in his pocket, Arthur saw his opportunity to make Kay see that they were meant to be together.

He held out a gobstopper for Kay to grab and said, "Sure. But you gotta do something."

Kay took the candy hesitantly from Arthur's palm and narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Arthur didn't give any warning. He leaned in and kissed Kay right on the lips.

Kay pushed him away, stumbling back with shock on his face before clocking Arthur right in the jaw.

Arthur went down quick, his back making a dull thud as he crumpled to the ground, while Kay ran away as fast as he could.

Arthur stayed on the ground and sulked, rubbing the spot where Kay had hit him. He didn't cry about it. Arthur wasn't a pessimist. He was already thinking about a different way to go about wooing. Maybe Kay wanted flowers? Or Arthur could let Kay win at freeze tag. There had to be something. They were going to be married.

"What the hell was that?"

Morgana, who had been reading on the porch, now stood over Arthur with raised eyebrows. At thirteen, she was extremely thin and almost awkward in how gangly she had become, but she was still pretty with clear, pale skin and bright green eyes. Her long braid of black hair fell over Arthur's face as she inspected his jaw. It tickled.

"I like him," Arthur said simply. "Should I get him flowers?"

"He hit you," Morgana said slowly, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah. But I like him." Arthur shrugged. "He likes candy. Do you think that'll work?"

Morgana rolled her eyes and helped him stand up. "You're an idiot. No."

"Why not?"

A few houses down, a front door slammed, and Morgana and Arthur automatically glanced over to see who it was.

Kay's mother, a large woman with a red face and quick temper, marched down the front lawns to their house, her beady dark eyes focused angrily on Arthur. He shrank back instinctively, and his arms curled up to his chest.

Kay's mom breathed heavily as she reached them, and she jabbed a pudgy finger at Arthur's face.

"You stay away from my son! I won't have your diseased little mind getting to his head!"

Morgana crossed her arms, giving the woman her best impression of Angry Uther. "He was just playing!"

"No I wasn't!" Arthur frowned. He didn't know why everyone was so angry. "I like him!"

Kay's mother blanched, her face turning an odd shade of puce. She turned to Morgana, her tone threatening. "You keep him away, or I'll beat the sense into him."

"Yeah?" Morgana's eyes lit up with gold. Kay's mom slowly backed away, her eyes wide with fear. "You beat the sense into him, and I'll curse your kid to like boys forever."

Kay's mom huffed indignantly, but she didn't stop backing away.

"I'm telling the other parents! He won't be hanging around any of our kids, do you hear me?"

"Leave!" Morgana snapped. The grass at her feet started to grow and wave erratically.

Kay's mom shrieked and waddled quickly back the way she came.

Arthur pouted as the woman left. "Ana, did I do something wrong?"

Morgana considered him a moment, her lips twisting side to side as she thought of what to say.

"You...you don't kiss people without asking. That's all."

"Oh." Arthur's shoulders slouched.

Morgana sighed and hugged him to her waist. Arthur buried his head miserably into her shirt. "I was gonna marry him."

Morgana snorted.

"Don't laugh!"

Her body shook until she couldn't help it anymore, then she started giggling uncontrollably. Arthur tried to act offended and shake away, but Morgana only held him tighter. He finally went limp and pouted.

"It's not funny, Ana!"

"Oh my god, yes it is."

Merlin smirked at Arthur as the scene faded.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"I didn't say anything."

"Shut. Up."

VI. The Paper Airplane

In middle school, Arthur was already popular. He was living in a constant state of trying to impress his peers and he cared for little else, including his mediocre grades. He was well-known among the teachers as being a disruptive talker in class, and Arthur was proud that they already knew his name before he ever walked into their classroom. Arthur was considered cool for being the teacher's bane.

The memory that Arthur and Merlin materialized into next was a stark white classroom with blue and purple motivational posters on the walls. Younger Arthur was talking lowly and laughing with the kid seated next to him, and the teacher glared at him expectantly while she lectured in front of the class. After a minute, when it was clear that Arthur didn't get the hint, she stopped reading from her notes and snapped, "Mr. Pendragon!"

Arthur leaned back casually in his seat. "Yes, Miss Helen?"

"Please move yourself to the back of the classroom."

