This little angsty ficlet was inspired by another fanfic, Broken Hallelujah by Babbity-Stabbity. Kudos for her. I hope you can enjoy this, too.
The One Who Never Stays
Your gaze is fixed on him as he strides through the bedroom door, his naked figure revealed to you in all its glory. The sun filters through the windows to paint small, yellow patches on the floor, and you can feel the illusionary rose petals flowing in the air. He holds two cups of disgusting coffee in his hands, but you hardly taste the bitterness as you take a sip, because in your head you are not yet awake, your thoughts still linger on...
ooo
...his fingers pressed on your chest, his rough lips against yours, his tongue deep inside your mouth, and you do your best to entwine your own tongue around his. You embrace him, holding him so tight with the soldier arms of yours, so tight that you know he must have a difficult time breathing, yet he never utters a single complaint as your kisses burn like fire. Maybe, you hope, if you can pull him close enough to you, you will become one, and you will never have to see him turn his back on you again.
ooo
When you stare at him through the window, see him walking down the pavement, you cannot help thinking about the story you once read in a fairytale collection: A fencer apprentice asked his master who was the best swordsman in the world.
"I do not know who he is, but I know where he is", the master said.
"Tell me, tell me where he is, then!"
"In a cemetery."
ooo
"Look, Sherlock, a shooting star."
"Boring."
You turn your head to catch a glimpse of his silhuette against the darkening sky, and as always, even though you cannot see his face clearly, your heart skips a beat.
ooo
You don't want to admit it, but waking up beside him, your head filled with memories of him on top of you, his gray eyes aflame with lust... it breaks your heart. But it is exactly those dreamy mornings that feel most real, closest to what you want it to be. Sitting on the opposite sides of the double-bed, drinking coffee, you could be as any other newlywed couple.
ooo
For months, you have struggled with yourself, struggled to utter the words you so desperately want to say. But you squander every chance you are given, because you cannot force yourself to do it, not under his icy, inscrutable gaze, which gives nothing and demands everything.
ooo
You know, one day, he will end up lying dead somewhere in a forgotten alleyway. Because in the great game, there is always someone stronger, someone wittier or simply someone a tad bit luckier. Everyone dancing on the very edge is bound to fall someday. Surely his science of deduction can tell him that much.
ooo
"The way you..."
"For once, cut the crap, Sherlock."
You push him down onto the bed, making sure to switch off the lights before you start unbuttoning that violet dress shirt of his.
In your head, it is just another night together with him, but little do you realize what is coming up. Later, when everything would already be over, you wonder whether you should have behaved differently, whether you should have, for once, left the lights on.
ooo
I can hear the emotion clogging his voice, I can almost see the tears trickling down his cheeks. I am far too excited to fully understand what he is saying, but some part of my mind is active enough to follow his orders.
"Goodbye, John."
"No... Don't..."
He drops his phone.
He raises his arms.
More than him dying, I am afraid that all I have seen and heard is simply his final act to repel boredom.
ooo
He falls.
Falls.
Falls.
Falls.
And I think about the words I am certain he knew about, and the words I so desperately wanted him to hear.