Chapter Text
Patterson had arrived right on time; he was wearing an elegant charcoal-colored suit, a gray shirt and a red tie could be seen from under his carefully buttoned jacket.
It was the first time Louis had paid so much attention to the details of other people's clothing; There was something about Patterson's elegance that had always fascinated him, yet that feeling wasn't all that familiar to him. Several days had passed since what had happened in the park and Louis hadn't mentioned it to anyone. And although Patterson had remained close to him throughout the days that had passed, the two had never spoken again about that thing… That… Kiss?
Louis's cheeks warmed vaguely at the mere thought; he immediately looked away from the older one as he carefully served him the tea.
However, this was the first time since that time that the two were completely alone; in the large house in Paris there were only the two of them and no one else.
Albert and Mycroft had decided to sleep away from home for a few days and Louis certainly hadn't opposed it, while everyone else that afternoon was busy with a long and exhausting trip outside Paris and would only return at nightfall. Louis, who in those days was feeling more exhausted than usual, had opted to stay at home, so Patterson had offered to keep him company. The two then agreed to spend an afternoon of healthy reading accompanied by tea. And although that gesture seemed so normal to him, Louis' ruby eyes couldn't help but tremble every time Patterson smiled at him cautiously.
After that day, Louis had done nothing but think over and over again about the way he had felt. In all his almost 25 years of life, he had never felt such strong emotions as that day when Patterson kissed him in the rain.
He had tried, actually Louis had ardently tried not to think about it anymore. However, every time Patterson revealed himself to him, he did nothing but think about it over and over again. So much so that he couldn't even sleep at night.
After that day, under Sherlock's incredulous eyes, Louis had started smoking. Not much actually; he limited himself to a cigarette after dinner, when no one could see him. Precisely at the moment of the day when his thoughts became heaviest, he lit a cigarette and stopped thinking for those interminable minutes; he began to remember. He remembered the cold rain crossing his hot face, he remembered the scent of flowers in the air, he remembered Patterson's arms holding him and he remembered the strange sensation of having someone on his lips. And just as his heart began to beat strongly under those vivid memories, Sherlock promptly burst onto the balcony and began his "It's not good for you to smoke Louis, you absolutely must stop" speech. With a cigarette in his mouth and his classic cheeky smile. And after tormenting him for a while, he went back into the house promising not to tell anyone that he had seen him smoking, continuing to tell him to go back into the house before he got cold. Louis coughed a little, rolled his eyes and then couldn't help but sigh. As much as he didn't like Sherlock, in those moments of peace stolen from his mind, Louis couldn't help but not care about anything or anyone; even Sherlock didn't bother him that much after all.
But every time the cigarette ran out and Louis returned to the house to go to his room, he couldn't help but start thinking again; thoughts that had never occurred to him before. He got into bed perfectly arranged and, turning off all the lights, found himself staring at the ceiling. Patterson's words said in the park came back to him, the so serene way in which he had kissed him; he barely touched his mouth and a question came back to mind in his disoriented mind: "Was my first kiss like yours?"
“I particularly like this brand.” Patterson had said, adjusting his glasses on the tip of his nose. “Do you bring it from Brighton?”
Louis briefly came to his senses at that juncture. That day he had taken off his eyeglasses and put on the contact lenses that Moneypenny had given him; however his hand moved in the void to adjust the glasses he wasn't wearing. “Yes, it's from Brighton.” He responded by withdrawing his hand, almost taking his gaze away from the table.
“It's the same quality I usually drink in London.” Had said the other, moving his hair from his whitish face.
Patterson sat upright in the red armchair, Louis sat in the opposite one and nodded delicately. His mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely.
“It looks like it's made from orange peels.” Had said Patterson with careful when placing the cup on the small ceramic saucer.
Louis nodded carefully.
“And I imagine you also add vinegar, mix it with salt and a pinch of pepper, right?” Patterson had said again, carefully placing the cup on the small carved wooden table.
Louis nodded again, observing the amber liquid with his ruby eyes.
“Ah here, then you mix it with your fingers and spit into Sherlock's cup.” The older one continued, bringing his arms to his chest. “Louis you're not listening to me.”
At those words Louis looked up slightly at the other, he lost himself for a second in the gray eyes that were observing him and he almost felt himself falling. “Sorry, I got distracted.”
Patterson laughed gently before sighing slightly. “I'd like to tell you it's okay, but it's not the first time it's happened to you.”
