Let Us All Make History

That's Why God Made Us Beautiful

Sherlock was actually a little bit upset with Victor's news, but it would seem as though Victor couldn't become sympathetic in the least to take notice. He kept talking about it, he kept reminding Sherlock of the fact that he was forever alone and likely to stay that way as long as he neglected to take initiative with a boy he didn't even love. Victor was good at reminding Sherlock that there didn't need to be any sort of love involved, and yet Sherlock didn't just feel wrong about that he felt a bit disgusting with the mere thought of being with a boy he didn't feel anything for. The act wouldn't be as magical as Victor tried to emphasize it being, for he wasn't as desperate as Victor was. He wasn't so desperate for love that he would mistake the feeling of lust for love; he wouldn't confuse his need for a boyfriend with the need for a lover. He had made that mistake once before, after the first task where he told himself that any boy could just take John's place, and look where it got him! Still in love with John, still hopelessly digging his own chasm of defeat and remorse, and stuck for about a month with Victor thinking he still had some sort of entitlement to his lips and to his heart. And yet despite Sherlock's sudden hatred for Victor's ignorance he couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous, not just because he wanted to have had some sort of experience such as that, but he also was jealous of Victor's free spirit. He was unburdened by any sort of love restraints, he didn't need a certain boy for love and enjoyment, he just needed a boy. He didn't fall in love so he was never disappointed, and it would seem as though he could get a romantic rush by anyone's hands and eyes and lips. It was Sherlock's love for John that was part of the reason he couldn't just stroll onto the Durmstrang ship and randomly pick the boy with who he would wake up with the next morning, it would feel wrong. He would feel as though he had become unfaithful to someone he was never even devoted to, as though he was cheating on someone who wouldn't even take the liberty of noticing him. Maybe John would deserve such unfaithfulness, and yet then again Sherlock didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to pledge himself to have the memory of some random boy on his conscious, when thinking of the boy he would give his innocence to every part of him ached for that boy to be John Watson. And if Victor was right, well then that would be surprisingly manageable. One kiss, wasn't it? That was all it took? Victor didn't disappear again; in fact he seemed rather upset about the fact that the Durmstrang boys were now ignoring him. Sherlock's hadn't seen or heard anything about Sebastian since the night of the Yule Ball, and so it would seem that the boys were keeping to themselves once more. The break was coming to a close, and on the night before classes started up again all the Beauxbatons girls were busy with their school work, whining and complaining about how much they had to do all while knowing that they had spent the past two weeks doing nothing but procrastinating. Sherlock wasn't completely innocent himself; however it wasn't schoolwork which he was putting aside. No, the first day of break all of his essays and all of his papers were completed on a pile, yet it was the little doll that was confusing him now. He had less than a month to try to figure out what was going on about the thing, for it was now hovering higher than ever, so when he set it on the ground it could levitate just about eye level to where he was sitting on his bed. Every day it floated higher, and that in itself must be the key to whatever sort of riddle they were trying to present him with. But what did it mean? Flying, that was obvious, and why design it in this way? With brown hair, fair skin...it looked like Molly. Did that mean she was in some sort of danger, was she going to be the one flying? For Sherlock to be exactly sure of what the doll's characteristics meant he would have to take a look at one of the other champion's dolls, and yet that wasn't going to be very easy. For one thing he would rather die than approach John, and as for Sebastian...well that boy was proving to be more and more peculiar every day. Sherlock would feel almost threatened by him if he had to approach him. And so Sherlock just decided to go with his hunch, and to decide that ultimately this doll did represent Molly. That was the end of his train of thought, for as he sat staring at the doll Victor interrupted with an excited smile on his face, a smile that couldn't mean anything good.
"Sherlock I've got a present for you." Victor announced quietly, closing the door with a soft snap, so that no one would be alerted by any unusual door slamming at this ungodly hour of eight o'clock.
"I don't like where this is going." Sherlock decided in a small voice, snatching the door from the air and holding it in his palm for just a moment. He was surprised to see that there was no tugging on his hand, almost as if when the doll was in his hand it stopped hovering...well that could mean something, couldn't it?
