"If we change the 63th nucleotide from adenine to cytosine, and the process of transcription copies it as guanine, then the instructions will be given for the amino acid tyrosine to build the protein instead of phenoline..."
"Silence," the slimmer boy sneered, stopping abruptly. The younger obeyed, awaiting his next instruction. "I'm sure that someone's following me." The slimmer boy stooped, pretending to tie his shoe, and gave a cursory glance at his surroundings.
He immediately noticed the blonde teenager in the dark hoodie and ripped jeans quickly ducking into the bookstore on the opposite side of the street, a dozen yards down.
He quickly stood and dashed towards the store, leaving the other boy to take off his glasses in confusion.
The boy, dark hair and still dressed in his school uniform, slid into the store, blending in. No one so much as glanced his way. He quickly spotted the other boy, examining an H. G. Wells book.
"You wouldn't like that one,"the shorter boy said, peering over the other's shoulder, "the ending's too predictable." The blonde boy jumped, and the book clattered as it hit the ground.
"I'm James," he said, "and I'm wondering who you are." The blonde boy hesitated.
"Sebastian Moran," he finally said, his voice rough. James cut right to the chase.
"I've seen you around," James continued, slowly orbiting Sebastian until they were face to face. "School, mostly. You play lacrosse." Sebastian stood up straighter, attempting to use his height advantage to intimidate the smaller boy. He failed.
"Your turn," James urged. "Explain why you've been following me."
"Well, you looked dreary." James blinked. If he was surprised, he hid it in the depths of his persona.
"Why would that concern you?"
"A mind like yours, you don't want to see what it can do when it's dreary." James turned away. He was disappointed. He thought maybe, just maybe, there was one kid left in the entire school who hadn't heard of the prodigy named James Moriarty. But his disappointment was fleeting.
"Also, you hang out with Brian all day. /That can't be much fun," Sebastian continued. James chuckled, low, catching Sebastian off guard. Truthfully, the taller boy wasn't sure James had it in him.
"True. Brian bothers me. I need a brand new friend, who doesn't bother me."
"Well, I'm having a couple guys from the team over later today. Wanna come?" James pondered his answer. Why the hell would he want to spend his afternoon with a bunch of sweaty jocks, making small talk?
At that moment, the door bust open, and a short boy with buck teeth and crooked glasses stormed in.
"Jamie?" he asked, looking around. Jim grimaced.
"Alright, Sebastian. I'll be there at six."
Brian had gone home in tears that night, after James calmly explained every single detail as to why he would never amount to anything.
"You're terrible at public speaking," James had said, "and your leadership skills are atrocious. Your view on genetics is askew and riddled with potholes, and Rosalind Franklin already detailed your thesis, /half a decade ago." If one good thing came out of that night, it was James never having to deal with that creep ever again.
Sebastian had witnessed the entire event. He had done nothing to stop it. Of course, Brian could be a tad bit annoying, but he did not deserve the wrath of James Moriarty. Simultaneously, Sebastian knew it was not his place to interfere. This feud was between James and Brian, and getting caught in the crosshairs meant feeding the tiger Sebastian kept well-hidden. He couldn't risk it.
After Brian had fled, he turned to James and clocked him upside the head.
"Why the hell do you act like that?" he asked. James took a moment to form a coherent answer, still a little woozy.
"To please the lions."
Sebastian didn't ask any more questions after that.
"A couple of friends" turned out to be four, and three of them didn't show up. As Sebastian explained, two of them had had their weed confiscated and were currently under house arrest, and the other one was home studying.
"If Nate fails chemistry, he won't be able to play any sports. And he's our goalie," Sebastian had explained with a grin. "No one else on the team is crazy enough to take /that position."
When Dominick had entered the room to see none other than James Moriarty hanging his legs over the side of the chair across from Sebastian, the first words out of his mouth had been, "why is this creep here?" Sebastian had almost punched him for his snide comment, but James responded before things climaxed.
"I need a brand new friend who doesn't trouble me." Dominick looked at him like he was a hand grenade with the pin pulled out.
"Alright," Dominick said, before collapsing in the only open seat left.
James sat silently on the couch while Sebastian and Dominick tossed around a lacrosse ball. James' eyes followed not the ball but the boys' movements, reflexively cradling the ball to secure it in the pocket before sending it sailing back across the room.
