Author's note: I love Lord of the Flies. I am not ashamed to admit that. So, since I haven't been on FFN for awhile, I thought it fitting that my first fanfiction would be a Lord of the Flies one. I suppose that I'm out of practice with writing fanfics, so this may be a tad on the terrible side, but oh well.

Disclaimer: Do I look like William Golding to you? Actually, don't answer that. But my point is, I don't own Lord of the Flies or any characters associated it

One: Roger and Simon

It is a firmly established fact that I am batty

And perhaps that is why I have decided to sit down with Roger. Dark, moody Roger who occasionally yells unpleasant words at people he dislikes and could easily cause me a great amount of pain. Although he is dark and moody, he has a certain...alluring feel about him that I can't quite place.

That aside, I felt myself shiver when I sat down with this brooding, easily annoyed boy, on a moving, flying vehicle with a boy who probably has some desire to hurt me. There are countless ways he could hurt me here, and not just physically. I tend to sweat and get all red in the face on aeroplanes. God. Why did I do this?

As the plane begins to slowly pick up speed, I feel my stomach turning within me, and beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. The world is moving and spinning and I'm going to faint, oh, I can't do that, not now! My hand feels around for something to grab, I just need some support oh god, oh god, oh god, the world won't stop spinning...

My hand eventually finds something hard to hold onto, although I'm not entirely sure what it is. The world stops, but then all the noise pours out of my ears, replaced by a throbbing, ringing sound, and I let a small squeal escape me in place of a scream. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that the darkness will replace all the noise.

I just stay there like that for I don't know how long, hand gripping onto something unknown, eyes locked shut, panting loudly and attempting to breathe in and breathe out how my mother always told me to do whenever I felt faint.

Gradually, the noise subsided to the normal things, and I could hear my own breathing, a cacophony of hmm-ha that I'm surprised nobody complained about. As I look around me, collecting myself from that little...episode, I hear Roger's sharp, accented voice. "Let go of my arm, Simon!"

I immediately feel my cheeks become warm. "Er...sorry."

"S'fine. Just let go of me." I do, and for the first time I realize how warm he was, the cold of the air inside the plane makes a sharp contrast. And why on earth didn't he complain earlier?

But I don't voice my suspicions. My heartbeat quickens, but I can't fathom why. "Roger?"

"What is it now?" He seems irritated, and I almost shrink back in my sleep.

"Why didn't you...remove my arm yourself earlier?" That is the only way I can phrase it, and it already sounds clunky and awkward.

He shrugs, and if Roger's pale, somewhat dirty face can blush, I swear that then it did. He doesn't appear to have anything to say about it, so I turn to look out the window, and then realize that I would have to lean over him to see properly. I feel that it would be better not to ask, so I-gradually, awkwardly-lean myself over Roger's legs and stare out at the sky. "Um, excuse me," is the best I can muster.

Irritation flashes across his face again. "Keep your hands to yourself," he growls.

"I'm not touching you." It's not a lie.

"You're close enough." The strange thing is that he's not sounding entirely unhappy about the idea of my touching him. Sensing this, I gently place one hand on top of his, and shivers immediately rack my body. What sort of a punishment will this elicit? A punch? A curse?

Roger clenches one of his fists, but then unclenches it. He looks around, as if to see if anyone's watching, and interlaces his fingers with mine. Leaning over my seating companion's legs has become more than a bit awkward, so I pull back and instead settle for scooting myself a bit closer to him.

He still hasn't said anything against me, or spoken against me with his actions. I feel another tremor come through my body, and gently lower my head onto one of his shoulders.

Now this, this may be the battiest thing I have ever done. I will surely be hit, punched, cursed at, or at least reprimanded. But no. Nothing happens. Barely any reaction. He just looks down at me, as if acknowledging that I'm there, and nods, then continues staring off into space. Probably plotting some way to ruin my life once we're evacuated.

"Simon," he says, but then stops himself from finishing whatever it is. I hear a slight note rising in his throat, the beginning of the word I. But it never comes out, never leaves the inside of Roger's brain.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

. . .

Ok, there was my first fanfiction for about two years. Hope you enjoyed, and I'd love it if I could get some feedback on this. :)