The other kids giggled as Arthur smiled smugly and moved his things to an empty desk in the back row. The girls next to the desk smiled excitedly.

"All the way back," Miss Helen said tersely. "Move the desk against the wall."

Arthur's smile dropped. "But-"

"Now, or I'll send you to the office."

Arthur's face turned red as he jerkily dragged the desk to the wall, causing the metal feet to scratch loudly against the tile floor. Miss Helen waited with an unimpressed expression for him to sit down, then she carried on lecturing as if nothing had happened.

Arthur was fuming. He hated being singled out and condescended. He refused to listen to her lecture and instead turned to a new page of his notebook. He would prove that getting isolated to the back of the class couldn't stop him from talking. He drew a stick figure of Miss Helen with a circle on the head for where her hair was thinning and balding. He scribbled above it, MISS HELEN IS UGLY. And below it, NO WONDER NOBODY LIKES HER.

He waited until Miss Helen turned to write something on the board before gently tearing the page out of his notebook and folding it into a paper airplane. He held the plane between his forefinger and thumb, then he flicked it as hard as he could. It flew low down the aisle to his left and skidded across the floor. Nobody saw it. They were all too busy taking notes.

Arthur pouted and waited for a second to see if anyone would pick it up. They didn't. He angrily flipped back to his notes and started listening again, writing down the notes on the board with more gusto than necessary until he finally calmed down enough to stop caring.

It wasn't until the last five minutes of class that someone found the note, and it wasn't the person he wanted. Miss Helen was walking down the aisles, checking to see if anyone needed help with the worksheet she'd passed around, when she stepped on Arthur's little note. She picked it up and opened it slowly, and when Arthur realized what she was holding, he determinedly stared down at his worksheet as if he was oblivious.

"Who wrote this?"

Everyone, including Arthur, looked up to see Miss Helen staring at the crumpled note. Arthur was horrified to see her jaw trembling and eyes watering. He never meant for her to see it.

"Are you okay?" One girl asked.

Miss Helen crumbled the note into a ball and held it so tightly that the paper squeaked in protest. "I'm fine. You can all go early. Just remember to have that worksheet done by Monday."

Everyone hurried to pack up and file out, and since Arthur was in the back, he was one of the last kids out the door.

The last glimpse he had of Miss Helen, she was sitting at her desk with one hand curled firmly around the note while the other hand traced the balding wisps of black hair at the top of her head with trembling fingers.

The memory faded and came back.

It was the same classroom, same kids. They were all talking loudly and laughing. The door opened and the noise quieted a little. When they realized that the teacher who entered was the principal and an unknown woman, the noise stopped all together.

The principal, Mrs. Annis, was a severe looking woman with bright red hair and beady blue eyes. Any other day the sight of her would strike fear into any student who crossed her path, but that day her eyes were reddened and her entire face seemed to droop defeatedly at the sides. She cleared her throat uncomfortably before speaking.

"Kids, since this is both your homeroom and first class, I want to tell you this before we formally announce it. Miss Helen passed away this weekend. She has been suffering from depression for quite a while now, and I suppose...it had finally become too much. She took her own life."

Arthur's ears started ringing. Mrs. Annis kept talking about grief counselors and substitute teachers, but all Arthur could focus on was the weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe. His body was cold and his skin had gone clammy with sweat. He missed the principal taking her leave and the substitute – a small, blonde woman – writing her name on the board. The kids around him slowly crept back into confused, somber chatter. When he finally came back to himself, his skin itched under the surface and his stomach was rolling. The image of his teacher's heartbroken face just two days ago was imprinted clearly in his mind, but he didn't cry and he didn't get sick. He just sat there, staring at the board, apologizing to her over and over in his head while knowing that it was too late to make any difference at all.

"Arthur..."

Merlin's hand twitched at his side as if to reach out, but then he seemed to think better of it.

Arthur clenched his jaw until a new memory appeared, bright and lively and far, far away from that particular mistake.

VII. The Cigarette Lighter

The lakehouse sunsets in summer were like something out of a movie. They seemed too-perfect, too-beautiful, as if the melting hues of orange, pink, purple, red, and blue were just lies swirling above them, like an oil painting that was more dream than reality. On mild nights, Morgana and Arthur would climb out the attic window and lay down on the roof with snacks and a portable radio, watching the bright colors slowly fade to spangled black.

