Chapter Text
The sun beat down on Simon's skin as he lay on the rocky beach, eyes closed, face poised to the sky. He and Jack hadn't spoken since the dance. It was the longest they had spent not at least in the vicinity of each other. Usually, he could feel watchful eyes on him wherever he went, but the morning Ralph and Piggy left the cobbled walls with promises to write, the eyes had fled his skin entirely. Simon knew he was a coward, but Jack was another breed entirely. He asked for something so vulnerable, then was unable to deal with the feeling that erupted when all was said and done. This is what Simon thought to himself silently when the feeling of longing crept in. When he awoke at night, clutching his battered pillow and wishing it were made of flesh and bones.
Jack hadn't kept his end of the bargain. Not that they had made any real deal. What was asked and proclaimed wasn't in writing, nor had they shaken hands. Simon had just accepted his soft kiss as an agreement of unspoken words. It was a foolish decision. Jack was still playing house with Mary. The day after Friday, Simon awaited every hour for news of their detachment; it never came. He brushed it off as simply Jack being kind enough to think through how he would tell her. By Sunday, Simon became antsy and, in a brave turn of events, asked Maurice if something had changed. Maurice had given him an obnoxious wink, called him a sly dog, and said that Simon would be waiting a long time for a turn. By Monday, he was still willing to give some benefit; besides, what did Maurice know? By Tuesday, when Jack never showed up for their usual meeting, Simon abandoned all hope. He was a fool. A coward and a fool, had his father known, it would be another tier of embarrassment with which to justify his disdain.
After that, Simon took it as a personal challenge to avoid Jack at all costs. Two could play at this game after all. Sulking about the halls, waiting with bated breath for blonde hair to turn up, only meant that Jack had won. Truthfully, Jack had won a long time ago. There would never be a moment of Simon's young life that he could look back upon that wasn't tainted with blue eyes and soft digits stroking his skin. Jack had corrupted what memories he had into reminders of his pathetic nature. Fortunately, Simon still had some semblance of restraint and had begun the process of reclaiming what memories of youth he could before adulthood truly set in. Only a month stood between him and graduation. It was bittersweet.
To stave off temptation, he had elected to spend his days outside. The air was a welcome hand that cleared his mind. Simon's afternoons consisted of perching himself onto rocks, reading and rewriting the words of his diary, and basking in the growing spring sun. It never held the same amount of heat as Jack's hands did, nor did it warm him in the same way, but it was better than playing the idiot over and over again.
A shadow passed over his brow, and Simon let his eyes flutter open. Clouds had begun to roll in. The scent chilled the air. To go back meant to very likely face his demons. To stay meant risking the chance of illness. Never had death sounded like the more pleasing option. A drip hit his forehead. Back to school it was then.
Simon quickened his steps, already feeling the pick up of the wind press harshly into his back. Mother Nature seemed to be urging him forward outside of her wrath. He made it down the path before the sprinkles really started to make polka dots on his clothes. Simon had just about set his body into a sprint when a voice called from the trees.
“Hello?” the voice said with a feminine musicality.
“Hello?” Simon called back.
A head popped out from the trees. A young woman with inky hair stepped out. “Oh, thank God.” She moved through the trees. “I’ve lost my way. I don't usually go out this far, “ the stranger said, tripping over a stray branch. She stuck her hand out. “Sarah McConnell.”
“Simon.”
“Help me back?”
Both of them walked together. Simon learned on their trip that Sarah was in the year below him. She was the youngest of six brothers and had a shrieking laugh when she found something particularly funny. By the time they reached the front of the school, their clothes had been soaked in muck and rainwater.
