This is John's story of his struggles and all that, angsty, bit of fluff,
"Two years ago, life was going well. High school was good for me, I had friends, my parents, my sister, good grades and was a likable guy. I was captain of the football team, and had chicks literally hanging off my arms. I was living a dream, but all good things come to an end."
John exhaled, Sherlock was still listening intently, eyes focused.
"My mom got in a car accident, killed by a drunk driver one night. It all went downhill from there. After the funeral, my dad was always quiet. He blocked me and Harry out, we reminded him too much of her. Harry and I had to strive on our own, Harry got a job and I focused on school. Then my dad got into alcohol, used it as a coping mechanism. He was more involved then, talking to us, walking around and had lots friends over to gamble or drink or watch sports, but he wasn't the same. He seemed either angry or drunk, all the time. It was hard. About half a year passed like this. Then Harry came out, she brought home her girlfriend, hoping dad would be happy for her."
John shook his head solemnly, eyes starting to tear up.
"When her girlfriend left later that evening, my dad called Harry into his room and he… he hit her, Sherlock he hit her."
Sherlock looked at him with a sorrowful expression but didn't say anything.
"I couldn't do anything, my dad was drunk and strong. I tried to block out the sounds of the belt, and the screams but it haunts my mind to this day. Every few days he would beat her. Every few days he asked if she broke up with her girlfriend and every time she refused. She's strong-willed and wouldn't let my dad push her around, a quality of my mom's. A month passed in that horror. School was my escape, where I could pretend everything was all right, but it wasn't."
"Soon after I started having feelings for this boy in my grade. He was handsome, dark-haired and defined." John paused at the resemblance to Sherlock, but the latter didn't seem to notice so John continued. "I knew that if I came out to my dad he would beat me too. I thought… I thought maybe if he beat me he'd leave Harry alone, Harry was starting to break, so I approached the boy. Turns out he liked me too and we got together. It was kind of a secret until I brought him home to tell my dad. Defiantly I walked in and kissed him in front of my dad. Boy was he angry. Didn't even wait for the poor guy to leave before shouting at me. 'Both my kids! Seriously both my kids, infected, inhuman'.My boyfriend ran out on me. Never talked to me again. Of course my dad whipped me, but left Harry alone so it was better."
John realized he just admitted to Sherlock that he was gay. Crap, what if this ruined their friendship? Would he be disgusted? Would he still let John sleep in his bed? Sherlock looked sad for John, and protectively put an arm around his shoulders. John sunk into Sherlock's side.
"Harry found out, she was enraged, flipped on my dad for not being there for us when we lost our mom and all that. She told me to pack my stuff, important things only. We ran away from him. Started a better life. I remember the first night, I was scared. She held me and told me we were safe now. I believed her. The next day I went to school like normal, but it was far from that. I got weird looks, people calling me names behind my back, I got pushed into lockers and all of my 'friends' ditched me. They still bully me to this day. The boy, I saw him once in the hallway. He glared at me, hatred pouring from his eyes. He stalked toward me and shoved me aside, scattering my books and papers. I didn't know what to do, so I kept it to myself and lived with it."
John was shuddering, holding in tears, Sherlock squeezed John's arm and continued listening,
"Harry was graduating that year, she got a scholarship to a fancy school in America. She didn't want to leave but I told her to go, she'd never get another opportunity like that again. So she left, and I was completely alone. I found a shovel and dug a hole, put a trapdoor on it and called it my home. Still, I live there. It isn't much, but it keeps me safe. After Harry left I got a job working at Angelo's, 6-hour shifts. I needed the money. That was my life, school, work, sleep, repeat. I got really depressed, I started taking drugs. No one cared about me, no one tried to stop me. I felt free on drugs, reckless, letting the world slip away. When my boss noticed he threatened to fire me. I had no choice, I needed that job. It wasn't easy, possibly the hardest thing in my life."
"Until recently I'd been better, clean. Then I came to realize how meaningless my life was. Completely alone, failing grades, there was no point in life anymore. No one would miss me if I disappeared. Then you came along."
John smiled up at Sherlock, Sherlock had tears welling up in his own eyes, threatening to spill over.
"You saved me, Sherlock. Thank you." John smiled sadly into Sherlock's shoulder.
"John… I… I'm so sorry… it's not fair what happened to you… geez." Sherlock turned so he was fully facing John and hugged the smaller boy protectively.
John started to sob into his chest, shudders ran through his body and tears dropped onto Sherlock's bedspread. "I just miss her so much. It's because of people like my dad that she's… gone… forever." John shook, quietly crying. Sherlock's heart pained, like a thousand needles sliding into his skin. A lump formed in his throat as he tried to comfort his friend. Unable to speak, he simply rubbed circles on John's back for a while, letting John know he was there and he was safe now.
Some time passed, and John sat up straight, still shaking. Red lines where tears ran soaked on his face. "I'm going to wash up, um, thanks, for, you know, listening, and not judging." He scratched the back of his neck and left the room. Sherlock sighed and lay down on his bed, pondering John's early life and struggles. It wasn't fair he had to go through that alone, or that his dad's a jerk, or stupid people make a decision to drive and it almost completely ruins multiple people's lives. It made Sherlock think how he took his life for granted, everything he had, food, clothes, a roof, a family.
John returned and crawled into the bed. Sherlock lay with his arms tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling. John slid next to him, sinking into his side while draping an arm around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock looked down, a blush forming on his cheeks, hidden in the darkness of the room.
An owl hooted outside Sherlock's window, the light of a full moon peering in through the glass. Sherlock lowered one of his hands behind John, holding his friend. Bathed in the moonlight, Sherlock and John slept as one.
