Tercais

remember when robin didn't clock will in this scene, she clocked 𝙢𝙞𝙠𝙚

Merlin's eyes changed when he did magic. He knew that. In the privacy of his own head, Arthur had come to think of that golden gleam as beautiful since he'd discovered the secret of his sorcery. This was different. It crackled like lightning; a storm held in Merlin's gaze. It cast brief light upon his cheekbones, spilling odd shadows across his face. 'What's happening?' 'He is dying,' a woman's voice said, sugar-sweet. 'And he will take you with him, Arthur Pendragon.' --- A routine hunt threatens to become a fatal disaster when Arthur and Merlin are captured and imprisoned in a dungeon used during the Purge. Can they fight their way to freedom, or will Merlin's power be the death of them?

see i used to be a pretty big fan of the chronicles of narnia as a child and one thing i have never understood about the series is. and i genuinely do not know whether i’m just being stupid or theologically illiterate. but. in the first book, we see that aslan (ie jesus lion) sings into being the world in which narnia exists right.

and in said world, narnia and archenland (good white christian countries) are neighbours with calormen (evil brown muslim empire where the allah stand-in is a giant fucking chicken for some reason), and said two countries have a very tense border and the book series literally ends with the evil muslims taking over narnia to such a degree that the aforementioned giant chicken starts fucking flying around the place (??? 😭) and obviously the world has to end at that point because god forbid we have chicken caliphate instead of feline feudalism right.

so does this imply that aslan created a world in which calormen exists in the shape it does? like i know that technically speaking, calormen was founded by renegade archenlanders and didn’t just spring into existence and maybe aslan couldn’t do anything about it but like. this is a lion who regularly makes a point of interfering in minor royal succession disputes. we’re talking about agatha fucking christian here. this is the lion who befriended a talking mouse exhibiting clear post-war ptsd symptoms and then drove him to fucking kill himself. clearly there is no issue too small for aslan.

however his attitude towards an empire whose existence he knows full well would, in part, bring about the literal end of the world, seems to be ‘lol. lmao’. and one could argue that he didn’t know but like, if we’re going with the very on the nose christian allegory, this is a deity who is famously not only omniscient and omnipresent but omnipotent.

My art for the @bbcmerlin-reversebang.

It was nice to dip my toe back into the fandom from an artist POV, if a little sad that in the end none of my authors made it to the finish line.

The idea here was for a modern day magical mystery, where Merlin gets called in to consult on a murder case with a suspect / witness who appears to be in a mental health crisis, and who looks oddly familiar. Maybe Merlin lost his memory or has been reincarnated, but he feels drawn to the mysterious man and compelled to help him.

Pratchett is one of the people whose work is not only hilarious, but legitimately brilliant. I learned so much from reading his books. Even this talk is peppered with the kind of thing that makes you snort out loud and get stared at by coworkers: 

No wonder witches were always portrayed as toothless — it was living in a 90,000 calorie house that did it. You’d hear a noise in the night and it’d be the local kids, eating the doorknob.

"to make out?"

mike had been coming down to the basement almost every night now. will would watch jonathan quietly leave the basement and hear him find his way into nancy's room then without fail, another door would creak open a few seconds later only for mike to come down the basement stairs as quietly as jonathan had left.

the first night, will had stared at him like he was looking at a stranger, but before will could even ask why mike had come (why? why bother now when you've ignored me all this time? why not stay as happy as you were without me?), words were tumbling out of mike's mouth - apologies and reasons and regrets and pain and pleas. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have forgotten you, i can't believe i did, take me back, be with me so i can never do it again-

and who was will to refuse. tears stood at the edge of mike's eyes, ready to fall and the wall of indifference that will had thought would stand longer crumbled to dust. will had moved forward in seconds, his arms around mike's shoulders and mike's shaking hands wrapping around wills' torso, a hug like the thousands they'd shared before but a hug to forget the months they'd spent without one.

then there was talking. so much talking. once they were past explanations and apologies (mike refused to take one from will and the part of will that had died every time mike ignored him was healing with every genuine sorry that left mike's lips), they were talking endlessly about things that took will back to starlit evenings after school and giggly weekend sleepovers. the next campaign mike was planning, the discourse on the latest movie they'd watched, the newest album of will's current favourite music artist, everything. if it has been cold war before, now their glaciers were melting and every little crevice of will's mind was flooding out, lost to the comfort that let him dig out a part of himself he'd forgotton, becoming the young boy that had nodded with the wildest grin he'd ever worn on a swingset more than a decade ago.

