Sigma Eta

Don't Give Me That Look

When he approached the Sigma Eta house he saw that the front porch was occupied with a couple of the boys, sitting and enjoying the sunshine. Most of them were juniors, though John recognized some of the older boys in the mix, each one with a rather conniving smile on their face. They were all sitting on the brick wall that served as their front porch, swinging their legs against the bricks and smoking cigarettes. The smoke issued up into the fall air, getting whiffed along down the sidewalk in a potent enough cloud to tickle John's nose even from a couple of meters away. The boys were laughing, as if they all shared an inside joke that only escalated as John got closer. It seemed as though their humor was derived from his presence, though whatever was so funny was still a mystery. Certainly they hadn't found out about his math test?
"John Watson, better stay out here with us!" Tobias cried out, standing up along the edge of the wall and giving a great smile of welcome. James, who was sitting next to him, patted him on the shoulder anxiously, as if trying to be sure that the situation didn't escalate.
"He's just being an idiot. It's his aggressive way of offering you a smoke." James corrected at last, pulling a cigarette from Tobias's exposed carton and waving it in John's direction.
"I don't really smoke." John muttered, to which James nodded again and pulled back the cigarette just as anxiously. There was a murmur of amusement from the boys, a chuckle going around like a contagion as John stood rather anxiously upon the first stair. He still wasn't sure what had corralled all of the boys onto the porch in the first place, though he could tell that something concerning (and vaguely amusing) was going on inside.
"Yes, sorry I forgot." James agreed, giving some of the boys a rather disappointed side eye. "I haven't seen you around enough, Johnny boy. Always so distracted these days."
"You and me both." John agreed. "What are you guys doing outside, exactly? I mean I know it's a nice day and all, but I don't often see so much assembly without a forced meeting."
"Well there's been some commotion inside, figured we ought to be polite and stay out here where the floorboards weren't shaking." chuckled one of the younger boys, Clay. John frowned, not entirely sure what to make of such a statement.
"The floorboards are shaking?" he clarified, to which another chuckle went around. James was the only one to keep a straight face, in fact he looked much more uncomfortable about this conversation than any of the rest.
"Ya well, just stay out here will you? Until it's over." James suggested.
"Until what's over?" John growled.
"Greg's got a girl over!" called out Tobias with a shrill laugh, as if he simply couldn't hold the truth in any longer. John sighed heavily, looking up towards the window of his bedroom with some suspicion. Well, say what they will about the evidence, but John didn't quite believe their claims. Greg wasn't the sort to host a girl in such a...well, context, at this time of day. Besides, it was in the middle of a school week! And needless to say, the boy hadn't been doing much socializing lately. In fact he seemed more depressed than anything, not in the mood for romance or even for a conversation with his best friend. Something sounded rather off, in John's more professional opinion.
"I'm not sure you're right about that. How do you know it's Greg?" John questioned.
"Why are you convinced it's not Greg? Don't think he's got the moves?" Clay chuckled.
"I'm just asking why you think it's Greg above everyone else. I mean, he's been sort of down lately." John pointed out, jumping to Greg's defense even though the boy probably wouldn't do the same for him. It had been an awfully strange couple of days, seeming only to descend farther into complete madness.
"One thing is sure to cheer him up." Tobias mumbled.
"There are sounds, if you know what I mean. Coming from your room. At first we thought it was you, but seeing as though you're on the sidewalk there's only one other culprit." James admitted, trying to be the first to respond so that the information could be delivered most maturely.
"Alright then. That's strange." John mumbled, feeling his face blush up in some embarrassment. He wasn't only embarrassed for himself and the correlation to the situation (he hoped his side of the room was remaining pristine!), he was more embarrassed for Greg. Obviously the boy didn't know that the entire house had collected outside to avoid his loud afternoon affair. Nevertheless, John was consumed with curiosity. Being as though he was the only one here with a claim upon the bedroom in question, well he might as well go inside and try to collect evidence for himself. Of course he wouldn't have a peek inside, but he was at least entitled to walk inside and make sure that the supposed activity really was as innocent as the boys were making it out to be. Perhaps Greg had some sort of fit, and had been falling over himself in an attempt to get help? Or perhaps he was talking in his sleep? Well, it wouldn't be the first time for that. John made his decision to at least step inside of the house, drawn with a particular curiosity to the circumstances of the situation. However, as he took a step farther up the staircase the boys began to laugh, each one of them shooting out a hand to keep John away from the door.