“I can't thank you enough for the help,” Sarah said
“It's no problem really. Either that or be an asshole. Not much of a choice.” She threw her head back in a laugh, her hand landing on his arm. It wasn't actually that funny of a sentence; Simon was sure she was just humoring him. Though her joy was so infectious that he couldn't help but join in. He hadn't spoken this much since Ralph and Piggy had left; it was intoxicating to be noticed without mockery or ulterior motives. A voice called from the side, breaking their bubble
There she stood. The women that had haunted Simon's nights with both guilt and slight disdain for the last few months. Mary looked perfect as always. Dressed in the pristine manner, not a hair out of place, and next to her was the man Simon had been avoiding for the better part of 2 months. Jack. Somewhere up there, God must hate him.
“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Mary said, pulling Sarah aside. Simon could feel Jack staring at the profile. His eyes darted between Sarah and Simon, as if he had anything to be worried about. Honestly, Jack might have been more worried about the fact that Simon could find happiness without his presence tugging at him. He hoped Jack would choke on his worries, though it would only make hating him harder.
“Got caught in the rain. Luckily, Simon helped me. Do you know Simon, Mary?” Sarah said, sending him a bashful look. Jack's brow furrowed. Mary only flicked her gaze over to Simon once before directing all her attention to Sarah again. It only served to dig a sharp pain into his side. He had spent every day thinking of her existence and how much it complicated his life, and all she could spare him was a glance.
“We need to get you cleaned up,” Mary said. Sarah only gave an annoyed nod before sticking her hand out in Simon's direction again. He took it without hesitation. He might not have held great interest in the young woman, but his mother had never raised him without the dignity of manners. In his peripheral vision, Jack shifted so they were shoulder to shoulder. Simon could feel him holding back.
“Thank you,” Sarah said sweetly. Simon could feel her hand linger in the palm of his. Her eyes shimmered in that girlish way that said she was waiting for him to say something. If he were another man, maybe he would, but it would be just another person ruined by something that couldn't be spoken aloud. Jack pulled him in by his shoulder, breaking the contact point between their hands.
“I'll take Simon back to his room. Make sure he gets warm and all that.”
Mary let out a soft sigh and pushed herself up onto her toes, and pressed a sweet peck onto Jack's cheek. Simon felt his stomach turn. How often had he dreamt of doing that, not just in the confines of a twin bed but outside in a place such as this, where he didn't feel like such a burden. He watched as Jack's eyes slid shut at the feeling. A small grimaced twitch at his bottom lip. “Such a good man. Come, Sarah.” The two girls locked arms and began to walk down the hallway. Sarah turned once before they vanished completely and waved a hand goodbye. The silence of their absence was deafening.
Jack broke it with a snicker, “Trying a hand at women then.” Simon rolled his eyes and began to trudge up the stairs, feeling sorry for the mess of water and mud he left in his trail. Jack followed briskly. “I suppose I should wish you luck. Women are far more complicated than men. They demand constant contact. And I wouldn't count on your proclivity for the feminine figure.” Another joke at his expense. Simon kept going forward. He made an oath right then and there not to acknowledge him. It would only complicate matters. The oath lasted all of two seconds when Jack reached out and tucked a damp strand of brown hair behind Simon's ear. “Simon,” Jack said, irritated.
Simon quickly batted the hand away. “Don't touch me.” The feeling of heat that simple touch allowed him was far hotter than any afternoon of sunbathing would ever give him.
Jack let out a stunned chuckle. “It was only a joke.”
Simon bounded up the stairs faster, more eager than ever to see his rooms. To leave this conversation behind. “I didn't realize we were the type to joke with one another. I've always understood that to be a thing friends do.” Simon couldn't pause to see Jack's face; he could only sense Jack's urgency to match pace, to not let this conversation end.
“I have come by your room. You haven't been there.” Jack said, frustrated. Simon had thankfully reached the last step only to feel his body pulled back and pressed against the wall. Jack towered over him with a stern expression on his face. “Did something happen with Ralph?” Simon shoved him off.
“Do you hear yourself? Ralph? What the fuck does Ralph have to do with any of this? We aren't anything. He's a friend. More than a friend than you have ever been.” Simon said, pushing past.
