#fff285

Sherlock fandom. TW: suicide thoughts.

John’s War

When it begins, it’s subtle. A flutter in his stomach, which later turns into an ache in his heart. He knows it’s wrong, and he desperately tries to fight it. It’s like a war, and he is the only participant. 

John’s been in love many times. Audrey was the first, Bethany the last. And it’s been fine. Normal. Girls seem to like him. He’s got quite the reputation by the time he’s reached sixteen.

***

It all started to crumble when his sister, Harry, came out as a lesbian at fourteen. Their parents had been livid, but Harry came prepared and was totally unfazed. She’d even arranged to stay at her girlfriend’s family, fully aware that her own mum and dad would kick her out if she didn’t retract and started to act normal.

***

Lance was half American, half British. He and his mother had recently moved back to London after almost twenty years in America. The moment John laid his eyes on Lance, the fluttering began. Lance looked like a film star. Golden, curly hair, green eyes, androgyne features, a slender body, strong hands, long fingers. He was everything John wasn’t. Gay, for starters. And he wanted John of all people.

Words John’s father used on such people, played on repeat in his mind:

Faggot. Queer. Degenerate.

John tried to tell Lance, he was straight, but there was no denying how much John wanted Lance to kiss and touch him. His penis reminded him repeatedly and inconveniently every so often of that particular fact.

“John. Stop this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Lance whispered softly and kissed John’s neck. “Haven’t you heard of bisexuality?”

***

Running away to Afghanistan was the only way forward for John when he couldn’t rescue Lance after his overdose. He felt the need to atone for his lack of observation. 

How had he not seen the self-destructing path Lance was heading down? He was a bloody doctor, for Christ’s sake! Had he been in denial about that too? Didn’t he want to believe that such a talented man Lance turned out to be, could choose to destroy himself just because he failed the interview for the main role in a West End play?

“I’m sorry, darling, but there’ll be other roles. New chances. No one gets them on the first try, surely,” John had tried to reassure his lover, but to no avail.

So, there he was. In Afghanistan where danger lurked around every corner. John was quite startled that he enjoyed the danger so much. He felt alive, thrilled, his broken heart notwithstanding. 

And then, another man invaded his thoughts, and eventually his bed. Major James Sholto.

***

Mike Stamford had never seen a more broken man in his life than John Watson, as he limped past the bench, where he was sitting thinking about Sherlock's words from earlier: 

“Who would want me for a flatmate? I’m a difficult man at best. People hate being around me. Can you imagine someone actually living with me? Who is alive themselves. No, Mike. There exists no such human, I assure you.”

“John! John Watson!” he called out. 

When John just gave him a blank stare, Mike sighed and introduced himself. The response was insulting to say the least. No “oh, nice to see you again, mate,” or “what have you been up to?” There was…nothing.

“Who has left you heartbroken, John?” Mike didn’t say and let John walk away without having said a word.

***

After his meeting with Mike, John finds himself outside Barts hospital. He’s got fond memories from his practise here. With Mike. He winces when he reminisces how rude he was to the jovial man. But it couldn’t be helped. John’s a broken man in so many ways, and he just wants to be left alone. He looks up. Wonders how it would feel to stand on the edge of that roof. Would he dare to jump off it if the opportunity arose? He’s never been afraid of heights. And he longs for the pain to subside. The emotional pain. The pain that scars his heart.

Time eludes him. Why are his knees hurting? He opens his eyes. Is he kneeling on the pavement? Apparently. When did that happen? How long? His thoughts stop abruptly when a warm hand is placed on his good shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

A deep baritone. John perceives a posh accent. The warmth from the man’s hand travel down his spine like lava. 

Radiant. Alluring. Dangerous. 

He lifts his head. At first glance, the man could be Lance’s twin. But then, John realises that it’s only the curly hair and height they have in common. This man’s hair is almost black with tinges of auburn. His eyes are blue, but also green and blue green. The colours are constantly shifting. They’re mesmerising. John wants to drown himself in them.

John stands. He still hasn’t said a word. The man hands him his cane and speaks again.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

For the first time in years John’s first response isn’t to flee. Instead, he straightens his back, lifts his chin and asks:

“How? Tell me.”

The flicker of surprise, quickly followed by insecurity on the man’s face, makes John realise that this can be, if he lets it, a new beginning.

“Go on,” John prompts.

When the man speaks again, John is lost. An ease sets within him, and his heart stops cracking.

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Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial using the prompt FFF 285: how it begins and @fluffbruary with the prompt “hug” from December 14. Imagining a conversation where Wakamiya and Hamayū talked about the past and the pseudonym that Wakamiya used. If you haven’t seen the 9th and 13th episodes of the anime, read the manga and followed Chisato Abe’s publication that released Hamayū’s back story last summer, then treat some of these as spoilers.

—

Fandom : Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

Characters : Wakamiya/Nazukihiko, Hamayū, mention of Yukiya and Sumio

Word count : 1052

This is also on AO3. Read it here.

“In the Sakura Blossom Palace, there is a splendid viewing platform, and she hears there is a wonderful view of cherry blossoms. However, for Sumiko, no matter how magnificent the cherry blossoms she sees from now on, there is nothing more beautiful than the single branch of cherry blossoms that Wakamiya made bloom.”

—“Sumi-no Sakura,” Chisato Abe

“YOU are an idiot!” Hamayū teased her husband. She wanted to know the reason he was using the name Sumimaru. It was her official name when her mother’s wet nurse registered her gender as a boy. That said husband was Wakamiya, the Crown Prince Nazukihiko, the heir to the throne of the Yatagarasu clan. He went by that name whenever he traveled outside of the palace incognito. Proclaiming himself as either the attendant of the prince or the son of a merchant, that name came in handy wherever he went. Once when Yukiya was still serving under him, he told him to call him “Sumimaru”every time they did some covert investigation. Come to think of it he never told the teenager the reason and the latter never asked where it came from. The boy just accepted it all without any questions. Frankly, Wakamiya didn’t think it was necessary to inform Yukiya as it did not concern him. Maybe one day he would find out. “I used to hate that name,” Hamayū confided in him. She was checking all the papers her husband left on the table when she encountered a letter with that signed name. After their marriage, the two concocted plans on how Nazukihiko could leave the palace without alarming Sumio nor the Yamauchi guards, not even the politicians at the court when he wanted to investigate a case that had to do with the common people of Yamauchi, who were often neglected by the officials. As a Crown Prince with not so many allies at the imperial court, his influence was severely limited. And if one day, he’d become the emperor he had to know what ailed his people. So travelling the whole country without making a huge fuss of his status was the ideal thing. “But ‘Sumimaru,’ Nazukihiko? Why?” She asked him again. He just came back from one of the towns where Shiranui was engulfing the whole village. As a true Golden Raven, Nazukihiko also had the power to patch the tears of the boundary to the Outside World. “Hmmm… let me see. Should I tell you when it all began?” Nazukihiko’s long silky hair was lose and he seated leisurely in front of his tall consort. The couple was enjoying a cup of green tea. He closed his eyes and touched his lips as if enumerating the objects in his mind.

A/N: New fic for the latest prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial

The New Year

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial # 285 prompt: How it begins.

2025 is soon to be upon us. Crazy eh? 2023 seemed to be just a moment ago. Still, the new year is coming.

So, how did will it begin? Part of that is fully up to you. Will you be doing the same things that keep you in the same place even if they aren't serving you? Or will you take the changing of the calendar to change how you live your life?

Will you eat better? Exercise more? Spend more time with family and friends? Will you immerse yourself in faith? Start a healthy hobby? Work with the gift that He has given you? Work on making your dream come true?