I Don't Want To Believe

A Soft Supernova

    There was a soft knock on the door and John partially expected Sherlock to come walking in, a beard of bubbles on his face and a large smile. Instead it was his mother, looking kind of sad, looking at her son as if he were an entirely different person.
"Hey mom." John said with a smile.
"Hi John." she sighed, walking over and sitting on his bed next to him. John turned off his phone and set it on the bedside table once again, getting the idea that this was to be a serious conversation.
"We need to talk." She decided.
"Obviously." John agreed. Mrs. Watson took a deep breath, as if trying to piece her words together in the right order.
"What is going on?" she decided.
"I told you, I was..." John started.
"No, John, I want the truth. And whatever you say next, I'm going to take as the truth. Just please, please John, don't lie to me. I don't want to be treated like a child; I don't want you to think that you can't trust me with whatever really happened to you, whoever took you, and whoever Sherlock is." She decided.
"Mom, I haven't lied to you before, I know it sounds crazy, but he's an alien, I was abducted, we have so much proof, our stories match, I mean, the kid hasn't even seen bubbles before." John pointed out.
"But why would they take you, why would they take my son out of all people? And why did they let you go?" Mrs. Watson asked.
"Sherlock liked me I guess, more than the other humans, and decided that I was best fit for his experiment. And they didn't let us go, we escaped, because we found out that I had a death sentence and Sherlock couldn't see me die." John pointed out. Mrs. Watson sighed heavily, looking at the ground as if this wasn't a topic they discussed in her motherly handbooks.
"Is Sherlock your...boyfriend?" she asked very quickly, as if it were painful to ask.
"I have no idea what he is, I know that he's family, whatever form of family he takes, well I guess that's yet to be decided." John decided.
"Do you love him?" she asked.
"In a way I suppose I do, because I have to, he saved my life so many times." John admitted. For some reason this conversation didn't even feel awkward or uncomfortable, in fact it seemed like a very normal conversation to have with your mother. Whether or not you love your alien. Mrs. Watson took a deep breath once more, nodding as if that was what she came for.
"You were abducted." She repeated.
"Yes, in a great beam of light, I could see the entire town, it was terrifying." John agreed. His mother gave a great gasp and flung her arms around him, nearly strangling John once again as she held him close.
"Never go back up John, don't get yourself killed, don't get yourself in danger, I don't know how I could ever lose my baby again." she cried. John nodded, worried about death by smothering and awkwardly patting his mother's back, not sure what to do in this moment.
"I won't go back up, I can't, they'll kill me." John assured.
"That scares me so much, they're coming for you, aren't they?" she asked.
"Yes, but Sherlock is the only one that knows where I live, it was irrelevant in the files, so we'll be alright. And when he threatened dad, he didn't mean it, he wouldn't hurt my family because he knows it would hurt me." John assured. "He'll protect us all."
"Does he love you?" Mrs. Watson asked. John sighed, that was the question, wasn't it?
"I don't know." John muttered. Mrs. Watson nodded, getting to her feet and smoothing out her skirt.
"Well, that was all I needed to know, thank you John, for your cooperation. I think your alien friend is playing tea party with Harry in her room, if you were wondering." Mrs. Watson decided, and with that she walked out the door, leaving John alone with a sort of smile on his face. If Sherlock was wearing a tiara, then this was definitely worth seeing. So John got himself to his feet, stretching out his sore legs a little bit before lumbering quietly down the hallway to Harry's room. The door was creaked open a little bit and he could see the outline of two people at a very small table. John smiled to himself, watching as Harry poured Sherlock 'tea' into his small plastic cup.
"Does John have tea parties with you?" Sherlock wondered, sipping what must be water for a moment. John lingered outside the door; neither of them had noticed his presence yet.
"Not really. John doesn't like tea parties, says they're for girls." She sighed.
"I'm not a girl." Sherlock pointed out.
"You're an alien." Harry said with a large smile.
"That I am." Sherlock agreed. Harry sipped her tea a little bit, and John was about to walk in when Sherlock lowered his cup, looking thoughtful.
"Harry, what do you do, here on Earth, if you love someone?" he asked. John's blood ran cold and he ducked behind the wall, so that they couldn't see him eavesdropping. Sherlock couldn't possibly need to know that, right? This must be a joke; he was just seeing how the human world worked.
"Well, I don't know much about love, but in my princess movies they always save the princess from an evil witch or dragon or something. Usually that works out well for all of them, except the witch." Harry shrugged. Sherlock nodded again.