In this memory, Morgana was laying on the rough blue roof tiles, absently flicking a metal lighter open and closed with one hand, while Arthur sat hugging his knees next to her. A cloud of gray smoke hung heavy between them in the breezeless air, emanating form the cigarettes held gently in their fingers.

Morgana pouted her lips to puff two smoke rings in the air, then said, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

Arthur frowned and squeezed his cigarette so hard that the tobacco crinkled. "But you don't even know them."

She flipped the lighter. Click. Snap. "Yes, I do. I met them online. They're good people."

Arthur took a drag and let the smoke burn away any scathing words he might regret. Morgana peered at him with earnest, bright green eyes that always seemed to sparkle with intent. She was just eighteen years old, but she had the stunning surety of someone much older. She always made Arthur feel like a clueless child in comparison.

"I need a coven, Arthur. They don't teach magic in universities. I mean, if Mom were here..." Morgana shrugged a little and flicked the lighter again. Click. Snap. "But she isn't. And these people are willing to teach me."

Arthur sighed and stared out at the murky lake, where the perfect sunset was fragmented and rippling and dark. "I won't have any friends, now," he said sulkily.

Morgana snorted. "Don't be dramatic. You'll have Leon and Lance and all them."

"Yeah. But I can't tell them anything. They don't – we don't talk, like you and me."

"You should. You should have someone to tell things to. Someone other than me." She gave him 'that stare,' a certain narrowing of her eyes that meant she knew something that he didn't. He would think she was full of it if she didn't always turn out to be right.

"Is that why you're leaving? To, you know, have someone?" He was too scared to ask her, Am I not enough?

Morgana turned her gaze back to the melting sky and flicked the lighter. Click. The color of the flame matched the sun. Snap.

She brought the cigarette to her lips and mumbled around the filter, "Maybe."

A pang of guilt weighed on him. Morgana had been his best friend since always, but what had Arthur ever been to her other than a nuisance, a responsibility? It was no wonder that she wanted to leave.

"Hey, Ana?" Arthur scraped out the embers of his cigarette and flicked it out onto the lawn.

"Hmm?" Morgana hung onto the nub of her own while she let smoke curl out of her mouth and nose like a pale-faced dragon. Arthur smiled crookedly at the sight.

"Thanks for being mom."

Morgana blew the rest of the smoke in his face and smiled. "You're welcome."

As the smoke and hues of sunlight meshed together and began to fade, Merlin pressed himself close against Arthur's side.

"She's right, you know. You should have someone."

Arthur stiffened. "I had you."

"And you still didn't tell me any of this. Shouldn't I have known about your mom, your teacher, or – hell, the smoking? We dated for a year. I should have known some of these things!" Merlin waved his arms defeatedly and looked at Arthur as if he expected an answer, but Arthur didn't have one to give.

How could he say that he didn't know how to talk about these things, that he'd never really had the opportunity before Merlin came along? Was that even an excuse?

"I- um, don't. Smoke, I mean. I only did it with Ana, sometimes."

Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes. Whatever answer he wanted, that wasn't it.

The new memory materialized in a scene of fluorescent lights and rows of school desks, and Merlin groaned loudly in recognition. "Oh, fantastic."

Arthur silently agreed.

VIII. The Pencil.

There was a boy in Arthur's government class who had short black hair and wide blue eyes, and Arthur was in love with him. His name was Merlin.

Arthur and Merlin had friends who were friends with their friends, but the two of them had never actually talked or hung out. Arthur was also pretty sure that Merlin only thought of him as some popular douchebag breezing through school and not as the loner, straight-A student that he really was (ever since the Miss Helen incident, anyway).

Arthur had school friends, but that was as far as it went. He didn't go out to the movies or hang out after club meetings or sports practice. That was, probably, the only reason why no one noticed that Arthur didn't date or talk about girls. He wasn't close enough to anyone for them to notice. And he was alright with that, mostly. He still remembered the pudgy red face of Kay's mother as she told him to stay away. He didn't need to risk that kind of reaction in people he would be stuck with for another two years.