Louis sighed slightly at those words, he almost felt compelled to bend his back a little.
The eldest rose elegantly from the armchair, approached the large bookcase and began to run his gaze along the refined leather and leather ribs. “Let's read something; what do you suggest me?"
Louis also got up from the armchair to approach the other. He was slightly shorter than Patterson, shoulder to shoulder the difference could barely be noticed. “What do you think of Nicolai?” He whispered in a delicate voice.
“Why this choice?” Had asked the other almost casually, turning towards Louis who was a few centimeters away from him.
However, Louis had placed the book on the elegant bookcase and shook his head. Patterson looked at him confused. The shorter one couldn't quite explain why, but while he lingered in front of the other, his hands had just started to break out in a cold sweat; even just looking directly at his shadowy gaze caused Louis strong anxiety.
The taller one carefully adjusted his glasses, a tender look of confusion on his face. “Don't feel like reading? Do we want to play a game of chess? Or maybe you'd rather go out, maybe—"
“Was my first kiss like yours?” Louis asked in one breath, planting his crimson gaze in the other's direction.
“What?” Asked, almost stopping the taller one.
“I'm asking you if the kiss we exchanged in the park has any meaning for you, or was it something that happened in a moment?” Louis had asked firmly.
He was slightly shorter than Patterson and although Louis always seemed so fragile from his view, at that moment his question seemed truly decisive; his tone was too. So much so that the tallest one didn't know what to say at that moment. He really froze at those words. With his very white hand he carefully removed his glasses.
“When we came back here at home, everything went back to the way it was; as if this thing had never happened." Continued the other, bringing his hands to cross each other.
Patterson had grown to know that gesture; when Louis felt particularly hurt or under pressure he would bring his hands together forcefully. It was one of those many gestures that he made without thinking, one of those many gestures that simply made him Louis in his charcoal eyes.
“What did you expect would happen?” The older one asked cautiously, looking into Louis's fragile soul almost coming to the surface in his crimson eyes.
He bit his lip slightly, feeling a lump in his throat. “I don't know, it was my first time.” He had whispered almost feeling his crimson eyes shining in the light of the lamps in the palatial house.
Patterson almost felt his heart tremble at the other's tone, he really felt in difficulty in front of those words; the taller one would not have expected such a speech from the other.
“So this is how it's done? Do you kiss with someone for a moment and then pretend that nothing happened?” Asked the shorter one in a trembling voice.
Patterson shook his head carefully. “I didn't expect... You to think about it again.” The other replied.
“Haven't you thought about it anymore?” Louis asked, placing a hand on the mahogany shelf.
Patterson looked darkly at the other man, he really seemed on the verge of breaking, his gaze was so full of pain. “Not enough apparently.” He had whispered.
Louis felt extremely hurt by those words, however a smile born of bitterness seemed to arise on his thin lips. “I thought someone had offered me help for the first time in my life.” He had whispered.
Patterson sighed gently. “It's precisely to give you this help that I have preferred to pretend nothing happened these days, Louis.” He had responded carefully.
The younger Moriarty moved away from the other, he reached the armchair and without turning he felt his heart beating forcefully in his chest.
“It was my first time. The first time I... I felt alive.” He said, turning to the other.
Patterson carefully observed the other's ruby eyes shining in the light of the room; he could see very well the way his right hand clasped his own left wrist, the way he trembled slightly at those words. “And I know it wasn't the same for you, but for me that moment really meant a lot.” He said, casting his ruby gaze to the ground. “I had never felt like this before.”
For several minutes Patterson didn't know what to say. His throat seemed to have become incredibly dry, his breathing was almost dead.
“And I know maybe it's a silly thought, but I said to myself: maybe other people's lives are sweet for this reason.” Continued the minor, almost feeling his heart weigh twice as heavy in his chest. “My brothers are happy because there is that feeling in their lives. That sensation of which I had a slight taste." He whispered, tightening his grip on his wrist.
The taller man remained listening for several minutes, his charcoal gaze seemed to dig beyond the floor, his raven hair was motionless at the sides of his oval face, no movement seemed to come from his figure almost crystallized in the words that he had just heard.
Louis suddenly felt guilty. Even he couldn't explain why, however a strong wave of sadness had taken over his heart.
“Louis, you are so young.” Patterson had said, moving a little closer to the slightly hunched figure in front of him. “And I was so careless towards you.” He had whispered.
The younger man's crimson gaze seemed to wander into space; he didn't have the courage to look at the person who was speaking to him, not even for a second.
