Sadistically Beautiful

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies or any of the characters.

A fairly decent looking kid, for his age, wondered the forests that the island they were stuck on occupied. There wasn't much to do at the moment. Most of the other's were either bathing or with Jack, hunting. Maurice simply wanted to spend a few minutes by himself for the time-being. Usually, he'd be with the other boys, playing around or, sometimes, with Jack and a few others, prowling the forests for pig. This happened to be one of the few moments that he had gotten to himself since they had crashed on the island.

He mostly just wanted to mull over some things that he hadn't really had the chance to think about all that much. He'd spotted a place a ways away from the 'camp' while hunting with Jack, now he just had to find it again. He walked through the most familiar places and through places not as familiar until he found the small area he'd been looking for. He didn't want to be too close to camp, yet not too far away either.

Spotting a nice looking tree, Maurice walked to it and sat down against it. From now on, this would be the place he'd go to when he wanted to think; it would be his special place on the island. It didn't look like anything special, but he liked it and it was comfortable.

Being on this island was definitely...different. It had been scarey the first few days, but he got used to it. Though he still longed to go home, much like most of the others did, they just never really said much about it. He missed home, but what he missed the most was being around Roger and talking to him.

He had a few chances when he was able to go hunting with Roger, but most of the time, Roger was too focused on catching a pig, rather than wanting to talk. He never talked to him that much before, but at least then he could talk to Roger all he wanted and not be shooed away.

That was what Jack had been doing to him since they arrived on this island. Every time he had a chance to speak to Roger, Jack would tell Roger to go hunting with him and they'd leave together. Maurice wasn't sure why Jack was the only person who could order Roger around, but he did know that he didn't like it.

Roger never protested either, which he found strange considering Roger never liked being told what to do by anyone. It was hard to understand what went through the dark boy's head, and simply saying that he did it because Jack told him too, didn't seem like it was true.

But what if it was? What if for some ungodly reason, Roger liked Jack? Maurice sure hoped not. Though Roger didn't seem like he'd be interested in liking anyone. Then again, if Roger wasn't interested in anyone, that would mean he didn't like Maurice either; or well, the way that Maurice liked him. That happened to be disheartening, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

Maurice sighed sadly. It certainly sucked being hung up on someone who would, most likely, never be interested in any person, at all, including him. Liking someone like Roger was very complicated. He just hoped that Roger wouldn't find out, he wasn't sure what he'd do if that happened.

Roger was far more than certain that he knew, and he definitely was sure that he was right. Unlike the many other boys who also inhabited the island, he was not dumb, nor oblivious. He observed people, a lot, and he was able to see how a person acted and how they felt most of the time. He did this with almost everyone he came in contact with, and that was why he was certain that he was right.

That Maurice kid made his emotions very obvious, he was easy to read; he probably never noticed it either. Before the plane crash and before they even knew this godforsaken place existed, Roger had communicated with the boy a few times and one could say that Maurice seemed closer to him than anyone else. That he never fully understood though.

Anyway, as Roger began to watch him, observe him, he began to notice some things that he never quite picked up on before about the other. Maurice had always tended to be alone, sticking with Roger and a couple other kids; that wasn't a surprise to Roger. What did interest him, however, was the fact that Maurice enjoyed being around him, he'd catch him staring at him through his peripheral vision or on accident, and lately Maurice hadn't spoken to him very much.

He didn't care that the kid stopped speaking to him, but, nevertheless, it still made him curious as to why. He figured out what the 'why' was soon after. It didn't take an idiot to piece it together, really. The kid had some sort of fascination with him, more of an attraction actually.

Once he figured that out, Roger wondered why of all people, or anyone, would ever be attracted to him. He was fairly attractive, that was undoubtedly agreeable, not that he cared all that much, but Roger felt that this kid's feelings didn't just center around his physical appearance; they seemed deeper, dare he say.

So, Roger contemplated that, when he was not off hunting for Jack or something and had time, and came to the conclusion that there must be something wrong with that boy's head. Physical attraction to him was potentially understandable, but anything deeper? That was...ludicrous, absurd, insane. Who in their right mind would want to be attracted to a dark, sadistic, little creep like himself? It was absolutely preposterous, all the words listed before, and more.

