The Soldier and The Freak
Unmatched Aromas
1.
Kirsten was a fan of the kissing. When they met in the morning at school, when they parted to different classes, when they met in the same class, when John answered a question correctly at school, when he walked her home, and when she was at his house and his mum wasn't looking. John wasn't complaining but he wasn't exactly thrilled about it either. She was always wearing some sort of gloss on her lips and he felt rude to wipe his mouth after, the smell of her lingered to his clothing and the curtains and bedding in her room. He wasn't sure if he was a perfume or just her natural scent but it was so sweet it was starting to make him feel a little ill, and there was just no escape.
"John, are you okay?"
John blushed and looked at grass beneath his feet, "I'm fine, sorry."
Kirsten laughed and looked out over the park. It was baking hot day and her hair was all piled up on top of her head. Her white tanktop had a smear of faded purple eyeshadow and her legs were long and tan dangling down from her shorts. The giggles and cries of children filled the air as they played on the playground the other side of the park to them, dog walkers framed the edge of the field, the tennis courts were full of grunting men and women with fuzzy balls being hit over the wired fence which sectioned them off from the rest of the park. John and Kirsten were sat on a bench in the far corner underneath the shade of a collection of trees, some older than their grandparents and some fresh and new. Kirsten was chattering away at him about something that happened with her and her friend but he was struggling to pay much attention, it was just too hot.
"Wanna share an ice cream like we did on our first date?" She asked, batting her eyelashes. She wasn't wearing as much make-up as usual and John was pleased with the change.
"Sure," He agreed with a nod.
They both jumped up and Kirsten immediately locked their hands together. John stopped himself from protesting due to the stifling heat. There was a stall with a very sunburnt looking man at the entrance of the park selling icecreams; unsurprisingly there was a long line to get one. John and Kirsten joined the end of the cue and chatted quietly about school. After a small amount of time Kirsten seemed to get bored and let out a long sigh, kicking the daisies under their feet. John wiped the sweat from from forehead and Kristen cupped his face, bending down to kiss him softly. John held back a sigh and looked behind her while she moaned softly and pulled him closer. He didn't know why but he just didn't feel really anything when he kissed her, he always imagined that it would make him feel something at least. She let out another moan, pulling him from his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed her hands sliding down his back about to rest on his…
"Next!"
John blushed and pulled out his wallet, asking for a double scoop of vanilla and handing over a fiver to pay. Kirsten took the ice cream and lapped at it happily while John received his change the two made the trek back to their bench in the corner. Kirsten put her arm around John's waist this time rather than holding his hand, John couldn't shake off the feeling that he was making fun of his height.
"Want some?" She held up the ice cream and John stopped himself from screwing up his nose. Her lipgloss had mixed with the ice cream and her saliva, creating a sparkly pink mess.
"Er, no thank you," he declined, "It's all yours."
"Aww come on, I thought we were going to share?" She asked, pouting heavily.
John let out a breathe through his nose and took a small lick from the side she hadn't molested and handed it back to her. She kissed him in response, her lips cold and unpleasant again his.
"So," she announced loudly, making John jump, "Do you want to come meet my parents?"
John raised both eyebrows, "Really?"
"Yeah, I've met your mum haven't I? Why shouldn't you meet mine?"
"Yeah, I guess. When?"
"It'll have to be next weekend when my mum has the day off," she told him.
John gave a hum of agreement as they got back to the bench. She kicked off her golden sandals and leant heavily against him, closing her eyes and letting out a long sigh of contentment. John ignored her sharp shoulder digging into his chest and scanned the park, noticing that Sherlock was sat under a tree with a new notebook and a pen between his lips. His heart dropped slightly. He wasn't sure if they were friends or not anymore, they hadn't spoken for almost two weeks now but he never could tell with Sherlock anyway. His maybe-friend looked up as though he had heard his name being called and immediately looked at John, who smiled. Sherlock put his hand up briefly in response and then went back to working at his notebook. John wanted to go and talk to him, but Kirsten settled herself firmly against him and was licking the ice cream that was melting off the cone and dripping down onto her hand.
"Who are you looking at?" She asked.
"No one," John replied, not one hundred percent why. There was nothing wrong with him noticing his friend.
She shrugged and looked around the park herself, suddenly sitting up, "Oh look it's Harriet! Harriet over here!" She waved and dropped the remainder of the ice cream on the floor.
John looked around at Sherlock again and saw that he was watching them intently with a smirk on his face. John narrowed his eyes at him and Sherlock shrugged, still watching them.
Harriet ran over and forced her way between John and Kristen on the bench. John rested his head in his hands.
2.
"John hun, what's wrong?"
John shook his head and sipped his coffee, "Nothing mum."
