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Why Do We Love Lancelot

Decent Essays
“Six months, Lancelot,” panted Merlin, running at a swift, but even pace. “Six bloody months we’ve been training for this marathon.”

“Half marathon, actually.” Without breaking his fluid stride, Lancelot turned and flashed Merlin a wide grin. He wasn’t even sweating! Lancelot looked like he’d gone for an easy summer stroll as opposed to running for over two hours.

“Feels like a hundred marathons,” Merlin countered.

On the bright side, it was a mild and sunny Christmas day, and Merlin was, after all, running next to his best friend. Even so, Merlin swallowed a mirthless laugh. Best friend all right… If “best friend” meant the man you’d been in love with for ten years, since you were fourteen, and that man had no idea you were in love
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“The fact we did this together means something. I don’t give a damn about my time.” He draped Merlin’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped a muscular arm around his waist. “We are finishing this. Together.”

“I can’t…”

“I will drag you across the finish line if I have to.”

Merlin saw the fierce determination in his best friend’s eyes and nodded.

Slowly, hobbling along, Merlin and Lancelot drew closer and closer to the finish line. The crowd went wild for them, shouting encouragement and snapping photos with their cell phones.

Merlin and Lancelot were a mere few yards from the end when Merlin spotted their friends standing at the sideline, wearing jaunty Santa hats, holding up hand-drawn signs that read “Team Merlin and Lancelot,” as they hopped up and down and screamed their bloody lungs out.

As the two best friends dragged themselves across the line—finishing with their worst time ever—Merlin could not conjure up a shred of disappointment. He was bleeding and pained, but he and Lancelot finished what they started, together. Merlin would never ruin their bond of friendship, never…

“You should let go of me,” Merlin said, patting Lancelot on the back, “because I might
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