The day after their double date and for the first time, Greg and Mycroft were sitting in the school playground together. They were holding hands, as was custom for couples of that age, and were giggling about the night before. The boys shared their favourite parts and asked each other what they could improve on in low voices. They huddled closely together in the chilly breeze.

"I like the finger part of it My," Greg half moaned. He pulled his face away from the other boys ear before he started to nibble at it. He reminded himself he was at school. Mycroft replied with a half hearted groan of agreement.

"Do you think this is appropriate for boys your age at school?" Craws said coming up behind them. The small man was nicknamed Craws by almost every student, and some of the teachers (even though they would never admit it, because of his hunched back and craw like hands that always hung at the center of his stomach.)

"What's inappropriate Sir?" Mycroft said mockingly at the man. Greg turned red, "had he heard all of it?"

"Being all over each other, it's hardly school ground behaviour boys," Craws replied, his hands started to twitch against his chest in a rat - like way.

"We are just doing what we want, sir," Mycroft started. He was struggling to figure out if he was mad because he was jealous as his own relationship was failing because of his wife being a lesbian, or if his father's homophobia had finally engulfed him too.

"Well, I don't want to see it on my school grounds."

"Ok, Sir," Mycroft sneered behind his back as he turned away. The two boys returned to leaning on each other and holding hands. They could see peoples' disapproving looks at them, they lived in a small neighbourhood on the outside of London so homophobia and racism where common factors. But there was a fifty-fifty split between supporters and opposers to the 'gay movement,' as some people called it. They got support from a few strangers if someone attacked them because of homophobia, and it always made them thankful for each other. It had been over five years since they started to date and they had seen each other almost everyday since. They knew everything about each other.

"What's wrong?" said Greg, trying not to call Mycroft 'sweet' after the last incident.

"That girl, over there? See her?" Mycroft pointed obviously. Greg pulled his arm down in embarrassment and followed his eye line.

"Oh yeah, Molly… What's her name…Molly Hooper, that's it. I have science with her."

"She's been staring at you for ten minutes now. Her expression changed every time you got closer to me. She obviously likes you," Mycroft started. Greg blushed at this proposition and accidently met Molly's eye. "She has a note for you in her left hand and she wants to ask you to prom."

"What? Really? Wow." Greg stumbled over his words, looking for the phrase. He had been loose friends with the girl, but for her to have a crush on him? They weren't that close. Greg even doubted if they'd had a full conversation before. Greg felt his hand being crushed under Mycroft's tightening grip, he began to sweat. He tried to reassure himself and Mycroft that it wasn't true.

Luckily for Greg, the class bell rang. He kissed Mycroft goodbye on the forehead and half ran to the boys bathroom. He found a weird sense of reassurance being in a deserted public toilet, he had gained this from countless counselling sessions after his adoption. The toilet walls had peeling blue wallpaper and a strong smell of urine, no one ever came into this part of the school. He leant against the sinks, steadying his breathing. He was insanely unfit for his age and struggled to run even for half a minute. John, six years younger than him, could outrun him in distance and speed. As his breath steadied he splashed water onto his face, "four minutes until class," he noted to himself. His mind was racing, was mycroft jealous? Did Molly actually like him? He noticed she did act a little weird around him but not that sort of weird. The bathroom door sung open, Greg almost lost his balance. Molly moved shyly towards him.

"Oh hey Molly," Greg said, confused of why she had followed him into the boys toilets. "What's up?" He said returning to the sink. He damped his wrists to cool down.

"I missed you."

"M-m-missed me?" Said Greg in confusion.

"Over the weekend," she started to move closer. She grabbed his wet wrist and spun him to face her. He met her eyes with concern.

"What's wrong Molly?" She began to walk her fingers up his chest. Greg shivered. "What are you doing?" He started to blush and rubbed the back of his neck. He knocked her hands off him.

"What? Don't you want me Greggie?" She rocked on her heels as she reached for his neck. He stepped backwards in alarm.

"We- we - we should get to class."

"And?" She replied. His mind started to race, he couldn't think of a way out. Greg closed his eyes to stabilise himself. He felt something touch his lips gently, he opened his eyes in shock. She started to move her tongue over his lips. Before he could push her away, he felt her hot tongue push inside his mouth. He stood there, arms flailing helplessly at his sides. "What do I do, What do I do?" he quizzed himself desperately. He didn't this.

"hey Greg wh- WHAT THE HELL?" Mycroft roared at the door. Gregs eyes shot open and met Mycroft's instantly. Greg got his senses back and tried to push her away and accidentally grabbed her boob in the process. A disgusted 'ugh' spat out of Mycroft's mouth and shoved her off him. She stood in the doorway.

"Until later Greggie," she winked and disappeared.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Mycroft roared, trying to keep a level head.

"My-Mycroft..." Greg said holding his spinning head. "Had that really happened?" He quizzed himself.

"You... You kissed her?" Mycroft yelled, he was turning red and started to shake.

"It's not.. No," Greg stuttered trying to grab Mycroft's face to kiss him. Mycroft slapped his hand away.

"You kissed her," he spat. Greg shook his head violently he was tearing up. "You know what? It's over! Have a nice life, Jerk." He spun on his heel and ran out the door. Greg stood there in shock. His chest ached sharply. He couldn't believe this happened. He loved Mycroft. He started to cry. He ran after Mycroft.