"Oh no, you're going to like it." Victor assured in a very certain voice, going over to sit on Sherlock's bed next to him. Sherlock refused the urge to scoot over, farther away from Victor so as to make sure that there were no unwanted advances on Victor's part. However he seemed quite content with fishing something out of his pocket, a small little vial, sporting a sort of pink liquid.
"What is that?" Sherlock wondered nervously. Victor just smiled at him for a moment, staring into Sherlock's eyes as if he wanted to see if he could guess. Sherlock, however, either didn't know or didn't want to know, and so he kept his mouth shut.
"It's a love potion. I brewed it today, thought you might want to use some." Victor said with a little grin, shrugging his shoulders as if he was proposing such a thing with pure obliviousness to Sherlock's unrequited love. Well didn't he understand that using such a thing would be preposterous, not to mention illegal?
"That's horrible, why would you make such a thing?" Sherlock wondered in disgust.
"Oh...oh well you know. Needs arise." Victor muttered nervously, going a bit pink as he realized he really didn't have a formal excuse for brewing such a potion. Sherlock, however, found Victor's reluctance to answer even more of a reason to continue to ask, and he repositioned himself on the bed so that he could interrogate Victor even farther.
"You're not planning on using it on anyone, are you?" Sherlock wondered nervously.
"Me? No, no. Well...maybe a little bit. But it's not even going to..."
"You can't do that. No, Victor you understand that would make it rape." Sherlock insisted, trying to grab the vial out of Victor's hand before the boy yanked it away earnestly.
"I'm not going to use it!" Victor insisted, however he seemed quite keen on keeping the vial to himself, even though it was supposedly meant as a present of Sherlock.
"How much did you make?" Sherlock asked.
"Enough that this isn't the only vial. Sherlock I won't use it unless I need it, but it's just become so difficult for me! I think I've fallen in love with Sebastian, but he's pretending he doesn't even recognize me! It's not fair, he gave me such a beautiful night and now he's just going to pretend that it never happened!" Victor whined, to which Sherlock just frowned at him, shaking his head in exasperation. Did he even know who he was talking to, the king of unrequited love, the boy who hadn't even gotten the pleasure of a single kiss from the boy he loved so powerfully, and so hopelessly?
"Victor don't you dare use that excuse, you were the one that jumped right into a relationship without even knowing the other person! And you think that you're the only one suffering with being ignored? Do you think that all the other people who have fallen in love use love potions? Do you? Now stop this, give me that vial!" Sherlock demanded. Victor sighed heavily, leaning against the wall like an exasperated child and handing the vial to Sherlock in a very moody way, almost as if he couldn't believe he was being treated so unfairly. Sherlock grabbed it from his hands immediately, taking it and shoving it into his desk drawer before Victor could even think of taking it back.
"It's yours anyway, it's my gift." Victor grumbled, crossing his arms as if he was suddenly angry with Sherlock for acting like a rational human being in this context.
"Victor what has gotten into you lately, it seems as though with every passing day you get worse and worse ideas!" Sherlock exclaimed, to which Victor frowned even more.
"I thought it was a good idea." He insisted, to which Sherlock just shook his head in exasperation.
"Well I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, but it wasn't." Sherlock snapped.
"I wouldn't let it get that far, it wouldn't! I just want him to see me again, to notice me. I feel as though he has almost forgotten about us, that it ever happened..." Victor muttered with a sigh. Sherlock knew what he was going through of course, or at least the back half of what he was going through. He of course could not understand how a boy could fall in love with one night; however he understood how another could forget in just as fast. It must be hard for Victor simply because he had thought he was doing something special, he thought that he had found a boyfriend when it turned out that the carelessness that he had put into their night together had been returned just as easily. Sebastian probably didn't forget about Victor, he probably just never knew. All that was on his mind was most likely taking Victor back to the ship, and when that happened what use did he have of him anymore? Victor probably felt special, appreciated in a way, and now that he was being forgotten he was thrown into an even deeper pit of loneliness.