And another thing, that was more of an interest than anything; what compelled Maurice to fall for a boy? The general idea of a same sex relationship was something that was becoming more common, but for a male, a person of the same sex as he, to be attracted to him; that was something new and took a bit of adjusting to. He had nothing against it, he just never thought much about it and never considered the possibility of a boy being attracted to him. Relationships in general weren't something that interested him anyway, but this had, obviously, intrigued him, if only a bit.

From his observations, Roger could say that Maurice was, "head over heels for him", as most would put it. How idiotic, he'd thought, falling in love only makes a person more vulnerable; why do it? Roger was not concerned with being attracted to anyone, he didn't see a point or need in it. Maurice, though, was and Roger couldn't fathom if that was a good or bad thing for him, or perhaps neither.

Although, the second he realized it, if he were any other person, he'd confront Maurice, warn him, tell him that being involved with something like him, was the last thing he could possibly want; simply forget about his feelings and move on. But because Roger is the person he is, he found it better-and funner-to perhaps play along with this, make the best out of it for himself. It would certainly provide him with a bit of entertainment for the time being. And that was exactly what he planned to do too.

It was cruel, selfish, mean, but Roger didn't care. He harbored no feelings for Maurice and the kid should have already had the idea of what this would get him into. So, in Roger's mind, he saw that if anything, it would not be his fault in the first place, and even if he were blamed, he most likely wouldn't care either. All the better for him, and who cared about anyone else? He didn't. It didn't matter. He was impassive and unsympathetic about anyone or anything, not even himself.

Making Maurice feel as though his feelings were being returned, seeing the happiness evolved from it, and then crushing it all in one blow was just enough to satisfy the sadistic beast inside of him. Simply thinking about it made him want to place his plan into action immediately, but he refrained. Seeming too eager was not something he wanted and if this were to work just the way he wanted it to, he would need to think it out some more; diving right in was amateurish.

To Roger, this was a game, a cruel plot to destroy any hopeful thoughts about him that Maurice may have and, in the midst, show the boy that Roger was not a person to be involved or messed with; he'd make sure of it.

Two days later, when the other boys were off playing around and such, Roger watched as Maurice walked away from them. No one else seemed to notice aside from him, so after a few seconds, he slipped off as well, following in the direction he saw Maurice go.

He was lead, unknowingly, a ways into part of the forest. Roger followed quite a bit back so as not to be heard by Maurice. He kept far enough away so that he could at least make out where the kid walked, but still not lose complete sight of him.

Roger wasn't sure how long they'd walked, but when Maurice finally stopped at a small clearing, he hid behind a large tree, watching. He didn't really seem to be doing anything at all beside sitting against a tree and toying with some grass.

He stood there for quite some time and when he became uncomfortable from standing in the same spot for so long, he shifted. His foot rested on a stick and before he do could much about it, it snapped. Shit! He probably had just blown his cover. Peering around the tree, he noticed Maurice looking around, and then he stood up. Maurice walked forward and stopped. "Is someone there?"

Staring up at the tree, Roger briefly wondered if he could climb it and hide in the leaves without being seen or heard. "Roger?" Roger turned his head; Maurice had poked his head around the tree he stood behind while he had been contemplating. He said nothing, but began moving out from behind the tree.

Maurice moved back, out of the way and Roger advanced towards him, an unpleasant look adorning his face. He seemed angry, but with Roger, one could be wrong about that. Maurice watched his expression, looking for some sort of change, but nothing happened.

Maurice began taking steps back, falling in rhythm with the other's footsteps. Roger stepped forward. He stepped back. And this continued until Maurice found his back pressing against a rough, rigid surface. Roger had backed him against a tree, a rather large one at that. Vaguely, he registered the fact that nobody happened to be near them and, therefore, Roger had the power to do anything be pleased with him and no one would be there to help.

For a brief moment, Maurice realized that that thought frightened him, yet he wasn't certain as to why, exactly. He had always adored Roger and although he knew what the other boy did, he never took into consideration that Roger could, one day, want to hurt him. That hurt emotionally, and would hurt far worse than any physical harm Roger could ever think to inflict upon him.