"I heard Shawny's pretty good, they have a five-oh so far," Dominick said.
"It's because the captain's father pays the wages of the ref," Jim said absent-mindedly. The ball hit the wall with a thud before hitting Sebastian on the side of the head.
"Ow," he said, rubbing his temple, "what was that for?"
"I fucking knew it," Dominick said, completely ignoring Sebastian.
"How'd you know that?" Sebastian inquired, lightly tossing the ball back to Dominick. James turned to the blonde-haired boy.
"It's amazing what a few minutes of research can yield," he said. "For example. Dominick," he said, turning to the other boy, "a watched pot never boils." Dominick flushed.
"What is it?" Sebastian asked, feeling isolated.
"His eyes keep straying to his phone," James explained. "He's worried about someone. There's a tan line on his wrist where a piece of jewelry used to be, probably of sentimental value due to the fact that you are definitely not the jewelry-wearing type, which means he recently pawned something off. Pawned it off for quick cash, to pay off someone else's debts. Drug money, perhaps? He's worried about a certain /someone's addiction. It's not one of his friends, he's accustomed to their habits. It's not a girlfriend, he hasn't sent or received any texts. Which leaves the only option, a younger sibling." Dominick was pale as a sheet at this point.
Sebastian briefly wondered exactly what James' thought process was, before his thoughts returned to his teammate.
"Is it Tommy?" Seb asked. Dominick slowly nodded. James opened his mouth, and caught wind of Sebastian's death glare.
"There's still time. Go home to him," James said quietly. Dominick stood up hastily and fled the room. The sound of the front door slamming shut, followed by the sound of an engine revving as the emotional teenage driver raced home.
Sebastian let out a breath of air.
"For a minute there, I thought you were going to say something positively nasty," he commented.
"I was," James answered.
"Then what stopped you?" James looked down at the discarded lacrosse stick.
"How are you going to bring two of those to school tomorrow?" he asked, avoiding the question.
"I'll stick one of them in my bag. I do it all the time. Now tell me what's up." James was amused. He had only really known this boy a few hours, and Sebastian was already able to pick up on James's mood swings better than his own parents.
"Whatever do you mean, dear Sebastian?" The blonde boy rolled his eyes. The ball thudded as Sebastian threw it against the wall repeatedly, deprived of a partner.
"You know very freaking well what I mean," Seb said. James feigned innocence, curling up in the giant armchair he was seated in. Sebastian glanced at him, noticing how the boy eerily made himself appear so much younger in such a simple action.
"Are you really going to make me guess?" Seb said. James was still silent. "Oh, come on, I don't know /that much about you!"
James didn't asked how much he knew.
"Please," he said instead, "tell me exactly what /you think makes me so...what did you call it? Dreary?"
"Well, that's a bit obvious, isn't it?" Sebastian asked, not skipping a beat. "James Moriarty is just so great and talented and successful that no one will just let him be him." The pounding ceased. "It's enough to make anyone bleary." James was silent. He wanted to allow Sebastian a few moments to think he was stunned into silence.
"That's a very good guess, beleive me," James finally said, "but not quite right." He stopped, letting Sebastian formulate another guess.
"Ya know, James doesn't suit you very well," Sebastian said. "It sounds like an old english duke, and occupation that I'm sure would not suit you at all. And Jamie sounds too juvenile. I have a cousin named Jamie, you know? He's six years old. Last time he came to visit, he spilled chocolate syrup all over the carpet. You can hardly see it now, but it drove my dad mad." Sebastian smiled at the memory, looking fondly at the pale fuzz. "He's quite the little dickens."
"Well, what else would you call me?" James asked, amused at Sebastian's sudden interest.
"How about Jim?" James sat up, obviously pleased.
"Jim Moriarty," Sebastian continued. "That has a nice ring to it."
"I like it," Jim said.
"It's a new you."
"I need a brand new friend, who doesn't need me," Jim said, watching as the corners of Sebastian's mouth broadened.
"What's all this talk of brand new friends? And I think I qualify for that position," he said, tossing the ball at Jim lightly. He was surprised when the boy's hand snaked through the air, catching it just before it would have hit him in the chest.
"I need a brand new friend, in the end."