"What do you think you're doing, John? Let the man have some privacy!" Clay insisted, to which John scoffed.
"I'm not going to go in there!" John defended, pulling his arm away from where James grabbed it.
"Being in the house is enough to make anyone uncomfortable." They protested, to which John shook his head.
"Well you can't really tell me what to do." He defended, and with that he started off into the house on his own accord, fully aware of the whispers that were following him up the sidewalk. Each one of the boys found John's newfound daring to be quite amusing, and as he walked they began to theorize on the many ways they could call him a pervert without actually using the word. When John stepped through the door he heard immediately the undeniable sound of the floor shaking, coming from above his head in the expected direction of his shared bedroom. John sighed, fearing for the worst. He knew that Greg had sprouted some sort of crush on a girl in his English class, though this would be the fastest progression that John had ever seen in a relationship from him. He felt somewhat entitled to go and break this up, whatever it was, for the sake of the poor girl involved. Then again if he wanted to get on his friend's good side, that might not be the most advisable move. Nevertheless John dropped his backpack in the doorway, ascending the stairs rather nervously as he began to hear more vocalized sounds from the first floor. He sighed, oh how embarrassing for poor Greg. As John reached the first landing, however, all grew silent. What used to be a rhythmic pattern suddenly fell short, and before long the house had descended into its usual melody of silence. John hesitated, his toes lingering upon the last stair as if worried now to be discovered. If all had gone silent then perhaps the girl would be on the run, trying to sneak out of the house before her identity was discovered by the lingering fraternity brothers who were always looking for new material to bully their friends with. She would be humiliated if she were caught, especially if John was the first thing she saw after leaving the scene of the crime! Though just as John was attempting to leave, just as soon as he thought it might be better for everyone involved it he were to turn around, well that was when the door opened. And that was when the room began to spin. John's jaw might have hit the ground had it not been so securely fastened to the whole of his head; though by the way his face paled it was probably evident to his onlooker that he was rather surprised.
"Don't give me that look, Mr. Watson." Sherlock advised, chuckling as he passed out of the bedroom door and busying himself with the undone buttons of his shirt. John couldn't exactly think of a response, in fact he wasn't sure he could formulate a word even if he could summon his voice. Instead he just gaped, the wires in his brain refusing to connect the dots to what he had just witnessed. It was...well it was impossible for there to be such a correlation. Surely he had...well surely there was more going on here! Well whatever answers he was looking for, he certainly wasn't going to get them from Sherlock. After the boy had fastened the middlemost buttons of his shirt, the only three he needed to be decent, he gave John a rather dazzling smile. He looked almost proud to have been caught in the act, as if it was his greatest pleasure to toy with the emotions of each one of the boys in this house. With that, nothing more than a smile, Sherlock began his decent down the stairwell, passing by John as if he had nothing left to say. Well surely there was explaining to do, but for the life of him John couldn't figure any proper questions to be asked! What was he supposed to say, to Greg, to Sherlock, to any of them? He shivered with the realization of what he had just witnessed, yet before he could process anything fully he decided that he ought to get some seclusion. The last thing he needed was to face Greg, the boy who had suddenly changed so drastically in his mind's eye that his head might have spun if it had been spelled out to him directly. Greg was sleeping with Sherlock? John turned on his heel, fleeing down the stairs just about as fast he could go, searching for anywhere to go where he wouldn't be cornered by any curious fraternity boys. So leaving the house was out of the question, certainly the crowd on the sidewalk would press him until they got the information! He couldn't hide it any longer; it would be days until his face returned to its natural color! And so John fled to the only room he knew to be empty, the only space in this house which wouldn't host a passing boy unless they were actively seeking their missing brother. He fled to the kitchen, unlatching the backmost door and descending into the dark basement. John shut the door behind him, latching it securely before feeling along the cold stone wall for a light switch. When at last his fingers hit metal he switched it on, and together each one of the solitary bulbs struggled on, flickering once or twice before at last they managed to bathe the concrete basement in a dull orange glow.
