My first story on here :D It's quite angsty, which I think is weird since I was in a really great mood when I wrote this. Eh, what can you do? I wrote it a while ago and it's been sitting in my folder of random stories for a month or so now, so I thought I might as well post it. I might go for a slash fic next time...

Disclaimer: Merlin and it's characters belong solely to the BBC. It's not mine, nor will it ever be.


The first crack in the relationship wasn't a big one. It had only been a small insult, which had ended up turning into a blazing row. Arthur had only called you an idiot, an imbecile, (worthless, useless, unwanted) but your emotions were running high. Freya (your first love, first kiss, first everything) had died only a few days ago, and you were torn with grief (pain, pain, painpainpainpain) but you were still smiling. You had to smile or it'd be obvious something was wrong and nobody could know.

You had dropped a plate. An empty, plain, plate. Arthur had called you an idiot, and you just exploded. The pain was suddenly anger and it rushed out, filling the air with harsh words and biting names. Your heavy breath filled the silence, silence that echoed with insults and curses. You felt the anger turn back into pain and you turned and walked stiffly away, fighting back the tears.

The second crack was more noticeable. Morgana had been missing for three months and you could feel the hope seep away, until all that you were left with was hollowness, bitterness that clawed away at everything you were until all that was left was a shell, a mockery of the man you had been before.

Arthur hadn't noticed. Too wrapped up in grief and determination to save Morgana, his sister in everything but blood. You felt hurt that this man who was sometimes a friend and sometimes a prat but always, always your top priority, didn't even care enough to notice you were dead inside, an empty shell trying to be real and alive again and only succeeding in becoming more empty, more hollow, more worthless, useless, unwanted.

Your words to him were stiff, cold, filled with repressed emotion. He noticed that. Noticed that you weren't smiling at all anymore (you had stopped faking a smile long ago), you weren't laughing or being at all you.

He had tried to confront you. Tried to get you to admit something was wrong. You had regarded him with a bitter stare and a curled lip. He had been so shocked. You, you of all people had been treating him like dirt. Like Arthur was but a slug on the ground, disgusting and stupid and only there to be squished under foot.

He had asked you who the hell you thought you were. You had smiled, a hollow, unhappy, terrible smile, and told him you were a pitiful echo of what could have been a great man, if it wasn't for the idiot in front of him.

Emotions had circled over Arthur's face. Shock, hurt, confusion and then anger. He said that you were worthless, useless, unwanted and nobody would care if you died. Both of your emotions were so tangled and you were both stretched thin, so you couldn't really blame his reaction. You never forgave him for it, though.

The second the words had left his mouth, Arthur looked horrified. You knew you looked broken (it had only been a matter of time before your brokenness would shine through). Knew that there were tears in your eyes and that your already pasty skin looked even pastier. Knew that your eyes looked dead, though they had once been so alive.

And you had screamed.

You screamed insults at him. Scream profanities and names and of false hatred. He had screamed right back, calling you stupid and worthless, useless, unwanted. The fight had ended when you had lunged at him, murder in your eyes. He had dodged, tripping you and pinning you to the floor. He had given you a warning, telling you if you ever spoke to him like that again he'd have your head. You had asked him if that was a promise.

The third crack was the last. It had been a year later. Morgana was evil and killing innocent people. Uther had already almost died at her hand. The knowledge that it was your fault (always your fault) only served to hollow you out even more.

You and Arthur had acted like normal, but there was bite behind the once playful banter, spite behind the chores. You strived to act like there weren't any cracks, but there were. People began to notice, but they never said anything. They were all mindless sheep who kept quiet because it was all they could ever do.

You had been walking down the corridor, a bundle of clothes in your arms. You had heard Arthur's and Gwen's voices, and, for some reason, you had ducked into an alcove. You had kept your breathing quiet and watched as the two walked into view.

There had been stupid, love-sick smiles on their faces. You had felt a thrill of anger and jealousy that people could still love, could still be happy. You hated them for it. You hadn't listened to what they were saying, just watching. You had watched as they kissed, and then Gwen had sped away with a secret smile playing on her lips.

Arthur had stood still for a few seconds before turning and walking away with a spring in his step. You had felt the need to make him hurt like you were hurting, so you did. You lunged at him and clawed at him, taking him by surprise. The two of you tumbled to the ground as you struggled. Arthur was fighting back.

He knew it was you, you had realised, and he was still fighting. You had fought in a mindless way, your mind clouded with jealousy and hatred and so much pain. You asked him, once he had you pinned, why it hurt so much to live. He had seemed surprised, and then all the hate and anger melted away. It was almost like he understood.

He had told you that sometimes living hurt, but the good times made it worth it. And for a second, there were no cracks, and you were just Merlin and Arthur having a serious conversation like you sometimes did. But then…

He broke you again.

Arthur, Arthur who you protected and had saved so many times. Arthur who had been your best friend, once. Arthur, who would be a great king one day and would unite the lands and create Albion. Arthur broke you.

He had torn into you, swearing and insulting and glaring. And the cracks were back and bigger than ever. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to argue, to swear and insult and glare back. You had been in so much pain. You had wanted it to stop, so you made it.

You had pushed Arthur off of you, told him goodbye and walked away. You had been able to feel the confused stare drilling into you back, but you didn't glance behind. You had been too busy figuring out how you would stop the pain.

You had been walking aimlessly around the castle, letting your feet take you wherever they wanted. You had ended up at the tallest tower and you stood there, looking over Camelot. It had been a home to you, once, but all it was now was a painful reminder of when you had been happy, of whom you had been and who you should've, could've been.

You had stood, and stared, and just let the wind whip around you, tangling your hair and toying with your neckerchief. You hadn't been able to feel anything for those precious few minutes. It was a relief. The pain had finally gone away.

He had ruined it.

Arthur had been calling your name and you had heard his footsteps, echoing in the stairway. The pain had flooded back and you stumbled, clutching at your stomach as the pain pulsed through you. You had gasped and taken a step backward. Your knees had hit the wall that stopped people from falling from the tower and then the idea hit you. You were most certainly high enough….

Arthur had arrived in time to see your pale face break out into a wild, manic grin as you fell over the edge.

Review if you please :)