"Mycroft! Wait!" He ran past multiple classrooms, students stared out the windows at him. Mycroft disappeared into class. Greg ran into the class and darted around looking for Mycroft. A sea of students blocked his view. Greg started to hyperventilate and then ran. He didn't know where to run but followed his legs. His senses scrambled. Greg couldn't see through the tears but aimed for the mass of green in front of him. He made his way into the forest and crawled into a small ditch. He screamed long moans of deep agony into the emptiness. He began to scratch without realising on his arms. Greg was alone.

"Mycroft! Greg is here!" Mrs Holmes yelled up the stairs. In his room Mycroft was sat on his bed staring at the wall blankly. He felt nothing, he pushed everything away. Sherlock had tried to cheer him up by offering to do experiments after school, but he just pushed his little brother away. He thought if he blanked everything out it would go away. After all, he caught the love of his life cheating on him with Molly of all people. "Why? Why did he do it?" He quizzed himself over and over. "Was it me? Am I not good enough?"

"Should I bring him up?" His mother appeared in the doorway. "He has flowers and he's crying."

"What flowers?" Mycroft asked weakly, although he knew the answer.

"Red roses," they said in unison. Mycroft started to cry so he hide his face in a pillow dramatically and screamed 'no' at Mrs Holmes. She held her son's shoulder for a second. "He remembered the roses from our first date." He felt a strong pull in his chest as the memoried of the date flashed back. He remembered the pizza they had shared at Pizza Hut and how his heart almost stopped when he saw Greg in his 'smart' outfit.

"He said he didn't do it, it was her," she said sympathetically, "I think he is true Mikey…"

"Don't call me that! And I know what I saw! He kissed her!" He yelled weakly to the pillow. He was so tired from being emotionless. His body ached and he just wanted to get out. He didn't know what 'out' meant, death or just a walk, he didn't know nor understand.

"Ok, ok… I will go tell him you don't want to see him." She left Mycroft crying frantically into his pillow. He took out his childhood friend, Pickles, a stuffed black and white cat from underneath his bed. No one knew he still had this as he is a sixteen year old who is 'too old for stuffed toys'. He hugged the toy to his chest desperately trying to suck out its comfort. As a child he did this when his parents argued or when Sherlock made fun of his umbrella. Mycroft stared blankly at the soggy pillow as he remembered staring at the stars with Greg talking about the possibilities of the universe five years ago. "I can't do this." He felt so empty, but not the emptiness that he creates for himself. He blamed Greg for his pain, and rightly so he thought.

"HOLD ON, BABY HOLD ON," sang from out the window. It was the weekend after the breakup. "Four days, three hours, forty one minutes and fifty two… fifty three seconds" Mycroft counted to himself as he moved towards the window. He was considering forgiving Greg. Throughout the week, Mycroft had been finding red roses in his locker and 'i miss you' notes in his work books. Greg had respected his distance though, after tuesday at least. It was the day after the breakup when Greg had ran up to Mycroft and kissed him on the cheek, only to be met with a slap round the face. This lead to rumours spiralling out of control and Molly being made unnecessarily popular in school. He missed Greg uncontrollably and just wanted him back; although the constant attempts to win back the heart of Mycroft where deemed adorable to some, Mycroft found them tedious. The boy had broken his heart, cheated on him, and expected to win him back with ten roses everyday and a few notes? Mycroft stood at the window looking down. Below was Greg holding an eighties beat-box, blurting out Hold On by Kansas, their song. Mycroft bit back a smile and a tear as he turned away from the window. Greg sat down with the beat box above his head and turned the volume up again. As where they live is fairly populated he knew the police will be on him soon, but "anything for Mycroft," he said to himself. Hearing the music being turned up, Mycroft opened his window and hung half out.

"'Cause it's closer than you think, and you're standing on the brink, hold on, baby hold on," greg sang on the top of his lungs through a huge smile to Mycroft. Mycroft sat on the window sill, watching his ex-boyfriend making a complete fool of himself in front of the neighbours. Greg put down the beat-box and started to madly serenade Mycroft. Mycroft sat staring, laughing slightly. He mouthed some of the words along as Greg got down on one knee and produced a single red rose from his pocket. "For you," was visibly written on a note attached to them.

"What do you want?" Mycroft asked when the song ended.

"Simply? You. It always has been you My," he yelled back, hearing some 'awww's coming from the houses surrounding him. Almost the entire neighbourhood had come out to see what was going on.

"Then why did you kiss her?" Mycroft replied, raising his voice. Some shocked and disapproving noises emerged from the houses, Mycroft felt like he was on a sitcom and beckoned Greg to meet him downstairs.

They met ten minutes later in Mycroft's bedroom.

"Please Mycroft," Greg pleaded to the floor. Mycroft picked up his head by his chin and made Greg look him in the eyes.

"Why? Why did you kiss her?" He asked. He felt like crying again. His face was still teared stained and he was very self aware about it.

"I didn't. I told you she kissed me," Greg promised. He looked into the boys eyes, he fell in love every time he did. He was head over heels and couldn't cope being separated from him. In fact, in the four days they had broken up he had relapsed and had gone back to counselling. He felt like Mycroft was his security blanket.

"You didn't stop her…" Mycroft started to believe what the boy was saying. He wasn't twitching his thumbs so Greg was telling the truth by Mycroft's knowledge. He also noticed his long sleeves and trousers, "no Greg, you were doing so well," he blamed himself for this.

"I was in shock," Greg protested shyly. He took the other boy's hands.

"Ok," Mycroft agreed. He placed a kiss slowly on Greg's nose. "Boyfriends?"