A/N: yo.
Hey. Yeah, so I'm back.
Thank you so much for all your guy's support for my little personal hiatus I do not believe that there is any vocabulary that I could use to express my gratitude for your understanding and support. There wasn't a single negative response (that I heard of anyway) and I was so scared that I would lose following for my story and I'm so happy to be proven wrong
Also during hiatus I passed the 1 year mark of this story and I'm so thankful to all of you who have motivated me to keept writing and whether you're new or been here through it all I love you. Seriously. We have a profound bond.
So now that mushy stuff is out of the way, yeah this chapter is short but it's late and I wanted to get it done tonight. I'm not fully recovered but I felt good enough to get about half of what I usually write. It's a start.
Also this would have been out earlier but I had problems with my old laptop and I had to send it away to get fixed and turned out it couldn't so they kept my laptop and I lost my new hetalia america sticker that I put on it *extreme frown*
Anywho.... story.
Chapter 33
John leaned against the frame of his bed, closing his eyes and trying to block out his parent’s shouting coming from the other side of the thin walls. He had been at school so long that he had to relearn to take it in as nothing more as white noise.
“There is no way I’m letting that thing into my home!” his father thundered.
“She is your daughter!” his mom countered at the same level. Of course, Harry. When were they not arguing about her? His older sister went against their parents so much that it was all John could do to become the perfect son. Of course, he wasn’t so perfect anymore, but they didn’t need to know that, now did they. He glanced down at his phone, looking at the text message he had rewritten at least 20 times in the past day, but couldn’t bring himself to send.
To: Sherlock
How r u?
It wasn’t a masterpiece, but John knew that he couldn’t just write anything to Sherlock. He would say he’s bored and the other boy would probably figure out that he’s hiding from his parents based on the text message alone. Plus, there was that whole thing before he had left, when Sherlock said that he could just text him if he needed anything.
Well, right now he needed Sherlock, but he was too stubborn right now to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. John heard footsteps coming towards his room, and he quickly scrambled to grab one of his textbooks, opening to a random page and staring at it just as his door swung open. He glanced up and saw his father squinting at him suspiciously, but saying nothing.
“Dinner.” He grunted, then turned to shut the door behind him before adding another sentence. “Harry’s coming.” Shit John thought, banging his head against his book. No wonder his dad was upset, it seems harry was showing up a day earlier than she had said. She was never known to keep her word. John rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen table, where his dad was already nursing a beer and his mom was putting a packet of ice up to a reddening spot up by her hairline.
Home sweet home.
He slowly sat down at the table and picked up his fork, ignoring the burning that he felt from moving his wrists.
“So, John, tell us about your life at school?” His mom asked, putting on a smile as she sat down.
“It’s school.” John shrugged, picking at his food. There was a long and uncomfortable silence.
“Did you make any friends?” She tried again, her smile faltering a little.
“Um yeah, a few.” John answered vaguely.
“Will you just answer the damn questions like a normal kid?” His father barked, slamming down his beer. “If you don’t like the school, it sure as hell won’t be a problem not sending you back.”
“Richard…” His mother warned, glaring out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sure John is just tired from school.”
“Yeah, I am.” He answered quickly, eyes flitting over to his dad. “I’ve had lots of school work with my honors classes to still keep my grades up, but I enjoy the classes.” His father grunted in approval, leaning back in his chair to pick at his teeth.
“That’s lovely John.” It was silent at the table once more while they all ate. The silence was still tense, but at least his parent’s seemed relatively at ease with each other, so John couldn’t really ask for anything more. If only he could get done before…
“I’m home!” A loud voice accompanied by the door slamming shut.
Too late.
Harry walked into the kitchen, throwing her duffel on the counter before plopping down in one of the chairs. In just the past year off at college, she had dyed her dark blonde hair bright blue, and John caught the glint of a new piercing on her nose.
“Good to see you Harriet.” His mother said, while his father just glared at her from across the table.