every crevice except, of course, that one secret that will couldn't afford to show. the way mike's eyes seemed to hold the stars even when they were curled under blankets in the basement, nowhere near the night sky. the way mike's wheezing hyperventilating laugh had will's heart catching and a grin spreading across his face. the way his skin sparked every time their arms brushed or mike grabbed his hand to drag him to the basement or that one time mike had grabbed the side of will's waist to get the table past him (will couldn't sleep that night, the phatom memory of the handprint burning). the way when mike was ranting and will couldn't help it, his eyes slipped traitorously to mike's lips, only staying for a second before looking away, guilt coursing through him as he remembered that mike was his best friend and not single and definitely straight and dating his sister-

or so he thought, until one of their many out-of-control conversations in the dimly lit basement, as time seeped into the early hours of the morning.

he didn't really remember what he'd been talking about before mike had cut through. perhaps an anecdote on will the wise's new and improved version or the best song on the clash's newest album.

how could he remember, though? how could he, when mike had cut through his words with a sentence that had altered his brain since.

"jane and i broke up"

the world seemed to have stopped spinning for a moment, as will's ramble came to a screeching halt, a mess of emotions rushing through him.

worry for jane, knowing how much mike meant to her and how horrible heartbreak could be. concern for mike, his best friend before all else, wondering how long he'd been dealing with this alone and how it must hurt for him.

but horribly, guiltily, thrillingly buried beneath all those logical emotions, the most maddening vine of hope curled around will's heart.

"wha- when-"

"almost immediately after california. every time i've gone to see her since, we've been trying to be friends like we should've been"

it had been months. almost half a year. why would mike not tell him? why hadn't jane? it explained why jane had been melancholic and snappy for the first few months in hawkins but-

why didn't mike seemed devastated about it?

the ruthless trace of hope grew and the guilt with it, "you must- it must be bad-"

"that's the thing" mike's averted eyes shot to will's, holding a desperation that will couldn't place "it wasn't. ok sorry, i mean, it was disheartening at first when she brought it up, when she said we should break up. but-"

mike's gaze flicked down for a second, before locking with will's eyes, "but as we talked about other things, i realised it was so much easier being her friend, y'know. talking about the movies she liked and the movies she should try out without having to flirt in between in the sentences. learning about her, her favourite music and her hobbies instead of kissing. i don't know, after learning about her it was so clear we never worked, we were too seperate, too different-"

mike was rambling again but will couldn't bring himself to tell him to stop, the one crevice of his mind he'd promised to keep locked away blaring like an ambulance in his mind, threatening to spill out if mike just said one delicate, specific thing.

"and that's when it hit me, i didn't like el because i barely knew her. for a chance of us to work, we needed to be friends and now that we are, i know friends with her is much easier, but we never could've worked as a couple"

will's voice must come out as strangled but his racing mind can't really care "well, that's...good for you, i guess? for both of you, now you can-"

"there's one thing that i really realised as i became friends with her though" mike interruption comes out in a whisper that silences will with the hesitancy, the verge of revelation it seemed to imply, "we would've worked better if we were friends first, or at least i'd have realised we don't work a lot earlier. i'd want someone a lot easier if they were my best friend first, someone i work with easily"

oh. okay. okay cool. will doesn't have to read into that, that doesn't mean-

who is he kidding. will can't do this. can't live like this, with this maddening hope blossoming like a meadow within him.

mike's eyes seem to be burning into him as will replies "you'll find a best friend to fall in love with, mike, some girl should come along"

there's the slightest shift in mike's expression his undefinable desperation getting worse, so small its something only will could read, with how close they were and how long will had been reading his emotions.

and he really wishes he didn't know how to read mike's emotions better than his own. because that look of longing only formed one logical conclusion in will's head and that would be the most wonderous, damning thing possible.

he should stop, should change the topic or make a joke about max is the only other best friend mike has that he could date but-

will's breath caught as he whispered into the space between them, "unless there's already a best friend you wanted?"

the silence seems deafening, heavy with what will confesses, what he hopes for.

mike's voice is trembling as he responds, "only if he wants me"

only if he wants me. only if he wants me.

will doesn't really think before he surges forward and presses his lips to mike's, the desperation in mike's eyes bleeding into will's actions, into their kiss.

for one blissful second, will relishes the feel of mike's lips against his own, of the kiss he'd probably wished for a thousand times over. he feels mike press back, mike's lips curve into a small smile as they stay pressed to will's and everything will has kept hidden for years comes spilling out. for one second everything in the world is right.

but then he realises what he's done. terror overtakes his mind, his actions. will breaks away, apologies on the tip of his tongue, regretting every way this would ruin their carefully recrafted friendship.

but mike pulls him back in even before he can pull away far enough to meet mike's eyes.