"I don't think I'm going to find a dragon anywhere, what else?" he wondered. John could hear is own heart beating, and with Sherlock's keen ears, he would certainly know that John was outside the door, this symphony was getting louder and louder with the thought of Sherlock declaring his love.
"Well, get whoever it is, and just say something nice and poetic, and then you sit very close to them, and you take their hands, and you kiss." Harry suggested. John could only imagine her little smile right now, with a plastic tiara on her head and the devil in her eyes.
"Interesting, it's the easy?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know. Who do you love?" Harry asked. John could bear to listen to the last part, whatever Sherlock's response, John didn't hear, he ran all the way to his room. Of course Sherlock would've heard the desperate footsteps, but then again, that might have been the point. Would he come over and try to be romantic, or would he come to apologize? John sank onto his bed once more, making sure the door was shut and leaning against his pillows, staring at the door, wondering who the next person to walk in would be. It wasn't long until there was a soft knock on the door, and John took a dep breath. His parents didn't knock.
"Come in." he decided, grabbing his phone for an excuse to look at anything else, pretending not to care when Sherlock walked very awkwardly inside.
"Hello John." Sherlock said, closing the door and standing very stiffly, obviously nervous about something.
"Hey Sherlock, mom said you were having a tea party." John laughed, twirling his phone in his hands for a moment to give them something to do.
"Yes, tea party, tasted like sink water but I suppose that's alright." Sherlock sighed. He was combing his fingers through his curls, as if hoping they looked alight. John watched him and Sherlock stared very awkwardly back, as if terrified.
"So, what are you doing here?" John asked.
"I was lonely I guess, you're the only person I really know here, so I decided that I'd bother you for a while." Sherlock shrugged, forcing a smile and migrating over to the window. John watched him as he craned his neck to look out the window at the stars.
"I can see my home from here." he muttered, his face nearly pressed up against the glass. John smiled and got up off of the bed, knowing that he was playing right along with whatever game Sherlock was trying to play here.
"You want to get a better look?" he offered. Sherlock looked at him for a moment with his kaleidoscope eyes, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"We can't go back, you know that?" he asked, as if worried John was actually considering it.
"I know, of course I know, but we could go outside onto the roof. From what I know, you've been out there before." John pointed out. Sherlock smiled guiltily, but nodded.
"Ya, but it was worth it, wasn't it? You're here, I'm here, our child is growing in the room opposite, it worked out." he decided. John just laughed, their problems were far from over, but for now Sherlock didn't need to know that. John pulled the window open, letting the chilly air waft into his bedroom.
"We're climbing out?" Sherlock asked in amazement.
"That's how we get to the roof; we don't have magical doors everywhere." John pointed out.
"No, that's alright, I like crawling out of things..." Sherlock muttered, squinting his eyes as if wondering why in the world he would say something so unintelligent.
"Good for you." John decided with a smile. With that he crawled out of the window with catlike stealth, obviously he had done something like this before, when he needed alone time or when he just wanted to pretend to be Batman or something when he was younger. Sherlock clambered out after him, not nearly as graceful, nearly falling over himself onto the cold shingles of the roof. John just laughed as he regained his composure, brushing the stray leaves off of himself and looking over the beautiful fields of corn.
"There's nothing like this on my planet." He muttered. John looked around with satisfaction, so happy to be on Earth and to have Sherlock appreciate his home for what it was, the beauty, not the destruction.
"Yes well, it's home." John shrugged, sitting down on the shingles and patting the space next for him for Sherlock to sit.
"Am I going to fall if I walk down there?" Sherlock asked nervously. He was still holding onto the window ledge, as if afraid to let go.
"Not if you don't do anything stupid." John assured. Sherlock took a deep breath, obviously that wasn't very convincing. Slowly he let go of the ledge, easing his way down the roof to where John sat. As if he were planning this (which, ultimately, he was), Sherlock sat very close to John, so close that their shoulders were touching. This made john a little bit uncomfortable, but there was slight satisfaction of making Sherlock nervous. Someone so stone cold and serious, it was good to see an alien act, well, human.
"There it is, my home." Sherlock said, looking up to the stars and pointing to a cluster. John couldn't tell which one he was pointing to, but he pretended to look amazed, knowing that somewhere in those little balls of fire was Sherlock's home planet, just a single dot among the beautiful constellations.
