Just Johnlock- The Big Book of One Shots

Lament For The Untold Love Story

           

It wasn't the problem that you didn't notice me, for everyone knows who I am. I knew that you, of all people, would have to be painfully aware of the most popular boy in school. I knew that you would have to know to be cautious, that you'd know who to avoid, and who to hide from all together. I think I fell under that last category, for I hardly ever saw your face unless you were forced to show it. You hid in the crowds, you hid your face from the world, your beautiful face...No, you did know me, but you did not know me. You knew who I was supposed to be, who I was made to be. Who I had to be, ultimately. But you did not know me. There was a John Watson for the hallways and for the football field, a copy and paste jock whose only purpose was to look good and break hearts. That was the one who roamed the hallway, in the varsity jacket, that was the one who held hands with Mary Morstan. Yet there is another, one that no one is aware of, presumably, except me. Another version of myself that I keep tucked away inside of my mind, the one who connects with you more than you could ever imagine. Sherlock, you avoid me because you do not know me. You do not know what I can be, who I could be to myself and who I could be to you. What we could be, together, if you would only let me get closer. Or rather, if I only let myself take that initial step. I know you're gay, and that's why you hide from us. You're expecting punishment; you're expecting a sideways glance and a cruel laugh. You're expecting the popular kids to beat down upon you for your choice of partner. Yet it's not really a choice, is it? It's not really a choice who you have to love, for if it was I wouldn't hurt so much inside. I wouldn't be suffering, I wouldn't be aching. If I could choose to love Mary I would, if I could choose to forget you...Oh who's to say? I've never been faced with such a thing before, something that comes as both a source of happiness and of dread, a blessing and a curse all at once. I suppose I wish not that I had never known you, I just wish that I had known myself before someone gave me a label. I wish that I had been able to search deep inside of myself, back before I had begun to play football, back before anyone had looked upon the girls I hung out with and deemed them my girlfriends before I could even realize what that was, or what it meant. I wish I had the bravery to be like you, Sherlock, and to step out of the boundaries that society had set for me just because I was athletic, and good looking, and charming. I wish I could've looked my parents in the eyes, and told them exactly how I felt about boys, and about girls. But I had never known, simply because I had never tried to know. And now here I am, standing off to the side in the midst of the friend group I had created for myself, and there you go, sulking off down the hallway with your head bent, your curls flat, and your books hugged protectively against your chest. Moments like these always present a sort of hesitation, a sort of temptation. I forget, momentarily, that there is anything more than air separating us. For just a slight second I want to step forward, for a slight second I think that there is no harm in approaching. Then I remember all the reasons I cannot, all the reasons I can't even be caught glancing in your direction. All of those reasons surround me like a cloud of bad influences, they are my friends. They are my girlfriends. They are my parents. Everyone who looks upon me and sees the perfect boy, the straight, clean cut, football star. I know that I cannot betray everyone who had ever had faith in me, who had ever been proud of me. For I know as soon as I glance too long I will fall to your level, whatever that level may be. Something of shame, I suppose, shame for an offense that is nothing but love. Nothing but admiration, for the more beautiful things in life. Beautiful things like pale skin, and green eyes, and black curls which fall ever so slightly over your face. I appreciate the beauty you possess; in fact I think I understand it better than anyone else in this whole school. You are like art; you are like a portrait that had slid off of its canvas and into our dreary hallways. You are like a beam of sunlight, falling from the Heavens and lighting our world from the darkness. And yet most people would rather it dark, from what I have perceived. Most people don't know what it is to appreciate you. They don't know how to. They see you and put the labels on, labels like outcast, weirdo, nerd. They shame you for who you love, without taking a moment to consider that it's not your fault. It's not your fault...I know that most of all. So I turn away, oh I have to turn away! I can only imagine the look on their faces, these cardboard people who I surround myself with! I can only imagine the despair, the disbelief. Yet I want to take your hand, we could have been so much! I could have been your anything, and you could have been my everything. We would have fit perfectly together, you and I. We could have been the greatest love story of all time. Yet it is not fated to be, no it is not possible at all. I am cursed to stand here and you are cursed to hide, and nothing will become of either of our feelings. Perhaps you love me too. I had considered that, for it seems as though anyone who's attracted to boys have a fancy for me. Are you no exception, Sherlock Holmes? Do you hide from me because you don't want me to notice you, and the sparkle in your eyes? The desire, that you were supposed to hide from the world? Perhaps I need to summon my strength, perhaps I need to take a step out of the mold I had been forced into, perhaps I need to break the bounds that I myself had created. Or perhaps not. Things which do not fall into place perfectly seem to be things which are not supposed to be. So I sit back, I lean away, and I clutch onto Mary's hand even tighter. You vanish into the crowd, you doubt me, do you not? You fear me, as many do. As many have a reason to. I sneer, I curse. I have an evil eye, I have evil friends. I have strength in numbers, and cruelty in the power of laughter. I was made for degrading, I was not made for loving. I was not made for breaking the status quo on behalf of my own happiness, and of yours. We were simply not made for each other. But don't doubt my humanity, Sherlock. Don't doubt that I have the ability to love.  We could be everything, Sherlock, yet we could be nothing all the same. Love, like all good things, passes eventually. Yet my heart is still beating...in fact it's just begun.

A/N: Happy Valentines Day everyone!