“Just Harry mum, but nice to see you too.” She managed to get out between bites. “Hey squirt.” She grinned, ruffling the top of John’s head so that his hair stuck up in all sorts of angles. He said nothing, opting to look down at his food passively. The last thing he needed was to get dragged into the argument that was bound to come. The only sound in the small house was Harry’s fork scraping along her plate, that and the sound of their father’s glare.
“So, how is school?” Their mother asked, admittedly with less enthusiasm than she used with John. He caught the guilty look she sent his way before her eyes flitted back to her daughter.
“It’s great, my classes are going really well, and I’ve decided to focus on my art major finally. Plus, I’ve met someone.” Harry blushed, looking down.
“Oh that’s wonderful,” Their mom gushed, leaning forwards.
“Her name is Clara.” Silence, and John saw his mom’s hand freeze in its path towards her.
“Oh.” She said after a long period of silence, retracting her hand. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah she’s super nice and we have a few of the same classes together and we’ve thought about getting an apartment together and-” Their dad let out a large breath through his nose, and Harry stopped mid-sentence to glare at him. “Do you have something to say Dad.” She hissed through her teeth.
“Oh, I have plenty of things to say Harriet.” He shot back, leaning forwards and banging his hands on the table.
“It’s Harry, and if this is about Clara you guys already knew that I was-”
“Oh this whole Clara thing is only the tip of the iceberg-”
“Then pray tell me what has got you-”
“Oh, how about the fact that your hair now is goddamn blue-!”
“Maybe if you took your nose out of your conservative ass-”
“You’re just hanging out with the wrong crowds! We sent John away and he isn’t doing anything insane-”
“I’m sure John supports my expression and individualism!” They both simultaneously turned their heads towards him, burning identical dark blue eyes causing John to sink back into his seat. One way or another, he was always pulled into their arguments.
“John doesn’t have anything to do with this you two.” His mother warned, glaring at both of them.
“No, I’d like to her John’s opinion about all of this.” Harry glared back at their dad before turning back to him.
“No, mom is right I have nothing to do with this-” John said weakly, sinking farther into his chair.
“Harry listen to your parents for once in your life and leave your brother out of this!” Their father shouted, banging his fist on the table. Soon the two were at it again, and amidst the chaos John was able to slip away and back to his room. He glanced at the unsent text once again before curling up in bed with the book their English teacher had them read a couple chapters of over break. Soon enough, the shouting subsided, and the house was quiet once more. Finally able to concentrate, John didn’t hear the footsteps approach his room until there was a quiet knock at the door.
“’sup nerd?” Harry said, softly shutting the door behind her. John grunted in response, going back to his book. “Look, I’m sorry about dragging you into that whole thing with Dad.” She admitted, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Mom make you apologize?” He asked, not looking up from his book.
“No, because I wouldn’t listen to her if she did.” John laughed at this, finally looking up to see a weak smile on her face.
“Nice hair.” John finally commented, lifting his eyebrows.
“Thanks, I mainly got it done to piss dad off.”
“Thank makes sense.” He chuckled, putting his book down.
“So, how’s that school they sent you?” She asked.
“Well, the classes are pretty interesting, and I’ve made a couple of friends-” He started, but was cut off by Harry waving her hand.
“No not any of that boring stuff. Tell me, have you met someone?” She asked, eyes shining. “Cause you look like you really miss this person.” John fidgeted where he was sitting, glancing at his phone resting on the bedside table.
“Well, yeah. I kind of did, but it’s complicated.” Harry blinked, staring at him as an indication to go on. “Um, I guess you should know, it’s a guy. His name is Sherlock.”
“Oooooooooh you’ve met a boy!” Harry squealed, grabbing his arm and yanking him closer. “Tell me all about him is he cute is he smart how far have you guys gone?” Her words came out in a quick jumble.
“We’re not together anymore.” John grumbled, shrugging his sister’s hand off. “We went out for a while, I thought he loved me, turned out I was wrong, so now we’re not together. End of story.”
