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Eight in the evening.
The university’s library was otherwise already deserted during this time of the day. Except for a few passing instructors and janitors, there were few other students positioned quietly at least a table or shelf from each other. These people collectively flinched at the sound of someone shouting a single word– an extremely loud YES. It bellowed and echoed through the almost empty room. Their heads whipping as one to the table where it came from.
Where two students sat opposite of each other. One had eyes of scarlet red, and hair of straight, silken gold. His name was William James Moriarty, a scholar majoring in Mathematics. The other student meanwhile– Sherlock Holmes– complimented the looks and demeanor of the other– with his wide grin, carefree drawl, and dark blue eyes. The small ponytail in which he put his blue-black hair had loosened up, stray hairs escaping the tie. The strands framing his hair messily falling over his eyes.
With the weather dropping, an indication that winter is but a few weeks away, both were wearing plain, knitted long-sleeved clothes, their respective coats hung on the backrest of their chairs.
“Sherlock, be quiet.”
Sherlock cleared his throat, “Sorry.”
“Alright. Good job on answering that exam perfectly. Now, onto the next lesson.”
A frown. “Geh, I thought we’re done for the day.”
“I won’t be able to teach you tomorrow, remember?”
“. . .”
William was currently helping Sherlock with the latter’s math studies. They were taking different courses, and have their own part-time jobs but somehow manages to find time and meet up for studies. . . Well, at first it was only for studies, but eventually, they would hang out, get drinks, or sometimes go for a drive on Sundays using Sherlock’s sleek black motorcycle.
As he was writing down more math equations for Sherlock to answer, he took a glance over at Sherlock who’d gone silent, and noticed him staring.
“What is it?” William blinked.
“I’ve been thinking. . .” Sherlock says, clearing his throat once more. His fingers lightly scratching on the open math book in front of him, and eyes darting all over the place. For once, his shoulders were kind of tense.
William resumed writing, “About?” He looks unusually serious. I wonder what it is.
“Liam, would you like to. . . would you like to try dating me?”
The sound of pen scribbling on paper stopped.
Sherlock froze.
William froze.
A long, uncomfortable five second silence passed with the two of them saying and doing nothing. The air around them thick and heavy with the unanswered question.
It came out of the blue that William was so shocked he quickly tried telling himself that he might be hearing things. But he knew he wasn’t. Sherlock’s words kept reverberating through, louder than anything he ever heard before.
“Eh?”
Sherlock frantically waved both hands in front, shoulders stiff. “Uhm, y– you don’t have to answer right away! I’ll wait, so. . . take your time.”
William swallowed. He’s serious.
And he knows exactly what Sherlock meant, William wasn’t so dense though he’d been single his whole life. But a stupid question one after another slipped through William’s gaping mouth, still reeling from the shock of that sudden confession. “Dating– as in? Like? The kind that. . .”
“Y’know. . . the, uh, getting-to-know each other, dinners, and kissing, and holding hands kind of dating.”
William’s heart jumped at the word kissing that his fingers spasm, causing him to drop the pen he didn’t know he was still holding. It echoed repeatedly through at the back of his mind that he had to blink several times to shake it off.
“. . . I– uhm. . . I never would’ve thought you are a. . .”
“Yeah, I get that all the time.” Sherlock laughed, his cheeks were still visibly flushed. “Sorry for comin’ out so suddenly like that. I wasn’t thinkin’.”
“It’s– it’s fine. . .” I think.
“I grabbed the chance ‘cuz, y’know. . .” Sherlock exhaled, averting his eyes. His next words were low, shy and a little fidgety, “I really, really like you, Liam.”
William never thought about his own sexuality before. It just did not seem at all important. Dating, and romantic relationships just never not crossed his mind. He’s someone who prefers to stay in the library to study and read, and going to work after school, content with the small, but true circle of friends he’d made. Or perhaps it was also because he’s never found someone he truly like– has never been attracted to anyone. And although he was aware of the number of girls in the university that fancy him, no one has ever confessed directly.
William did not care, again, it just did not seem so important. Not until today. Not until this very moment.
He’s stumped.
For the first time in his life, William doesn’t know what to say or do.
All of a sudden, everything flashed back to him– a disc rapidly spinning– playing memories starting from the day he first met Sherlock in the national library during the last year’s holiday season.
He’d just finished doing school homework, as well as advanced studying. He rounded the giant, glittering with rainbow lights Christmas tree that decorated the middle of the ground floor, carrying two books he’d borrowed, when he heard a laugh– carefree, too loud for the library’s quietness, but real, and well, kind of sounded effortlessly sexy. It made William’s head turn towards the source of it. . . where he saw a man standing not far from him– deep blue eyes, dark, wavy hair tied up in a small ponytail, and widely smiling lips– speaking in an accent William rarely hears inside the university where he studies.
That was when the man noticed him looking. He properly faced William and raised a hand up.
“Oh! If it isn’t Mr. Mathematician!”