She put a plate down in front of him and he thanked her in a mumble, draining the rest of his mug.
"You're too old to talk to your mum now?" She teased, sitting down opposite him and shaking salt on her plate.
"Never too old," John replied, stabbing a circle of carrot and pushing it around his plate.
His mum sighed and took a sip of water, "Then what's up?"
John shrugged, "I don't...," he pushed his plate away, "I don't know if I like Kristen."
"What do you mean?" Her eyebrows climbed her forehead.
"I...I don't know if I 'like' like her," John elaborated, "I...I don't know."
John's mum pursed her lips and put down her fork, "Do you feel excited about seeing her?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, "I just don't know how I feel and now she wants me to meet her parents and..."
"Maybe you're just nervous about it," his mum smiled.
John nodded, "You're probably right," hitching his shoulders in a shrug.
"Now start eating and stop shrugging, before your head rolls off your shoulders," she winked.
John smirked and picked up his cutlery. Maybe she was right, he didn't want to do anything he regretted later either. Sherlock was next on his list, he missed him and his crazy ways more than he cared to admit. Also he couldn't help but think it might be nice to have some peace and quiet for a change...without Kristen's nattering.
John had just pushed his plate away, letting out a belch that his mother tutted at, when the doorbell rang. John went to answer it while his mother cleared the table, a much lighter skip in his step after his mother's reassurance.
"Hello John."
"You must be able to read my mind!" John accused, stepping aside to let Sherlock in.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've come for my book," Sherlock told him, as emotionless as ever.
John laughed as a sense of relief flew over him, "Come on, it's in my room somewhere."
"Somewhere? John this is an important piece of documentation."
"I'm sure," John replied, holding his bedroom door open for him.
The sound of his mother clicking cutlery and plates travelled down from the kitchen as John searched under his pillow and duvet.
"You haven't…." Sherlock started, glancing around the room, "You haven't looked in it have you?"
"What? No, no…." John shook his head and frowned, "Where did I put it?"
Sherlock took a silent step towards John, making him jump when he realised he was standing so close. The familiar scent his friend filled his nose and danced on surfaces of his room, dark, musty and a welcoming change.
"Did your mother spill perfume in here?" Sherlock asked, walking over to the curtains and rubbing the rough fabric between his fingers, releasing more of Kristen's sweetness. It mixed with the newer scent of Sherlock and created a sickening dank sugary smell like rotting fruit.
"Er no, that's Kristen," John explained, starting to feel a little dizzy. He marched over to the window and threw it open, taking a large lungful of uncontaminated air.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine," John gasped.
Sherlock smirked and suddenly got down on all fours, reaching under the bed and grabbing his notebook that had fallen down the side of John's bed, he straightened up and brushed off his shirt, "It really does stink in here."
"I know," John gritted his teeth and leant against the wall, "Are...are you leaving now?"
Sherlock turned around and flicked through the pages as though checking nothing was missing, "Do you want me to leave?"
"No, no stay. Please. I mean...If you'd like to," John coughed and stared at his socked feet.
Sherlock's smirk grew and he sat on the edge of John's bed, taking a pen that had been hidden in his crazy curls and bending over his...documentation. John nervously sat beside him but soon found himself falling into the normal rhythm of picking up a book and getting comfortable. As he turned to chapter three he found he melted into himself, the sound of Sherlock's even and controlled breathing almost like a familiar lullaby.
"John?"
"Hmm?"
"What are you doing with Krizzy?"
"You mean Kristen."
"Sure," Sherlock looked up at him with a slight pout invading his lips.
"I don't know I...Do we have to talk about her?" John almost snapped, before he remembered what happened last time and forced himself to sound softer.
Sherlock shrugged, "We're...'friends', aren't you meant to tell me these things?"
"Since when have we followed social conventions?" John asked, folding down his page and putting the book to one side.
"I wasn't aware that we didn't," Sherlock replied, chewing nervously on the end of his pen.
John noticed the motion with a raised eyebrow and suddenly felt the urge to reach out and put his hand on Sherlock's knee. He balled it into a fist instead and let out a long sigh.
"What are you frustrated about?"
"Nothing."
"John…"
"I really want to read this," John replied, picking up his book again.
"Well I really want to talk about this."
"Why? It's got absolutely nothing to do with you!" John watched a flash of rare emotion flicker across Sherlock's intense eyes before he went back to his work and John went back to reading his book...or pretending too.
"John, can you stop thinking so loud? I'm trying to concentrate."
Sherlock had left his book in John's room again, John was sure he was doing it on purpose for an excuse to visit but he didn't mind one bit. When he'd left John and picked it up and put it on one of the shelves in his room so he'd be quick to find it during Sherlock's next return. He lay down on his bed and let his popped his joins….pausing as a wave of Sherlock's scent hit him again. He found himself rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow where Sherlock had rested before he was even aware of his actions. He knew Kristen would come over soon and cover the scent with her own once again and he didn't like the thought of it one bit.
