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“What are you doing?”
Simon, his eyes closed and his hands pushed together, does not respond at first. He glances up, peering at Ralph curiously. “I’m praying,” he answers.
“Oh.” Ralph feels the heat in his cheeks rise dramatically, internally cursing himself for not even considering that. “Sorry.”
Simon shyly smiles, clearly not offended. He doesn’t say — or do — anything, so Ralph takes that as a sign to start talking. He’s bored, anyway — he can’t seem to fall asleep, but no one else in the shelters seems to have the same issue. They had hardly gotten through the assembly.
“You’re religious?” Ralph slumps down onto the floor opposite him, sitting with his legs crossed.
“I am,” Simon nods. “The entire choir is.”
Ralph’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly. “Even Jack?”
“Especially Jack.”
Ralph hums in acknowledgment, apparently amused by the newly learnt information, if the little smirk on his face is anything to go by. “So this is what you do every night?”
Simon briefly hesitates.
“I usually watch the stars. . .and pray in the morning,” he says slowly, carefully, as if using the time to analyse Ralph’s reaction to every word, “I only prayed tonight for you to go home.”
Oh. . .kay?
“The stars?” Ralph echoes, tilting his head up and pretending not to have heard the latter part of that sentence. He turns back to Simon, who’s looking rather sheepish.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I think they’re pretty.”
“I suppose,” Ralph agrees, grimacing at how lame he sounds. He’s never really put much thought into stars before, so he’s not sure what to say. “I don’t see any anymore in England.”
“Really?” Simon seems thoughtful. “I’ve seen plenty.”
They stare at each other for a moment, the stars shining so brightly in their eyes, it nearly hurts to see. Simon looks like he’s waiting for something, so, awkwardly, Ralph pivots himself, lying down and facing the sky. Simon watches him quietly, then quickly mimics the action.
It’s quiet, for what feels like a long time, but realistically is only a few seconds. It’s really awkward.
“Do you think,” Ralph asks, his voice catching in his throat for some reason, so it sounds awfully forced, “do you think your family is— is seeing them, too?”
Simon doesn’t make any movement, but from the way his words come out, Ralph guesses he’s smiling. “I hope so.” And then he rolls over slightly, tilting his head into sand. “You’ll see ‘em soon, Ralph. Soon enough.”
Oh. . .kay number two.
Ralph’s eyes drift over from each burning sphere of flame to the next, keeping a tally. “And?”
“And?” Simon repeats, looking over. He’s entirely on his side, now — a cheek squished up against his palm.
Two.
Ralph meets Simon’s expectant gaze, then goes back to counting.
Three, four.
“And what about you?”
Simon blinks, some confusion still left on his face: “I hope so.”
“That you’ll see your family soon?”
Five, six.
Simon then nods once, smiling. “Mn. What’ll you do when you go back?”
Ralph doesn’t register the question at first. He’s much more concentrated on not losing his count of the stars. It’s entertaining — admittedly much more than he initially believed it to be. Part of him is sure he’s counted the same star more than once, but he dismisses the thought as soon as it comes in favour of keeping up a streak. It’s not cheating if you’re the one making the rules.
Seven, eight.
He suddenly becomes majorly aware of the eyes lingering on the side of his face. “Uh, what?” he lamely asks, face reddening with embarrassment.
Nine.
“What will you do when it’s time to go home?”
Ralph etches the number onto the sand beside him with his pinky finger, humming. “I. . .I mean, I reckon it’ll be my Dad who comes and rescues us, so. . .”
“I know you think that,” Simon says strangely, “and what will you do?”
Ralph tilts his head to the side, so that he can see Simon properly. “I’ll— I’ll tell him everything, and— and that I’m chief. And. . .” he trails off, brain apparently turned to mush and unable to form words properly. “I can’t wait to go home.” He blurts out.
Simon grins, and Ralph finds himself smiling back.
“Imagine their faces when we get back,” Ralph babbles giddily, briefly blowing hair away from his face, “no one’s gonna believe us.”
“You’ll be famous, I reckon,” Simon agrees, with childish excitement, “on all the headlines.”
“And— and they’ll ask us about the plane, and—“
“They’ll write about you. Oh, imagine you get money!”
“Money! We’d be rich!” Ralph’s laugh rings out in the otherwise silent night. He gazes off somewhere in the distance, mind clouded with longing.
It’s dark, over here. The fire’s out.
“This is a good island,” Ralph eventually mumbles, his stupid grin still all over his face.
“It is,” Simon assents, his voice a little quieter. He’s probably tired — how late is it right now? It might very well be midnight. The thought nearly makes Ralph laugh again with delight. He always went to bed early in England.
“You’re happy,” Simon observes drowsily.
Ralph blinks at him. “Yeah. Aren’t you?”
“On the island, I mean. You’re still happy.”
“‘Cause I’m not alone. And we get to do what we want. We’re doing real good out here on our own, aren’t we?”
Simon smiles, sleepy. “Yeah. That’s good. . .It’s good.” And then his eyes flutter shut. Damn. It looked like he had been waiting to do that.
He’s batty, Ralph muses, evening out his breathing and trying to match it with the pace of the other boy. But not in a horrible way, I guess.
It feels more like a question than a statement, but Ralph doesn’t bother dwelling on it. So, he turns on his back, looking back up at the night sky. He continues to count stars. There’s so many.
All those stars, and I’ll never get to touch one.
Life is sad.
Every so often, a soft puff of air will brush his cheek, warm and nostalgic. Ralph peers over at Simon. He’s frowning, his hand twitching every so often. Briefly, Ralph takes the hand in his and squeezes it, but that only seems to make it worse, so he lets go and turns back to the stars.
Eventually, sleep tugs at Ralph. It seems to tug at his eyelids, too, because he (embarrassingly) only realises his eyes are closed after wondering where all the stars went.
Ralph sleeps out in the open that night. Completely forgetting he’s meant to be at the shelters, and completely forgetting about the Beast.