“I don't like to share.”
“And what? You think I do?”
“It's not the same.”
Simon opened the latch on his door and began to strip off the damp clothes from his body. “It is the same, actually. Except in my case, I'm not seeing anyone else. Only you.” Jack didn't respond, only leaned back against the shut door and traced his eyes down the planes of skin Simon revealed. His eyes jolted back up when the silence meant it was his turn to speak, but Simon wasn't done.
“When is it enough, when I'm completely alone with only you? Or when you're finally man enough to admit what you want?” Jack's eyes flashed with something that was torn between pain and desperation. Simon had pushed too far, but he couldn't stop. The cold of the rain had not damped the fire beneath his ribs. It had only made it harder to stifle. “Let's be perfectly clear, it isn't her that you want. Nor will it ever be. Even if I wasn't here.” He could see Jack's jaw clench. The time that they spent, at least in Jack's mind, wasn't an issue in principle. Simon knew Jack could spend hours entangled with him, and in his moral mind, it all amounted to nothing uncouth. To Jack, it was only a fleeting fascination brought on by hormones and too much time spent together. Admitting that their interests and men were the same was a step too far. That would mean that Jack was like Simon. Batty. Jack would rather die than admit they were anything alike.
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Jack said.
Simon felt his heart clench, but he dug his feet in. “ ‘It won't last long,’ those were your words. What changed?”
“I was drunk.”
It was a lie. The both of them knew it. Simon would've tasted the liquor on his breath. Besides, Jack hated drinking in large crowds. It was a loss of control that felt too alien for him to stomach.
Even here, trapped in the only place the two of them had ever found sanctuary, Jack still couldn't be honest with himself. The idea of which reminded Simon why they would never be possible. It didn't matter how much he loved him; it didn't matter that another woman was in the picture. All that mattered was that Jack was bred and built to always be someone else. He wasn't Simons. He wasn't Mary's. He was his father's boy. A cruel thing that would never see Simon as anything but something sweet and hidden that he could use to warm himself when the world got tough. It was no longer enough.
“Leave.”
Jack froze at the words. His hands fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket. Simon could see his eyes scanning his face, testing where he had gone wrong. He looked like the scared little boy Simon once knew him as. Whose parents never showed, and when they did, Jack always seemed to be waiting for them to vanish before he could say goodbye.
“What can I do better? I'll be better.” Jack said, the crack of his voice made the clenching of Simon's heart squeeze a hair more. His eyes had welled up a little bit. “Just tell me what I need to do.” His hands reached out and pulled at Simon's wrists. They were close enough that Simon could see where the fat tears were about to breach over the lids of Jack's eyes. His hands trembled in their light grip around Simon's wrists. A year ago, such a look would've sent Simon into a panic. He would've wrapped his arms around Jack's waist and carded his hands through his hair. Simon would've wiped away the tears before they could leave a dripped trail down his face. But things had changed.
Simon pulled himself back. Letting Jack's hands drop back to his sides.
“I need you to leave.”
It was quiet in the room as Jack seemed to gather himself. Simon could watch no longer; he turned, taking a seat at his desk. He sat there aimlessly writing in the ledgers of his notebook as he listened to Jack right himself. The shuffle of nervous feet and the wiping of tears that had fallen. Simon waited for the click of the door and the sound of Jack's footsteps leaving, but it seemed the room was frozen in time. A stillness had set in. Before Simon could turn and demand he leave again, he felt the soft heat of lips at the crown of his head, and a sudden drop of weight on his neck where Jack pressed his forehead into the crook where his shoulder and collarbone met. He remained there taking deep, level breaths before he stood and left. Then footsteps and a click. He had finally exited Simon's life.
He wouldn't see Jack for the remainder of the school year. Not in that, at least. Classes and non-met glances in hallways were all that remained. It was probably for the best, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. After all, they may have never said it aloud, but it was love in all the complicated ways.