#idk ooookkkkkk

[hydra-collector]

Bruises Don’t Bleed

Voila! A fic! A Merlin fic!

Pairing: Merthur, could be taken as platonic Characters: Merlin, Arthur, mention of Gaius Words: 1,736 Summary: Merlin does self-harm, Arthur tries to help. TW: Self-harm, cursing, self-deprecating thoughts, death mention, almost panic attack

Notes: I’ll read self-harm fics, but they’re pretty much only cutting, which is something I can’t relate to. I wanted to write a self-harm fic that I could relate to more.

It’s fine. It means nothing. Sure, it hurts, but you’re perfectly fine, at worst frustrated at Arthur. 

You’re just…

Merlin’s foot tapped hard on the floor. He was fine. Nothing to worry about. Nothing for anyone to worry about. The bruises scattered across his arms and hands meant nothing. He’d always been taught that pain was blood. This wasn’t blood, therefore, not pain.

Stupid, that’s it, stupid.

Harder. Hit harder.

It hurts.

It hurts cause you’re stupid.

His mind was fuzzy and scattered, packed with thoughts and emotions that shouldn’t be there. He needed to feel something to drive them away. Arthur’s resistance to touch meant… that feeling was usually pain.

There’s gotta be something he hadn’t done, there always is. Arthur always had something for him to do. He couldn’t just be here, sitting around, whacking his stupid self with a stupid spoon. So what hadn’t he done? He’d done the room, clothes, boots, armor-

Stables?

Arthur had asked him. Of course. The matter now is finding a place to hide his spoon. Arthur had found the last utensil, a fork, inside a cupboard. Fork was better.

Bang bang goes your head on the table.

He finally willed himself to stand up, the world suddenly rushing back in. He was tired. He was tired a lot.

Just hide the spoon and do the stables.

Right, focus. Arthur might be back soon, and if Merlin wasn’t doing work… well, he’d be much more stressed out than he already was. Where could he put the spoon? Under the bed’s too easily seen. Cupboard was discovered. Closet’s too big, he didn’t want to lose it again and have to steal more utensils. Somewhere he could remember, somewhere Arthur wouldn’t look…

The floor. The floor was good. He could pry up a board, lot of them were pretty weak anyway. Yeah, he’d do that.

Be quick, Arthur’ll come soon.

Merlin found a loose one in the corner near Arthur’s cabinet. Maybe loose enough to pry up with his hands.

It was an ordeal resulting in at least three splinters, but he was hurting anyway, what’s some extra pain? He decided to get them out before hiding the spoon, though. Gaius was bound to notice if his hand was bleeding in several places.

This was a mistake.

Ice shot up Merlin’s body as a familiar voice echoed his name dangerously close to the door. The open door.

You’re anxious about everything, but forget to close the door? While hiding something? You’re more of a useless, stupid bitch than you ever imagined-

His mind would have continued ridiculing itself if not for the impending approach of Arthur’s footsteps. Panic rose in his chest as he pulled down his shirt sleeve, trying to stuff the spoon in the floor simultaneously. 

“What are you doing?”

Wanting to die-

“Uh, I, well, you see,” he tried desperately for an excuse. “I was, um, checking the floorboards.”

Why would you say that? What does that even mean?

Arthur’s gaze became more confounded as he stared at Merlin, who was tugging at his sleeve, nervous. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the stables?”

“Yeah, well, I thought that the floorboards would need… checking. They’re old, you know. Got to make sure they don’t fall apart.”

“If you’re trying to check the floorboards to make sure they don’t break, you’re probably not going to help it by stomping your foot.”

Stupid.

He flinched from his internal abuse, hoping Arthur wouldn’t notice. It seems that it wouldn’t matter if he did, though, as he had begun to walk over to Merlin’s incomplete hiding spot.

Oh god the spoon the spoon the spoon-

“Wait-”

Merlin said this with no plan of an excuse. He managed to fumble out a few sounds, but nothing to convince Arthur to stop. So he grabbed his wrist.

It stopped Arthur with the sudden contact, but at that point he could already see the torn up floorboard. He picked up the spoon.

“Merlin, I will be absolutely amazed if you have a valid reason you were trying to put a spoon in the floor.”

“I, uh, dropped it when I was looking for woodworms. Yeah.” He’d already used that exuse, but it’d have to do.

“You were using a spoon to look for woodworms?”

Merlin tried to argue back, but his tapping foot, shaking body, and hand curled tightly around Arthur’s wrist discounted any lies he tried to tell. 

Arthur looked down at the slender hand grasping his wrist and Merlin instantly let go. What on earth could be going on with Merlin? What- what- what-

“What’s wrong with you?”