He was curious though; confused, yes; yet at the same time, afraid. But what exactly caused this spark of fearfulness? That happened to be the question that confused him the most. Was he afraid of Roger himself? What he was capable of? Of being hurt, physically and mentally? Or, perhaps, all of those at once? This situation was becoming more and more unnerving for him.

Watching as the dark boy before him continued forward until he was mere inches away, only fueled this inner turmoil. At the moment, he really wanted to know what Roger was thinking and what his next actions were going to be; not just stand there, helpless, looking like a terrified idiot.

Maurice held his breath as he felt warm hands take hold of his wrists, one clutched in each one of Roger's hands. His heartbeat became more erratic and a surge of nervousness enveloped his body, from the touch and the sudden close proximity. The dark boy fixed him with an intense, unwithering stare and, ever so slowly, lifted his arms above his head, effectively pinning them against the tree.

So many emotions rushed throughout him that he couldn't make out a specific one for how he felt. Roger's face happened to be a few inches away from his own, and the gentleness of which he held Maurice's wrists was strange, though certainly not unwelcome. And if he weren't so stunned by Roger's unusual actions, he was sure that his face would have been bright red, as well.

Roger's dark, exacerbating eyes bore straight in his own; he was captivated so greatly, he could not bare to look away. He had no idea what Roger was planning to do, but he felt prepared for anything, no matter what is was.

Slowly, Roger moved his head lower, closer to Maurice's own, placing his lips right next to the boy's ear. When he spoke, Maurice almost jumped just from the feeling of his breath ghosting over his skin.

"You actually want to involve yourself with me?" He spoke low and quiet to accentuate that he was serious about this.

Roger pulled back to watch the other's reaction. He saw a bit of surprise and pleasure. He could see that that small act had a huge effect on the boy, and as weird as it sounded, he wanted to see that reaction of pleasure again. It told him that this thing could most definitely work and he found it all very enthralling.

Through his obvious surprise and confusion, Maurice was able to try to find words to respond. "What do you-"

"Yes or no? Do you really want to involve yourself with me? I want a direct answer, and I want one now." The tone of Roger's voice was demanding. Maurice was taken aback by it for a second, but realized that it should have been expected with Roger.

Roger's eyes narrowed, giving away his obvious irritation and anger. He wanted a quick and firm response, and he wanted it at that moment. Maurice's hesitation was extremely aggravating.

Maurice tore his eyes from Roger's own, lowering his head to stare at the ground between them. He wanted to say yes, but with the way Roger had asked him, it had made him feel as though he was wanting something that he shouldn't want. But Maurice knew exactly what he wanted, no more, no less. And it was standing right before him. Yet, he felt as though he needed some time to ponder this. Though Roger didn't seem keen on that idea; Maurice could just feel the other's patience wearing thin.

When his irritation started to get to the best of him, Roger clutched his hands tighter, sinking his nails into the flesh of Maurice's wrists that he still held captive. Maurice swiftly lifted his head, gazing into Roger's penetrating gaze. He tried moving his wrists around to find a more comfortable position for them, but Roger only dug his nails further into the skin, preventing his from doing so. "Ow. Roger, stop. That's really starting to hurt!"

The darker one almost growled. "I don't care. I won't stop. Now tell me." He pushed himself against Maurice's body, shoving the boy further against the tree.

Maurice squirmed. "I don't see why you want to know something like that. And I haven't thought it out all the way, so I can't answer you. Would you please let go? Your nails hurt!" He tried to return a glare, but it came out almost pleading.

Roger didn't look very happy with that response. Actually, he was on the verge of hitting the kid just to get an answer out him. His eyes moved about, taking in all of the details of the other's face, and when they rested on Maurice's lips, an idea struck him. He'd get him to talk, even if he had to make him shut up for a bit first, he'd do it, and Maurice, with the position he was currently in, was completely helpless; he could nothing at all to stop him.

Licking his own lips, Roger gave one last look at Maurice's expression, before dipping his head down, capturing the other boy's lips with his own. This wasn't meant to pleasure Maurice though; no, he wanted an answer and he planned on forcefully making Maurice give him one. If that meant doing this, he'd do it.

