Chapter 4 – I Know It's Over
It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate.
It takes strength to be gentle and kind.
- I Know It's Over, The Smiths
Eleven days earlier
Mycroft stepped out of the black car and took a quick look at his pocket watch. 22.43, Gregory should be home by now.
He stopped on the doorstep to the Georgian house, that he and Gregory called their home, because he felt an unfamiliar feeling that he hadn't experienced for many days, if not weeks, and he was not quite sure of what feeling it was. Things had worked out smoothly at the day's meetings and he had been able to leave work a little earlier than expected. He and Gregory had talked a few days earlier about visiting an art gallery that was opening the following day, and then they were going to have some fish and chips, because Gregory had insisted on it. If Mycroft could remember it correctly, and to be honest, he always remembered things correctly, Gregory had said:
'If we are going to look at some old paintings of naked women sitting by lakes for two hours, you have to at least promise me that we have some proper food afterwards.'
'Well, to be frank with you Gregory, these paintings actually depict naked men sitting by lakes, and they are actually fairly new…'
'Well, I'm still having fish and chips afterwards, even if they are men!'
Mycroft smiled widely to himself. And that was when he realised it. I am actually happy. Is this what happiness feels like?
He was almost always happy and content when he was with Gregory, but he had never really felt that fortunate when he had been at work, or alone. This was a new kind of happiness. Mycroft mused about that as he was slowly walking up the stairs of the apartment building.
All these factors of joy must mean lead to one thing – I am just really content about life in its entirety. That it is the only possible solution.
He finally reached the end of the staircase, and he was still wearing what he usually would call a "stupid grin" on his face as he took out his keys and opened the robust oak door.
Mycroft was met by the melancholy sound of The Smiths as he entered the front door.
Oh mother I can the feel the soil falling over my head…
'Gregory! I've had the most wonderful realization! I am actually truly happy!'
The words just came out of his mouth like it was the uttermost natural thing, as if he actually everyday screamed out his feelings.
'With you, with work, with the blasted pigeons, even with your bloody fish and chips!'
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly…
'Gregory, do you hear me? Shall we go at and have some dinner? I know it's late, but I know a fine Italian restaurant close to Leicester Square that is open for at least another three hours…'
I know it's over, and it never really began…
'Gregory? Are you home? Gregory!'
Mycroft took of his overcoat and left his favourite brolly in the umbrella stand. He took a few seconds in front of the mirror to put his already impeccable hair in place and then walked out of the hall towards the living room.
With your triumphs and your charms, while they're in each other's arms…
'Or do you have other pla- oh dear, Gregory what is the matter?'
Greg sat in one of the old-fashioned armchairs of the tree piece suite, head in hands. He looked up as Mycroft entered the room, eyes red and slightly swollen. He was wearing a wrinkled shirt, and Mycroft saw that he had thrown his even more wrinkled suit jacket on the sofa.
'My mother, she's… she's dead.'
Mycroft stopped suddenly on his way to his boyfriend. His mind suddenly went completely blank. The happiness he had felt a just few seconds earlier was completely gone and was not replaced by something as understandable as sadness or compassion, but with confusion and absolute panic.
Greg continued:
'She got hit by a car. I was going to meet my father after he called and told me about it, but he told me not to come. He'll be here in a minute; he just has to go through all the st- Mycroft?'
The government official didn't move from the spot where he stood. A few seconds passed, and then he said:
'I… I just have to…'
And then he turned around and walked out of the room.
'Mycroft? Where, where are you going?'
Greg stood up and moved towards the door, but Mycroft had already done what he always did when he felt threatened by his feelings – he had run away.