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Throughout the far-too-early-in-the-day-for-any-normal-person two-hour plane journey, Merlin had struggled to reign in his excitement. His poor, exhausted, long-suffering flatmate, Arthur, was kindly indulging his childish enthusiasm, but obviously preferred to listen to his music and try to sleep. He sat in the seat beside Merlin, head resting back against the seat, eyes closed, fingers drumming to the beat of the music, and Merlin watched him. He watched the rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathed, watched every small movement of his face, the roll of his eyes below his closed lids. As usual, Merlin's love for Arthur was like a giant, overfilled balloon that Merlin was constantly trying to hide away. Miranda, from Shakespeare's The Tempest, had said it best: "all the more it seeks to hide itself the bigger bulk it shows."
Merlin sighed heavily and closed his eyes. in all the coming years they would be friends, Merlin did not know how he would repay Arthur for this weekend. Not money, no, they had won this trip in a competition, but they had entered that competition with a lie, and it was the lie for which Merlin believed he owed Arthur. They had to pretend to be a couple deeply in love; easy enough for Merlin who was so completely in love with Arthur that sometimes he couldn't breathe, but Arthur. Arthur was not in love with Merlin, and would never be, not like that.
Still - two days and one night in Verona, completely free of charge, that was worth the lie, no matter how much it actually cost Merlin. Verona! In Italy! BEAUTIFUL ITALY! One of the countries Merlin had wanted most to visit! And Verona! Of Romeo & Juliet fame! Verona: The City of Love! Merlin's guilt subsided and he squirmed excitedly in his seat, reopening his worn travellers’ guidebook, turning to the section on Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet and re-reading the same paragraph for possibly the millionth time.
“You’re talking out loud,” Arthur said, nudging Merlin with his elbow, “actually, you’re quoting Shakespeare out loud.”
Merlin could feel the eyes of the plane’s other occupants on him, and he hunkered down in his seat, folding in on himself and pulling his knees up to his chin.
“Sorry!” Merlin muttered, pulling his hood down over his head as he tucked himself into his cocoon. Arthur nudged him again, and Merlin peered out from under his hood. Arthur was smiling in the soft, indulgent way, that never failed to pierce Merlin's heart with longing, and Merlin couldn’t help the guilt from welling again. He knew that Arthur had only agreed to come with him because Merlin had begged so thoroughly and that the last thing totally straight Arthur really wanted to do with his Valentine's Day weekend was to travel abroad on a fake romantic trip with his totally gay flatmate. But here he was, indulging Merlin in his fancies, and Merlin loved him all the more for it.
Although how he was going to survive the night in an extremely romantic hotel room with just the one bed, Merlin wasn't sure. Oh, and they had to pretend to be madly in love for the duration. Including holding hands and the occasional peck on the cheek. On Valentine's Day. Well, at least if it was going to be a complete disaster it would be a brief one - they were flying home the following evening.
Arthur took out his earphones with a sigh and slouched down in his seat so his face was closer to Merlin’s, “Tell me about the balcony again,” Arthur said, laughing a little. Merlin wiggled out from under his hood, smiling, and explained about Juliet's balcony.
--
“Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.”
- Twelfth Night Act 3, Scene 1
--
They were picked up from the airport by a sleek black car and whisked away towards the centre of Verona. The countryside was beautiful, green though it was the middle of February. The driver spoke in excellent English and described the areas they drove through almost like a guided tour. Merlin was paying rapt attention to their surroundings, so much so that Arthur worried he might get whiplash trying to see everything at once, but Arthur was only paying attention to Merlin. He was effervescent with joy, and Arthur's heart ached to see him so happy. He looked far more awake than Arthur felt, his blue eyes bright and piercing, his lips parted in an endearing smile. Every now and then he would reach over and grab Arthur's arm, his thin, pale fingers grasping tight, knuckles white, and Arthur would have to close his eyes around the avalanche of feelings coursing through him. His love for Merlin was so pure and foreign that he didn't know what to think half the time - all he knew was that if he thought about life without Merlin in it all he could see was shadows.
