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Sometimes Simon feels like the entire world is small and cramped, and in that tiny, cramped area is sound and colour and it's so bright it hurts, and he can't even think with how busy it is until it all goes black and he wakes up in a hospital bed or in the nurse's office, or home alone on the floor.
Maybe that's why he likes Roger so much.
Roger dresses in soft, dark colours, muted greys and blacks. He doesn't speak much, and when he does it's loud and filled with intent.
He gets angry and rough when he's upset, unable to handle all his anger in a healthy way, and he gets distressed easily, by the same crampedness that bothers Simon and by cruel words that aren't joking enough to stop hurting. He has a hard time dealing with social occasions and never uses shampoo so he always smells like earth.
Roger collects smooth stones and tells Simon where he found them; walking along a beach, lying in the shade of a tree, digging his toes into the damp mud and just feeling. He tells Simon that the stones help him feel real, that rubbing the pad of his thumb over the cool rock is grounding.
On Simon's birthday, Roger gave him a stone. Piggy gave him a bag of sweets, Ralph gave him a book, Jack- Jack gave him a sheet of music he could use to practice for choir, probably just to appease Ralph. Simon could see the smug smile on Ralph's face when Jack managed to behave himself during the party, like it was his direct affect that stopped Jack from eating the entire cake or stealing the presents or erupting into song. And it probably was.
But Roger had pulled a crumpled napkin out of his pocket and passed it over to Simon with a slight grunt. Simon had unwrapped it and smiled at the small green rock. "This is pretty. It's different from your others." Most of Roger's rocks were colourless.
"It's jade," Roger replied, shifting on his feet and fidgeting with one of his own rocks. "It's meant to bring health and all that. You know, 'cause of your faints."
The room quietened at Roger's bluntness, almost like they were waiting for Simon to get upset. But Simon only pocketed the thoughtful gift and gave Roger a soft smile.
"Do you believe in heaven?" He asked one day, sitting in the sun with Roger's head resting in his lap.
"No," Roger had snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid."
Simon had gently shoved him, tugging his hair in admonishment. "It's not stupid. It helps a lot of people through difficult times in their lives, and you shouldn't talk about beliefs like that."
Roger seemed to consider that for a moment, before grinning lazily up at him. "I don't need that though. I've got you, after all."
Simon conceded the point, threading his fingers through Roger's hair and leaning down to kiss him.
Sometimes Simon feels like the entire world is small and cramped. But when Roger crowded him against the tree and kissed him like he was trying to pull a secret out of Simon's mouth, the cramped area turned smooth and cool, like a sort of jade stone.