Simon's Christmas wish
Summary: Simon isn't as alone on Christmas as he thinks he is.
A/N: Simon centric, with a little slash on the side.
Warnings; emotions, fluff, and… More fluff.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies.
Simon trudged slowly through the snow, down the darkened streets, and towards the place he was meant to call his haven. His safe space. That much it was, but it was certainly not a place to call home, that much was for sure. It was nearly Christmas, yet Simon found himself lacking a family to celebrate this - or any holiday, really - with, for there had been a rather nasty house fire several years before. He could still vaguely remember the sound of his father's voice, the smell of his mother's perfume… The way his baby sister had used to laugh when they all smiled at her. He'd lived with his aunt and uncle for a while, but it was a short experience that Simon preferred not to remember at all.
Needless to say, he was more quickly than not pushed into the foster care system, and was left wanting for a home. He'd been seven. A horrible, aching cough shook Simon from his thoughts as his throat burned viciously. He'd been sick for nearly a month now, and it grew worse every day, but there wasn't much to be done about it. It was cold outside, but in the 'house' it was just as cold, since they lacked a proper heater. Well, except for the staff room, but they weren't allowed in.
Particularly if one was sick. They didn't want to catch anything, naturally. If you died, then it was your own fault, really, for one should be more careful. At least, that was what they had told him, at any rate. Simon tried in vein to pull his coat around himself more tightly, but his hands were shaking too much, and he was far too dizzy to focus on more than one action at a time. So, with walking, moving about his coat, trying to stop shaking, and breathing, it all went downhill quickly. Literally.
Simon cringed as he felt his knees land in the thin layer of snow that covered the sidewalk, the almost slushy substance soaking into the knees of his trousers icily. He missed his mother… He missed his father… He missed his sister…. He just wanted to go home. When it had first happened, he had been hoping against hope that it was all just a nasty dream, but as days became weeks, weeks months, and months years, he simply could not find the well that his hope had once sprung from. Simon curled over as he coughed violently, having to steady himself against the ground with one hand as sickness shook his body mercilessly.
By the end, he could almost have sworn that his throat was bleeding. He wanted to just lay down and rest, but he had to go back… He had to get up and keep going. But why? There was nothing there that he wanted, no one that he cared for… Why should he go back? They wouldn't even notice if he was gone! But the decision of going back or not seemed to be made for him, as his supporting limb failed him and he fell into the slush of the sidewalk. The cold - presently - felt nice against his burning cheek, and he smiled a bit, watching in fading interest as movement shifted around him. It didn't register as important anymore, for if he died on that damned sidewalk, he would see his family again. He wouldn't have to be alone on Christmas… He wouldn't have to be alone ever again.
Simon's lips trembled miserably as a deep, unforgotten sorrow flew through him as he thought this over, shedding a single tear as he closed his eyes against the world, sighing softly into the snow. He just didn't want to have to be alone anymore…
It was Christmas Eve, and those who had gotten stuck out and about were hurrying home, and such was the case for the fiery haired Jack Merridew as he ambled along the streets quickly. He'd had to run to the store for that godforsaken eggnog at the most inconvenient time of night, and he was willing to bet that everyone would be asleep by the time he got back. He'd tried to tell them this, of course, but nobody would listen. So, here he was, freezing his arse off for this damned eggnog, that would go untouched.
Jack was grumbling to himself busily until he came across a body, lying nonchalantly in the middle of the sidewalk. Now, Jack was not normally one to freak out about much of anything - as he was head of a gaggle of boys that the school had dubbed choir - but this was enough to unnerve anyone. As always, though, curiosity killed the cat, and Jack ended up poking around a little, to try and see who it was… And boy was he sure surprised to find Simon, face down in the snow.
He tried desperately to wake him, but the most he got was a grunt in response, and even that was not reassuring, for the god awful coughing that followed. So, being the elder, and there fore the more responsible, Jack - almost grudgingly - parted with his jacket and wrapped up the frigid boy before scooping him up and continuing on.