It stung Arthur that their weekend was built upon a lie. Arthur could have taken Merlin to Verona for the weekend and paid for it himself, but Merlin would never allow that. Arthur's family's wealth was a sore spot with Merlin, who had always worked so hard for everything he owned. So Arthur had played along with the game, agreeing to be the adoring boyfriend, just so they could win what was basically Merlin's dream holiday. Merlin was a bonafide Shakespeare Nerd, and the entire weekend was focused around the famous Juliet. Romantic stay for two on Valentine's Day. It was all a bit trite to Arthur, but he was enjoying himself as well. It had been years since he'd been to Italy, though he had spent a lot of time there as a child. He'd never been anywhere in Italy that wasn't beautiful, and he was glad to share this visit with Merlin, who had rarely travelled abroad.
As the car drew closer to their final destination, the Casa di Giulietta, Arthur reached over and took Merlin's hand. If they were supposed to be a couple very much in love, Arthur supposed they had better start pretending now. Merlin started a bit when their hands touched, but Arthur intertwined their fingers, looking firmly out the opposite window and trying to ignore his rapidly beating heart.
--
“For where thou art, there is the world itself,
And where thou art not, desolation.”
- Henry VI Part 2 Act 3, Scene 2
--
The suite they were shown to was festooned with flowers on literally every surface. They were draped in bunches from the curtain rods and from the supports of the massive four-poster bed. There was a sprawling burst of flowers covering most of the fireplace mantle. There were oversized vases on every flat surface and even a scattering of rose petals on the surface of the bed. Merlin felt his entire face blaze with embarrassment, but his heart surged with joy. The room was beautiful, the city was beautiful, everything was beautiful. As long as the extravagance of the floral displays didn't send Arthur running for the hills, of course. Merlin glanced over to see Arthur's eyes raised to the ceiling as though he was checking to see if they'd managed to get flowers there, too, and he couldn't help but smile. Even though they were there under false pretenses, Merlin couldn't help but be excited.
“The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e’er the sun shone bright on,” Merlin quoted, feeling entirely swept up. Was it his fault he could still feel the ghost of Arthur's fingers entwined with his own? Merlin's heart beat heavily and he risked a glance at Arthur, who was standing with his back to the room, looking out a window, framed by flowers.
“I think these guys are trying to steal a car,” Arthur said, narrowing his eyes at someone on the street outside and totally spoiling the mood. Merlin rushed over to see that Arthur was not, in fact, witnessing a crime, and hit Arthur gently on the shoulder as he laughed. Arthur turned from the window and looked over the room.
“It’s a bit over the top, I know,” Merlin said, feeling nervous again. It had been his idea to pretend they were a couple, after all, and regardless of how badly Merlin wished that were true, it wasn’t entirely fair to Arthur, who was being such a good sport.
Arthur turned his face back to Merlin, their eyes searching each other, “I think it’s perfect.”
Merlin was left standing in the window, bracketed by cascading flowers and wondering what on earth the look in Arthur’s eyes had meant as Arthur, totally clueless to the state he’d left Merlin in, went to unpack his case.
--
“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun!”
-Romeo & Juliet Act 2, Scene 2
--
“It’s the balcony!” Merlin moaned, almost insensible, hanging off Arthur’s arm as though he might faint. Arthur could not see what the big bloody deal was. It was a modest stone balcony and nothing more. His father’s mansion had dozens of stone balconies. Better ones. Bigger. Of all the beautiful places Arthur had been in Italy, this courtyard did not rate that highly on the list. Arthur had never been the type to enjoy busy tourist attractions. The real beauty of the country was the places the tourists did not go. Arthur looked behind him and saw that the wall was covered in chewing gum. It was quite disgusting, really, and not at all romantic. The courtyard had probably been clean at some point during the day but was littered with pamphlets and debris from the hundreds of people who had stood there that day, looking up at Juliet’s balcony. Below and to the left was a bronze statue of the famous Juliet, her gown and bronze breasts worn shiny from all of the people who had touched her. It was utterly ridiculous.