Eh? William smiled in polite greeting, thinking, I’ve never seen this man before. “Hello. Have we met?”
“Not formally. But I’ve seen you a few times– in uni.”
Oh. He’s a fellow student.
“You’re that freaky-math-genius scholar everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout.”
Freaky?
The man glanced at his wristwatch and hissed, “Shit. Where the fuck is John, I’m late– ah, see ‘ya!”
He was gone before William could say anything else, much less slip a curt ‘goodbye’. Blinking, William went on his way, thinking of getting a cup of coffee before heading home.
It was well past his last class when William once more saw that man he met in the national library, this time, inside the university’s library. He had a few books stacked up in front him on the table, brows knit tightly together and looking half-annoyed, half-troubled while holding a pen as he stared down hard at an open notebook.
Quiet as he can, William walked up to the man, sneaking around behind to get a glimpse of what he was doing.
Oh.
William couldn’t help but say, “You’re using the wrong formula.”
The man jolted in shock, craned his head around. “Wha–”
“Hello.” William smiled.
“Oh, it’s you.” A sigh. “Your classes’ are over?”
“Mm.” A small hum, taking the seat beside the man. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
“No. More importantly– you said I’m using the wrong formula, but how did that happen? I’ve been answerin’ this math questionnaire from hell and been burnin’ my ass in this seat for hours.”
William’s smile widened a fraction. He took the man’s notebook and extra pen after asking permission, and then he showed and explained the formula and solution for the specific equation.
“Wow– ” The man whistled as William slid the notebook back to him. “Nice.” Then he straightened up and flipped the pages, “What about this one?”
“That one is. . .”
So it was then that William spent the time he didn’t have, teaching a stranger some calculus. He was used to this, after all, some of his friends would ask for his help when they’re having trouble with their math subjects. Especially when he was in high school.
By the fifth problem, the man was smiling. That troubled expression he had when William saw him earlier, now gone. “Sweet– as expected from the freaky math genius.”
“I have a name, you know.” William just answered, sliding him back his notes. “And speaking of names, I haven’t gotten yours.”
“It’s Sherlock. Wanna get coffee? My treat. As thanks for teaching me.”
“There’s no need. . .”
“I insist.”
Since they both have prior engagements, Sherlock bought them take out coffees from a nearby café, and as they went out the shop together, Sherlock turned to William.
“Say, Mr. Mathematician.”
“I told you I have a name.”
“Ah, sorry– say, Liam, care to teach me more? I really need to pass the next exam, and the ones after that. Basically everything.”
Liam? No one has ever called him that before. William decided he likes it. “As long as I’m free, I don’t mind.”
“Wow, you’re a nice guy, aren’t ‘ya?!”
Because Sherlock had shown him his past exams, William decided to tease him a little, “I am up for the challenge as well, seeing how I have to make sure you get over those failed exam sheets in the past.”
Sherlock childishly pouted, taking his phone out. “Tch. Quit rubbin’ it in. I already know how bad I am at this.”
“Truly bad. It is quite a remarkable feat– getting a zero.”
“Oy!”
They exchanged contact information in the midst of William’s soft peals of laughter. The both of them were still speaking as they walk down the street, occasionally sipping their take out coffees. William found out that Sherlock works part time in a detective agency, majors in chemistry, however, had failed his calculus subject, and is desperate to clean that up. It made William want to help Sherlock more, especially since it was easy teaching him, and because. . .
Somehow, I feel at ease.
There was none of that frigid awkwardness and putting up of layers of guard when meeting someone for the first time. It didn’t made sense, although, William found that he liked the feeling. It wasn’t everyday he gets to meet someone he instantly connect to.
After every lesson, Sherlock would buy William either a take out coffee from a specialty shop or a canned one from a vending machine. William really doesn’t need any sort of payment, but Sherlock was insistent. There was even a time when Sherlock bought him take out dinner when they finished the lesson a little late.
And now, fast forward to approximately a hundred combined take out coffees and dinner later. . . Sherlock was asking him out, saying he really likes William.
“Liam? You okay?”
He nearly flinched, “Uhm. . . uh, yes, I’m fine. I just wonder why you would want to date someone like me.” William practically stumbled on the word ‘date’. He felt his cheeks started to heat up.
“Well, honestly, I kinda wonder why you’re single?” Sherlock admits, a hand over his nape. “The thing is, I always have a blast whenever I’m with you. I never even thought math can be fun, and it’s all ‘cuz of you. You’re a nice guy– very patient with me. . . and you’re really pretty too.”
Once again, William was frozen in place, felt his cheeks heating up more, “Oh. . .”
Pretty? Me? The words rotating round and round William’s mind. No one has ever described him as such before. Pretty? How so?
“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No– no, it’s just that. . . no one has ever asked me out before. Or the other way around.”
Sherlock’s eyes widened in bewilderment “You gotta be shittin’ me.”
“It’s true.” A small, nervous laugh, “So. . . please let me think about it first.”