At the moment, Roger was very angry. He forced Maurice's mouth open, slipping his tongue inside. A small whimper escaped Maurice and Roger found himself pushing against the other's body even harder, clenching his fists around Maurice's wrists, and beginning to roughly bite at his lower lip. He kissed him as harshly as he could, biting his lip and tongue so hard that he could taste the blood seeping through. And for the longest time, he didn't stop. Each pain-filled sound that Maurice made only caused him to try and hurt him more. Drawing blood any place he could, clawing at Maurice's arms until they bled, and simply causing him as much pain as he could until he tasted a salty liquid; no doubt Maurice's tears. And even then, he kept at it, biting all over his neck, tearing flesh, until finally Maurice gave another irritating sob, and he pulled back, glaring.

He released Maurice's wrists and the boy slid down the tree to rest on the ground, his back still leaning against the bark. A few tears continued to roll down his face as he sniffled and rubbed at his arms, trying to dull the throbbing that coursed throughout them.

Roger simply stood, staring at the other boy. He thought Maurice looked completely pathetic, sitting there like that, crying. He couldn't handle some bites and scratching? How petty. And to think he could have done so much more than just that.

He bent down, becoming eye level with Maurice. "Now, do you want to be involved with me? Answer me this time or, well it could be much, much worse."

Maurice whipped his head up to stare into Roger's emotionless face, bewildered. "You did that to me to get me to answer you?"

Roger glared. "I could make it worse and I will if you don't just give me an answer."

"But why? Why hurt me just to get an answer? You were never like this before we landed on this island! Why are you acting this way? I don't get it!."

The dark one glowered at him. "I barely talked to you before all of this. You don't know who I am and don't ever think you ever will." He never responded to Maurice's question about hurting him, simply because he felt no obligation to. The kid didn't need to have an explanation for every single thing. He stood up. "What I can't understand is why you can't give me a yes or no answer. I'm irritated and angry. I thought this would be fun, but right now I find it very annoying. So, tell me what I want to know. Now."

Roger stepped forward, intending on hitting the boy, when Maurice shouted, "Fine! Yes, I like you, more than I should and if you already knew that then you'd know that I do want to involve myself with you, no matter how much of a jerk you may be!" Roger stopped and just stared at the other, not saying anything. "Actually, I should probably hate you for what you just did and what you've said to me, but I don't and I don't think I ever will; I don't know. I do know that I like being around you and I like to talk to you, even though you always look angry and could care less if I died or something." Maurice mumbled the last part of that sentence, vaguely aware that it was, most likely, true.

The other heard every word, though he wasn't sure he even cared all that much for what Maurice said. Maybe the thing about him not caring if he died, because, well, then he'd have one less person to torment who'd actually not hate him for it.

He crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the sitting boy. "You're so stupid. You people are the ones who I hate the most. You say the most idiotic things and they get you nowhere. What do you think that you'd gain from being with a monster?" Maurice stared up at him, a defensive look adorning his features. "Do you think it'll be fun? Nice?" Roger stared back allowing Maurice to answer if he wanted to, but he remained silent. "Monsters aren't nice or fun. They're made to destroy, hurt, and they're ugly, inside and out. You really want me? A scornful, degrading monster like me?"

Forget the plan, Roger wanted some answers to questions that he could never answer himself. Now, he wanted to see just what Maurice wanted and why he wanted it. He was dead set on knowing every detail.

Bending down on one knee, Roger faced the other boy, staring at him intently. "Tell me why you want a monster. I want to know what's so special." Maurice simply stared, looking as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't quite piece together a good sentence. Roger, agitated, decided to get answers from the other using his own ways. He reached into the back of his school uniform pocket, pulling out the knife he usually used when hunting with Jack.

Maurice was confused, but more terrified than anything. Roger was capable of doing anything with that thing, and he couldn't imagine what he planned on doing at the moment with it. If he really wanted to, he could kill him, right here, right now. Maurice could have been taking his last few breaths for all he knew. Roger was very unpredictable and that left Maurice feeling extremely uneasy.