Of course, Merlin had insisted that Arthur pose with the statue, hand firmly cupping her shiny bronze breast. Arthur had only rolled his eyes and done what he was told, and only because he was powerless when Merlin began to giggle. Merlin had refused to cup Juliet's breast and had insisted he pose in a much more dignified stance, which made Arthur unreasonably angry, and Merlin giggle some more.
Now Arthur was left standing back from Merlin who was gazing, open-mouthed, at the empty stone balcony, his eyes glazed in wonder. Arthur never understood the draw of Romeo and Juliet if he was honest. To his mind it wasn’t a tale of romantic love, it was a horror story of two horny teenagers whose parents had been blinded by hatred and whose children had both killed themselves for no reason at all. It was Arthur’s least favourite of the Shakespeare plays he’d read. He much preferred Beatrice and Benedick, or even Miranda and Ferdinand. Heck, if you really wanted to go all googly-eyed for star-crossed lovers, surely Hamlet and Ophelia were a better choice?
However, after Arthur’s disastrous I think it’s perfect in their suite earlier, he was quite keen to avoid anything remotely romantic until he was able to think straight again, and for lack of romance, this dodgy courtyard, overly-fondled statue, and unimpressive balcony were a pretty good bet. Plus, Merlin was happy, and that was the whole point of the stupid weekend after all. Arthur couldn't think of much he wouldn't do to make Merlin smile.
Arthur watched his flatmate as he danced on his toes, excitement pouring off him. Arthur was risking so much with this weekend, and Merlin hadn’t a clue. Their dinner tonight, the romantic, candle-lit Valentine's dinner served by a personal butler in Juliet’s private dining room, that was when Arthur would put all of his cards on the table, and then they would see whether or not Verona deserved the title of the City of Love.
--
“Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make ’s love known?”
Macbeth Act 2, Scene 3
--
Merlin combed his hair the best he could and straightened his tie. He knew perhaps he'd gone a bit overboard himself, packing a (borrowed) suit to wear to their dinner, but he couldn't help it. The idea of a candle-lit Valentine's dinner with Arthur had sent him a bit giddy. After their long day spent traipsing the gorgeous city streets, they had both showered quickly and were dressing in separate rooms before their dinner. Merlin was pleased that most of the creases had come out of his suit in the steam from his shower. He thought he looked presentable if slightly rumbled, but he was clearly nervous. It was ridiculous because Arthur and Merlin dined together most nights, and had done for the three years they had lived together. They were best friends. They had even been out to eat together, often. But there was something different about tonight. His feelings for Arthur felt closer to the surface, and Merlin feared a disastrous misstep. He would just need to smile and laugh and survive the dinner. Tomorrow they had the day together to do more sightseeing, and after that, it was a plane ride back to their normal life.
Sighing, and readying the excuse he’d prepared for exactly why he’d packed a suit, Merlin stepped out of the bathroom. Arthur, his back to the bathroom door, was wearing a dark blue suit, his broad shoulders seeming even broader. He was bent forward at the waist and trying to tie a bow-tie while watching himself in the tiny mirror on Juliet's dressing table. Merlin clutched at this heart and breathed deeply for a few moments before he walked into the room. He could do this. He'd been in love with Arthur for years, he'd hidden his feelings for years, why was tonight any different?
“Nice suit,” Merlin said. Arthur cursed and threw his hands in the air, clearly fed up with trying to tie his bow-tie.
“Candle-lit dinner, Merlin, I couldn’t exactly wear trackie bottoms, could I?”
“Here, let me,” Merlin said, laughing at Arthur’s obvious frustration. He stepped forward and grabbed both ends of Arthur’s bow tie, feeling immensely grateful that his uncle had taught him how to tie one.
