Disclaimer:I do not own Lord of the Flies as it belongs to William Golding.

I will start crying this was supposed to be longer??? But I always end up just making ficlets and it s u c k s but like anyways have this little shit I wrote literally after I have a panic attack because I forgot to do my ap homework thats due tomorrow (tbh i shouldve done the homework instead of writing this but like whatever)

x x x

"Who are you staring at ?"

I feel a surge of panic envelope me before realizing it was the voice of my best friend that is sitting beside me. I sigh in frustration and turn to glare at Roger.

"Can you do well for once in your fucking life without having to scare me?" I ask.

"Woah, I scare you at all?" His friend's expression remain blank and uninterested, except for the small smirk of amusement on his lips.

"No, but I was doing something important." Jack groans and takes another deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Since when was stalking Ralph important?" Roger raises an eyebrows of mild levity, and his tiny smirk turns into a full-on teasing one. "You do know that you really don't need to stalk him if you really want to slam him against a wall and fuck the brains out of him, right?"

I scrunch my face in disgust at the implication. "Ew, Roger, no." I sneak a glance at the loathsome blond that sits by the table across ours, and I scoff. "I'd rather fuck a blender than that irritating arsehole."

Roger rolls his eyes, and his expression turning into his regular monotone. "You're the first person I have ever witnessed to completely obsess and stalk someone, but it's because you hate them." He crosses his arms.

I knit my eyebrows together in anger. "I already told you, I'm not stalking Ralph."

Roger shrugs and tilts his head down. "Whatever you say." He folds his arms on the table and buries his face on them.

I turn to face Ralph's general direction again and watch intently. The annoyingly pretty boy is currently laughing alongside his best friends, an unbearable fatass nicknamed Piggy and a loony kid named Simon, with a light shade of red dusting his cheeks. He looks stupid and it's annoying.

Behind me, I can hear Maurice's muffled music as he sits down on the space beside me that wasn't occupied by Roger. He removed his headphones from his ears, making the music just a little bit less obstructed, and he greets me, "G'morning, chief! You stalking Ralph again?"

From beside me, I hear Roger snicker faintly. I clench my fist in anger, and protests, "I am not stalking Ralph." I turn to look at Maurice with a scowl.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you called it something different." He grins with mocking innocence. "So, how's your morning other than observing Ralph?" He emphasizes on the word 'observing'.

"Chief says he'd rather fuck a blender than Ralph," Roger chimes. I can hear him turn his head to look at what I could safely conclude to be me and Maurice.

"Nice." Maurice grabs an apple from the fruit basket at the center of the long table. "Didn't he tell us yesterday he'd rather shoot both his eyes with a pistol than bear to look at Ralph naked or something like that?" He takes a bite from the red fruit, some of its juice dripped down his chin.

"No, that was two days ago." I turn to look at Roger and glare at him. He seems unfazed and continues to goad me, "Yesterday he said that he'd intentionally pierce his eardrums with cotton swabs just so he couldn't hear Ralph's voice ever again."

"Shit, you're right." Maurice sneers.

"I will literally pull the urethra out of your dicks if you two don't shut up," I threaten with a a harsh glare. That appears to make Maurice shut his mouth and continue listening to his obnoxiously loud music. However, Roger looks unaffected because he's my best friend and he knows I really won't do it to him. Even so, he is quiet.

I became sure this silence will settle, and I turn to continue observing Ralph. This time, he's also listening to music while reading a book I can discern to be The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain while Piggy continues his breakfast and Simon is hunching over the spare chair beside him— although of course, I only care about what Ralph is doing.

He continues reading— during this recreation, he sometimes he bit his bottom lip and tapped his finger on the hard cover of the book with a pleased grin, I found them annoying— until the bell rings and everyone in the great hall scatters to their next class. I find my heart throbbing in irritation when I think that I have my first class with Ralph.

"You thinking about Ralph?" I almost trip on my own feet when Roger spoke. He walks beside me, and I forget that I also have him in my first class. "He's reading Mark Twain this week, what was he reading last week?"

"Oscar Wilde," I answer. My face grimace when I realize the intention of that question.

Roger does a lazy half-smirk. "You know, only a stalker will know the answer to that."

"Or a normally very observant person."

"Oh, yeah? What'd I have for breakfast today?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't fucking know." He raises an eyebrow at the implications of my response. I avoid eye contact by looking at the direction opposite to him. "I don't observe everything, Roger."

"Bet you know what he ate for breakfast this morning." I feel even more shame when I think how right Roger is. "Literally no one will think low of you if you just admit you're stalking him."

"Shut up," For the lack of better response, I just say that. I continue denying, "I'm not."

We reach the classroom after a couple flights of stairs and long halls. When I step inside the room, I notice Ralph is already inside, sitting on his seat by the front corner of the classroom by the window and reading the same book.

Roger and I sit on our respective seats beside each other. "I fucking hate English for making me read Coral Island. If I get marooned on an uninhabited island, I'd just hunt for food and possibly kill some annoying little shit with a boulder." Roger crosses his arms and throw his feet on the desk.

I snicker at this, and joke, "You'd kill the fucking fatass, Piggy."

"Let me guess, you'd kill Ralph?" He asks.

I smirk and nod. "I'd burn down an entire forest just to kill him."

"That's concerningly obsessive," He comments.

"Shut the hell up, you know you'd do the same."

"Nah, that takes too much work." He puts his feet down when the teacher walks in. He folds his arms on the desk, turns to me, and whispers, "You're the only one maniacal enough to hyper focus and put too much effort on shit." He faces the teacher.

I mindlessly nod at the last words he said and turn to Ralph's direction, who has his headphones off his head and around his neck instead. He isn't reading anymore, but the book rests on his table. He's focusing on the teacher, like the perfect golden boy he is, and has his hands folded on his desk.

I think back to what Roger has been implying since five years ago— when I fatefully met Ralph— and wonder if I really am obsessed with the fair-haired boy. I mentally scoff and shake my head at the idea.

I'm obviously not obsessed with an insufferable git like Ralph.