The year: 2023

Dragon's Den,
Oadley,
Albion

[Marty's POV]

I shifted in my seat and shook my head, "What if I told you I was feeling the same."

"But you have a girlfriend," Dwight stated, looking- and sounding- befuddled.

"So do you," I said, trying to sound casual when, in fact, I was most uncomfortable, "but you still wanted to see me," I added, feeling less than confident about my decision to come clean. I liked, or rather, I was used to how my life was: simple and uncomplicated. Did I really want to confuse myself? Could I afford it!? 

"You are right." He nodded and offered a lopsided smile as an apology of sorts. I noticed that he smiled a lot and used it like All-cure: a multivitamin pill my mother ingested once a week.

'I would have long died had I not had these; if I hadn't found them, I probably would have lost my mind and never gotten back on my feet after your dad left.' Mum had repeated it many times over the years, but never once had I bothered to ask what All-cure contained.

Dwight tilted his head to the left; the smile stayed put like it had been plastered on her face with super glue. As I gazed upon the charming man's angelic countenance, a small, all-knowing voice inside me whispered, 'You don't want this man to ever stop smiling, do you? Of course, you don't. That smile could probably cure cancer and guarantee world peace.' And though I didn't want to, I had to agree with it; Dwight's smile was the purest thing I had seen in a while, maybe ever. 

"I can relate to your confusion, Dwight. I have never felt like this." I hesitated before proceeding. I did not want to sound like a pervert, "I want you to smile, be happy. Does that make sense? I am not benevolent by nature or have the best personality. I don't go out of my way for anything if I can help it, but then you came along-" I snapped my mouth shut, fearing that I had said too much. 

What will he think now? What will he say? Did I spook him? A multitude of questions swarmed inside my mind like bees having lost their home and craving revenge.

"When it comes to me, you are infinitely patient and accommodating; you want to agree to everything I am saying, am I right?"

Those were my sentiments exactly. I bobbed my head, "How did… "

"Because I am feeling it too." He took a sip from the water bottle sitting on my table, "I am guessing that your feelings towards me are platonic."

I didn't know how to answer that, nor did I see a point in lying, "I don't know, Dwight, all I can say for sure is that I want to spend time with you."

"Likewise." He breathed out as if a weight had been lifted off his chest; a faint tint, the color of half-ripe strawberry, rose to his cheeks when suddenly, without warning, he stood up, "I think I should let you get back to bed." 

"That's fine; I have insomnia," I replied and regretted it as soon as the words left me. Not many knew I had insomnia, and I wanted to keep it that way. Alas, it was too late to take it back.

His eyes swam with concern, but not wanting to receive his pity, I pressed on, "It's getting late. Do you have an early shift tomorrow," I remembered that it was already past midnight and amended, "I mean today."

That distracted him instantly, "No, I start work at eleven. Why?"

I noticed that Dwight was easygoing and simple-minded. He oozed innocence that not many were blessed with in this day and age. Thinking back, this trait might have had something to do with how, whenever he was around, I wanted to protect him. 

"If it's alright with you, you can sleep here. I have a spare room that Mum's guests use when they visit; it would save you from making a burglar-like exit."

Dwight chuckled, "You have a point; that sounds good. I don't want to cause more trouble than I already have. Most of your neighbors seemed pretty old," he paused for a moment, then, "By the way, who do you hang out with in your… " he left the sentence hanging, probably realizing that with my schedule it would be almost impossible to actually find time to hang out. 

Dwight pointed at the patch of soot on his brown shirt, "Say, do you have a shirt I can borrow? This one's pretty messed up? By the way, your pipes need cleaning." 

I nodded and gave him a once-over, "Follow me." 

I showed him to the spare room, and for the first time in forever, I was glad that over the years, the cleanliness bug had bitten me so hard that my tiny yet, livable space looked like it had recently received a thorough wipe-down. 

"Neat." The young man hummed, "My room looks like a pigsty," he laughed; it was hollow, "Mum never bothered telling me to fix it when I was younger." He pursed his lips; I noticed a flicker of sadness in his usually bright eyes, but before I could ask him about it, he turned away, examining the surroundings, "Your home is nice and cozy." He remarked. 

It was strange, but for the first time since moving in here, I felt the same as him. "Cozy," I repeated. 

He turned and smiled; it was welcoming. An emotion I couldn't put a finger on stirred my heart; the proverbial butterflies had never made their presence known until today. 

Maybe it was acidity, or I was coming down with something; I wondered if I had taken my regular flu shots and reckoned that it probably won't hurt to get them again. 

"Marty, you okay?"

I nodded, "Shirt," I snapped my fingers, "I will get you a shirt...and the spare linens are in there if you want to shower first." I blurted out and rushed outside. 

Walking by the closet, I heard Morgana mention Dwight in urgent tone. 

My feet stopped of their own accord before moving closer to the door without entering the coffee table's line of sight.

'The delivery guy?' Merlin demanded, his voice as smooth as sandpaper. 

'Yes, he is here. How can you sleep with so much going on!?' Morgana snapped. 

'Because- ' The man paused. 

Morgan gasped a second later, 'Tell me you felt that.'

'What did Morgana feel?' I wondered.

'Yes, I did, and it's strange...why?'

It was strange that Merlin had felt something as well, but what concerned me was why did he sound so unconcerned? 

'So, you know what's happening, then.' The woman's voice quivered like Merlin's reply had hurt her somehow. 

'It's the boy's magical blood; something has stirred it.'

Why was Merlin sounding so businesslike?

If something had stirred my magical blood, why hadn't I felt it? 

Also, how the fuck can blood be magical? And even if I presume it is, I am sure doctors would have told me.

'Why now?' Morgana asked the question I wanted to.

Silence. 

'Merlin?'

Silence. 

Why was he not responding? I had never been able to see them, but were they able to see each other? Were they really Merlin and Morgana's ghosts? There was once a time when I wanted to be part of and witness the great sorcerer Merlin, who fought alongside Arthur, risking everything to bring peace and prosperity to Albion. I had waited for a sign for years, and when one had not appeared, I had gone in search of it. What had I returned with? Nada. Zilch.

And now, when I had finally accepted the truth and moved on with my life, these two had appeared out of the blue. They hadn't really shown themselves but whatever. 

Beads of sweat ran down my temple. It was winter; I wasn't supposed to feel hot. 

I rushed to the window; lo and behold, it was snowing. 

That didn't make any sense to my mind or my body. A wave of heat hit me square in my chest right when I was about to turn away and lock what was left of my window after being attacked by Dwight. My skin felt like it was on fire; my eyes burned like I had single-handedly cut a hundred onions into julienne in the span of a second; I tried to scream. It was soundless. Clutching my throat, I made my way towards the spare room, but before I could, my knees gave way; I fell, face first and tasted mud. Wet mud. 

I must have hit my head and lost consciousness. I was obviously not lying in mud. 

I tried to move but failed.

"What's the point of dreams if I can't have the ones I want!?" I demanded from no one but got a reply nonetheless. 

"You are not dreaming, lad; you are in Lastshire, and so am I."

That was Merlin's voice, but why did it sound…

I glanced up and found myself looking down at...me?

What the bloody hell!?