from then its a blurred, heated mess that will doesn't really remember, one touch bleeding into the next, with no space for thought in between. mike's hands grasp will's neck as will tangles his fingers into mike's hair, a whimper escaping his lips as mike bites his lower lip and somewhere along the way he's climbed from his own bedding into mike's cot on the basement floor, straddling mike and mike's body is warm and mike's hands have moved to will's waist, moving with a reverence will had dreamed of and will can't think a coherent thought besides mikemikemike and-

and that's how, every night mike sneaks into the basement after jonathan sneaks into nancy's room, and while they spend the entire day acting like the friends they've always been, they spend the nights in the locked basement making out like boys starved of touch their entire lives, with a devotion and desperation that you'd expect at an altar, with the secrecy you'd see in a criminal, with the wonder you'd see in a lonely child making a friend for the first time on the kindergarten swings. will spent the days with the mike he'd known his entire life and spent his nights discovering the parts of mike he'd dreamed of, parts of mike no one but him would know.

and despite the hiding and the lying and the secrecy and the hesitency, it was everything.

it was enough.

"-to date?"

or at least should've been enough. it really should be enough, but it turns out these feelings are just as disgusting and sinful as will's father once told him.

will knows, even though he kisses mike enough every night to almost forget, he knows that this is wrong. he knows he shouldn't be like this, that he should want a pretty girl who sits in front of him in one of his classes, that he should prefer the slope of their hips and the softness of their curved shoulders and the higher lilt of their voice.

but how could he? when his hands had slid over the breadth of mike's wider shoulders and the faint muscle of his thinner torso, when the deep rasp of mike's reverent voice was more addicting than any song he'd ever heard, how could he want anything else?

it doesn't matter, though. even though it seems so intrinsically, inherently right when he's with mike, will knows. knows he's wrong for wanting this, no matter how perfectly the two of them seem to fit together. he spends his nights in heaven and in the morning, his mind makes it his own, personal hell.

there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them, to never bring this up around other people, to touch like that anywhere else other than the basement. and will understands. mike is probably dealing with the same confusion and guilt as he is. and for all their talking (in between kisses of course), the two of them can't bring themselves to define what happens in those moments where they decide to lose themselves to each other.

and will should be satisfied. satisfied, considering how this was wrong and mike knew that as well, with the way he never held eye contact with will long enough when they were in public or the way he stiffened when they accidently brushed against one another. should be satisfied, with how much he was asking of mike with every kiss, every touch, with how selfish he was being even if mike wanted the same. he couldn't want more, when he knew how hard it would be for mike to be anything more than this, when he remembered how hard it had been for him.

but gods, there were times he wanted more. times jealousy reared its monstrous head and threatened to swallow him whole.

he really shouldn't be jealous. of the way jonathan beamed when nancy walked into a room and pressed a kiss to her forehead in view of the entire room, because he knew how broken jonathan had been without her in california. of the way formerly cold, stoic hopper arrived at their house once a week with a grin and a bouquet of flowers to take his mom out for dinner, because he knew how hard life and love had been for his mom.

he definitely shouldn't be jealous of lucas and max, the way lucas sat at her bedside for hours on end, pressing a kiss to her hand once in a while and reading books with a lively voice for a lifeless body.

but it turns out the sheer wrongness of his desire for mike bled into other feelings, other emotions and now he wanted these things. he wanted to kiss mike every time he walked in a room and take him out for dinner dates. he wanted to sit at the side of mike's bed when he fell ill and stay for hours with no one to question why he stayed that long. for people to know he loved mike, for people to know he was loved, to love without it filling every inch of his body with blinding terror.

but he knew. what he was doing was wrong. what he wanted was wrong. which is why they could touch as much as he wanted, kiss until every thought in his mind disappeared, but they could never love like the should, exist like normal people. he could make out with mike for every night for the rest of his life, but they could never date.

or at least, that's what he believed until-

he sees robin grin at the red-haired nurse, cradle her face and move close enough that will knows he should leave. but he needs to know, is he misreading it or-

robin kisses the nurse.

and will's heart stops beating altogether, a hope he'd never let himself have flooding through his body.

he really needs to talk to robin. but he knows the terror robin will feel if she sees him.

so he runs, his heart soaring with the possibility of something he could maybe have with mike.

a coke, a radio star and an almost closed hospital door and will's world had spun off its axis.

i had to write this gang, cause that dialogue (to make out? -to date?) very literally haunts me every day. what was it for, if not to imply that there was some making out already happening 😭😭😭. if i'm up to it, this will get a follow up piece. you know with the "lets just say a snowball became an avalanche" dialogue cause i'm byler obsessed like that. i hope you all enjoyed the read<3

DARK