"John? Are you sick?"
"No, I was just….," John sat up, "Er...tired."
"Right," His mum raised an eyebrow, "Kristens on the phone."
"Oh, right...I mean great, coming."
3.
John winced when Kristen sat down directly in the spot where Sherlock had not days before. That was it. The scent was completely gone now and replaced with something else. He held back a sigh and let her tug him down beside her.
"I haven't seen you in forever," she whined, clinging to his arm.
"I saw you yesterday," John pointed out, feeling her nails dig into his skin.
She giggled in his ear, "I mean alone Silly."
"Oh right, of course."
"So tomorrow I can meet you at the bottom of Hermitage street and we can walked back to mine. My parents are excited to meet you."
"That's...good."
"Are you nervous?" She giggled again.
"A little."
"Don't worry, they'll love you," She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Okay, thanks."
"I don't see how anyone couldn't love you," she said, her voice a degree lower.
Panic rose up in John's chest and he jumped to his feet, making Kristen jolt, "I need to pee," he blurted out running from the room.
When he returned she was sat cross legged on the bed with an altogether different expression on her face. He sat down next to her and she made no move to smother him like usual and stared at the carpet as though in deep thought. John awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and glanced around his room.
"When's the last time you saw Sherlock?" She suddenly asked.
"Er, he came over yesterday. Why?"
"To your room?"
"...Yeah," John frowned, wondering what she had been thinking about.
"You could do so much better without him."
John frowned, "I do not base my friends on my social position."
"Friends?"
"Yes...friends."
"My mum will be wondering where I am, I'll see you tomorrow," She stood up and left without even giving him a hug.
Meeting her parents the next day was made ten times worse by the fact she was mad at him for reasons unexplained. Her mother was a quiet, bony figure who gave them all tea and cakes before sitting down and studying John carefully. Her father was a large round man with a booming voice and shook John to his core as he poured question after question at him. Kristen sat silently beside him and added too much sugar to her tea. Their house was too large and too dark, even though the drawing room was filled with buzzing lamps that spewed out artificial and cloudy light. The future was all dark wood and the walls were a faded pattern of green and dark brown. A thick layer of dust covered every surface and teased John's senses.
"So John, Kristen tells me you've been very respectful to her?"
"Yes Sir."
"And that you haven't pressured her into anything she didn't want to do?"
More like the other way around, John though. "Of course not, Sir."
"So you don't think she's attractive?"
"W-W-What?"
"Do you think she's attractive?"
"Of course!"
"But not pretty enough to make a move?"
"I-Sir, it's completely up to her," John flushed, balling his hands into fists.
"Are you not going to try some of my wife's cake?"
"I'm not really hungry."
"She spent all this time baking for you and you're not going to try the fruits of her labour?"
John itched the back of his neck before picking up a cupcake topped with pastel green icing and small pink sweets. He peeled of the immaculate brown wrapper, getting sticky icing on his fingers, and took a bite. The sweetness invaded his mouth and charged down his throat, small crumbs of cake getting stuck and he fought the urge to cough reaching for his tea to unclog them.
"Wow these a delicious," he said smiling at Kirsten's mother and trying to make it look genuine. Her expression didn't change and sweat formed across John's top lip.
"Let's go upstairs," Kristen grabbed John's hand out of the blue and tugged him to his feet, "I'll see you later Daddy, Mummy."
John followed silently along too sparsely decorated hallways and one flight of stairs to a bright pink door that matched nothing else in the house. Kristen pushed it open and a tidal wave of that sweetly sick scent crashed over John, Kristen pulled him further into the room until they were sat on her huge bed. John only had enough time to take in the fact that everything in the room was a shade of pink before Kristen lips, thick with some sort of glittery goo, were pressed against his own.
John pushed her away, "I thought you were mad at me?"
She shook her head and launched towards him again.
He was pushed back again the back while Kristen clambered on top of him, her knee hitting him painfully. Her freezing hands were suddenly untucking his shirt and running over over his chest.
"Kristen stop," John shuddered, pushing her off him.
Kristen's cheeks turned a violent red.
"You're parents are downstairs," John explained, putting his hand on her shoulder.
She sighed and turned into his chest where he held her gently, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. You're parents hate me."
She shook her head, "They're always like that, pay no attention."
"Wanna watch a movie?"
"Okay."
A/n: If you have any suggestions about where you'd like this fiction to go I'd love to hear your ideas! Just drop them by in a review. If you'd like the rating to go up let me know. Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!