But then there was Merlin. Merlin had nearly fifty gay pride pins on his backpack and never tried to hide them. Arthur had met most of the gay student population at one point or another, but none of them struck a chord like Merlin did. Arthur didn't even know what it was, exactly. Merlin was adorable when he started rambling, waving his hands absently in the air and occasionally knocking his elbow into the desk by accident. Maybe it was the things he would say – about women's rights, sorcerer's rights, gay rights, the country's leaders, the economy – always so aware and passionate. He made Arthur want to make things better. So Arthur silently admired the hell out of Merlin for nearly the whole semester, quite possibly making googly eyes at him from time to time, until the subject of gay rights came up and Arthur's discretion swiftly went to hell.

When the memory came into focus, Mordred (the curse-blasting little shit) had the floor. His mousy face was almost buried under his shaggy, curly black hair that swayed as he spoke. "The opposition to gay people is pretty much over now. I don't know why people keep thinking otherwise."

"It's not that simple," Merlin countered, his palms wide open and thoughtful as he spoke. "The court ruled in favor of us getting married, but there are still laws out there that would allow us to get fired, refused service, expelled from school, just because we're gay. "

The teacher, a lean man in his forties who moonlighted as a basketball coach, was sitting at the front of the class. He marked something in his notepad as Merlin spoke. Arthur had a hunch that he kept tally whenever a debate got going.

"But no one actually does it," Mordred continued. "Unless the store owner or something is an asshole. Those laws don't even count for anything. Who cares if we're gay, anymore? No one except the crazies."

"Seriously!" A girl piped up from the back. "Is Pride Fest even necessary anymore?"

"Of course it is," Merlin said quickly, eyes narrowing. "Homosexual rights aside, pride allows lesser represented genders and sexualities to raise awareness to their rights as well. For instance, there are still issues in the workplace and schools for transgenders, and it looks like there will be for a long time. And I mean, if we were two states away, I would have to worry about a bill that prohibits the conversation we're having right now. Did you know that? I didn't, until I went to Pride and someone told me."

A short silence followed Merlin's words, and out of wanting to have Merlin see where he stood, Arthur quickly added, "Pride is also a demonstration of exactly how much hate is still out there. Have you seen the protesters? They're not all crazy. Most of them are people you could come by any day and not even know it."

Arthur felt his heart leap to his throat when Merlin stared at him in surprise.

Mordred glared. "That's rich, coming from someone so far in the closet. You haven't even been to Pride. Too scared."

Surprised murmurs and laughs echoed around the room. Arthur went cold and pale. He muttered. "Get out of my head."

Mordred smirked. "Make me."

"Mordred." The teacher fixed Mordred with a glare. "That's enough. You'll be going to guidance instead of lunch today. I'm sure Alice will love having another discussion about the ethics of mind reading. Now, going back to the supreme court..."

Arthur kept a white-knuckle grip on his pencil for the rest of class, but he didn't write anything down. He could hear the clicking of students texting under their desks and feel the buzzing of his own phone in his pocket. Not many people liked Mordred, but everyone knew that he was a mind reader and that he never lied. Arthur definitely wouldn't be 'in the closet' any more, and the uncertainty of what that meant put a heavy weight of fear in his gut. As soon as the class bell rang, he was out of his desk and out the door.

He didn't stop until he was safe in the gym locker room, which was always empty at that time of day. He sat down on one of the blue benches, ran a hand over his short blonde hair, and finally took a look at his phone.

Leon:

Arthur, wtf?

Percy:

Dude u gay?

Unknown Number:

SUCK MY DICK

Gwaine:

upside: jail will b a fckin breeze

Arthur snorted at the last one, but it didn't make him feel any better. He opened a new text box to Morgana.

Fuckfuckfuck. Just got outed in class. What do I do?

Less than a minute later, she replied, Take a deep breath. Calm down. Own it.

Arthur squared his shoulders and thought about Morgana's calm and fierce demeanor whenever someone insulted her. He could do that. He hoped.

The gym door creaked open and light, hesitant footsteps made their way inside. When Merlin turned into the aisle that Arthur was sitting in, he felt himself blush anxiously.

"You forgot this in class," Merlin said, shuffling forward to give Arthur the pencil that he had been trying to strangle earlier.

