Note: Some people are incredibly stupid (such as myself at times...)! We started discussing LOTF in class this week (I shouldn't have read so much about it, I'm bored now) and I told my English teacher that I liked the book. What is wrong with that?! I really do, it is currently my favourite (this will change exactly tomorrow with Potter 5, I guess). And guess what some IDIOT said to me after the lesson? Flatterer, swot, careerist, whatever the h*** you call it in English!!! And that person calls herself my best friend.
Honestly, is it that horrible to talk to a teacher? To like a book you read in school? Okay, probably it was only a joke, but it made me angry and it hurt. Enough of the soul-striptease.
@Roxy: Well ,then I wish you happy holidays in Germany :D Where are you going to? I hope you enjoy it!
Thank you all for r&r!!! (and these weren't even supposed to be cliffhangers...)
12 Ardour
A flaming afternoon hat settled over the island, leaving the mountain-top deserted as every living being fled from the heat into the forest or to the water. There they lay, breathing heavily and yearning for the cool of the evening to come.
The only ones who still were up there, were Jack and Ralph, resting in the shadow of the hut. They both felt incredibly exhausted, wanting only to rest, rest, rest. The boys didn't lay close, for it would have been far too hot, but they felt close.
Ralph's thoughts were flowing slowly and lazily, like the water in a big, warm river at this time of day would have. He had done it. He had finally done something right, had finally changed what had been so wrong, so unforgivably wrong. He knew that he couldn't change what had been, couldn't undo what had been done. But he was sure that Piggy and Simon would have been happy about their new principles. He knew that he himself was happy.
He could almost see Piggy's face... maybe the spectacled boy would have made it better than he, certainly he would have. But he wasn't Piggy. He had done his best, and hoped it was enough. And Simon would be happy, too.. Ralph was almost sure that Simon did forgive them.
If you accept reality, it doesn't mean that you have to accept it like it is. You can always try and change it, make it more comfortable to live in.
Jack felt drained, too, his mind swirling. He lay collapsed on his mattress of leather and cool leaves, eyes closed, his sandy hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. Now that it was over, he felt no more doubts. What was done was done. Jack had never been one to brood over the past. But there was a future, too, and that, in all it's promising brightness, was also evasive like the land beyond the horizon. But Jack was also not one to fear the future. He was living in the now, and difficulties were not something to complain about but a welcome challenge. Hadn't he been bored before, by the peaceful monotony their life had become?
Jack was not a 'violence fanatic' as Ralph had called him – of course this had been a joke – but somebody who needed action, movement, something to manage, something to challenge him. Everything was okay, as long as it provided him activity, appreciation and admiration. Of course, there was something primal, something endlessly satisfying about the feeling of warm blood on your hands. It was power, in it's purest, rawest form. But he would never kill again without seeing another day, another prey... a prey that he loved. How could there be glory in killing, when the ones you loved could also be killed?
Unwillingly he also thought of Roger. A cold tingling sensation lingered in his chest at the thought of the dark boy that had been his closest follower and also something like a friend. It was not easy to befriend Roger, but he had always thought that they were similar, two of a kind, who understood each other. The truth was, that he didn't understand him a bit. It was so easy to be deceived. The thought made him uncomfortable. Life was so much more difficult than masks and spears and playing war. Life was about .. what was life about?
The space between them was only a step, reach out with your hand and you could touch each other. Why did Ralph want to touch him? When he let his thoughts run free, they always wandered to Jack, to his bronzed skin, so his blue eyes, to the lips... and his breath became faster, his mind suddenly fixed on the image, his whole body full of sizzling energy .. and then suddenly he realised just what he was thinking and it made his heart clench like a fist. Why? What was wrong with him? But something was wrong.. it was strange and unfamiliar. What, just what did he want so desperately.. and why..
