Divided We Will Fall

The Pains Of Existance

"From what I know of this poem, it's a lament for the loss of beauty. Something of a desperate plea to keep that beauty alive...even if it means sacrificing a sort of freedom." Victor admitted quietly.
"Sacrificing freedom? I never picked that up from it." Sherlock commented, truly baffled by Victor's interpretation.
"Well yes, you need to look more into it if you want to see such a thing. Consider the point of view, and the insistence from the speaker to the young man to marry and have a child. He is asking the man to commit himself to a relationship, after so blatantly expressing his appreciation for the beauty at hand. He refers to the man as his love...and then insists that he marry someone else to keep his beauty alive." Victor muttered, his fingers trailing ever so slightly against the page as his lips softened into something of a smile. Sherlock didn't know what to say for a moment, for he really hadn't expected Victor to be so outward about the deeper meaning of this poem. He had expected it to be a bit more difficult to bring upon the subject of homosexuality, yet Victor spoke of it without a quiver in his voice. He spoke as if he was used to such terminology, as if he had accepted the existence of such a thing long before he had this conversation with Sherlock.
"You think it's written by a man...to a man?" Sherlock asked quietly, looking at Victor very quickly before looking away once more, his cheeks flushing red. Now would be a terrible time to get caught staring, especially now as their conversation turned towards potentially treacherous waters.
"Well yes of course. If it had been written by a woman it would have been a plea for marriage, don't you think?" Victor pointed out. Sherlock nodded carefully, looking towards the pages just to be sure that it wasn't actually such a thing. Victor was going about this so logically he almost made it seem like this was a totally normal avenue of conversation, he was going about it without creating any unnecessary tension. It was almost as if he was actually treating this as a literary analysis and not merely a trick at being alone together!
"Yes, yes you're right. But wouldn't Shakespeare have been arrested, I know that's something that was illegal back then. Illegal now. Why didn't he get in trouble for it?" Sherlock wondered quietly.
"What can you say of Shakespeare's intentions? What can you say of the police's discretion? Or the public's knowledge on such topics? They may have just assumed they were reading it wrong." Victor suggested. Sherlock nodded quietly, for Victor had a point of course. Why was he so calm about this, so knowledgeable? He was almost making this interaction feel more like a classroom than an actual romantic interrogation!
"I guess that makes sense." Sherlock agreed quietly. Victor nodded, finally taking his eyes away from the book and looking down upon Sherlock with something of a smile on his face. It was a soft, nurturing smile. It was one that didn't send shivers down Sherlock's spine, purely because it was not intended to.
"What interests you so much about this poem?" Victor wondered carefully. Sherlock just shrugged, feeling his face heat up once more as he struggled to look away.
"Oh I'm not sure, probably just because I didn't understand it." Sherlock admitted.
"Was it the gender of the narrator that threw you off?" Victor presumed.
"No, no I understood that part." Sherlock assured quickly. Victor nodded, looking down upon the text and sighing heavily, as if he was reading it again with some sort of agonizing understanding. As if he knew exactly how the narrator was feeling, speaking so outwardly about love while always being mistaken as nothing more than a compassionate friend.
"Does it scare you, the idea of a man loving a man?" Victor wondered quietly, looking to Sherlock with almost regret in his eyes, as if he was afraid of the answer even as he asked the question. Sherlock had trouble inhaling his breath, yet thankfully it seemed like a reasonable enough excuse to be at a loss. Surely Victor couldn't expect anyone, straight or otherwise, to be able to formulate an answer to that question without some sort of panic?
"I um...well I haven't thought of it before." Sherlock lied. "But I suppose if it's truly what's necessary for both parties...and if their love is genuine..."
"You'd accept it?" Victor asked in an almost disbelieving breath. Sherlock looked to him once more, unapologetically confused as to the reaction of what he had always thought of as a clear and level headed man. Now it seemed almost as if Victor was the one who was feeling interrogated, prodded at almost. He looked guilty of something, yet undeniably relieved with Sherlock's answer.
"Yes of course I would." Sherlock agreed quietly. Victor smiled, a genuine smile once more that was put to his face without intention. Victor smiled because he felt the need to; he smiled because it was his body's outward expression of inward joy. It was a smile that was not put to his face to flatter or to charm, it was a real smile that he had no control over, and somehow it was much more beautiful than all the rest. It allowed Sherlock to smile, as now he knew that while he had been living his life assuming that he was alone in this hopeless endeavor he knew now that he was not. He knew that by some chance, that by some miracle, the one man that he had fallen in love with may just be the only one with the potential to fall in love with him as well. A man that did not run from what some might consider abnormal, but one that embraced it, one that found it to be beautiful...
"That's good." Victor nodded. "It's good to support everyone, that's what I've found in my short years of life. Enemies are wasted if they have done nothing to harm you other than exist."
"But homosexuals...well they're persecuted because of the law, right? They're no one's enemy; they're just considered to be..."