"Thanks," Arthur said. He gingerly took the pencil form Merlin's lithe fingers and momentarily forgot to breathe when their thumbs brushed.

There was a slightly awkward pause. Merlin shuffled his shoes and glanced down at the floor before saying, "Mordred was a dick."

"Yeah." Arthur sighed and looked at the pencil in his hand. He twirled it between his fingers. "I guess everyone knows now, huh?"

"You couldn't help that," Merlin said hotly. "Mordred needs to learn how to keep things to himself."

Arthur shrugged.

Merlin bit his lip, then said, "I'm gay too, you know."

Arthur glanced up at him quickly, and his throat suddenly went dry. He had to check himself from saying, I know; I've been thinking about it for the past three months.

Instead, he said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, so if you need anyone to talk to...I mean, you probably have someone, but just in case, here." Merlin pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Arthur. His phone number was messily scrawled across the bottom.

Arthur bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. "I don't, actually. Have someone to talk to. Thanks."

"Well," Merlin said as the memory started to fade. "That was as painfully awkward as I remembered."

Arthur was smiling in amusement. "I think you mean painfully cute. Look at you being all forward."

Merlin's eyes widened. "I meant it as a friend."

"Uh huh. Sure you did."

"Shut up."

IX. The Daisy Chain Bracelet

Arthur's gayness became the thing that everybody knew but nobody ever talked about, like Mr. Cain's toupee or that gym teacher who went to prison for what he did to Edwin after school. It became this elephant in the room that followed Arthur everywhere he went because while nobody liked or knew what to do with the fact that Arthur liked boys, everyone still liked Arthur as a person and the popular kids had to deal with him in student government every week, anyways. The only person for the next few months who didn't talk to Arthur as if they were stepping on eggshells was Merlin.

Merlin texted Arthur about things that had nothing to do with anything, like the great ass of this one actor and what was Arthur's favorite flower and had he seen this new show? They still didn't hang out, but they talked more than Arthur talked with anyone, which was why, three months after his awkward coming out, Arthur agreed to spend a Saturday with Merlin downtown.

They didn't have any plans. They just wandered from street to street while talking (and arguing) about anything from TMNT to politics, and Arthur kept making excuses to touch Merlin's hand and arms and waist. He really wanted to kiss him, but he didn't know if he was allowed or how to even go about it.

They ended up at the park, romping over the playgrounds and seeing who could climb higher up a tree before finally laying out in a small field. The memory started with Arthur meticulously making a daisy chain while Merlin watched him with barely contained amusement.

"What?" Arthur asked, using his thumb to split open a stem.

Merlin smiled. "Just reveling in the fact that Arthur Pendragon knows how to make daisy chains."

"Yes. I can't cook or clean, but I can make a mean daisy chain. Here." Arthur pulled the last flower through, completing the bracelet, and gently pulled Merlin's wrist closer. It slipped over his hand and dangled prettily on Merlin's thin, pale wrist. Arthur didn't let him go, and Merlin didn't pull away, even as Arthur traced his thumb over one blue vein.

"Merlin?"

"Hm?"

Arthur remembered the gobstopper incident well, so he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Merlin didn't answer. He smiled and leaned in. Arthur leaned in, too.

Their noses bumped.

"Ow!" "Ugh!"

Arthur, mortified, put his hands over his face. "God, I fucked up. I fucked up."

Merlin laughed and pried Arthur's hands away. Arthur's face was beat read and miserable-looking.

"It's not your fault," Merlin said. "I bobbed and you weaved. Now, stay still."

Merlin gently cupped Arthur's face in his thin, long hands, and that time, when he leaned in, the kiss was perfect.

"I think I'm done watching your big gay adventure," Merlin said shortly. He crossed his arms and batted the wetness out of his eyelashes as the memory faded around them.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what he was sorry for. Getting hit by a cursed ball? Their relationship? Ever talking to Merlin at all?

Merlin glared at him with barely tempered anger. "Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Arthur. Why did you do it?"

"I don't..." Arthur paused as the new memory became clear. There were red and gold balloons floating on the venue ceiling, strobe lights flashing through the dark ballroom in time to the music blasting from DJ speakers, and a long buffet table in the back. Kids in ball gowns and tuxedos stumbled and laughed and danced in front of Arthur's eyes. "...know"

Merlin stepped to the side, away from him, and looked around with a grimace. "Well, I guess we're going to find out."