Of course, Ralph, as a child, had seen and heard of love, of being in love. He had known that people in love kissed each other, and that love-kisses were different from good-night-kisses or give-auntie-a-kiss-kisses. Just what was different, that had nobody told him. Of course. You don't tell little school-boys what desire is, what lust is. And nobody had told him ever since. Nobody had told him what made his body more excited than a ride in a roller coaster.
But there were other things that were bothering him. The things Roger had implied. The looks Roger had given him. Bloodlust. The way these looks had changed when he started touching him. The fact that Jack had touched him in similar ways, that one night. Had they... felt this way? Had they had the breath-taking, pulse-accelerating, heart-clenching feeling? This feeling, about him...
He glanced at Jack, who seemed sleeping. Very carefully and silently he moved a hand over his chest, where the small cut from Roger's spear still was red and burning. He followed they path the sticky tongue had taken. Little goose-bumps appeared on his arms, but he was suddenly repulsed and drew his hand back. Frowning he turned at Jack.
Slowly he crawled to were Jack was lying and whispered his name.
"Jack?"
Instantly the red-haired boy opened his eyes.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Are you.. are you angry? About earlier.."
"No.. why?"
Earlier, that was when he had kissed Ralph in front of everyone. Their looks had been priceless.
But then Maurice had laughed.
"Well that was certainly unexpected! Congratulations, you two," he grinned and with a wave he walked away, relieving everyone of shock and tension, turning it to grinning and laughter. The reaction was entirely positive, maybe still a bit stunned and confused, but nobody protested. The littluns, who had grown-up without the standards and expectations of western society, didn't even realise that two boys kissing each other was supposed to be out of the normal – for them it had been the act of kissing itself that had been shocking and not the one's who kissed.
Only Ralph was very embarrassed, or at least that was how Jack interpreted his reaction.
"You didn't want to be kissed, did you?"
Ralph's eyes became wider and he blinked.
"Actually-"
"I won't do it again."
"Why did you do it?" Ralph burst out.
"I just.. wanted to show everyone.. that we belong together."
"Do we?"
Jack wrapped his arms around the bony body and breathed in the salty scent of skin. All that soft boy's skin, so warm, so vulnerable. Ralph didn't move, and suppressed a shiver.
"There was a another reason, why I kept you, instead of killing you," Jack whispered to him.
"I wanted to know what it was like to own you. You were mine. You belonged to me. But that has changed. You still belong to me. But I also belong to you. We belong together." Now Ralph shivered, not from cold, but from heat. Jack started planting kisses on his neck, leaving little wet spots behind, that were cooling and burning at the same time. Ralph made a sound that wasn't quite a sigh, neither a sob. He didn't know it himself – was it denial or cry for more?
"I still want to own you, to hold you, to possess you wholly, I won't let you go....," Jack's pressed voice was nearly painful. Such desire and need was overwhelming for Ralph. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, which was getting harder. Jacks arms were nearly crushing him in their desperate embrace. Sweat became sticky, and Jacks hands roamed aimlessly over his body, admiring it in a way eyes never could.
Both boys were carried away by their body's cravings. Somehow their minds became focused on this one thing, loosing all reason and sense of place and time. The roof could have burst to fire above their heads and they wouldn't have noticed. It overflowed Ralph and he turned to Jack, claiming his mouth with a hungry fervour. Later, when he would analyse his feelings, the only thing that came to his mind was the passion and rage he knew Jack felt, when he hunted. Totally loosing it to your instincts, giving up all moral and sense. But for now, his mind knew nothing but the greedy touches.
Evening crept over the mountain, and soon the coolness of night engulfed them. Sweat dried and panting slowed down. Jack was stroking the tangled fair hair. His touches were tender and happy. In the darkness, Ralph's eyes glistened glassy whenever he blinked and his skin had a milky quality. Jacks eyelids dropped.
"You are so beautiful... like this," he mumbled.
"I feel light...,"
"I know."
"Like some heavy thing.. has been taken away.."
"I love you."
