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The road to accepting that he should continue living was long and painful. Sure, Liam had already decided to live when Sherlock jumped after him to save him. The problem is that he did not know how to do it.
Ever since he was aware, all his actions and thoughts had been focused on a single purpose; his great plan. Now that it had been a "success", with the exception that he was still in this world, what was he supposed to do?
"Why not just start letting yourself enjoy things?"
That's what Sherlock told him on one of his regular visits. As Billy had let him know, now that he had woken up the ex-detective was much more animated.
Liam was in bed, even though he was no longer forced to remain immobile in it he still needed to rest and doing too many movements was a difficult task for him. Besides, he still hadn't gotten used to having his vision limited to just one eye. Sherlock took good care of him, Billy also did of course, but it was not the same kind of attention. Sherlock treated him as if he were the most valuable object in the world.
He hadn't decided how to feel about it yet.
"Enjoy things?" Was what he answered then, looking at him puzzled.
"You know, do things because you want to, not because it’s necessary or because someone asks you to."
Liam lowered his head, focusing his gaze on his hands, lightly squeezing the blanket that covered his legs. When was the last time he did something just because he wanted to? What should he start with? Was there anything he even wanted?
"Don't get worked up, Liam. Start with something simple."
He fell silent, thinking about what one would consider simple. In the absence of an answer from him, Sherlock approached him and placed his hand on top of his. The touch shouldn't have startled him that much.
"I'm here for whatever you need, I'll help you start enjoying life" He said this with one of those smiles that could take anyone's breath away, or maybe just his, who knows at this point.
"...All right."
He didn't say it out loud, but at the time he thought that touching Sherlock's hand was definitely something he would let himself enjoy.
With Sherlock’s help, little by little he began to allow himself more and more to have and do things that he wanted. It was easier once he was able to move more freely. One of his favorite activities was going for a walk with Sherlock. He acted as a tour guide and showed him the most beautiful and interesting places in the city.
Sherlock would let him make most of the decisions, whether it was where they would eat or what they would do. From time to time, they would pass by a shopwindow where something would catch his attention and Sherlock never hesitated to ask if he wanted something. His first instinct was to say no, an almost automatic reaction.
Lately however, it was becoming less and less difficult for him to answer honestly.
Sherlock was happy that he was finally opening up to him, and he couldn't deny that it felt good not to blame himself every time he had a whim.
He watched the sunset, from the same rooftop where Sherlock found him the day he woke up. It relaxed him to just sit in silence, admiring the landscape so different from what he was used to in London. Right now, though, his mind was debating with itself on which option to take.
Because recently he had come to a conclusion.
He wanted to kiss Sherlock.
Perhaps it would be more correct to say that he had always wanted to do it, but it was not until a few days ago that the idea crossed his mind as a totally valid possibility rather than a forbidden wish.
He liked Sherlock, he loved him even. And if his reasoning wasn't wrong there was a very good chance that Sherlock loved him too.
But no matter how confident he was in that fact, there was always that little bit of doubt. The fear of ruining everything. He was still considering the possibilities when he heard the sound of footsteps that he recognized very well.
"I knew I would find you here."
The footsteps came closer until he could see the man out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock sat down next to him on the bench.
"How was Norway?" He asks him. "I suppose your stay there made you rethink your complaints about winter here."
Sherlock smiles at him, the way he does when he has a witty response.
"Well, you see, I had a much better time than here, it seems that they are much more prepared for the freezing temperatures than New Yorkers."
"You don’t say, any interesting occurrences?"
"Honestly, nothing worth commenting on, I’m sure it would be much more entertaining if you could come with me." He winks at him and gives him a playful smile.
If he couldn't feel it quickly beat inside his chest, he'd think his heart stopped.
He decides in that instant.
He does it almost without thinking, his body leaning forward and his hand reaching out to grasp the collar of Sherlock's shirt.
"Li-" he mutes whatever Sherlock was going to say when he seals his lips. It was brief, a mere touch of lips, testing the waters. As soon as it happened, he separated, seeking the reaction of the black-haired man.
"Was that ... okay?" He asks unsure.
Sherlock doesn't react, he doesn't seem to have even finished processing what just happened. His eyes are wide.
"Sherlock?" He tries again. Perhaps ... had he misread the signs? He was almost certain that-
That thought cannot finish formulating itself because in a second, he felt the pressure of Sherlock's lips on his. His mind went blank, so he just closed his eyes and let go.
It was so different from the insecure peck that he gave him, their lips moved impatiently and he could feel something explode in his chest as a strange but pleasant tingling ran through his body.
He tightened his grip on the shirt and Sherlock raised one of his arms to cup his cheek with one hand. The familiar tobacco flavor and a slight hint of what he recognized as chocolate invaded his mouth.
He took notice that his lips were a little dry but he did not care in the least. The only important thing at that moment was how good it felt to be able to give himself entirely to his wishes and to this man who had stolen his heart.
As they parted, he had to take a deep breath to catch his breath.
"Wow ..." was the only thing Sherlock said.
"Yeah ... wow"
They looked directly into each other's eyes and Sherlock chuckled.
"Ahh, I've wanted to do that for a long time." He lowered his hand from his cheek and took his hand.
"Why didn't you do it then? I came to think that ..." He looks at their hands.
"I wanted to give you space. I didn't want to push you into something you weren't ready for ... although I guess I don't have to worry anymore, do I?"
He slowly entwines their hands and leans in to bring their foreheads together.
He can't help but smile at the gesture.
"I love you Liam"
"And I love you, Sherlock"
And with this new closeness between them, they spent the last hours before nightfall in each other's arms.