"I never should have happened, Victor of that I'm sure. Whatever you think this is, whatever you think might have been between you two, well you said it yourself. It was nothing special. It was just love, not even love, only physical love, and really what does that get you in the long run?" Sherlock wondered quietly, to which Victor just sighed heavily, letting his head hang for a moment in shame.
"I wanted my first time to be special, I really did. I had rather hoped it would be you." He admitted in a small voice. Sherlock fought the urge to kick Victor off of his bed, and yet he knew that probably wouldn't be the best thing in this moment. Evidently Victor was already feeling a little bit unwanted, and with the additive of Sherlock's pushing him away there was no doubt that he would become even more offended. And yet that was preposterous, if Victor legitimately thought that Sherlock would give himself away that easily, and to someone he didn't properly love, then he really was going mad!
"Well I'm sorry to disappoint." Sherlock muttered, to which Victor just forced a regretful smile.
"You're stronger than me in that way, you can resist temptation, you can stand up for yourself, you can say no. I wish I had that power Sherlock, but it really seems as though my heart masks my brain every time anything romantic even comes close to happening. Even now I'm fighting every urge to reach over and kiss you...even now." Victor admitted quietly.
"Don't." Sherlock said flatly, to which Victor just chuckled a little bit, almost as if he was sad to hear of Sherlock's disproval.
"Yes I know. I know you are saving yourself for someone special. Someone like John Watson." Victor agreed sadly, nodding his head as if he knew the position he had ultimately found himself in.
"You cannot hope to blame me. He is special in ways I cannot fathom, he is perfect in ways I'm prepared to handle. And yet I am in the same situation as you, maybe not quite as fortunate. He does not notice me, and yet he never had." Sherlock admitted in a small voice.
"What happened at the Yule Ball? You never told me, I had assumed that you had gotten your way just as I had, I almost thought that you'd be late to the carriage as well." Victor admitted with a sad little shrug.
"Oh no, no I didn't have that privilege. I merely took him aside, to the rose gardens I believe, and we got on the subject of my being in love with him. And he said...he called me beautiful, and perfect. And yet he wouldn't kiss me, he wouldn't even think about it, he told me that he was straight and likely to remain that way." Sherlock admitted in a small voice. "And then he left, he went back to Mary."
"I'm sorry." Victor muttered.
"No you're not, I know you're not. You don't like him, you never have, and I wish that I could share your distrust. He's been horrible to me in ways he hasn't realized, and yet all through the week after I tried to kiss him I had thought that I would get him the next time. He gave me hope, and now I'm just...I'm just lost." Sherlock admitted with a shake of his head.
"I suppose we are both then, hopeless romantics." Victor decided. Sherlock just smiled, nodding his head in a mournful way before letting his head fall back against the wall, looking over to Victor to see that the boy was staring blankly in front of him, his mind obviously wandering off somewhere else.
"We might not be all together lost. Molly has Greg, and she seems happy." Sherlock offered.
"Molly has it easy; she's going after those who are deemed normal to be approached. Boys are programed to go to her and programed to run from us...it's not fair." Victor muttered miserably.
"That's why God made us beautiful. To give us half a chance in this terrible world." Sherlock grumbled, shaking his head as if it still wasn't entirely fair.
"Well how has that worked out?" Victor whined.
"I think it's been alright. In the end Victor, it's been quite alright." Sherlock assured in a small voice. Victor leaned back against the wall and nodded silently, for he was smart enough to argue with Sherlock when he was starting to be optimistic. It was rare for him to share any sort of hope, and it was even rarer for him to look off towards the future in a confident sort of way. Maybe Victor took that as his cue to stop complaining, and rightfully so. Sherlock was about done being miserable, not now that he knew someone shared his problems. If Victor suffered this same pain then they should suffer together, and they could only pray that the boys who had inflicted such emotional wounds on them were suffering only a fraction of what they felt.