Chapter 4

"Jack, where's Roger?"

"Oh, huh? Did you say something, Simon?"

All the boys were huddled in the small room where they practised church songs. The smell of sweat and awful different mixes of food bombarded the air. Bodies were closed together, knees touched the backs, bottoms sat on feet, what the boys breathed was, more or less, what they just exhaled. They had to endure the moment until five in the afternoon. Tomorrow, their practises will be performed during the First Friday Mass. It was always the school's custom, since it was a Catholic institution for boys.

All eyes were on Simon, shocked and surprised. It wasn't so often that he spoke, let alone to the head boy himself. Everyone knew he was afraid of him. He was afraid of Roger, too. At least, it seemed to be the case since he had the tendency to faint whenever he was under the pressure of the two boys' gaze.

"N-nothing…" he whispered and bowed his head. A boy's hand patted his shoulder and Simon spun around to see Bill. He made a thumbs-up sign and Simon nodded, letting him know that he was okay.

"If you say so," Jack had a tone of mockery in his voice, but at this point, the boys were used to his authorative nature. They learnt to dismiss his attitude.

Once their head boy positioned his hands in the air, hands of a conductor, they all prepared to sing. Once his hands started to conduct, be it two-time, three-time, or four-time meter, they all cooperated well. Harmonious melodies flew out of the boys' mouths.

~Trauma~

"Simon!" he barked at him after practise was over and the room was almost empty.

"See you, Si," a fellow choirboy patted him at the back before exiting the room. Only the two were left. The shorter black haired boy slowly came towards him.

"Come here," he opened his arms to him, as if preparing for a hug. The little one hesitantly stepped closer.

"Yes, Jack?"

"No, stop acting cute." He snapped. His arms lowered down and he placed them on his hips. "What did you need Roger for?"

"I-I-I… didn't really need him, haha!" He nervously chuckled and sratched the back of his head.

"Take off your pants."

"Excuse me?" Simon shot him a puzzled look. "Jack…"

"Take off your pants!" He repeated with a dangerous glow to his pale blue eyes. "Take those bloody pants off or else—"

Powerful hands gripped Simon by the throat. No words, no air, nothing came out of the gagging boy. The redhead tightened his hands around the thin neck and started shaking him back and forth. Simon's dark locks banged to and fro. He tried to push away the taller boy, but his hands weren't strong enough to rip off the hands that were ripping the air out of his lungs.

"You pussy! You damn, bloody, bastard! Roger's mine! He's bloody mine!"

Then door creaked open. Jack stopped and came to stare at his favourite raven haired friend.

"What's happening?"

Jack drew his hands and put them behind him. Simon dropped on the floor. Roger narrowed his eyes at his leader. He cradled the small body and left his other friend in the room without a sound.