"Nice suit," Arthur said, tilting his head up slightly to allow Merlin better access to his collar.
"Candle-lit dinner," Merlin muttered, unable to form proper sentences. As Merlin tied Arthur's bow-tie, Arthur visibly relaxed, the tension melting out of his shoulders. Merlin concentrated only on the tie and the feel of the silk in his hands, forcibly not staring at Arthur's neck or his slightly stubbled jawline which were both far too close for comfort. Arthur suited fine clothes, had been born to wear silk ties and fancy suits. His family were disgustingly rich, and Merlin's family were correspondingly poor. Arthur had a closet full of clothes like this whereas Merlin had borrowed his suit from a friend. Arthur suited the fine life, and Merlin would only ever be playing dress-up.
Still, Merlin only had a few months left of being Arthur's flatmate before Arthur went off to bigger and better things, and Merlin was going to make the most of it. Starting with dinner. He finished tying the bow-tie and patted it gently, clearing his throat and taking a step back. Arthur turned and examined himself in the tiny mirror, giving Merlin time to school his features and hide the seemingly massive bulk of his feelings.
“When did you learn to tie a bow-tie?” Arthur asked, turning back, impressed.
“I keep telling you I have many talents,” Merlin said, the phrase sounding suggestive despite Merlin’s best efforts. A spot of pale pink appeared high on Arthur’s cheeks and he turned away, laughing.
“Including the ability to quote Shakespeare at inappropriate moments, of course,” Arthur said his voice soft and fond, and Merlin tried to laugh. It was this honest fondness that broke Merlin’s heart on a daily basis. The knowledge that Arthur might love him, yes, but as a friend only, and never how Merlin wanted to be loved by him.
“Apart from that, yes,” Merlin said, turning away and trying to find something to do with himself.
--
“I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you.”
-The Tempest Act 3, Scene 1
--
As long as Arthur lived he would remember how Merlin looked tying Arthur's tie. The innocent brush of Merlin's fingers against the skin of his neck and jaw, the look of concentration in Merlin's eyes. Arthur's heart ached with the pain of almost, though perhaps that pain would be short-lived. Everything hinged on the dinner when Arthur's lie would be revealed. After that, Arthur could not control what happened.
Somehow the dining room was decorated more lavishly than their suite, with even more flowers. It was seriously ridiculous, but it was exactly what Arthur had been hoping for. Merlin’s blue eyes had gone soft when they’d been escorted into the room, lit only by candlelight, and Arthur had reached out and taken Merlin’s hand and Merlin had not flinched, but had entwined his fingers with Arthur's almost as though they had a right to be there.
Arthur cleared his throat and, catching Merlin’s attention, said, “I like this place, and willingly could waste my time in it.”
Merlin’s whole face glowed with joy, his lips parting in a fierce smile, “As You Like It.”
“You thought you were the only one that could quote Shakespeare? I, too, have many talents,” Arthur said, leading Merlin to the table and pulling his chair out for him.
“I can get my own chair,” Merlin laughed, but Arthur stopped him, leaning in to whisper in his ear.
“We’re supposed to be in love, remember?” Merlin’s cheeks burned when Arthur reminded him of their lie. The lie upon which the whole weekend was built; Merlin’s winning competition entry, his letter to Juliet telling her of his fake relationship with Arthur. Arthur's even bigger lie.
After they'd settled their suit coats over the backs of their chairs and sat at the table, Merlin pointed to an envelope propped on the vase of flowers that sat at the far edge of the table between them.
“What’s in this, do you suppose?” Merlin asked, brow furrowed. Arthur snatched it up and read the writing on the outside, his heart beginning to race. He folded it and tucked it into his suit coat pocket where it was draped over the back of his chair.
"Probably just a reply to your letter, we can read it later. Wine?"
Merlin shrugged and let Arthur pour the wine. Arthur knew what the envelope contained, but he wanted them to at least eat their dinner before it was revealed. He had that long to make Merlin smile and laugh, and it was not an opportunity he was going to waste.