“Of course! Take all the time you need!” Sherlock exclaims, “I mean– I was expecting you’ll flat out reject me.”
I wonder why I did not, William thought.
Though Sherlock has confessed to him, William noticed that nothing has changed with the way Sherlock is towards him whenever they’d meet up. Sherlock didn’t bring the topic up since, but William knows the man is patiently waiting for his answer.
When he told his friends about it, they had mixed reactions. James was all for it, but Sebastian was not. While Fred was silent on the matter, Herder was babbling about prons and cons of same sex dating. He thought speaking to them would clear his mind at least, but William got even more confused.
So he decided to speak with his older brother– Albert, who simply asked him a question:
Have you asked yourself of what you want to do, Will?
It shook William that he didn’t have to think long and hard for his answer– and that is to try. Although, he didn’t want to just try. After pondering on it, he realized that he wanted to do it properly. To be with Sherlock in such a way, to know how it would feel to have such a deep, inexplicable, connection with another person.
Though he felt genuinely happy and at ease as well whenever he’s with Sherlock, William thought his reasons to further their relationship were pale in comparison to Sherlock’s.
When his little brother, Louis, found out about his dilemma, Louis was firm that William should not go for it, not with Sherlock. However, just when William thought the conversation was over, Louis had told him lastly:
But if it would make you happy, then by all means, I'm ready to accept it, and I will support you, nii-san.
Somehow, those words from his brothers cleared his mind more than anything else, and it gave him the courage to properly face his feelings for Sherlock. And to finally make his decision.
Soon, December arrived too quickly, and Christmas was once more just around the corner. With the shops and commercial buildings all sparkly and adorned with all kinds of festive Christmas decorations as William and Sherlock walked down the streets after having strawberry cakes and coffee from a small café near the national library. They both agreed to return the books they’ve borrowed before the holiday breaks begin.
“Liam, where are you gonna spend the holidays?”
“Just at home.” William answers. “My brothers will be working a day before Christmas, so. . .”
“Then, wanna go for a ride on your day off before twenty-five? I’ve asked my boss to get the same day off as yours and he agreed.”
As soon as they stepped inside the library, they were greeted by a giant Christmas tree in the middle of the lobby. Some people were taking pictures by the mezzanine floor, while others were by the foot of the tree, simply admiring the lights and sparkling ornaments.
Seeing that Christmas tree, filled with rainbow lights made William’s heart flutter. He stopped in his tracks, and suddenly had this overwhelming feeling as he watched Sherlock walk up close to the tree to admire a particular decoration. The ornaments reflected and shone against the blue of Sherlock’s bright eyes like dancing stars, and bathing his smiling figure in dazzling colored lights.
That’s when. . . it poured out.
I’ve decided. No more hesitations. What I truly feel. . .
“Liam, look at this cat-shaped bauble, you like cats, right?”
William stepped forward to stand beside Sherlock. His heart was beating like a drum, and his stomach felt a little tingly with tiny flittering butterflies.
He took a deep breath.
“Ah, that’s right, I found this cat cafe for you–” As Sherlock tapped into his coat pockets for his phone, William stopped him midway, and he clasped Sherlock’s hand against his own, fingers closing around, brushing at the skull ring Sherlock always wore on his right forefinger.
Sherlock blushed in an instant at the contact, nearly jumping on the spot, and seeing that flustered face, that reaction made William laugh.
How cute.
More importantly, when their hands touched, William thought it felt warm, and natural, and so right. As if with just that, everything made perfect sense. The connection, the easy feeling, the happiness. . . As if their strings had been long ago connected, weaved by fate itself. Maybe in a different time or a past life– if there was such a thing.
“W– what’s the m– matter, Liam?” Sherlock nervously asks, body rigid, and fingers trembling as if he didn’t know whether to pull his hand away or curve it around William’s.
“You said holding hands is part of dating, right?” William smiled, tightening his hold on Sherlock’s hand.
“Y– yeah. . . wait, does that mean–”
“I’ve thought about it, and I have to admit, I too, fancy you a lot, Sherly.”
“Sherly?!” Sherlock exclaims, eyes wide and cheeks red.
“You don’t like it?”
“Are ‘ya kiddin’ me? I love it!”
Uncaring of the people passing by, murmuring, and giving them curious glances, William squeezed Sherlock’s hand, saying, “This is going to be a first for me, and I know we’ve barely even begun, but I want to see where and how far this relationship would take us.”
The way Sherlock’s face brightened up, the way he smiled like a child, once more reaffirmed William, that he made the right decision. Lightly trembling, yet with his loudly beating heart full with a surge of emotion and joy he’d never before felt, William pulled Sherlock in through their linked hands.
And by the Christmas tree where they first met– glittering with a thousand colorful lights– amidst strangers passing by, they shared a soft kiss that tasted of coffee, strawberry cake, and a sweet, promising start.
“Somehow I know that you and I would’ve found each other. In another life, you still would’ve turned my head.”
–Timeless by T.S.