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

WARNINGS: Mentions of drug use.

This humble thing is something I wrote to alleviate my anxiety and mood since my parents were arguing outside my room. It would have made a really nice and long one-shot, but I ran out of ideas and I didn't really have the mood to continue it. I didn't even know I'd publish it. Anyways, hope ya'll like this shitty AU lol I tried to write Roger and Simon as perfect as I can

x x x

The moment Roger first met Simon, he was underneath miserable clouds of cancerous cigarette smoke that came from the white nicotine stick loosely situated between his fingers and bandaids, both new and old, plastered all over his pallid arms with used heroin needles scattered around him.

From afar, in the dead of the night, Roger merely appeared as a faint silhouette leisurely sprawled against a bench in the town's only and abandoned playground. The night was barely quiet since some of the older folks in his high school hosted a party somewhere down the block, he was even there a couple of minutes ago until he's had enough of listening to EDM music and intoxicated teenagers shouting whatever.

Roger wondered about his friends. It just goes to show how fucked up the choirboys really were when they're invited in parties like this since Jack was undoubtedly making out with Ralph somewhere— if his chief was lucky, the rather cataclysmic couple could be committing something clandestine under the sheets of the guest room's bed— and Maurice would have done something murderously stupid like pour shampoo in the pool. Roger would typically join the latter in his antics that were borderline to accidental murder, but he preferred the silence for now.

Besides he was really high and really craving relaxation right now.

His mind blanked when that thought had dissipated from his mind and he was back to mindlessly staring at the bleak sky. Roger fiddled with the hem of his carnelian jacket and habitually scratched the rough skin of his fingers with his long nails. His rather soulless dark brown eyes scanned his surroundings for what could be the millionth time that night and with this was the sight of someone approaching his barely conscious body for a reason Roger didn't really care about.

"Roger?"

The voice was echoed in Roger's intoxicated head, but it was kind of familiar to him. It was squeaky and almost androgynous-sounding. Memories of choir meetings and concerts flashed in his head in little bursts. He knew of only one boy in his choir that had a voice like that, but he hadn't bothered to learn the boy's name.

"What are you doing here?" It surprised Roger that he was still able to conceive understandable words. Light thumps of Simon's leather dress shoes stopped just a couple of inches away from the bench Roger was sitting on. He crouched down to meet Roger in eye-level.

"I came to the party with Ralph and Piggy, but flashes of light and loud music highkey gives me seizures. We were all informed it will be casual formal, it sure gave us a shock to find out it was actually another regular high school party," Simon gave a close-eyed chuckle before he fluttered his eyes open and stared into Roger's dark eyes with his own bright ones— it was so bright, Roger was almost deceived into thinking delightfully merry under the influence of drugs— to see if anything was different to the drugged up boy on the bench then spoke, "What are you doing here? It's cold at this time of the night and your lips are trembling."

Roger wouldn't have realized just how cold he really was and that his lips were indeed trembling if not for Simon's observation. "I just don't like loudness at the moment, plus I'm not quite fond of sharing my poison," He answered and pointed to one of the heroin needles scattered on the ground.

Simon didn't react to the implication of drugs, but sighed as he predicted the foreseeable future that is Roger crashing on the playground's bench and possibly freeze his ass off. "Do you want to rest at my place instead? It's quiet and nobody's there," He quietly offered.

Roger, assuming Simon was another stranger looking for a convenient sex, remained motionless. "Normally I'd say yes for a casual fuck, but I'm kind of not in the mood–," He was cut off when Simon abruptly stopped him with a flustered shout.

"It's not that!" Scarlet rose to his cheeks before he continued to speak. "I don't want to do those kind of things with you, you're high and you don't know me that well yet. I just want you to have somewhere warm to stay for the night before you're sober enough to go home in the morning," He explained rather quickly.

Roger was touched at the act of kindness Simon was giving him. Especially since this particular stranger was extraordinarily kind and respectful that he's not going to just do whatever vulgar things with his body and ditch him somewhere rather indecent. It could be the drugs or the conventions of society, but he suddenly have a desire not so typical of him to know who this person was. "I'm sorry, I never really knew your name," He muttered with a shallow smile.

A melodious laugh escaped from the angelic stranger's smiling lips. "I'm Simon, it's nice to officially meet you, Roger," The petite boy replied with the aftereffect of his laughter, a toothy grin.

Simon. Roger was sure to remember that name from now on.