“But if I could go back I would do it again.” Whispered the delicate voice of the tallest. He had brought a warm hand to the other's cheek, slowly wiping away the moisture under his eyes; enough to force Louis to look up at him.
“I would kiss you again and grab your hand to hear you laugh like you did that day.” He had said cautiously.
“And why don't you do it now?”
The voice that came out of Louis' lips almost seemed like a strangled whisper, so much so was he doing everything he could to hide the pain that his eyes seemed to be pouring out in thin tears.
Patterson smiled delicately at that sight, something in his heart had vaguely moved and he would have liked to answer the other with what he asked; however, his rationality had blocked him decisively and, raising his charcoal eyes enough to pour them into the crimson sea of the one who was looking at him, he had brought a hand to move a lock of straw-colored hair behind his pale ear. The taller took a few minutes to observe the delicate face that he was surrounding with his hands; Louis was truly beautiful in all his elegant features.
His whitish face carried with it the kiss of delicacy. He had two ruby eyes, set in wheat-colored eyelashes; his gaze was always attentive and sharp, yet his emotions could always be read in his ashen pupils. His sun-colored hair was soft to the touch and fell peacefully to the edges of his face, except for one lock. She was perpetually placed covering his right cheek where a large burn had dug a deep scar into his white skin. Louis was ashamed of it and did everything to cover it up, however, on his perfect face even that scar ended up giving him grace; his beauty couldn't be disfigured by anything anyway. So with a gesture of his hand, Patterson brought his fingers to touch the other's right cheek until freeing it from the hair which he brought more carefully behind his pale ear.
The pointy nose of the shorter one was often topped by the steel frames of his thick glasses, yet today they were not there and the older one could admire his ruby eyes in all their simple beauty.
“You are so young Louis.” Had whispered the older one again; his breathing could barely be heard. “And life still has so much to offer you.” He continued with extreme caution. “And I'm just a piece that moved your soul for an instant; a small and simple moment.”
And although Louis had remained motionless for an interminable time, at that moment his face moved forcefully, he shook his head decisively. "It's not true."
"Yes, it's true." The older one had said in a soothing tone. “It must be true.” He continued seriously. “Because you are too young and inexperienced, you deserve someone who is almost as inexperienced as you. Someone with whom you can discover the world.” He had said carefully.
Louis remained silent at those words, he could feel Patterson's eyes losing intensity on his face. “That someone could be you.” The younger one replied in a faint voice.
The taller man had shaken his head with immense slowness, his charcoal gaze almost seeming to have softened. He always wore a gray veneer of seriousness on his face, but at that moment the only thing that could be seen was total and vulnerable tenderness. “It can't be me; I don't have to be."
"Why not?" Had asked the other almost feeling like he was drowning in the face of that conversation which was forcefully sucking him into an abyss that he had never felt before. He had the vague sensation of being able to get lost in the eyes as black as night that looked at him.
“Because you deserve to have someone your age by your side.” He had responded without beating around the bush. He had slowly left the other's pale face and in silence had lost himself for a second admiring his features.
“In what respect should this be respected?” Had asked for the lowest. Now a pale cloud of anger could be seen in his delicate face. “How many times have you witnessed arranged marriages between people of different ages in London? It was never a crime.” His voice seemed to tremble along with his entire figure. “Are feelings controlled? Can we ask the heart to do what people think is right?” He had asked forcefully.
"Is not the same thing." Had said the tallest seriously. “We aren't here to discuss London customs Louis. We aren't in London and this is not the case. We're talking about your happiness here."
Louis remained silent before those words and even before he could open his mouth, the delicate hand of the taller one stopped him.
Patterson had shaken his head politely; he almost felt his heart stop under the words that he had heard spoken so often from his own mouth in the past: feelings cannot be commanded.
“It's just an illusion Louis; you feel nothing for me." He then said, looking up at him.
At those words Louis felt himself almost wavering. He had the distinct sensation of walking on a tightrope suspended in space, the sensation of losing his balance. “How can you say that?” He whispered, almost feeling the lump in his throat getting bigger.
“That was your first kiss. Your first cigarette.” Had said the other almost sighing. “And you don't know how many other new things to do await you in this life.” He continued with determination. “Do you really want to tell me that before that kiss, you saw me with different eyes?”
"Yes." He replied in one breath.
Patterson had raised a pale hand to his face, almost rubbing his tired eyelids. “You don't know what you're saying.”