X. The Red Rose.

Merlin and Arthur had been dating for almost a year and everybody knew and nobody talked about it. That was alright, though, because it was nobody's business anyway.

Arthur asked Merlin to prom by giving him a gold coated rose with red enamel on the petals. Merlin had his mother alter the pocket of his tux (which was home-sewn anyway) to fit the rose, and Arthur wore a matching rose in his own. The prom, when they got there, was a blur of Arthur bouncing from one group of friends to the next, sometimes with Merlin by him and sometimes not. After seeing everyone, they both ate at the buffet (during which Merlin made a few lewd gestures with a mini sausage that had Arthur choking on his punch) and then they danced to a few overplayed songs.

After a while, Merlin was whisked away by his friend Freya, who had come alone, and Arthur resigned himself to watching from the sidelines. It was more amusing than expected as Merlin was all elbows when he danced, and seeing him next to the petite and surprisingly coordinated Freya had Arthur smiling so widely that his cheeks ached.

The memory started when Arthur still had that dopey smile on his face, watching Merlin, and two girls approached him from the side. One gently tapped his shoulder.

Arthur jumped a little, startled, and looked at the culprit. Sophia, a girl from student government with a pudgy face and leering smile, curled her finger teasingly at him. Behind her was her best friend, Vivian, who was (quite possibly for the first time since Arthur has known her) staring at him with rapt, even nervous, attention, instead of studying her nails like she usually did.

Arthur laughed a little at the scare and nodded at them. "Hey! What's up?"

Sophia smiled wryly. "We were wondering if you could walk us up to our room real quick? Viv's ex has been hanging around, so we don't want to go up alone."

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who was still busy trying not to dance on Freya's feet. Escorting them would only take a minute. "Yeah. Sure."

He followed the girls to the elevator in the hall. People nodded at Arthur in friendly recognition and stared at the short black and blue skirts of Sophia and Vivian's dresses. One guy from the football team gave Arthur an enthusiastic thumbs up, and Arthur laughed at the irony. They crowded into one tiny elevator, and Vivian pressed the floor number of the room. As soon as the doors closed, Sophia pulled a pink flask out of her small black purse. She offered it to Arthur.

"Rum and coke?" She asked with a shy grin.

Arthur smiled wide and took the flask from her. "Seriously?"

Sophia shrugged. "Think of it as a payment for your noble deed."

"Alright," Arthur said. He unscrewed the top. "But if Merlin has to pick me up off the floor later, you'll be answering to him."

"Oh, please. It's not that bad."

Arthur took a couple gulps and winced. He handed the flask back to Sophia, who giggled at his reaction and tucked it back into her purse. The elevator dinged.

Arthur followed the girls out into the narrow hallway and walked them to their door, but as they came closer and closer to the glaring white door frame, Arthur's steps started to falter and his body began to sway. He slumped against the frame, breath coming strained and heavy, as Sophia unlocked the door with her card.

Arthur's words dragged as he said, "Hey, Soph? I don't feel so good."

Sophia held open the door for him and smiled pleasantly. "That drink must've been strong, huh? Just come in and sit down for a sec. It'll wear off."

Arthur stumbled into the stale room and sat down on the edge of one twin bed. He cradled his head in his pale, shaking hands and muttered, " What was in that?"

"Yeah, Soph," Vivian said, her voice shrill and nervous. "What was in that?"

"Nothing!" Sophia said shortly. She tossed her purse on the floor and kicked off her thin black heels. "He'll be fine. It's just a little spell."

She stalked over to the bed and gingerly divested Arthur of his suit jacket. His arms fell limply at his sides as she pulled it off. She tossed his jacket next to her heels then lightly pushed on his chest. He fell back onto the bed and didn't – couldn't – get back up.

"You'll be fine, Arthur," Sophia murmured as she unzipped her dress and slid it off her body. She was only wearing a lacey black bra underneath. Sophia crawled on top of Arthur's lap and started fiddling with his belt.

Arthur's fingers twitched desperately over the bed's stiff comforter, and his voice slurred out, "Soph, g'off."