If Jack was worried about the curios looks, or odd comments that he earned, he did not show it, for he all but ran home, terrified that Simon could simply die in his arms if he spent another moment out in the cold. Of course, this made for an interesting story when he arrived home, but the Merridew family - numerous as they may be - were an understanding people, and took Simon in most willingly. There was a flurry of ginger as they bustled about, fetching this and snatching that in their haste to warm of the obviously ill child.
As it turned out, the diagnosis was pneumonia - for Mrs. Merridew was a doctor, and knew about these things - and everyone swore to tend to the poor boy. Naturally, Jack never left Simon's side as they went about this, nor did he even flinch as they waited for Simon to wake… He could not even be persuaded to eat something as morning eventually rolled around. No, he sat still, one of Simon's frail, cold little hands pressed securely between his own as he waited, hoping that he would be alright.
You see, Jack had always had a soft spot for the small, mostly soft spoken choir boy, and as such had always done his best to look out for him. But it would seem that he hadn't been paying nearly enough attention to him… At around seven, the rest of the Merridew clan gathered with Jack for collective Simon watching, each wondering, hoping that if he did wake, if would be soon. For three hours they all sat together, talking quietly to one another, but making no move to disturb Jack from his post.
They knew better.
It wasn't until half past ten that Simon's brilliant green eyes opened, blinking dazedly out at the massive sea of ginger. For a moment, he wondered if he'd somehow gotten tossed into the gene pool of someone else's deceased relatives, instead of his own, but the thought was shaken as he heard his name. It was a greatly shaken, relieved, and cautiously hopeful sound, and honestly it was the closest thing to miserable Simon had ever heard Jack sound.
Simon looked over at Jack, who smiled brilliantly at him, and laughed shakily, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You've no idea how blinding it was to wake up and see nothing but ginger." Simon scratched out hoarsely, attempting a smile in return, which earned quiet laughter. But it didn't matter, for Simon soon found himself nestled in Jack's arms as the other nearly smothered him in a hug. Simon smiled and - with a great amount of effort on his part - returned the gesture. "You scared me half to death, lying in the middle of the sidewalk like that." Jack hissed, but Simon had no recollection of what he was talking about…
Or even what he'd said, really. For suddenly, the realization hit him; it was Christmas. It was… It was Christmas, and he wasn't… "Jack," Simon rasped, curling his fingers into Jack's sweater. "What…. Is it Christmas?" he choked out, wincing as his throat stung. He should really stop talking… Jack was thrown off kilter by this, and so - as the Merridew clan was want to do - someone took on the task of answering for him. "Yes it is dear, and it's nothing short of a miracle that you're here with us this morning." Said Mrs. Merridew. Simon smiled tearfully, having already known the answer, and had hidden his face in Jack's shoulder. Soft shudders and sobs could be heard, but nothing more as Jack gingerly whispered to Simon. Everyone, with some persuasion, was courteous enough to leave, for it was obviously now a private affair. "Simon, what is it?" Jack murmured, rubbing slow circles into his back as he shook. "I-I'm not alone… I'm not alone… It's… I-it's Christmas, and I'm not alone Jack," he scratched out, looking over at Jack tearfully. "I-It's the first time in seven years," he said, and Jack understood immediately. Simon's family was gone… He'd been left all by his lonesome. Jack cradled the joyfully teary boy to his chest and smiled, placing a kiss gingerly on his forehead and smiling gently, "I love you," he murmured, before pulling back to wipe away Simon' tears, ever so gently placing a kiss upon each of his cheeks. "You know that?"
Simon blushed and bit his lip thoughtfully, smiling a little. Love… It had been a long time since he'd been given it. He missed it dearly… But it seemed that it hadn't been gone, it had just found another place to be. "I-I love you too, Jack." Simon whispered, his voice finally giving out for now. It had given a valiant effort. "Merry Christmas, Simon." Jack smiled, earning a shaky smile from Simon. He hugged the sick, adorable choir boy close to him for a long time, before he eventually ran out of energy, and fell asleep, still close to his darling Simon, who had also fallen asleep.
In the end, it was the best Christmas of all, because Simon didn't have to be alone ever again.
A/N: That's all! I hope you enjoyed it~