Figure You Out (Rogermon)

His Touch

Roger had been up early on the next morning. Only the plump boy and Merridew had already risen yet. Reflecting on the day before, an idea began to form in his mind. Quietly as to not wake anyone -in fact, he didn't care about anyone, but Simon- he sneaked up to the ginger boy, who was sitting on a log facing the jungle.

"Morning, Merridew", he greeted, slightly startling the older boy.

"Morning", he was greeted back, though the ginger ogled him curiously. After all, Roger mostly kept to himself when he wasn't in the company of Simon. If Jack wanted to socialize with the dark-haired boy, it was usually up to him to induce any conversation. This only enhanced the curiosity the ginger already had about the mysterious member of his choir.

"Well? What is it, Roger?", he added impatiently, after a prolonged silence, while Roger was sitting down next to him.

"I was wondering, if you could lend me your knife. We could make spears or something. Seeing as we should be your hunters.", Roger suggested straight to the point, referring to the discussion on their first day on the island about their tasks.

"Wizard! Roger, we could be professional hunters!", the other exclaimed, before he remembered the others, who shouldn't be woken yet and added the rest in a hushed whisper: "I'm trying to figure out where these boars, I saw yesterday, are. If we find their hideout, we can hunt them all down."

Considering Merridew's enthusiasm Roger quickly flashed the older boy a fake smile and nodded: "Yes, you're right. I'm going into the forest for a bit, give me your knife?" Though his last sentence was more of an order than an actual question, the dark-haired boy still tried to make the ginger feel as though he was completely in charge. That's how he always handled the older boy after Simon's advise and it turned out to be successful.

"Sure.", the ginger replied, giving him the knife and even joked: "Wouldn't want one of my best men to get eaten now, would I?" The dark-haired boy just grunted at this statement, feeling the lethal weapon in hands now.

Once he was surrounded by nature, he stood utterly still, hidden behind a tree. Listening to the sound of his future prey. The spears he proposed would do later on, however at this moment Roger felt consumed by the power radiating off the cool metal in his hand. There were birds singing - the feathery prey wouldn't be good to eat. There was rustling in the bushes - perhaps a pig? A perfect first prey for the hunter. His hungry glare intensified, if there was one, he'd kill it for sure. To his disappointment, the object was much smaller. A lizard trying desperately to scurry off. A vicious grin appeared on Roger's face matching the weapon his fingers held in a vice-grip. Soon enough, a dark shadow loomed over the doomed animal. The lethal weapon fulfilled its purpose.

Smiling almost eerily Roger walked back to the Camp, however as soon as he emerged out of the jungle, he changed his expression to his usual emotionless one. His smiles were only reserved for very few. His real smile solely for the least.

Only for him.

A voice seemed to add, but the dark-haired boy ignored the thought. Yet, as he passed the place where Jack sat earlier and went on to see, if his friend was up yet, his reflections revolved around the smaller boy once again. He almost felt like a housewife, having prepared breakfast for her husband, rather than a masculine, strong hunter. But the latter described exactly what he was and he didn't dismiss the feeling of pride at his accomplishment to provide for the smaller one. He really deserved it. And Simon would also acknowledge it. Then he won't have to suffer hunger. He really seemed malnourished even before their time on the island. Yet, this wouldn't be a problem, he didn't surpress the grin at this thought this time. He'd make sure, nothing that his friend craved would be missing. Noticing Simon wasn't asleep anymore, he carefully put his trophy down, shielding it from the hungry gazes these smaller boys send him and every other older boy. Afterwards, he went of to search his friend, inwardly deliriously elated from the anticipation.

Yet, his jubilant high came to a downfall, when he noticed his friend bonding over something with that newly elected Chief. Both smiling in a way that indicated a developing friendship. Simon wasn't waiting for him. Didn't count the seconds till they'd be reunited. He didn't worry about Roger's whereabouts. Neither did he go after him.

Roger made an abrupt halt. Stood there, as motionless as a statue. His hands clenched to fists. His strained knuckles fairly white. His eyes narrowed, taking in the unpleasant sight in front of him.

His friend, the one he cared for every single second during the last years, that he brought to sleep, that he carried all the time. That friend, that made him forget every other person, that brought bright colours in his dull, grey life, that made him consider the fragility of things,before giving in to his impulses. The only real friend he ever had. And the two-boy-team they were. Them against the world.

Everything seemed to shatter in front of him.

It might be deemed overdramatic. Too emotionally involved. Too obsessive. But there had always been many opportunities for Roger to make other friends. Probably, he'd go further without the liability of his fragile friend. Yet, they never wanted anyone else. It had been an unspoken agreement between the both of them, that they were content with just each other.

Of course, the smaller boy was never meant to be his.

This realization struck him to the core of his bones.

Simon had never vowed to stay. He was going to abandon him. Like everybody else.

Anyways, the joyful smile full of sympathy for the Chief, if the dark-haired boy could have put contempt in his thoughts this would be the time it reached its limit- his eyes sparkling, even his cheeks were tainted in the familiar blush. Everything showed how engrossed his friend was in the conversation with the fair boy.

Of course, he's almost perfect. Can't find a single flaw in the almighty Chief. Except for his poor logic, but you can surely forgive a face like that. Boys like the Chief would always get what they wanted, without having to lift a single finger. But Simon, he was someone that took many months spent together all alone to open up, he still wasn't fully revealed to Roger yet. And now the Chief evoked all these reactions Roger worked years for in a matter of minutes. When Roger turned to leave, he witnessed one thing in the corner of his eye. Ralph was moving something off the green-eyed boy's shoulders and Simon... he didn't flinch...at all.

In painful memories he hurried away, back into the somber thick jungle.

"Oh Simon, you've got some kind of stain here." - he had said, before tenderly moving his hands to the smaller boy's chest. Just a second after his skin had made contact with Simon's shirt, the smaller boy had jumped up, while emitting a earshattering shriek. With an apologetic glance at the green-eyed boy, Roger had tried to calm his friend of one year. "I'm sorry, Roger. It's not you...I' m just not that comfortable with people touching me..."

Now, he was at last able to touch his friend, to comfort him even, yet the accomplishment diminished radically, as he observed his closest friend, his only friend, giving something to a stranger that he couldn't give to him. The benefit of his trust. If the dark-haired boy thought, witnessing Simon perfectly enjoying himself with some other boy, abandoning their two-boy-team was painful, this observation shattered his burning, torn apart pieces over and over again, torturing the innocent believing parts of his soul beyond compare.