“Clearly it’s not end of story for you.” She said, looking at him pointedly. John opened his mouth to argue, but opted to just lie down and turn his back towards his sister. “Aw come on John, talk to me.” No answer. “Look, I’m sorry for saying that.” He glared at the wall in hopes that she would go away. He heard her sigh, and felt her lips ghost against the top of his head. “Goodnight John.” She whispered, and left, turning off the light after her. John lay in the dark for a while, before reaching out and grabbing his phone, squinting against the harsh white light. He read the text over and over again, ghosting over the name at the top before saving it as a draft.
*~~*
John hung by the side of the wall, looking down at his phone and trying to find the courage to press send. Over on the other side of the room Harry and their father where they were halfway through a bottle of some scotch. Funny, the 2 could only handle each other when they were both tipsy. The fact that Harry was only 20 didn’t seem to be a problem for their parents. Or at least, it wasn’t for their dad, their mom’s opinion never seemed to matter in most situations.
“Christy, when is dinner going to be ready?” Their dad yelled, taking another sip and frowning when he saw that it was empty.
“Soon.” Was the terse reply from the kitchen.
“Hey John, come over here and have a glass.” Harry giggled, pointing at him drunkenly.
“I’m good thanks.” He mumbled, inching his way towards the kitchen, even if in there he had to endure the forced cheerfulness of his mom. Anything would be better than this.
“You need to man up at some time John.” His father sneered, pouring another glass.
“Ha! Guess I’m more of a man than you are at this point.” Harry snorted, every trace of the caring sister that John had saw last night was gone. Of course, that happened every time she drank. “I mean, I was able to snag a girlfriend before you could.”
“Harry’s right, you’re such a fucking fairy John.” Their father laughed, going even redder in the face than the alcohol had induced.
“You don’t know how right you are old man.” Harry snickered, slapping him on the back.
“What do you mean?” Their father asked, his laughter dying down while Harry’s only increased. John froze in fear, trying to figure out if this conversation was going in any other direction than what he thought.
“John got himself a boyfriend while he was away at that stupid school you guys sent him too. Turned him gay.” Harry laughed, her drink sloshing around in her hand.
“……what?” He growled, eyes narrowing in on John who was paralyzed on the other side of the room. His face was getting redder and redder, and John kept sinking into the wall behind him, hoping that if he tried hard enough he could completely disappear. He desperately glanced at Harry, who was too out of it to realize what she had said. “I can handle Harry’s unnatural queerness, which is to be expected the way she is, but you John…” He started shaking, spilling his glass over.
“Dad I can explain.” John pleaded, his voice quivering at the end.
“Oh I’m sure as hell you can!” He growled, getting up and making his way towards John.
“What is going on out here?” His mother shouted, coming out from the kitchen.
“Nothing that’s any of your business!” Their father shouted, changing directions. “But if you know, you’ve raised both our children gay, so congratulations on your failure as a mother you bitch!” He shoved her into the door, and John took advantage of the situation to run down the hall and into his room, locking the door behind him. He then jumped into his closet, locking that door as well and sat down in the darkness, breathing heavily. He slid open his phone so that the dim light could help him see a little bit. The raised voices of his family echoed throughout the house and still somehow managed to get into his ears in spite of him covering them. He heard his mother shout, a loud crash, and then silence. Somewhere a door slammed shut. Now it was just his dad, whose thundering footsteps got increasingly louder until he pounded his fist on the door. Panicking, John opened up his text messages.
*~~*
Sherlock picked at his food, smiling at the right moments during the stories his mom was telling and nodding in agreement at whatever question his father sent his way. He looked to Mycroft to help him from his parent’s onslaught, but his older brother was shoving the cake that his mother had just brought out into his face. Suddenly, his phone went off in his pocket.
“Sherlock! What have I said about phones at the table?” His mother chastised exasperatedly, although there was no real menace behind her words.
“Something negative I’m sure.” Sherlock grinned at his mom’s tone, although the expression soon slid off his face as he read the text.
From: John Watson
HELP!!!!