"Just a quickie," Sophia said. She undid his trousers and slid them down to his knees. "You'll like it."

"M'gay. G'off," Arthur groaned.

"You don't know that. You've never been with a girl before," Sophia said. She shimmied his briefs down as well, then took Arthur in hand positioned herself over him. He choked and turned his head away as she sank down and got comfortable. "Now you have."

"Ready?" Vivian asked. She looked peaky and grossly uncomfortable, but her camera phone was steady in her hand.

Sophia nodded, then grabbed one of Arthur's limp hands and put it on her hip. She rocked herself and made moaning noises for a few seconds while Vivian filmed and stepped closer. Arthur kept his head turned away and hoped that the blurring of his vision meant that he wouldn't remember any of it later. The memory, as well, started to blur as Arthur Then began passing out.

Vivian's voice echoed as if coming through water when she said, "I got it. I'm sending it to everyone now."

Sophia sighed contentedly. Her blurred form got off Arthur and walked back to her dress. "Good. Now that bitch owes me concert tickets. I told her I can get anyone to sleep with me."

"I can't believe you did that!"

"What? He won't remember it, anyway."

There was a dinging sound from Vivian's phone as the video sent out to her contact list.

Seconds later there was a clap of thunder, but no rain began to fall.

Neither of them said anything as the scene started to change.

Merlin's hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and his eyes were swirling with both blue and gold. Sadness and rage.

Arthur couldn't feel anything. He didn't want to. He wished the memory had stayed forgotten.

XI. The Orange Dodgeball.

The gym was louder than Arthur thought. The kids who weren't running from dodgeballs sat on the bleachers and either talked loudly to each other or cheered for the remaining players. Nobody cheered for Arthur, but he wouldn't have noticed then, anyway. His attention was focused on Merlin, thinking about how much he fucked up. The last thing he remembered was taking the rum and coke, and the only thing he knew about what happened afterward was the short video that Viv sent out to the whole student body.

Merlin wouldn't look at him. His eyes always seemed to be trained just to the left or right or even on the ground. He'd texted Arthur that night don't ever fucking talk to me again, and Merlin was the only person Arthur had to talk to. He couldn't tell his school friends that he didn't remember what happened because they wouldn't believe him (and most of them had sided with Merlin anyway). He couldn't tell Morgana. Morgana would lecture him. Arthur didn't need a lecture. He knew he was a piece of shit, now. Merlin wouldn't look at him and it was probably for the best.

The ball smacked his head. He went down.

They ended up back on Arthur's worn down couch, in the lakehouse. Fog stilled rolled against the windows. The house was still a sad, old shrine. But Arthur didn't feel like he belonged there, anymore.

"Why didn't you move?" Merlin asked quietly. His fingers pinched and rubbed the fabric of his red gym shorts. He only fidgeted if he was nervous or sad. Arthur didn't want him to be either of those things. "You knew it was coming. You just stared at it."

Arthur shrugged. "Why should I have? I didn't know all of that, with... I just thought, fuck. I'm the worst piece of shit. I'm the fucking worst -" Arthur choked and shook his head, willing back the tears pooling in his eyes.

Merlin's nervous fingers cupped his face and rubbed his cheeks. Arthur closed his eyes tightly. All that time of wanting Merlin to look at him, and now he just wanted to hide.

"Arthur. Stop. Look at me. It's not your fault." Merlin paused. His fingers stilled. "Oh, fuck. None of it is. Not the can, not your dad, not that bitch Sophia. That's the key to get out. It's not your fault. It's not your fault."

Merlin hugged Arthur to his chest, rocking him back and forth, until the lakehouse, and all of the memories in it, faded away.

1. The Hospital Sheets.

Arthur woke up slowly to the sound of Morgana's distressed voice coming muffled through a door. His eyes blinked open to see the blurry form of Merlin sitting at his bedside, hair sticking straight up on one side and generally looking like shit. He had one hand in Arthur's hair, petting it back like a mantra of calm.

"Arthur? You alright?"

They both knew he wasn't alright. Not really. But that wasn't what Merlin was asking.

Arthur's voice was gravelly and dry as he replied, "I think I went to heaven for a bit there."

Merlin smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh yeah? What'd it look like?"

Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand from his hair and pressed it to his lips.

"You."