There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

The Tie That Told It All

Sherlock saw his opportunity not twenty minutes later; a boy was wandering away from the crowd, off to take a break it would seem, to take a breath. Sherlock could see a cigarette clenched in his fingers; he could see the shakiness of his steps...drunk, most likely, drunk or high or both. Either way he wasn't himself, he was drugged, he was an easy target, surely in this state he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the lips of a boy or a girl, maybe he would even be welcome to both. The boy was nothing more than a shadow moving through the darkness, but Sherlock was quiet and dark as well, mustering up all his courage as he crept along the wall to where the boy was standing, smoking and facing the crowd while the dying light of the disco ball played ever so gently across his unrecognizable face. Sherlock's heart was beating faster in faster in anticipation, and his brain was reminding him just what failure might lead to. He willed his brain to shut up, and for once it actually did so without too much of a battle. He wanted to focus on this moment, the first time in what felt like ages where he could actually be who he was, and get what he's wanted since before he could remember. Sherlock approached the boy from behind, pouncing like a gentle tiger and sliding his thin arms around the stranger's neck. The cigarette fell from the boy's fingers in surprise, but Sherlock was pleased to hear the he didn't cry out, he seemed more confused than afraid. Sherlock pressed his lips to the back of the stranger's neck, just on the brim of the stiff collar of his dress coat. It was a magical moment, feeling the boy's skin under his lips, it was an unimaginable breath of relief, an oasis in the middle of a loveless desert, and he was allowed simply because he was unknown. The boy drew his arms closer, tugging on Sherlock's fingers and easing himself back into Sherlock's grasp, he had no idea, he thought that Sherlock was a girl; he was such an ignorant fool! And yet it was working, whatever Sherlock was doing, he had him tricked, he had him in his grasp, he certainly couldn't waste this opportunity! Sherlock's fingers wrapped themselves around the boy's tie, tugging on it ever so softly as his lips moved around his neck in a careful path, trailing closer and closer to his jawbone, feeling the boy's sharp exhales of breath, feeling his heartbeat churning inside of his chest. The boy seemed completely unresponsive; he could do nothing but gasp for breath and pull his new admirer closer and closer to himself, desperately aching for the love that was being showered upon him from an unknown assailant. Sherlock was quite sure that even if he turned around he would be helpless to do anything but kiss him right back, he was sure that at this point the only thing this helpless boy could do was go on, the only thing he could bring himself to do was nothing at all. Sherlock willed his hands to travel farther up the tie, slowly pulling it loose while his lips trailed up and down the boy's jawbone, his fingers moving to the highest button of his shirt and undoing it with skilled precision. The boy's fingers clenched around Sherlock's, but Sherlock didn't know if that meant stop or continue, so he shook him off and continued to undo the shirt, pulling at the sleeves so that the boy's sculpted shoulder was exposed to the darkness. The boy grasped at Sherlock's arms, his own arms contorted at all sorts of uncomfortable angles as he tried to get so much as a touch. However as Sherlock's lips started to trail farther and farther down his collarbone an unfortunate gleam of light passed over the two of them, a mere morsel of illumination flung from the disco directly onto the loose tie of the boy trapped in his arms. And Sherlock's lips stilled for a moment, his eyes widening in horror as suddenly he realized just what type of boy he had in his arms. And suddenly the boy grabbed one of his wrists, taking this opportunity to gaze upon the face of his lover, and Sherlock found that there was nothing he could do now; he was trapped in the grasp of the boy that surely was going to be the death of him. The boy turned sharply, and for a moment there was nothing the two of them could do but stare. It seemed that even in this darkness there was enough light to illuminate the two terrified faces, and Sherlock stared into the face of a boy who he didn't recognize, an older boy who he had never seen in any of his classes. He was beautiful beyond any point of logic, however the fear that shown in his bright, radiant eyes was enough to remind Sherlock of the mistake he had made for attending this dance at all. Because it wasn't what this boy could do himself that worried Sherlock, it was who he could tell. He wasn't just an ordinary boy, he wasn't just a pathetic peer that wandered around the miserable tile halls of Lauriston Public School, that tie said it all, hanging around his neck loosely and reminding Sherlock that it was all over now. It was a crimson tie, red like blood, shining in the darkness with a sort of finality to it. That tie alone had just sealed his fate, because this boy wasn't just any boy, he was a Wisteria boy. And with that Sherlock yanked his wrist away, sharing one last startled look with that beautiful terrified boy before he ran off through the gym, pushing through the doors and running as quickly as he could back to the safety and security of his home, where he already vowed he would take an extra dose of poison.