So we meet again... (a merthur au)

Under the Water

Don't let me out of your sight, Arthur had said, a strange ferocity in his countenance. In these lives, he never lived beyond thirty. While he still had a few years until then, the thought was frightening. However, as Emrys had told these stories, Arthur felt an unshakeable trust that was reflected in this statement but Emrys remained quiet.

"What do you mean by that?" Emrys asked, clearing his throat.

"Don't let me die." Arthur was sure enough in what he said, even though it didn't quite make sense. How could he be saved from death?

"I can't fight fate, Arthur!" Emrys yelled defensively, voice strained, waking the dog from his deep sleep. "I can't promise that!"

"Then promise me this, Emrys. Promise me that I won't die alone."

Emrys gaped at Arthur, closing his mouth as the gears visibly turned behind his eyes, not meeting Arthur's gaze, "If you want me to remain by your side, I will never leave it."

"Good," Arthur whispered softly, suddenly embarrassed. He had been so wrapped up in this emotion, this feeling he couldn't place, that his mind had simply been elsewhere. "I guess I should get on to bed, I would like another morning stroll before we leave. Pick any room you like, I'll see you in the morning."

Arthur left to his room, Emrys left alone on the couch. Wade, half-awake, slovenly eased himself onto the couch beside Emrys and sighed meaningfully as he gazed up at him. Well, that was eventful, his big brown eyes seemed to tease. Emrys smiled, tousling the dog's fur, "You said it."

...

Alone, Arthur found himself drawn back to the living room. His body seemed to ache to be apart from Emrys. Perhaps, Arthur mused, the story was a way to lure me in. This is all quite ridiculous, isn't it? And yet, I believe him. With all my soul I know he tells no falsehoods. Flowers. The flowers were the kicker.

Arthur would, indeed, pick a personal gift like that, especially for one so humble as Emrys.

I can imagine it now, Arthur thought, crawling into the bedsheets. I would pick a lot of yellow, if they were there, and white, maybe one or two, but red would be it's centerpiece. A stark, wonderful red that he couldn't help but think of me, a red of fervour and passion of-- oh, dear lord the lads were right I'm in much deeper than I thought.

Arthur got out his phone and texted Morri, expecting him to still be up. When he was sure Morri was awake, he asked, simply, if he believed in past lives. While Arthur would never say so outright, he appreciated Morri's imput most out of his two best friends, because while the man was practical, he was open-minded and fair.

Morri (recieved 10:12pm) : Of course I want believe, but what good would it do me? Those who live in the past cannot see their future. Go to bed, Arthur. Whatever you and Emrys talked about clearly has you rattled. Sleep on it. Talk tomorrow, I need some sleep.

With a sigh, he admitted the advice was pretty good and there was no point to dwell on it for the night.

...

Arthur woke at half past 9, dazed at the unfamiliar surroundings. Admittedly, he hadn't slept in this room since he was a teenager, but he found it much less inviting than it used to be. The walls which used to have the token landscape paintings on them, had been taken down, leaving darkened wallpaper around where they used to hang. The bookshelf that used to house his books for summer reading were gone too, save for a ragged copy of Tom Sawyer.

Remembering Emrys and Wade, he crawled out of bed and lumbered out of the room sleepily. Arthur was halfway to the kitchen, calling out to Emrys who was no longer on the couch. He peeked in each open door, calling to him, nowhere to be found.