Figure You Out (Rogermon)

Delirious

A dark shadow was looming over the fragile prey. Sweet innocent eyes, blinked only to never open again. At first, the sounds of the upcoming disaster, were one with the harmonic nature, before there the lethargic silence turned into a lethal one. Then the quiet, furtive movements, grew louder, adding in aggression and destroyment. The shadow became a blur with the other dark corners in the thick jungle. Every once in a while, the shadow seemed to lure some of the colorful, bright creatures from the well-lit parts to him only to add some colour in the dark corners. A prominent, rich red dispersed everywhere the shadow had been successful. And this shadow didn't fail. The island provided it with strength, the dark thoughts fuelling its anger, the motorics the shadow had to carry out became a steady procedure.

In the afternoon Roger sat on the log, where he had talked to his Chapter Chorister earlier that day. Various long sticks located next to him. As the ginger boy was confronted with the sight of a dark-haired figure, he easily recognized, all alone, he dropped his intention of bonding with their elected Chief over a walk together and approached his fellow choir member instead.

"Any luck with the spears yet?"

Jack attempted to strike up a conversation with the gloomy looking boy. However, he just looked up from sharpening the stick in his hands, not bothering with words. Roger wasn't in the mood for people. Not that this was that rare for him, yet usually there was one exception to this rule. In an almost desperate attempt to forget about the smaller boy, he resumed his work with much more force. His fingers were gripping the spear way too forcefully, whereas the knife was slammed up and down the wood. A concerned expression crossed Jack's face, as he took in the sight in front of him. Even for the strangely secluded boy, that behaviour was pretty odd. The riddle that reserved boy appeared to be, became gradually more unsolvable. 

Little did the ginger boy know that Roger was desperately trying to solve a riddle himself. His mind and his heart were waging war on each other. Surely, Simon didn't deem him terrible. Their history together was most certainly graver than meaningless pettiness. Then why has he always been so caution around him and that comfortable around the fair boy, a stranger? Had everything been a facade? While he was sitting there, a huge cloud appeared on the sky casting shadows on the boy. A small, white butterfly was escaping the absence of the sun by fluttering swiftly to the parts where the sun was still reaching the ground. In contrast to the animal, Roger, who had observed it with some kind of curiosity, stayed in the darkness. Yet, as he was in utter loneliness the wing-beats reverberated for him. After he blinked in confusion he could only recognize the small animal in a distance, who had apparently brought its friends along. Rubbing his eyes, Roger watched the fluttering moths coming closer.His purely white butterfly was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it has never been there to begin with.

Roger opened his eyes in a haze. Soft feathers were caressing him, a bright light was shining in front of him, as the sound of a lone pair of wings beating occupied his ears.

"Roger?", he perceived once more and all of these senses were to be discerned again.

"I brought you some water. You do look terribly pale. C'mon drink something."

Unvoluntarily his lips formed a smile, his red-rimmed eyes displayed a treacherous glint, but this time the endorphines that were rushing through all parts of his body, appeared to drag miniscule pointed daggers with them. Creating a mixture between the blithe exaltation and the agonizing pain. In short, the dark-haired boy was torn, when he was confronted with the one who had been present in his thoughts all along.

The angelic voice resonated again.

"Please, drink. You're shaking Roger! Can you even see me? It looks like you're looking right through me."

A shaking hand appeared to grab the offered goods. It took a moment for Roger to realize it was his own, having acted independent from his buzzing thoughts. Simultaneously, he figured out, what the bright creature in front of him wanted.

Simon cared for him. He mattered to someone.

Not only to anyone but to him.

These thoughts brought warmth to the shivering boy, spreading an anodyne cover over all of his limbs, shielding it from the attacks of bloodsucking bugs and tiny daggers. With unexpected strength he grabbed the object in his hands to take a sip, which caused the brighter silhouette to drop its jaw, immediately concealed by a hand in front of it. The droplets washing down the soreness of Roger's throat, flourished into floods drowning out the sorrows of his heart and mind.

"What's wrong, Roger?"

The smaller boy appeared to have reclaimed his poise, as he tilted his head to its side, while thoroughly inspecting the scene in front of him. The other boy merely stared at the sand, absented-mindedly shovelling holes, only to bury them with an urgent sense of finality. After, the green-eyed boy surveyed his behaviour for a prolonged period of empty silence, he helplessly let a sigh escape his mouth. Noticing the other's discomfort, Roger made contact with the emerald eyes, the soothing words already on the tip of his tongue. However, he noticed a dark figure in the corner of his eyes, the darkness he just couldn't cast off. This was sufficient for the boy bearing the heavy weight.

He swallowed his original phrases and muttered in a defensive exasperated tone: "Well, I'm busy here. Maybe I'm going to build some destroyable sandcastles as you should with the Chief. Or what did he call it? Shelter?"

The smaller boy visibly flinched at the sharp edge his voice held, while mentioning the elected leader, before the tangible tristeness of being rejected crossed his features. The torture Roger was put through send chills through his spine. He had to stand his ground. He had to leave the smaller boy. He had to...make his delight illuminate his world again. As a result of the dark-haired boy's inner conflict, the somber-looking smaller one had moved as though to creep down a rabbit-hole and hide in their for the rest of their stay. His shoulders slumped, as he went to retreat as far away as possible, but when Roger voiced the result of his pondering, he put a halt to his walk on the smoking coals.

"Simon. Maybe we can meet up, tonight. I'm just not feeling well right now"

Though judging Roger's weak appearance this hadn't technically been a lie, the suspicion was visible in the green-eyed boy's face. Yet, the comforting blanket out of these words made him overlook the small patch of dirt he had just discovered. Anyone could have a bad day. Especially stranded on a deserted island mood-swings shouldn't be the most concerning topics. Shrugging things off, wasn't usually Simon's forte, but Roger was aware that in some aspects the woke small boy, firmly closed his eyes. Apparently, with his phrases he had made impossible happen this once more. Though the light didn't fully shine again, at least the overwhelming darkness had vanished. For the moment.