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There’s a cardboard box under the bed. It has a layer of dust on the lid decorated by dried blotches of blood that stand out like nauseating reminders of mortality. Brushing some of the dust away, Arthur settles on his knees on the floor, thumb pushing at the edge of the letters written in black sharpie:
this box is me if I can’t be
Arthur rubs the spot between his eyebrows, pressing his eyes closed for a moment before he takes off the lid. He lets out a surprised laugh, strange and unfamiliar, at the sight of some cassette tapes and an old Walkman. Those things were obsolete decades before the war even happened, let alone now.
His amusement dies as abruptly as it came when he looks at the labels of the tapes.
lost you in the crowd today
He doesn’t want to listen to that, because he remembers the day they got separated in the chaos better than any fucking day in his life.
So he starts on the next one instead, running his fingers over the backs of the tapes knowing Merlin was the last person who touched them.
&&
“I always knew I’d end up talking to myself.” Merlin sounds amused. His voice is light and Arthur can hear the smile in it. It’s so much like normal. “But it feels like I’m talking to you, anyway, even if it’s really just me. And I’ve always felt like I could talk to you, even back when I thought you were a fucking tool.”
Arthur hates everything. He hates the world and his life and the vague feeling of a higher power he once believed in before all this shit fucked them all over.
“Some people just work together. It’s like when you use pen with paper – they’re two different things but they work, and they serve a purpose and it makes sense. I feel like that’s us.” The tape scratches. “I mean, I’m the pen, obviously, because I’m sleek and I create things. You’re paper because you’re flat and tasteless.”
Laughing feels humourless and hollow more than anything else, but it’s also a little sliver of normalcy.
&&
“Elena came by today. I don’t know if I can explain how good it was to see someone, to talk to them about memories. Because I have to remind myself that they are, in fact, memories and not things I made up. She still smells good.”
There’s a rustling on the tape, as if Merlin moved. Maybe he was on the bed. Arthur glances at it before making up his mind. He climbs into it, turning his head into the pillow and draws a deep breath. It doesn’t smell like Merlin anymore.
“Remember when we came home from that trip to your dad’s once? When I made noodle soup and you told me you thought astronaut was the most overrated profession?”
He doesn’t. But he remembers when they went to the beach and Merlin got tangled in seaweed. He remembers the sun and the way Merlin snorted when he laughed too hard.
&&
“I miss you so much. Fuck you. And fuck them. And fuck me for not holding your hand tight enough, and for not knowing where to look for you.”
&&
The feeling of blood filling his cock, making his head rush and his spine tingle, is a sensation he hasn’t paid attention to in a while. But he’s acutely aware of it now when he listens to Merlin’s panting breath on the tape. It’s been so long it almost feels like the first time, his grip a little awkward, but overwhelming.
He can hear the slick sounds of Merlin’s hand on his cock, knowing exactly the pace Merlin likes – the steady strokes of his hand and the way he curls his fingers over the head. If he concentrates, he can remember the smoothness of Merlin’s cock in his own fist, the weight of it on his tongue, and the girth of it when Merlin would fuck him.
Sometimes they’d fuck slowly, and Merlin would tease him endlessly until Arthur was completely non-verbal, only pawing at Merlin. And sometimes it’d be hurried and impatient, and it’d end so brightly, but much too soon.
Closing his eyes, he listens to Merlin whispering his name and the breathy sighs he lets out as the bed creaks.
“Miss your lips on my neck. The way you’d laugh at my squirming and then hold me down, knowing how much I love it even if I pretend I don’t.” Merlin’s voice is low and unstrained, so warm and fond and desperate. “Miss your thighs and your arms, miss holding onto them when you fuck me. Fuck. Arthur, why the fuck is this happening?” His voice cracks. “Miss you.”
&&
“Elena says the area’s not safe anymore. They know about it. So I’m going. But these tapes are me. Right now, if you listen to them, I’m here. For you. But if you want to find the rest of me, I’m following Elena to the barricades in Mercia. We’ve heard they’ve been most successful. So come. If you found these. If not…”
Arthur holds his breath.
“No. You found these.”