--
“Art thou afeared to be the same in thine own act and valour
As thou are in desire?”
-Macbeth Act 1, Scene 7
--
Arthur began acting strangely at the beginning of the dinner, and Merlin knew the romance of the whole situation was probably the cause. What had he been thinking, dragging Arthur along to something like this? Although Arthur had always been accepting of Merlin’s sexuality, perhaps a candle-lit dinner on Valentine's Day was taking it too far? Perhaps he was panicking about the Only One Bed situation? The way he had whisked away the envelope, surely containing Merlin’s winning letter, as though it offended him? However as the meal was served, Arthur relaxed and became his own self again, all thoughts of the envelope forgotten. They laughed and joked, commenting on the fabulous food and the amazing day they had had.
Merlin's only wish was that the table was bigger. The room around them was humongous, larger perhaps than the bedroom where they were staying, but the dining table was smaller than an office desk, and his and Arthur’s knees were touching under the table. Actually, most of their thighs were touching. It made Merlin struggle to concentrate, feeling Arthur's leg against his own, and he worried that Arthur would be put off by the contact. However, it seemed not to bother him for he kept leaning in towards Merlin and speaking to him in whispers. It was generally distracting, and by the time they finished the first course, Merlin couldn’t have told you what they had eaten.
“The wine is wonderful,” Arthur said, taking a large sip, “do you have any quotes about wine, Merlin?”
“Eh, I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine,” Merlin said, then grimaced. Why had he thought of that one? Why that one quote in particular? What was he thinking?
Arthur laughed, the sound echoing around the otherwise empty room, “Come, now, we both know that’s not true. I’ve never met anyone less false.”
“I was only quoting,” Merlin said, pleased at Arthur’s compliment.
“And you went with false vows?” Arthur said, still chuckling.
“It’s all I could think of, OK? I don’t know all the quotes!”
“I find that hard to believe,” Arthur laughed, his eyes meeting Merlin’s as the butler arrived with the second course. As Merlin fought against the mixture of embarrassment and pleasure that was swirling through his system, Arthur began to speak to the butler in, to Merlin’s ear, flawless Italian.
Merlin gaped at him, inappropriately and unbelievably turned on. He didn’t know that Arthur could speak Italian. He and the butler were laughing at some joke and Arthur turned back to Merlin, his eyes widening in shock no doubt at the look of pure lust on Merlin’s face. Merlin tried to school his emotions.
“You can speak Italian?”
“Only a little,” Arthur shrugged.
“That is so hot,” Merlin said before he could stop himself. Arthur laughed, loud and surprised, and Merlin covered his mouth with his hand.
“I can’t believe I just said that,” Merlin said, lowering his head in embarrassment.
“A false vow, yeah?” Arthur laughed, taking another sip of wine.
--
“I know no ways to mince it in love
But directly to say ‘I love you’.”
-Henry V, Act 5, Scene 2
--
The meal was excellent, and Arthur was thoroughly enjoying himself. He’d had Merlin on an embarrassed back-foot ever since Merlin had blurted out that Arthur knowing how to speak Italian was hot, and Arthur was loving it. Though, he knew, their joviality might soon come to an end. As though he was still wearing his suit coat, he could feel the weight of the envelope against his chest, pressing against his heart. Reminding him that, of the two of them, Arthur was the one who was lying.
Merlin had written his competition entry under false pretenses, sure, but he had made sure that Arthur was on board with the whole idea, first. They’d laughed about it, trying to make it as sickly romantic as they could, trying to twist the heart-strings of the competition judges and trying, above all, to win the weekend away. Arthur, of course, could have afforded to pay for the whole weekend five times over, his father routinely spent more money on suits, but Merlin, Merlin would never have been able to afford something like this on his own. So Arthur had played along.
