The hallway was crowded. Bodies swarmed around John, buzzing and bumping in the chaos of a typical highschool morning. He fought through, trying not to hit anyone with his too-full backpack but succeeding only in being roughly pushed into a locker without so much as an apology.
John gritted his teeth. He couldn't be mad, not really, but it didn't stop him from being frustrated with people's lack of civility.
He stood on his toes, mentally cursing his abbreviated stature, to scan the large group of dull and largely indifferent teenagers.
When he spotted his quarry, he hurried over to the secluded corner of a hallway, where three figures stood, backs pressed lazily to the cool pale walls of the school, backpacks tossed carelessly to the side. The talked aimlessly, punctuated by humorless laughs and eye rolls.
John approached them almost cautiously, as he normally did. Even with time, the air of unease never left John in their presence.
A tall girl with wildly curly brown hair and a smooth, dark complexion spotted John and waved him over. She smiled rather fondly at John, while the two guys she was with just gave him subdued nods, like they didn't really care weather or not he stuck around.
"Hey Sally," he smiled back apprehensively. "Jimmy, Phil," he nodded to each, respectively. They said nothing back.
John sighed through his nose, throwing his backpack down and joining Sally in slouching against the wall. It would be a few minutes until the bell rang, and he had nothing better to do.
Jim and Phil returned to their conversation, Phil pausing every now and then to push the dark hair out of his eyes. Jim scanned the sea of students, eyes lighting up in positive, although diluted, joy. It made John's stomach quiver.
Sally followed his gaze, smiling wickedly at what she found.
John turned and looked, seeing a tall boy, a year under himself, if he remembered clearly, walking alone, stopping at times as if waiting for someone to notice him. His head of untidy black curls shook with each step, and his eyes were downcast, lonely without mourning. John felt a bit sorry for the kid, because he knew that no one would stop to say a simple hello to him.
He was known for being strange, and people silently avoided him, as if being seen near him would make them like him, alone and defenseless.
Regardless of the pity he felt for the younger boy, John wasn't going to be the hero and attempt to befriend the boy. He did want to keep the friends he had.
"There's that freak kid," Sally said icily. "Queering up the place, as usual." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"I would truly hate to be him," Jim spoke up, a gleam of knowingness in his eyes. "To be hated by virtually everyone in the school, and having people go out of there way to avoid you. Must be horrible," he laughed, smiling dreamily. John stared at him, horrified. He was enjoying this.
"What's that look for, John?" Phil snorted. "Don't tell me you actually feel sorry for him," he stared pityingly down at John, scornful amusement lighting his eyes. John swallowed thickly.
"No, of course not." John tried not to shift uncomfortably. "I was just, er, imagining what it would be like to be in his place," he improvised quickly. He forced his lip to curl back in mock repulsion. Phil and Jim still looked skeptical, but they said no more, choosing instead to watch the lanky kid on his miserably journey.
The four mouths were silent as four sets of eyes watched Sherlock retreat behind a corner, three in hatred and one in a strange form of sympathy.
A horrible laugh spilled from Jim's lips, and he turned to John with a terrifying look on his face, one of sadistic cruelty and impure mirth, one that caused John to take a step back as that searing gaze was fixed on him.
Phil and Sally sensed his idea, and turned looked to John as well, eyes wide and eager.
"W-what? Why are you looking at me like that?" John asked, feeling apprehensive. This was bad, and he knew it.
"Wanna make a bet?" Jim whispered, voice barely heard, but still tittering with a smug challenge, like he knew he had John like clay in the palm of his hand.
John knew he should say no. Now was a good time to go. He wracked his mind for excuses to leave, but all that came out of his mouth was "Sure," followed by an embarrassingly nervous laugh. Jim grinned lopsidedly.
"I'll give you ten pounds to kiss Sherlock," he said smoothly.
John was appalled. That was possibly the most cruel thing he had heard, and he had heard Jim say a lot of cruel things. Since when did people kiss others for money?
"I'll add my own ten to that," Phil said, and Sally nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
John shook his head. "No!" he said, wondering what the hell was wrong with his friends. Kisses were supposed to be shared between two people in love, not something you did because your friends bribed you.
Phil smirked. "Scared?" he taunted, knowing exactly what buttons to press. "Think someone might see you and think you actually like that kid?"
