The Last Romantics

A Lifeboat To Save Us All

"You remember, Sherlock, when I declared my love for you?" Victor whispered, seeming to relax now as the words flowed freely from his mouth. I sat still, not allowing my internal reaction to display itself on my face just yet. My cheeks paled, but aside from such an unavoidable reaction I did nothing else to display my sudden surprise.
"I suppose...well yes. I suppose I penned it down as the mad ramblings of an intoxicated man...nothing more." I muttered. "I suppose I will have to categorize this under the same."
"No, no Sherlock you kid yourself. You're denying me because you're afraid to listen, but you must." Victor insisted, leaning ever farther forward so that his hands extended down to the edge of the coffee table, bent over with his urgency and flushed with the effort of declaring such human emotions. I couldn't tell what he was feeling, if he was afraid to continue speaking, or if he was ashamed. More likely than anything else was the possibility of his ultimate relief, breathing easier now that he could free such a weight from his chest.
"I don't have to do anything, Victor. I am not under your command." I muttered. "I do think you are ill, and it would do you well to retire."
"I will NOT! Sherlock, Sherlock won't you listen?" Victor insisted, sliding off of his chair now so that he was kneeling on the floor, looking to be perfectly docile and within my control. He wanted to patronize me; he wanted to bow down to that little piece of arrogance that set itself inside of my head. He was playing now to my ego. Victor's eyes were alight, his hands stretching out to the soles of my shoes and clutching them within his long white fingers. He looked perfectly overwhelmed, though his eyes would not leave mine.
"I took you within this house, Sherlock, long before you were any use to me but for entertainment. I never expected to grow fond; I never expected to fall in love." Victor exclaimed.
"I should hope not!" I muttered, yanking my feet away from him in a sudden realization of personal space. His hands fell defeated onto the table, though he was still stretched out before me, and perfectly maddened in anyone's definition.
"But things change, people change. Sherlock, darling you have grown to be more than I could ever have hoped. Your innocence shines through, your talent, your beauty...you are my most beloved muse, the voice that whispers to my heart when all else has fallen silent!" Victor exclaimed. I remembered back to the poems which he had dedicated himself to writing, those that were scattered about the desk and never destined to reach past his bedroom. I had often wondered why he would never publish them, nor would he ever share. Was I really the subject of them all?
"Is this why your life has fallen into shambles, Victor? A love you know could never be reciprocated?" I wondered quietly. "You know of my loyalties."
"I know of them, Sherlock. Fallen for a subpar, greasy sailor." Victor growled. "You could have so much better, Sherlock...so much better!"
"And I suppose in your narrow definition, better just means you?" I presumed. Victor gave a low groan of remorse, his fists clenching now and his eyes finally shutting in the effort of remaining calm.
"Yes." He whispered. "Yes, me. Sherlock, you understand that our lives would not change? Oh we can elope, I could take you wherever you wish to go...but if you wanted we could just continue on as we have been. We could live in our little house, enjoy the days and spend the nights, we could write our poetry with the other in mind and..."
"Victor!" I exclaimed, at last getting to my feet and throwing the newspaper down upon his outstretched arms. "Listen to yourself!"
"I have!" he man insisted. "I have listened to myself, over and over again within this accursed head of mine! This is the speech I have prepared, oh but to a careless audience!"
"You're correct in assuming I do not care. Let your love die, Victor, distract yourself with far more worthy candidates." I demanded.
"More worthy? Is there such a thing?" he whimpered, looking up towards me now with his confidence melting away. All the aggression had died into a puddle of dormancy, and it became increasingly clear that the man wanted nothing but to settle his head down in his arms and cry. Even now I could see tears emerging.
"I assume there could be." I agreed. "Though finding a suitable match also includes stepping out the front door."
"Sherlock..." Victor muttered, shaking his head as if merely speaking my name had become a burden. "Sherlock you understand I have never felt something as simple as love before?"
"I believe you haven't." I agreed. "Though whatever this emotion is, extended towards me, it cannot amount to anything. It must be forgotten, it must die." Victor's face screwed up in his effort to contain his tears, and when he opened his mouth there was produced nothing but a small croak, as if whatever words he attempted were stifled within the effort of keeping under control. I took that as his last word, not bothering to consider that it was not very much of a word at all, and stubbed my cigarette into the ash tray that sat alongside Victor's clenched hands. He took no notice, he didn't try to extend his arm to catch mine, he kept his distance. He was a hopeless romantic for sure, though he was a respectable one through and through.
"I'm sorry." I managed, and with that I made what could only be my exit. I could not stay to listen to more of what he was saying; I could not stand to look at that once proud figure now succumbed to such a pitiful state. I felt guilty for denying him, though I also felt quite strong in the presence of temptation. Oh what my more youthful self would have said, what that foolish boy would have done! To hear such a speech when I first arrived, it would have broken my common sense down to the bare minimum. I would have had him tonight, had it been about a year prior. I would have fantasized about this moment over and over again in my head. Though tonight, now that I had grown through my adolescent admiration and found what true companionship ought to be...well tonight that poor man left me no choice but to run towards my room, lock the door, and vow not to open it but for the utmost emergency. And even then...even then I might be hesitant.