"What did I just see?" John whispered to himself, pressing his hands over his eyes as if that might help forget all the damning evidence he had collected against his poor roommate. What did he see, and what did it mean? John paced backwards and forwards in the basement, shivering in the dampness and listening to the dull humming of the furnace as it worked away behind the plaster walls. The basement was just as lonely as he needed it to be, with only shadows and spiders to witness his existential crisis. So Greg...well Greg was gay. That was, well it was new information to say the least! And shocking information, to say the most. It wasn't bad, no it wasn't as if this was going to be the end of their friendship, but if Greg's little crush was the only reason he had been so distant and miserable for the past weeks then it was a terrible excuse! John felt angry just on behalf of their missing time, considering he had been under the impression that there was a feud between them, an unspoken argument that wouldn't cease because it was never understood by either party. But if this was the issue, then why didn't Greg feel comfortable approaching him on the topic? Why jump right into something that was so...well dare it be called controversial. It was a shame, really, for Greg to have to feel confined in his newfound desires. And what did this leave John with, this empty feeling in his stomach? A hallowed out emotion, one of utmost guilt and sorrow. But no, something more... He was ashamed for Greg, not for his choice of partner but his choice of discretion! It was almost insolent of him to imagine that the whole house would not immediately be alerted to his activities! And how was he expecting to keep it a secret, now when he was so close with a boy everyone had assumed he despised? Would there be more of a relationship; would the two of them become closer than ever? John paused under one of the lamp lights hanging his head into his hands and tried to deny that other feeling, the most prominent one bubbling up within his chest. It was potent, unavoidable, and quite undesirable. He felt it abruptly, in fact it was the first thing his heart felt when he saw Sherlock emerging from out of the bedroom door. Oh, so disgusting was that one, pesky emotion! Envy. Oh it was unavoidable, was it not! Envy, like a needle poked into his skin and infusing him with things he didn't want to feel! Envy, an emotion so distasteful and so selfish that John almost didn't recognize it coming from himself. But it would be foolish to ignore it, childish not to listen to what his heart was trying to say. Perhaps he didn't desire Sherlock in such a way as Greg did; there was no dominating part of his mind that was telling him that he would so readily trade places! Though there was a smaller part that was whispering in his ear ever since Sherlock came into the house, a small part that still remembered the touch of his hand as he clung to it, that smile on his face that seemed reserved only for John! My favorite sheep in the flock, did he not say those words specifically? Was John not his favorite in the house, up until today? Had his title been replaced, his right hand position stolen by a boy who had only just admitted to his feelings this very day? What sort of system was this, in which Sherlock was wooed so easily by Greg Lestrade? Was there not a sort of intimacy reserved for John, a close contact conversation like the one they shared the night before? In which Sherlock had sat so close, in which he had melted into a comfortable sphere of influence, relaxed and enjoyed each syllable which came to his ear? Was this not John's designated gift, now to be shared? And how had this relationship come about, oh it just twisted John's stomach to imagine it going the opposite way! To think that it was Sherlock's idea, that he was the one with the fixation? John felt the need to sit, his legs suddenly losing all strength as he imagined the worst case scenarios. To think that Greg was only willing to go along with it, and not the mastermind behind it all. Was he not a boy with a crush, only a subject wanting to be the favorite? Was he attempting to steal John's position in order to woo the man they knew to be in charge? It turned John's stomach, it made his teeth grind. No matter what the situation of the affair was he had to stop it! One way or another it was bound to ruin his life, whether or not that was the original intention! To think of them together, to think of what passion had been so willingly shared! John winced at the images that unintentionally popped within his head, the long limbs of Sherlock Holmes curled within Greg's blue sheets, his curly hair tangled between Greg's fingers... John closed his eyes tight, trying to think of anything, anything but that. He let loose a groan of misery, squeezing his fingernails into his forehead in an attempt to pry the thoughts manually from his brain. He had to stop it! One way or another, today would be the first and last affair between the two. 