Merlin’s breath nearly cut off. The voices in his head were joined by another, one that was sure to be true. Arthur had said it, it must have been true. There was something wrong with him, he was worthless, useless, stupid, and grasping his arms tight enough for the bruises to feel.

Bruises are better than bleeding. They’re like inconspicuous pain buttons.

“Merlin-” Arthur began to speak, but Merlin’s wide eyes warned him not to. Instead, he took Merlin’s hand gently, guiding him to sit down. Merlin flinched at the touch to his raw bruises, but said nothing.

Arthur looked down to where he was holding Merlin’s cold fingers. “What’s on your hand?”

And of course, Merlin pulled away, whispering a ‘nothing’. This is the wrong decision, like it always is, and only aroused more suspicion from Arthur. He took back Merlin’s arm, rolling up the sleeve.

Damn, that hurt. Couldn’t he be a bit gentler?

“What the hell happened?”

Merlin’s arm was covered in blue and purple bruises. Any touch to them would hurt. His arms would try to heal, but then only be exposed to more abuse. It was a never-ending cycle of constant pain. He wondered how much he’d really been hitting himself.

Arthur’s hand was far too rough on his skin, but warm. He’d developed an automatic aversion to touching his arms, so they were never warm. He relaxed into the touch, despite the pain.

“It must be all that violent training you do. Y’know, hitting me with a mace through a shield.” 

“Are you sure that could make these kinds of bruises? They’re… everywhere.”

Merlin felt his cover slipping. It had already, but now it felt like the spoon battering his soul along with being revealed. 

But… would it be so bad?

Yes. Yes it would. Arthur couldn’t know, because then he wouldn’t be able to do it.

That’s my point. Do you really want to keep hurting?

“Well, if it is all that training, you’re probably fine. You’re not bleeding or anything. The knights can deal with it, you’re not that much weaker than them,” Arthur said, barely believing it. He didn’t want to believe that Merlin wasn’t okay. 

His mind swarmed with more evil words. Worthlessness.

I… I don’t think I do.

“I’m not fine.”

“I’m not fine, Arthur.”

Merlin stood and retrieved the spoon.

“I did this to myself. I’m not fine.”

“Bleeding… does not equal pain. I’m not fine.” And he repeated it, that he wasn’t fine, each round making him feel it. He wasn’t fine, and that was the way it was. It wasn’t okay just because no blood showed, it wasn’t okay lying to himself about why. He wasn’t frustrated at his job or Arthur, he was frustrated at himself. Hated himself. Feared himself. Feared he might hurt others, kill others. Kill himself.

And he cried. Like anybody would, coming to face that they need and want help. Wanting to feel more than cold metal on bruises.

Arthur obliged to Merlin’s thoughts. He pulled Merlin from his chair and sat him on the bed, wrapping his arms around his middle, making sure not to touch his arms. Merlin hugged back, burying his wet face into Arthur’s shoulder.

They sat there, neither prepared to talk, just content to hold each other. Neither had to think, worry, do anything.

“What- what’s going on, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes let out more tears, but in a few minutes, he answered.

“I- I don’t want you to think this is your fault,” Merlin began in a muffled voice, “but I need… help. Every little task is too much. I have to do it perfectly, or it’s worthless. I’m worthless.”

Deep breath. It’s okay now, Arthur’s here.

“It started years and years ago, when I was a kid. My family had to keep me a secret, and that got stressful. Every conversation with someone was hiding something from them, the chance that they’d find out. Every wrong word could blow our cover, and it would all be my fault. As I got older, it got better, it got okay. And, eventually, I thought it was gone. I… was wrong. Please understand that this isn’t your fault, but it got worse when I started to work for you. I had to keep my magic a secret from you, and I just constantly wished that I didn’t have to. It was so much. And I had to constantly do tasks and do them correctly and any mistake could lose me my job. Make me lose you. I promised myself that I would keep you okay,” Merlin paused, “but I forgot about myself.”

Again, he started to cry, holding on tight to Arthur. The bruises hurt on his arms, but that didn’t even matter at this point. Arthur was here, he was safe. He felt a warm hand stroke his hair, letting Merlin sink into Arthur even more. Right now, he didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to hit himself with cold metal to feel. Right now, he felt Arthur.

“I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but I did hurt you. I gave you task after task because it’s what you were supposed to be doing, but I ignored that... you’re a human, too. I ignored how you might feel. And I ignored how serious,” Arthur took Merlin’s hand, gently stroking the bruises, “this was.”

Merlin wanted to tell him how much he loved him, appreciated what he’d said and done, but words couldn’t form over a mix of happy, sad, and anxious tears. Instead, he hugged tighter. With every minute that passed, a bit of his bruised soul felt a little better.

Now, there was nothing expected of him.

No pressure.

No more spoons.

It’s- it’s

“It’s okay, Merlin.”