Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.
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Two – Choir Room
There are often times Jack wishes that he put his smarts to good use and escape the choir when the opportunity presents itself. There have been many chances and he lets them all pass. God knows he likes to sing (he can sing C-sharp, seriously!), God knows he can lead (and he likes it too), but God knows he also hates how he is easily pushed around by the rest of the choir. Someday, he resolves, he will tell them what to do and they will do it. At least they don't have a leader yet, he consoles himself. If they had someone to look up to to defy him, it will be a disaster. Roger might be that figure, but his friend has not fully betrayed him yet.
"I've got to skip out of here," Roger had said after practice, as all the boys quickly rushed out of the room to avoid being assigned the awful task of collecting song booklets. While the Academy is supported by funds from generous alumnae, history has taught Ms. Malloy, assigned as supervisor of the choir, that one cannot trust adolescent and young boys with song sheets they need for future practices. Therefore, each time, the booklets of songs must be collected and put in a pile. She does not do it; she leaves faster than the boys themselves at the end of the day. Roger was caught up telling a joke to the twins, Sameneric, and as he collected his belongings, the twins split and left him at the mercy of Jack, who had opened his mouth to order him. "Seriously. You know my mum. She wants me home today since last time I went to get a soda with you after choir, I didn't go back until twelve."
"Roger…" Jack says, trying to sound authoritative, but Roger keeps up the plea and he finds himself excusing the dark boy. He swears he hears Roger chuckle at his expense on his way out and he scowls. Someday. That leaves him to collect the books themselves but he has to meet with a teacher. He would have met with him directly after school, but if he is not on time for practice, the rest of the choir takes the lateness as an exempt and they would not wait for him. He wonders why the choir still exists when the members look more forward to cancelled practices. He will be home late today. In a hurry, he sees if he can still catch Mr. Thomson.
Old Thomson talks his ear off again and it is already nearing five o' clock when he rushes back to the choir room. To his surprise, the booklets are not strewn all over the ground like he had left them; instead, the last of the books are being meticulously stacked in their box by Simon, who has an armful of song sheets. He rushes over to the boy and takes the books from him. "You don't have to do that," he says, although he is secretly relieved. "It was supposed to be Roger today. Well, technically me since I let him go."
Simon stares at the shiny, buffed floor of the choir room. "I was last," he says quietly, and leaves Jack to figure out what he means. Jack frowns as he hastily stuffs the books into the box and returns it to the closet.
"You sit near the door," Jack says. "You could have easily left when choir was over. You didn't have to stay." He pauses, trying to use Simon's train of thought, which is stranger to him than particle theory. He could easily figure out Roger's thought pattern, or even the twins if he thinks hard enough, but he can't really fathom how Simon thinks. "You know," he says as he locks the song closet, "just because I'm supposed to help you around the school and make sure you're okay, it doesn't mean you have to do things for me."
Simon looks at the piano. "Thank you," he says, but it sounds hallow, insincere. Jack looks over at him and he is slightly startled at how intensely Simon is staring at him. The eyes retain their youthful charm, full of feeling and dark like a doe's, but there's a forcefulness that is refined, subdued. Just say thank you, they say. Shut your gob already. And just like that, the fleeting emotion is gone, replaced by their usual docile, puppy-like demeanor. Jack blinks, wondering why he spent such a time thinking about Simon's eyes.
"Thank you," he says, as the words spill out of his mouth as if Simon had forced them out. The boy stands there and acts as if he hasn't heard. Jack gets his things and tries to wrap his mind around what happened as Simon walks out with him.
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Note: It makes me so happy that people read this and I convert people to Jack/Simon! I mean, I had nearly abandoned this fandom months ago since it seemed so empty! So I thank you all for reading. I hope you like this snippet of mean Simon. The world needs more mean Simon.