A/N: Ahh! Thanks so much to landbeyondnoother and MorphineSun for their lovely reviews! This has made me very happy indeed. So happy, in fact, I decided to throw a lil romantic twist into the story! Mwahahah. Uhmm, I don't own Lord of the Flies, but when Sheridan comes over to my house next week I plan to make her pork for dinner. Let's be honest here, I was Jack in another life. But anyway!

At a place like St. Nathaniel's, it was hard to have a good time on a Saturday night. Being trapped in the school made it impossible to party like normal people our age, and so mostly we resorted to sitting around our rooms, pretending our lives were so much more adventurous than they were. But then again, I thought I might have had my fill of adventure in this life.

I hadnt seen Ralph again since I'd stormed out of our room that morning. For all I cared, he could slip in the shower and die, because he was nothing but old haunts and ghosts to me now. It was just past nine, and I found myself strew out across the floor in Simon and Roger's room, cradling a half-empty bottle of vodka. Roger had hidden it away in the back of his closet, and now we only pulled it out for special occasions. I didn't know if this counted as special, exactly, but it was definitely an occasion, so for the greater part of the past two hours I'd been sipping at the bottle and bitching to my two best friends. Almost like a normal teenager.

"I really wouldn't worry about him," Simon said lightly from where he was perched on his bed. Back pressed to the headrest, he was staring up at the ceiling like maybe it contained all the answers to life's mysteries. Roger was sitting on the floor near me, knees pulled up to his chest. "I mean, I'm sure Ralph just wants to forget everything too."

I scoffed at that, rolling over and propping my chin up in my elbows. A few stray strands of red curly hair fell in front of my eyes, but I brushed them away with a quick flick of my wrist. "Please," I retorted. "Don't you think it's odd that he's suddenly just appeared here, in the middle of the semester?"

Simon had nothing to say to that. I glanced over at Roger, whose own gray eyes were intently fixed on the place where his hands were folded in his lap. "I guess," he mumbled. I got the feeling they were both really sick of hearing about Ralph. But what did they expect? This was my sworn enemy, my every nightmare conjured right before my eyes.

"He thinks you're dead," I said suddenly, remembering how Ralph had accused me of killing Simon. In all the emotions of seeing him again, it hadnt even registered. Simon turned to look at me, brows knit together. I nodded quickly. "He accused me of killing you. On the island. He thought you died there."

For a long while Simon sat in silence. Then, slowly, he eased himself off the bed and started towards the door. "Where the hell are you going?" I demanded, sitting up much too quickly. It caused my head to spin a little, my vision to go a little fuzzy.

Simon looked back at me over his shoulder. "I'm going to see Ralph," he replied, like it was the most obviously thing in the world.

I stared on at him, appalled. "Like hell you are!"

Simon spun around to face me full on. "Do not condescend me, Jack Merridew. Whether you want to admit it or not, that boy has been suffering just as much as we have. He has a right to know that I'm still alive. I will not allow him to believe I'm dead."

The outright hostility in his voice silenced me quickly. "Okay," I murmured, and Simon slammed the door on his way out.

An overwhelming quiet fell over us then. I turned back to Roger, who was doing his best to appear distracted. Crawling over to my best friend, I plopped down beside him and dropped my head right into his lap. He tensed up a little with shock, but soon had relaxed beneath me. "Why is this happening to me?" I whined.

Roger looked down at me and smiled, just slightly. With one of his hands he began to gently play with my hair, fingertips trembling as he drew them down my jawbone. "You worry too much," he replied lazily. "Close your eyes. I'll sing you a lullaby."

In spite of myself I grinned at him. "I'm the one who should be singing to you, Roger," I teased. "I'm the one who can sing C sharp."

The black haired boy let out a hollow laugh. "Then you're the one who never hit puberty."

I stuck my tongue at him playfully, sitting up. But Roger kept a tight grip on my shoulder, our faces hovering only inches apart. "Jack," he said slowly, quietly. "You know that I'd do anything for you, right?"

I nodded, hesitantly. Unsure where this might be going. Roger's gaze flickered away for a moment before trailing back to my own. "Then," he paused, "can you do something for me?"

I parted my lips to reply, but before I could Roger pressed his own against them. My eyes went wide in shock, but quickly fell closed as I let my body melt into his. Roger fisted his hands in my hair, holding me in place as he worked his mouth against my own. The kiss was everything slow and soft, yet edged with a rough passion.

It ended much too soon, and we were left panting for breaths. A moment of silence hung about us, and then Roger broke into a smile, and I had no choice but to do the same.

"Oh, Jack. I've wanted to do that since we were twelve years old," he said, leaning in to touch his lips to my forehead. I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to be feeling, or thinking, but just then I didn't care. I slid my arms around Roger's neck, hugged him to me, breathed him in. And it would have been perfect.

If the door hadnt opened to reveal Simon, wide-eyed and innocent, who was being followed by a very confused Ralph.