DISCLAIMER; I DO NOT OWN MERLIN

Merlin got out the car to inspect his new house. He had just moved house with his mum, Huith, to the north of Scotland. There was twenty seven houses in the village all together, and their house was at the end of the street. He dragged his suitcase out of the back of the car and walked up to the front door. This place was going to be hell. Completely out the way of everything, no Wi-Fi, three shops (one was a clothes shop, one was a butchers and the other was a small shop which sold everything else with a mini cafe inside), one school with fifty people attending all together and only eight people in his year, and nobody to sell him some weed or vodka (thank god he had some stashed in his bag) . He needed it as well, to make it through the first two weeks of staying here. He and his Mum had moved here from London, because he'd got into trouble with a gang and the police for stealing and being caught with drugs. Merlin's Mum was a recovering alcoholic, and staying in London meant it was hard for her to stay sober, with all the cheap booze and her friends drinking. So his Mum wanted a new start. Away from everything, she had said, but he hadn't taken it literally at the time. Before he knew where they were moving to, she had already bought the house. No going back now.

'Are you sure you'll be ok? I will be back in two weeks, and I've already been shopping, so there's loads of food in the fridge and cupboards, also there's five hundred pound in the top of your wardrobe in your bedroom, if you run out of anything, and I've asked Mr Smith down the road to look after you if you get into any trouble, which knowing you, you probably will-'

'Mum, I will be fine, seriously chill, see you in two weeks?' Merlin cut off his Mum, knowing she could rant on for hours. His Mum had to go back to London for two weeks to sort out the flat and finish her job contract, as a manager at a strip club.

'Yes, and make sure you go to school! I've contacted the head teacher, the school bus will pick you up at half eight outside your house, so there will be no chance of bunking off. But if you are sick, contact the school by this number-'

'Mum, I know what to do, you told me remember?'

'Yes, look I've got to go, will miss the train, see you in two weeks'

'Bye Mum, see you soon'

Huith handed him the keys to the house and ran down the path to the car, and drove off. He needed a drink. Merlin opened the door. It was a small house, but had a huge back garden. He'd never had a garden before, he'd lived in a council flat in London. On the ground floor, there was a small kitchen (he checked the cupboards; they really were filled with food) at the back of the house, quite a large living room (with a reasonably sized t.v.) and medium dining room, a small bathroom (with a toliet, sink and a broken mirror) and a utility, which was half filled with food and half filled with booze. Wow, his Mum really took recovering seriously.

On the first floor, there was another larger bathroom, which included a bath and shower, and a couple of cupboards. There was three rooms, Merlin's room to be closest to the bathroom, because that was the second biggest room. The biggest one was for his Mum. His room had a single bed, already made with plain white covers, and a wardrobe. It took him half an hour to unpack, in which time in also found a place to hide his weed and vodka (under a loose floorboard) and finished off half a bottle of vodka, which was making it hard to walk. Rolling up a joint and grabbing his black leather coat and lighter, he got ready to go for a walk, to suss out this tiny village his Mum had just dumped him in. He looked at himself in the broken mirror in the downstairs bathroom. Black skinny jeans, black converse, a mainly black Nirvana band printed tee shirt, black leather coat and two big leather bracelets on each wrist. He hated the bracelets, but he had to wear them to cover the cuts and scars. He self harmed. Wouldn't know what he'd do if his Mum found out. He'd started when he was thirteen. He was now sixteen. Damn he wanted to stop. It's just, it was harder than he originally thought. He looked at his body. Another flaw in his personality. He had anorexia, with 'bulimic tendencies'. He had been recovering on his own well. Except with the stress of moving, he guessed he had just forgotten to eat. Merlin couldn't bare to look at himself any longer, so he rushed out the house. Forgetting to lock the door on the way out.

He had barely been walking a minute when he came to what seemed to be the main part of the village, which was the three shops. Right then, it hit him to how secluded this place was, and quite frankly, he didn't like it. Merlin decided he didn't need to depress himself anymore, and went and sat on an old bench, on the outskirts of this tiny village, and lit up his joint.

He was a good halfway through it, and well on his way to getting completely stoned, when a boy, about his age, sat himself next to him. He was about his height, muscular, blonde hair, and most importantly, bloody gorgeous. He was wearing white converse, short sleeved printed tee shirt, and denim jeans. Merlin kept a neutral look on his face as he looked at him. This guy knew he was good looking, by the way he had walked over here, and Merlin didn't want to add fuel to his fire.

'Haven't seen you around here before'
He said in such a knowing tone. In those seconds, Merlin judged him.

He was the cocky popular one, the one who dated every girl, the one who would make his life a living hell if he found out he was gay. Merlin remembered what his Mum would say.

'Don't judge a book by its cover'

Merlin took a deep intake from his joint, and let it slowly out. God, he was high. He doubted he would be able to get up. But he was determined to make a good impression.

'Just moved up here, like literally an hour ago' Merlin said, but he couldn't help slurring his words, he knew he sounded high.

'Should you be smoking that?' The blonde prat said, like he cared.

'Look, I don't know your name, or anything about you, and you don't know anything about me, but you come here, and start asking me all these questions?'
Merlin said, he tone getting increasingly annoyed. He couldn't focus on the guy anymore.

'I've asked you one question' He said, matter-of-factly, not fazed by Merlin getting annoyed at him.

'One too many' Merlin answered, and went to get up and walk home. Only he swayed on his feet, and was about to fall flat on his face, but the blonde prat caught him. When did he stand up?

'You are stoned. Let me take you home, I doubt you can walk by your self' Merlin struggled out of his embrace.

'You don't know where I live though'

'Of course I do. You live at the end of that road down there. Your name is Merlin. You just moved here from London. Your Mum is away for two weeks. And apparently you're a genius'

Right yeah, he got bullied at school because he was a straight A* student without even trying. Wasn't his fault everyone else was just stupid.

'How do you know all that?'

'In this village, everybody knows everything about everyone. When something happens here, everyone knows about it. We are like one big family'

Merlin digested that information before answering him. Living here with privacy was going to be harder than he thought.

'What's your name?'

'Arthur. Arthur Pendragon'

'Ok Aaaarthur. You can leave me be. I can make it back to my house alone thank you very much' Merlin slurred.

But this was contradicted as he fell over straight back into Arthur's arms.

'Come on. I'll walk you home'