The knife rested in Roger's right hand, dangling at his side. He could do whatever he wanted to Maurice, with them being in the position that they were in. Roger lifted his left hand, placing it over the mouth of the terrified boy before him. Maurice panicked and grasped Roger's arm with shaking hands. His arms still throbbed from the the dark boy's earlier actions, and frankly, at the moment, he was too scared to have enough strength to even try to push Roger away.

Roger lifted the knife sideways in front of his abdomen. "You want someone who will hurt you? Who would do things like this?" With one swift motion, Roger swung his arm, slicing the skin on Maurice's chest with the knife. It wasn't deep, but it couldn't be considered as just a simple scratch either. His hand pressed against Maurice's mouth harder when the boy let out a muffled cry. "Or this?" Again, he swung the knife over Maurice's chest, uncaring to the muffled, pain-filled sounds Maurice made with each cut. Two more cuts to the chest and a few more to Maurice's legs were all Roger gave him. He left his hand clasped over Maurice's mouth and leaned in closer to his face, staring into his tear-filled eyes. "That's what you want?"

Abruptly, he stood, throwing the knife down somewhere next to him. "That's what I am, what I do." Then he stooped back down again, catching Maurice's chin in his hand and jerking his head up to look at him. "And that's what you want? What you really, really want?"

It was silent except for Maurice's sniffles and the quiet sounds of the wildlife around them. Then Maurice lifted his hand, wiping at his tears. Roger drew his hand back from Maurice's face, returning it to his side. He continued to watch the boy as he cleaned his face with his hands. He really could not understand what Maurice was thinking. The boy could have run away then if he wanted to, but he remained sitting, trying to cease any oncoming sobs and remove the wetness left over on his face.

And Roger simply stared. He was intrigued, you could say; interested could also describe it. He was finished ranting. What he wanted was to hear an explanation from Maurice, and from there he could think about it some more.

When Maurice finished wiping his face, he stared at his arms and the fresh cuts adorning this chest and legs. They stung and blood covered parts of his chest, abdomen, and thighs. "Roger." Maurice lifted his head to stare into the other's hardened eyes. They were dark, but he didn't seemed interested in hurting Maurice at the moment. Maurice shifted his body and pushed himself up a bit. He winced at the bit of pain it caused, but pushed it away soon after.

Roger waited to hear what Maurice had to say. "I don't know why you call yourself a monster, but you're not." The darker boy's eyes narrowed slightly and when Maurice noticed it, he set his gaze into a determined stare. "You're not, I mean it. Yes, you did this to me and you've hurt other people, but that only makes you more human." Roger's gaze did not waver and Maurice was feeling desperate just to make the other understand. He took hold of Roger's shoulders.

"I really, really mean it. I don't care that you've hurt me or the others. I do care that you've given yourself one of the most disgusting names ever. A monster? Really? Monsters aren't even real, Roger. So, you can't be one, else you wouldn't exist and you do!"

Roger grit his teeth. "Forget it." He ground out before standing up, making Maurice's arms fall from his shoulders. He picked up his knife lying on the ground and turned to walk away.

Maurice hurriedly picked himself off the ground, ignoring the stinging from his wounds. "You don't care?" Roger seemed to ignore him and kept walking. "Do you not believe me then? Fine. If you really do think that you're a monster, then why not kill me?" Maurice knew he was probably going too far with this, but he couldn't help it. Roger was not a monster. He wasn't.

The other stopped, turning his head slightly; clearly Maurice has caught his attention. He decided to press on further. "You said that monsters destroy, and if you really, really think that you're one, then you'll have no problem killing me. Right here, right now." Roger turned fully around. "You've gone this far, why not finish it?"

A silence fell upon the two as they stared at each other. Seconds later, a footstep and a crunch sounded to Maurice's ears and he realized that it was his own. Roger remained where he stood, unmoving, while Maurice slowly closed the distance they had between them.

When the boy grasped his right wrist, the one holding his knife, Roger still didn't move, silently curious as to what Maurice was going to do. Maurice lifted Roger's arm, bending it at the elbow, and pressing the knife he held against his throat.