"They're humans just like the rest of us. Laws or no laws, they exist." Victor said flatly, determinedly. Sherlock nodded, almost surprised at what an aggressive tone Victor had adopted. It was almost as if the man thought he was defending something against a brick wall, an ear that would not hear the truth. Did he not understand that he was talking to someone who knew the pains of existence, someone who knew first hand that homosexuals very much existed, and will continue to exist despite criminal consequence?
"Yes I know, Victor don't worry. I understand, of course I do." Sherlock assured. Victor paused, nodding for a moment before shutting the book with a snap and getting to his feet.
"Good." He said flatly. "It's always good to know that the future generation will be more open minded than the current one." Victor finished by handing the book back to Sherlock, looking disgruntled in a way that Sherlock couldn't explain. Was he upset about something, or was he suddenly scared away? Did he think that by Sherlock's immediate agreement that he was in some way making fun of him, or did Victor suddenly feel like his time had expired?
"You're leaving?" Sherlock asked immediately, throwing the book aside onto the bed and rising to his feet as well. Victor managed a smile, this time one that varied greatly from his obvious natural one.
"Unless there was another poem that confused you, Sherlock?" Victor asked, standing in a very dominating stance with his arms crossed over his broad, red clad coat.
"Well no, no I suppose not." Sherlock agreed, not bothering to try to hide his disappointment. Yet Victor didn't seem to take notice, maybe because he had his own goal of getting out of this room or maybe because he didn't notice. Either way he said nothing, and he didn't seem very keen on lingering and entertaining Sherlock's needs. It was the first rude action Victor had shown towards him, and to be quite honest it hurt something inside of Sherlock. Maybe it was the first crack of heartbreak he had ever experienced, or maybe it was just his ego getting bruised by the unanticipated rejection. Either way he had anticipated this night going much differently, and in no way involving a rejection to an offer that had never been formally made. Sherlock had almost assumed Victor knew why he was here, not just for a lesson on accepting everyone, but maybe the first stepping stone to what might flourish to be a beautiful and lasting relationship.
"Then I bid you goodnight, Mr. Holmes." Victor said finally, bowing his head in respect. Sherlock nodded, clearing his throat in obvious disappointment yet he said nothing that could keep Victor here. He knew that he could do nothing to change that man's mind on leaving.
"Yes, goodnight Victor." Sherlock agreed quietly. And with that Victor left, smiling one last time upon Sherlock before walking out the door that had been closed uselessly. For in what instance had privacy been necessary, in the whole of that ten minutes that Victor had actually entertained his presence...where had they gotten? They had established that they were both acceptant of homosexuals, well that was alright for now. Yet it didn't clarify if either one of them identified as one? It proved nothing! And the feeling of ecstasy that Sherlock had anticipated he would feel after Victor's departure instead was a feeling of dread, of an unanticipated hopelessness. What was he to do now, after having been so blatantly rejected? Was this Victor's way of saying that while he might be a homosexual Sherlock was either not his type, too young, or seen as unavailable? Was Victor purposely pushing him aside, purposely rejecting his advances? Or was this all unintentional, and would Victor realize later tonight that it had not been poetry analysis Sherlock had been after tonight? Would he wake in a cold sweat and realize that he had pushed aside an opportunity they had both been looking forward to? Would he realize later that he had made a mistake? Sherlock sighed miserably, shutting the door once more and falling back onto his bed in a state of misery. Tonight no amount of imagination would make his heart stop its aching, for it was the very idea of Victor that caused him such discomfort. Sherlock would rather be alone than be with the very man that might reject him again, imaginative or not he knew now that nothing was certain. He knew that he would have to work harder for Victor to realize that he was available, and while now they both understood that the other was acceptant of the different sort of people in the world, they were still both in the dark about the other's intentions. Sherlock had to make it known that he wanted Victor, maybe in a way that would be considered too forward, or too daring. Maybe he would get himself into more trouble than this whole relationship was worth, but in the end he had to consider the losses and the gains. The most he could lose was something he never had, the rejection and humiliation of a man who might be out of his life in a week or two. Victor's presence was here until it wasn't, and so why should Sherlock be worried about the repercussions if the soldiers wouldn't be here forever? The promise of being with Victor for that time was much more tempting than the fear of humiliation for that same number of days. Right now heartache was worse than longing, and mixed together they provided Sherlock with just the amount of pain that he had always been so eager to avoid. He knew that love would hurt, yet not this much? No one had warned him that falling in love would provide him with a blend of emotions that cut like daggers into his heart and soul! It was unfair, to say the least. Yet he lay there all the same, like a wounded animal plotting its revenge. He would make Victor his, and if he couldn't do that then he could at least let it be known the feelings he had towards the man. Sherlock vowed then and there that the next opportunity he got would be the one he took. And the next time he found himself and Victor alone in a room together, they would walk out either as lovers or permanent friends. The climax to this love story was coming, and it was up to Sherlock to decide how the rest of the story went. It was up to him to continue it, or to be forever trapped in such a pining hell.