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Dappled Shadows

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( II : Green With Envy )

The eerie quiet of the forest was cut sharply through with the patter of feet and terrified squeals. Into the clearing burst a boy with blazing red hair, face red and heart pounding after yet another unsuccessful chase with a wild pig. Oh, how he wanted meat.

But that wasn't the only thing irking him right now, he recalled. It was rather late in the afternoon, and he honestly felt as if the heat of the fire would be preferable to the not-quite-blazing sun.

Simon had fainted today.

It was rather sudden, as all faints were. They had just finished exploring, and were now distributing the food and water rations. Maybe it was the blazingly hot sunlight, and maybe it was something else entirely, but Jack felt he was partially responsible. Of course, that just led to him lashing out twice as hard at anyone who dared approach him, and even Roger decided to back off for the time being.

Oh how he hated this godforsaken place.

Back at England, at their school-in choir, he had been the only person Simon would have so much as a conversation with. But here on the island, there were other people, and for the first time in a long time, Jack was actually refused something he wanted.

Sure, the thing that he wanted was rathe simple, if not stupid. He just wanted to be the one to carry his underling back to the safety of the huts. Nothing particularly selfish or wanton, right? At least, he had thought so. But then Ralph had said he was leader and used those stupid privileges (however few they were) to get to be the one that carried Simon back to the camps.

And here he was, sitting in the middle of a forest on a stupid island.

It was all Ralph's fault. If someone hadn't been so set on having Simon go adventuring (or was it himself? he ignored the thought...), then the boy would have never dropped into a dead faint in the middle of the fruit trees, and the whole problem would have never occurred.

Jack punched the trunk of a nearby tree. Not like he had anything against the tree of course. But it was there, and the object that he did want to punch wasn't. If he wasn't British (civilized, they say...), he would have growled, maybe even howled like a mindless beast. For now though, he contented himself to plaster a scowl over his face and hiss out swear words at any particular point of agitation.

Which, sadly, was the whole time right now.

Stupid Simon. Fainting in a stupid daze in the middle of a stupid island. And then Stupid Ralph, to have actually picked up the stupid boy. They were without adults, for crying out loud! They could be anything that they wanted, and instead, they were forced to build huts and light fires? Jack scowled-it was all really stupid. And what made it even more stupid was that Simon let Ralph carry him back to the pathetic huts.

Ralph. A random stranger on a random island who sure as hell wasn't part of their choir group. A person that Simon had only met less than a day ago, he trusted now more than anyone. And that made Jack mad. After all, he was the one who was stuck babysitting the boy whenever the choirmaster told him to do so. He was the one that talked to Simon. Scolded him, yes, but at least there was conversation!

And then there was Ralph. And Simon. And the other boys had been jeering and laughing at the two of them, but Ralph paid no heed to their immaturities. Jack hated that. He hated them. They were all stupid. In fact, they could all go burn in hell.

If Simon had let Jack carry him, he knew the little choir boys wouldn't have dared make fun of it. But since Simon didn't, Jack felt it was all the better that the other boy was being ridiculed. It was fitting punishment, after all.

A rustle of leaves.

Jack whirled around in a silent rage. Briefly, he thought how weak people must be, in order to display their emotions so vividly on their facial features. It was a weakness and he'd do well to cover it up later.

It was Simon. The other boy was as pale as usual, and the black hair that tousled around his head looked a bit damp with sweat. His eyes, however, were as clear-blue as always, and it was only with those that Jack could be certain that the other boy was well enough to stand. He had an indiscernable expression, as he always did, and Jack realized that maybe Simon would be the only person that couldn't have expressions as a weakness. Jack ran his tongue over the edge of the upper lip, before being the first to cut the silence, as he always did.

"What do you want?" Would a mask be able to hide the rage in his voice as well?

"Jack, you're mad." The younger boy always said things in a way like he was describing the weather. As stupid as it all was, Jack found himself calming down already. Maybe it was just the way Simon had an influence on people.

"Of course I'm mad." He responded. Simon stepped closer. Normally, it would be a wary step, but this time, it was as if he were in full control of the situation. Jack stared mutedly as the smaller boy knelt down to his level, near the tree trunk. Slowly, Simon moved so that his face was inches away from Jack's, and the other's breathes, light as feathers, could be felt prickling his skin. Frighteningly blue eyes looked straight in his, asking the obvious question:

"Why are you mad?"

And here, Jack was only completely at loss for words. Why was he mad? Was it because Simon had fainted? He had fainted so many times that it wasn't even funny. Why was it this time that he was so mad? Was it because Simon hadn't let Jack carry him? Was it because Ralph had carried Simon instead of Jack? Yes. That was it. But why was he mad? If Roger had done the same, he wouldn't have...

"Don't faint again. It causes trouble for everyone," Jack said instead of the chaos of thoughts in his head. He wanted to roughly push Simon away, but only managed to get his hands on the place where the shoulder and the chest joined. Simon's hands slowly drew over Jack's. That was not a flush in his cheeks that he was feeling. And he was not embarrassed to the point of being unable to look the other in the eye.

"I'm sorry." Simon apologized. It was quiet, like the boy, and it was sincere, like he was too. Jack sighed, it was always a losing battle. Simon released his not-hold on Jack's hands, getting up and going back towards the huts. Jack continued to stay there.

For the life of him, he did not know which crime Simon was apologizing for.

But he forgave him nonetheless.

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