"This is how you and Jack kill those pigs when you hunt, right? So do it. You're a monster, you said so yourself; kill me." Maurice felt Roger tightening his grip on the knife and for a second he felt that Roger would actually kill him. How could he be so stupid, to put his life in danger like this? They still had the hope of being rescued and going home, and he was going to give his life away like Simon and Piggy had? But, he had no other way to convince Roger of what he knew was not true. He had to make him see, no matter what the cost.

Meanwhile, Roger was having some conflicting thoughts of his own. For as long as he could remember, not only himself, but others too, had always considered him a monster. He had no doubts otherwise. Now, he was going to have to kill Maurice just to make him see that he was a monster? How idiotic was the kid anyway? Did he want to die over something so pointless?

On one hand, Roger knew he could simply slit the boy's throat; a quick, hard slice of the knife and he'd be dead, but on the other, he found that he didn't want to kill Maurice, and that confused him. He never bothered with Maurice, but he was the only person who stood by him because he wanted to and liked to. Maurice liked him, a lot; of course he'd stick up for him, even when Roger belittled himself.

Roger's arm shook; he didn't know what to do. Doing what was right, wrong, and what he wanted, were all different things, and honestly, he had no idea what he wanted. Did he want to kill Maurice to prove a point? or did he want to spare him because that would be the right thing to do? Did he even want to kill him anyway? He felt so lost, angry, and definitely confounded.

Finally, Roger jerked his wrist away from Maurice, shoving the boy backwards at the same time. Maurice tripped and fell on the ground. He heard a growl and looked up to see Roger standing over him. Roger pointed his knife down at Maurice. "You're such an idiot! You've angered me too many times, confused me, and irritated me, I should kill you right now! But I can't and I don't know why!"

Roger threw the knife to the side somewhere. Reaching down, he grabbed Maurice's wrist, pulling him up off the ground rather roughly. Maurice almost lost his footing again, but steadied himself quickly using Roger's forearms. "Because you're not a monster. I've told you again and again, and you never listen!"

With narrowed eyes, Roger pulled his arms back, crossing them over his chest. "I listened, it's just not true."

"Roger, shut up." Said boy looked at Maurice distastefully. Without so much as a warning, Maurice pushed himself higher, on his toes, locking his lips with Roger's own. The kiss was brief because Maurice knew if it continued, Roger would just shove him away anyway.

Roger didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Maurice bent down and picked up the discarded knife and handed it to Roger. "Here. You can go now if you want." Then, reluctantly, he turned away from Roger, walking back to the tree he had been nestled against before Roger showed up.

Roger stared for a few extra seconds before leaving and heading back from the way he came. He raised a hand to his lips as he walked; he'd never had someone kiss him that way before. It was light, quick, but passionate, like Maurice had poured every feeling he had into it.

He lifted the knife he still clutched before his face as well. Maurice's blood covered some of the blade from when he had cut him. Staring at the blade, Roger felt an unfamiliar feeling. A small sadness enveloped him and a nervousness settled in his stomach. He felt guilty. Roger frowned, guilty about what? He'd hurt others before and never felt guilty about it at all, why was this so different?

The dark boy thought about that the rest of the way back and he could not fathom why he felt guilty. It was strange, but he guessed it didn't matter that much anyway. He didn't ever plan on becoming friends with Maurice anyway, so he needn't worry about it.

Maurice watched Roger walk away and sighed. He sat back down against the tree, wishing that Roger would, for some reason, come back. But he waited and knew that Roger wasn't going to come back, he wasn't even sure that Roger planned on talking to him again either. He didn't blame him that much if he didn't, but he had more of a reason to ignore Roger than Roger had for him.

Still, no matter what Roger did, he would always forgive him, for anything, and if Roger never spoke to him again, then he wouldn't do anything about it. As long as Roger didn't hate him, he was okay with how things were.

Glancing around, Maurice concluded that maybe this wasn't such a special place after all. He didn't want to be there anymore, and standing up, he left the way Roger had minutes ago. He planned on never going back there either, it was too much for him. He simply hoped that Roger received everything he had given him through that kiss.