"It seems so insignificant from here." Sherlock decided.
"Well, it's probably the most significant thing right now in my life." John insisted.
"Why do you say that?" Sherlock asked, his voice sounding very small, as if his brain was racing for something to say next.
"Well, if there wasn't a planet, then those astronauts would've died, and your species wouldn't exist to abduct me, and I wouldn't be sitting next to you, would I?" John asked.
"No, I suppose not." Sherlock muttered. He stared at the stars again, a good excuse to stay silent.
"John, I, um, I know that stars are actually suns, planets, they're so far away that they just look like dots now, but to some planets and species, they're their entire life. Without those little dots, like you said, some things would never be the same, entire species, planets would be dead, those balls of light are the center of life for some people, but here, they're just light. Just stars." Sherlock decided.
"Yes, your point?" John asked.
"Well, I suppose, it's a metaphor, for life. For love." Sherlock muttered. "For some people, you're just a small spec of light, a single person in such a big world, insignificant, unworthy, and overall just another face in the crowd. But for me, John, you're my sun, you're my moon, you're all of my stars, you're the center of my life and the only thing ensuring my existence." Sherlock scooted ever closer, so that their shoulders were squashed uncomfortably against each other's, and took John's hand in his own. It was very awkward, very stiff; his fingers seemed to be made out of plaster and were unable to move out of that one position. John may not have super hearing, but he could hear Sherlock's heart, or at least he could feel his pulse throbbing through his fingers, he was terrified, and that felt good.
"I uh, this is that part where you say something nice back." Sherlock pointed out.
"I don't have to do anything Sherlock." John insisted, but nevertheless he tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand, as if to encourage him to go on.
"I uh, I honestly didn't think I'd get this far. I thought you'd run, or maybe jump in this case, I don't have anything more to say." Sherlock admitted.
"Well then, improvise." John decided with a teasing smile. In the moonlight Sherlock looked positively radiant, his skin glowing and his awkward eyes gleaming as they darted around, thinking of something to say.
"Well, I suppose, if it's not too late to say it, John Watson, I love you." He decided. John smiled with satisfaction, nodding for a moment.
"Yes Sherlock, that's what I've been waiting for." John agreed. Sherlock smiled rather awkwardly, his hand getting extremely sweaty in John's. He was so awkward, and John loved it. So he smiled, leaning in closer and closer, seeing Sherlock's very terrified face get closer, his eyes wide in fright, his lips slightly parted as he breathed so rapidly John could hear it...
"Do you love me too?" Sherlock asked very quickly, as if not sure what John was doing.
"You tell me." John muttered, pressing his lips ever so softly to Sherlock's. If there was any way a human could blow up, John was sure it would've happened to Sherlock. Then again, he wasn't human, but John could feel him tense, he could feel him panic, he could feel him loving it. Obviously Sherlock had never kissed anyone before, and to be fair neither had John, but he's seen TV shows and read books where the characters kiss, but it was nothing like in the movies. You could see people kiss all the time, but you could never feel the thrill, of finally having your lips meet the ones of someone you so desperately loved, to finally know that the person understood, to finally be at peace. And as John kissed Sherlock, the other boy finally began to discover what in fact he was supposed to do, other than just sitting there and puckering his lips like a dead fish. Slowly John could feel Sherlock's shaking hand settle itself on the back of John's neck, he could feel the boy start to get more comfortable, less tense, but honestly he was still as clueless as John. So, as inexperienced as they both were, there was only so far they could go, especially on the roof. So John pulled ever so slowly away, Sherlock still hovering there with his eyes closed as if never wanting the moment to end, their first kiss. Hopefully the first of many. Sherlock's hand was still on John's neck, and he seemed to be in no rush to remove it. In fact, Sherlock lifted his other hand and cradled John's face in his hands, examining every part of him as if fascinated. John thought that maybe Sherlock would kiss him this time, but no, he just stared. And John stared back, a slightly knowing smile on his face, knowing exactly what Sherlock felt right now. That rising panic of doing exactly what you wanted to do.
"Now I know how it feels when stars explode, because I just did." Sherlock muttered. John just laughed, rolling his eyes as this alien's stupidity.
"Let's be honest Sherlock, that was long overdue." He decided. Sherlock nodded very stiffly, as if worried that John would break out into laughter and say how great of a joke that had been. But of course, John didn't laugh, and neither did Sherlock. They were so unsure of what to do next though, that maybe it would've been easier.