“Yes, yes I know.” Had answered the other.
At that moment, almost without thinking, Louis had taken a step forward on that rope suspended in the void. In his heart his fear had not yet subsided, yet his mouth seemed to move at the mercy of something that not even he could control. “I have always seen you with different eyes, just as you saw me with different eyes.” He had said forcefully.
The older boy seemed almost shaken by that sudden change in tone that Louis had in his trembling voice. “Just because we spent time together in London, drank in the bar or walked in the park; would you like to tell me that you have started to have feelings for me?” He then asked, bringing his arms to his chest.
“You didn't do it?” Had forcefully asked for the other.
The owner of the charcoal eyes stopped for a moment before those words; he almost felt his heart beat faster in his chest.
“This doesn't mean anything, it doesn't change the situation.” He said suddenly, almost feeling the need to take a step back.
"Then why…." Louis asked, almost feeling like his heart was about to explode. “…Why did you come to Paris? Why did you spend time with me?” He had asked on the edge of a wave of anger that he felt emerging in his voice; however, only an immense sadness could be seen in his ruby eyes. “Why did you kiss me?”
Patterson had gritted his teeth slightly at those words. He wanted to bring his hand to dry the tears of the youngest, but he had taken a deep breath. “Because I saw you fragile, in that moment I really saw you on the verge of breaking, Louis.”
“So you decided to break me with your own hands?” Sobbed the younger almost feeling the tears dripping forcefully down his pale cheeks.
“I decided to show you that in this world there are not only bad things.” Had forcefully said the other. “That day I thought I had opened your eyes to a sweeter world than the one you are used to living every day.” Had said the other, bringing his hand to dry the wet cheeks of the youngest. “That day I saw in you a soul lost in its own life.”
"Why did you do that?" He had asked again in a whisper; he almost had the impulse to run away from all those emotions that were invading his heart. He really wanted to escape, run into his room and remain silent for an interminable time. However, his legs didn't move at all.
“Because when I'm in your company I get lost too.” Had answered the other. “I have this senseless desire to take your hand and guide you myself off that twisted path you're trying to follow.”
And as much as the taller one felt damn guilty at that moment, he couldn't help but run his fingertips under the ruby eyes of the smaller one; he couldn't help but want to hold him to his chest and beg him to stop shedding such bitter tears. “I kissed you that day because I see an unparalleled beauty in you; a beauty that you cannot grasp in yourself.” He had said again, passing his eyes to admire the face in front of him. “Because I would like you to stop worrying about what's around you and start thinking about yourself. I really wish I could kiss you right now too.”
“And why don't you do it?” Had asked the other almost on the verge of a fit of tears, or perhaps of sadness or anger; not even Louis himself could understand why those words were hurting him so much.
“Because then I look at you and remember that you are so young and I am old. You are so beautiful and full of talents. I remember that in this life you can have everything you want, starting with a person who is able to give you joy, love and anything you want." He paused, almost feeling his breath run out of breath on those words.
“I remember you can have it all, why would you want me?”
“Because I feel good with you.”
Patterson took a slow breath on the shorter one's words. He felt an immense boulder in his chest and even breathing for a moment seemed almost an impossible task. The minor's ruby eyes looked at him forcefully and a veil of sadness was perceptible on them. It was at that moment that his rationality took over and feeling his eyes stinging, Patterson shook his head.
“It was a big mistake.” He finally whispered.
He had made an immense mistake and due to his extreme selfishness Louis was now groping in the dark right in front of him, yet his arms were too far away to take him by the hand and guide him away from that path.
He realized the brutal reality: his words and gestures had only contributed to making Louis lose his soul once again and once again.
"Not at all." Louis intervened, extending a hand towards the other.
However, Patterson shook his head and took a step back and reached out towards the chair. “It's getting late, I think I'll go back to the hotel.”
At those words Louis' heart seemed to rarefy, he opened his mouth about to say something, yet not a single sound came out. Before his eyes a thick veil of tears covered his entire vision while the older one grabbed his jacket and left the living room.
Louis didn't follow him, much less manage to call him back. It was as if his entire voice had been stolen along with a beating piece of his heart.
Patterson for his part could feel his heart beating so hard that he could barely waver as he walked along the road towards his hotel with his hands in his pockets; a pulsating confusion in his mind.
And as the night took its pace and the afternoon was lost in the orange sky, tears flowed incessantly down the face shaken by Louis' slow sobs.