Sempiternal [Merthur]

Fēoƿertīne

Merlin sat at a booth in the back of Summit, a textbook in front of him, a notebook on his right, and a cup of coffee – which had grown cold an hour before – to his left. He had been scrawling notes onto the pages under his pen in that slanted writing that only he could read for a little over two hours when his mind started to wander. Under his careful explanations of the results of one of the case studies in his book, he started to write different spells that he had memorized throughout the years. It was automatic, something that he did to help him focus. The night before had puzzled him.

When he woke up, he could still feel the buzz of magic in the air around him. He wasn't naïve – he knew someone – something – had been there that night. He just wasn't sure who, and more importantly, he wasn't sure exactly what they had done while he was sleeping. He wasn't missing anything, nothing in his room had been enchanted (he had checked), and he still had all of his fingers and toes – Gaius had been practicing an old healer's spell one time and the writing had gotten a little smudged over the years; evidently, the words for mend and eliminate were very similar in that language.

That morning, as he was leaving the house, he had almost started to discuss it with Gaius. The only issue was that the words just refused to come out of his mouth.

Gaius was making eggs when Merlin had walked into the kitchen, and that was normal enough, but what was abnormal was the grin on his face. Merlin, of course, had seen Gaius smile before, but there was something about how the grin reached the old man's eyes and that created a glint the boy had rarely seen. When Merlin had playfully asked why he was so chipper all of a sudden, Gaius's response was clear and cautiously confident:

"It has finally occurred to me, my boy, that things might just be alright for the first time since this whole endeavor started."

And that had effectively shut Merlin's mouth.

Just as Merlin was about to start writing a counterspell for someone's arms being turned into bird wings (which was, surprisingly, rather lengthy), the door to the restaurant opened with a soft ring. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur walking through the glass door with his backpack over one shoulder. He had his left hand up to his face, yawning, and his hair was a little ruffled, either because of the wind outside or the fact that he hadn't bothered to brush it, both of which were equally possible, knowing Arthur.

Merlin smiled to himself, thinking of what had happened a little over a week ago at the library. The events felt, for lack of a better word, almost intimate to the boy, giving him hope in ways that he had only dreamed of for a very, very long time. Best of all, it was comfortable. It was almost painfully easy; it was like he got a taste of something sweeter than he had expected to get.

But hope is dangerous, as Merlin had seen before, so he wasn't going to be too happy too soon.

Either way, there was no need to be shy, so Merlin quickly waved Arthur over when the latter's gaze scanned the room. Smiling, Arthur lazily, or rather, tiredly walked over to Merlin's table.

"Do you always have a book in your hand? I don't remember you reading nearly this much before."

Merlin laughed, "Well, it was hard to get a second of peace back then. As you may recall, my boss was a little demanding."

"Point taken. Is this seat free?"

Merlin nodded his head and Arthur sat down. He then took out his own books, putting them in front of him on the table. He turned his head up to Merlin.

"I'm gonna get something to drink, do you want me to get you another coffee, that one looks like you haven't touched it since you walked in."

Merlin smiled and shook his head, "Thanks, but no need."