Before John could find Greg, Sebastian had found John. This normally would be a passing by occurrence, a quick hello followed by the two of them going on their merry way to do whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. In this case especially John didn't want to have to talk to anyone, for he was coming out from the basement steps with his eyes red and his forehead bleeding in small crescent cuts, the shapes of his fingernails from where they pressed into his skin. It was an embarrassing state to be cornered in, though Sebastian obviously didn't prioritize anyone's mental health over the wellbeing of his fraternity's reputation.
"John, stop right there!" he instructed, throwing the marinara covered spoon out like a weapon, making the way out of the kitchen impossible to cross. John hesitated, not even having emerged fully from the dark basement. He figured there should be at least a small interrogation process as to what he was doing down there, but from the look in Sebastian's face he was dedicated only to one string of questions at a time.
"What do you need?" John mumbled, at last stepping far enough into the linoleum covered kitchen so as to fasten the door behind him and look a little bit less suspicious. Sebastian paused, turning the sauce down onto a lower heat so that he could ignore it for a while and concentrate his full attention on his most recent captive.
"I heard you are struggling in your calculus class. You know of course there are repercussions in place for the failure of core classes." Sebastian's eyes narrowed, as if he was hoping for John to ask for a longer explanation about the rulebook. Sebastian so loved to get technical, if only to demonstrate that he had read and memorized the fraternity's rules page by page.
"Ya, I know." was John's simple answer. He was trying to keep this conversation as quick and as calm as he could manage, though at the moment it was becoming harder and harder for him to keep a straight face. His mouth was quivering, the hopelessness of the day's events was beginning to cumulate together and that last thing he wanted to do was to have to explain anything to his ridiculous president!
"Well, you're in luck." Sebastian teased.
"I'm not in luck." John growled in immediate response, to which Sebastian's eyes flashed dangerously.
"You are, as a matter of fact. Because in my freshman year I happened to take that class and pass it with flying colors." Sebastian pointed out. "I can tutor you."
"I'm not going to..." John cut himself off, stifling his words and crossing his arms almost defensively over his chest. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, that's what I'm trying to say."
"It would be my honest pleasure, John. I want to see you succeed." The boy insisted, to which John gave a weak little smile of agreement.
"I'm flattered." He mumbled. Sebastian paused, whisking the spoon around in his spaghetti sauce for another moment as his eyes watched John's rather uncomfortable posture.
"You're shaking." He commented, his voice dropping away from that authoritarian snarl to a more parent like coo. John couldn't hide it, of course he was shaking! He was on the verge of a breakdown, though whether the breakage would occur in his head or in someone else's would ultimately depend on how quickly he could escape this kitchen.
"It's been a hard day." he managed.
"Want to talk about it?" Sebastian suggested, successfully hiding his discomfort behind a layer of genuine concern. As stuffy as he constantly was, well there was no hiding that he was ultimately just a college aged boy, just as frightened of emotions as the rest of them.
"If I ever do, I'll let you know." John admitted, and it wasn't really a lie. In this troubled world there was no denying that you needed to keep your friends close, and it would seem as though Sebastian was coming to be one of the only friends he had. Sebastian nodded, obviously a little bit too perplexed to continue on, and he turned his full attention now to the creation of his dinner.
"Have a nice night, John. I'll begin tutoring you tomorrow evening." Sebastian muttered.
"This isn't, well this isn't like an optional thing?" John clarified. Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head as if that was answer enough. And it was, really. It was all the answer John needed.
"See you tomorrow then." He promised, and with that continued to trudge through the house.