"No." That wasn't what John was afraid of. "But kissing someone for money? Don't you think that's a little bit too far? Not even prostitutes kiss their customers," he argued, wondering why he was the only one in the group who had a conscience.
"Either you'll do it or you won't," Sally spoke up. "We'll be waiting. But I would hate to think that you of all people would be afraid of a simple, meaningless kiss," she said casually, like she couldn't care either way, but the corner of her mouth was upturned in a well-concealed grin.
John hated himself. He hated himself so damn much at that moment.
At the sound of the bell, the students went to their classes. John was glad to leave. He needed time to be alone, to wallow in self-loathing.
John sat in his first class, anxiety clawing at his insides. He tapped his foot stressfully until he was told to stop. He looked at the clock every few minutes, wondering why time seemed so slow today. He couldn't focus on the lesson, and he found himself chewing his already short nails. They were now torn and ragged, and John still felt just as restless.
His other classes passed similarly, with the minutes dragging on and his distress worsening all the while.
Finally, the final bell sounded, and John practically ran from his seat.
He spotted Sally rather quickly, and was waved over to the group. He felt sick.
Sally nudged him in the ribs. "Now's your chance," she said lowly, nodding with her chin to where Sherlock stood, alone as usual.
John swallowed thickly. It was now or never.
He walked forward, each step filling him with dread. He heard excited and surprised voices behind him. Phil and Sally hadn't expected him to do this after all.
Suddenly, John found himself in front of Sherlock. He knew the boy had seen him, but he didn't pay John any mind. He probably thought he was just passing through.
"Hey," John said, hoping the nervous lift in his voice went undetected. He could feel eyes digging into his back, and he knew people were watching him, judging him.
Sherlock didn't react for a bit, but when John didn't move, he looked up, visibly startled to find that John was talking to him. John mentally punched himself in the face. He was a jerk.
"Hi?" he responded, unconfidently, and confused, but with the tiniest hint of a smile. John was now mentally stabbing himself.
"Do you wanna come with me for a second?" John said awkwardly, tilting his head to vaguely indicate that he wanted to go where it was less crowded.
"O-okay," Sherlock said, with a surprisingly warm, but rather timid smile. John blinked numbly.
He turned silently and walked, as Sherlock followed meekly, saying nothing as he ducked his head to the piercing gazes of the other students.
Once John and Sherlock were alone, or mostly alone, as John knew Sally, Jim, and Phil would still be watching, John turned back to look at Sherlock. The taller boy was looking at him expectantly, and John hated himself.
Their eyes met and John took a deep breath. He was going to hell for this.
"Sherlock..." John began uncertainly, wondering if it was too late to back out now. Sherlock kept up his trusting gaze, and John looked away. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, too quietly.
Sherlock had a second to look confused before John's lips were covering his.
John felt Sherlock breathe in a gasp, and he had never felt worse in his life.
John, despite his earlier misgivings, was surprised at how warm and soft Sherlock's lips felt, and the kiss was rather sweet.
'What am I thinking? This is wrong!' John's mind screamed, and he pulled his face away quickly.
John closed his eyes for a second, catching his breath and reigning in his emotions. He opened his eyes and risked a glance up at Sherlock to see his reaction.
Sherlock looked stunned. He lifted his fingers and touched his lips, brilliant blue eyes searching John's, full of wonder and curiosity. Innocent. He was so innocent and John felt horrible. He wanted to die.
They stood for a while, eyes connected, until Sherlock unexpectedly smiled, pure and happy, and John wanted to slap himself for thinking it was kind of adorable.
Without a word, Sherlock walked away, still with a smile on his smooth lips.
John looked around, seeing the surprise on Sally's face and an impressed look on Phil's. Jim looked strangely neutral, as if he had known the whole time.
John turned and left.
When he got home, he threw his backpack on the floor and ran to his room, slamming the door. He sat down on his bed, harshly, and ran his hands through his hair. He had just made the worst mistake of his life. He slammed his fist against his wall, angry at himself. It hurt. He did it again. He deserved to be in pain. He was a horrible, selfish person, and had never hated anything worse than he hated himself.
"John?" a voice called, aggravated. "Please don't bang on the wall, I'm trying to sleep!" Harry said angrily from the next room over. John felt even worse.
He laid down, scrunching his face as a wave of dark emotion came over him.
'What have I done?'