As the butler served their dessert Arthur made sure to talk to him some more in Italian, greatly enjoying watching the colour creep up Merlin’s face as he watched Arthur, mouth slightly open. He loved nothing so much in the world as making Merlin laugh and smile. Below the table Arthur pressed his knee against Merlin’s, feeling invincible.
The dessert was equally phenomenal, and Merlin pouted slightly when he had finished his, as though bereft at the loss. Arthur, laughing, pushed his half-finished dessert towards Merlin, whose face lit up. Arthur watched Merlin, as confused as he always was when he felt desire for the man beside him. Arthur was not gay, he knew, and he had never before felt sexually attracted to any other man, but Merlin was different. As Arthur watched Merlin lick ice cream off his spoon he swallowed and took a sip of wine to distract himself. Yes, Merlin was different, Arthur was definitely, almost painfully attracted to Merlin, whether that made sense or not. Arthur was in love with Merlin and wanted to be with him, wanted to be with him in love, and the time to confess those feelings was now.
“Merlin, I have something to confess," Arthur said, staring determinedly across the room. Beside him, Merlin was frowning down at the second empty dessert plate.
"Hmmm?"
"We are here under much falser pretenses than you believe. It wasn't your letter that won the competition, but mine."
Arthur heard Merlin's dessert fork as it was set on the plate, and he felt Merlin's body move away from his as Merlin sat up straighter in his chair. He was still afraid to look at Merlin, but he reached into his suit coat and retrieved the folded envelope, turning it over in his fingers.
"Inside this envelope is a response to the winning letter, written by Juliet's Secretaries. I was warned that it would be here tonight, and I wanted to talk to you before you read it."
"But I got an email from them. I spoke to them on the phone to confirm arrangements," Merlin said, clearly confused.
"Yes, but only because I asked them to contact you. It was my letter that won, Merlin, and I would have told you before tonight, but I couldn't bear to."
"What do you mean?"
Arthur could barely breathe. He could barely function. What if Merlin rejected him? How could they ever recover? Would Merlin want to move out? Arthur thought of their home without Merlin, the emptiness of his life without Merlin, and he panicked. No longer able to say the words he needed to say, Arthur handed over the envelope.
Merlin, his eyes on Arthur, opened the envelope and took out the letter within. Arthur could see him unfolding it at the very edges of his vision, but he did not turn to look. He could hear Merlin's breath quickening as he read the letter, and he closed his eyes, silently begging.
"Arthur, what does this mean?" Merlin's voice was a whisper, soft as candlelight.
"It means," Arthur began, then cleared his throat, "it means that I wrote to Juliet about how helplessly I am in love with you and that my confession of unrequited love was the winning entry."
"That's not what this says," Merlin replied, holding the letter out towards Arthur, and Arthur was surprised to hear humour in his voice, "It says: Dear Arthur and Merlin, I have decided to award you both this prize because you each wrote to me separately claiming a deep, unrequited love for each other. You both even quoted the same line from The Tempest, and even though that is not the play from which I am famous, I understand the sentiment. It is my great pleasure to tell you that you are both idiots. You have clearly been in love with each other since the day you met. Perhaps a romantic weekend in my fair city is exactly what you need to admit your mutual feelings for one another. Or perhaps this letter will help. Enjoy your trip to Verona, Very sincerely yours in love, Juliet."
Arthur, his heart racing turned slowly to Merlin, who was smiling wickedly.
"The letter we worked so hard on was not the one you sent?" Arthur asked. Merlin shook his head.
"I sent a different one, lamenting the fact that I was head over heels in love with my clotpole of a flatmate but terrified to tell him because I was sure he would not feel the same about me. Because he's not gay."
Even though Merlin had a point, Arthur still wanted to kiss the smug smile off his beautiful face.
"I wrote and confessed my feelings for you, afraid it would be the only time I was brave enough to express them," Arthur said, surprised at the lightness of his own voice, "Because you're right, I don't think I am gay. I am in love with you, though. And I'm scared to tell my father."
They finally looked at each other properly, their eyes meeting. Merlin's hand reached for Arthur's and they intertwined their fingers together. Arthur felt like he might burst from happiness. Merlin was smiling at him, was holding his hand, and there were no more secrets between them. He was almost light-headed with joy.
“All corners else o’th’earth let liberty make use of," Arthur said, smiling a smile that felt wondrous.
"Space enough have I in such a prison," Merlin said, and he closed his eyes as Arthur kissed him.
--
"No legacy is so rich as honesty."
-All's Well That Ends Well, Act 3, Scene 5
--
They stayed in Verona the rest of the week, telling their family and friends that Arthur had fallen ill. They checked into a different hotel with fewer flower petals on the bed. Arthur paid the bill wondering if that it might be the last time his father's money financed his holidays, but not caring either way. They walked the streets of the beautiful city holding hands and ate at fancy restaurants together, Merlin finishing Arthur's desserts most nights, both their lips tasting sweet when they kissed. They went everywhere the tourists would never have thought to go, and they saw the real Verona. In the evenings they would return to their hotel and Arthur would sit with Merlin's head in his lap, trailing his fingers through Merlin's hair as Merlin read Shakespeare to him. Arthur spoke Italian to anyone who would stand still long enough, and Merlin kissed him soundly every time he did.
When they finally returned to their flat Merlin framed a large picture of Arthur cupping the breast of the bronze Juliet. When Arthur refused to let Merlin hang it on their wall, Merlin pouted and claimed that it was two of his favourite things in one picture. Arthur could never resist that pout, so up the picture went.
Although in her reply letter Juliet's Secretaries claimed that both Arthur and Merlin's letters had jointly won the prize, that was not entirely true. It was Arthur's straightforward heartbreak that caught Juliet's eye, and it was therefore his entry that clinched the prize.
Dear Juliet,
“Might I but through my prison once a day behold this [man]. All corners else o’th’earth let liberty make use of; space enough have I in such a prison.” - The Tempest Act 1, Scene 2, 494-497
My flatmate Merlin would be angry if he knew I was writing this. He has spent weeks composing his own entry to this competition, though he is entering under false pretenses. His letter will claim that we are a couple and that he is in love with me, but he is merely in love with Shakespeare and wishes only to visit Verona and bask in the splendour of the city which inspired Romeo & Juliet. And I… I am entering because I am in love with Merlin.
Why am I confessing myself to you? A fictional, historically inaccurate portrayal of a girl who suffers heartache and heartbreak due to familial pride? We have so much in common, my dear Juliet, and I feel that if you were a real person we would have much to discuss. Your father, had he known of your romance with Romeo, would have killed Romeo without thought. If I were to ever tell my father that I am gay he would probably kill me. But let us not dwell upon the sadness. Let me tell you our story.
We met over Shakespeare if you can believe it. I was struggling to pass the mandatory English Literature class, and I advertised for a tutor. When I first met Merlin? Oh, how can I describe it? Perhaps I will borrow a line from your own beloved. “Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”
I was lost from the moment we met. From that first second, I saw him. And I have been suffering since for, though we have grown closer than any two friends could hope to be, I have been too weak to tell him how I really feel. My love for him is a prison around my heart, but I am happy enough within, as long as I can be near him. We have been flatmates for the past three years, but we graduate in July and head off to our separate lives, after which I do not know when next I shall see him. I am not brave enough to tell him how I feel, and I fear my family's reaction.
However, he does desperately wish to win this competition, and perhaps if we two travelled to Verona I may grow brave enough to defy my father’s wishes and tell Merlin how I truly feel. I am only writing this to give him a second chance at something he deeply desires, but it might be the chance that I need, after all.
Yours in heartbreak,
Arthur
It turned out that Arthur was wrong about his father, for when their relationship finally came to light the only thing he had to say was, "Honestly, son, who did you think you were kidding?"
They held the wedding in Italy.
--
Ferdinand: Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand.
Miranda: And mine, with my heart in 't.
-The Tempest, Act 3, Scene 1